"Green,.Sharon.-.Diana.Santee.2.-.Gateway.To.Xanadu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

Diana Santee 2: Gateway to Xanadu

By Sharon Green



CHAPTER 1

By the time the gentle chime sounded that was obviously supposed to wake me, I was already up and dressed. I didn't have much in the room that needed putting together, and that was mostly done, too. Which was definitely a good thing, since I didn't know how to turn that gently chiming- alarm off. It must have been set by Val before he left, and waking up to find him already gone had surprised me. As excited as I felt about going home, I wouldn't have believed it possible for someone to leave that room without waking me. If I'd slept alone the night before, I probably wouldn't even have slept.

I stuffed my spare ship's suit into the small monolon bag, smoothed the bag closed, then turned to look over the blue-green, brown and white room one last time. I didn't really expect to see anything I'd accidently left behind, and I didn't; I hadn't shared the room long enough with Val. The last look around was a good-bye to most of the strangeness I'd run into there in the Absari base around Tildor, a volume of space no one in my Federation knew anything about. I'd bumped into the Absari Watchers of the backward planet, Tildor, had helped out with a chore on the planet, and now was heading back to my Federation with a "Hi, there, neighbor!" letter of self-introduction from the Absari upper echelon. If everyone on the Federation Council didn't faint dead away at being contacted by a previously unknown, star-faring humanoid race, their expressions would be worth seeing. At least two-thirds of the Council considered the possibility of meeting equals an amusing fictional notion, something to have fun with while watching it on tri-v, but nothing to take seriously. I couldn't wait until they got a look at Val.

Sudden inspiration hit me at thought of Val, so I went back to the low, wide couch-bed we'd shared the night before, sat down on it, then stood up again. The chiming cut off immediately, bringing me a satisfied grin. Absari ways weren't Federation ways no matter now much the Absari looked like us, but a little common sense sometimes helped bridge the gap between alien cultures. That was something I'd have to remember during the next standard year, the time period Val would be partnering with me as an agent for the Federation. A little common sense-and a lot of delicate, judicious handling-and his talent could be put to use for the benefit of Federation.

Or, at least, one of his talents. I sat back down on the couch-bed and stretched out across it, folding my arms above my head and grinning. Val's ability to change his features and appearance to match anyone he cared to was a result of his original Absari blood; I'd have to ask him if his bed talent came from the same source. I'd miss it when his year was up and he went back home, but I'd be able to look around for an adequate replacement once I came back to the Absari Confederacy to work my own year for them. If that particular talent really was in the blood, `I'd have one hell of a wild time during that

The chiming started again so abruptly that I jumped, and this time it wasn't as sweet and mellow as it had been the first time. I'd never before heard an annoyed alarm clock, but I knew damned well I was hearing one then. I muttered a few words describing the personal habits of that alarm as I rose from the bed, then included Val in for setting the damn thing in the first place. My eagerness to get going had gotten me up, but I could still feel the drag of minus sleep beneath that eagerness, gluing shut my eyelids and making me yawn. I hadn't slept very well in the days I'd waited for the Absari rep Phalsyn to get there, and during that time I'd kept Val on the opposite side of the room with the well-known cold shoulder-and a sincere promise to break off any extremities of his that I happened to find in grabbing distance. He'd grinned at the promise, and had told me he could wait-which he did until last night, when he made up for the wait. I couldn't honestly describe the time as wasted, but I'd needed the lost sleep more.

I yawned again and shook my head, then grabbed up the monolon bag and headed for the door. I'd get all the sleep I wanted or needed once we were on our way, and what I really needed right then was a cup of coffee. The door slid open in front of me, giving me access to the hall of the residential section, which led to the work area, which in turn led to the docking facilities. I didn't know how really early it was in the base day until I walked past the offices in the work area and found most off them empty, no more than the usual skeleton crew in the comm room. The small sounds of the base's life-support systems bracketed the whisper of my deck shoes along the corridor carpeting, and the two men in the comm room didn't even look up as I passed. I wondered if the early departure time had been Phalsyn's idea, the intent being to get rid of the alien and the guinea pig with the fewest number of people watching, keeping the gossip to a minimum. The base people would know Val and I were gone, but they would not know where, at least until the formal talks started, and maybe not even then. If you think about how long it takes most people to accept even the new family a few doors down, the idea of keeping as much as possible secret for as long as possible begins to look a lot less unreasonable.

The docking area seemed just as empty as the office area had been, until I spotted Dameron leaning against the hull of my ship, right beside the access hatch. The big man had his arms folded across the chest of his dark blue base commander's uniform, studying the floor in front of his feet, the same preoccupied air holding him that had held him the night before. Not until I stopped in front of him did his eyes rise to my face.

"You're here sooner than Valdon thought you would be," he said, his broad face showing a hint of a smile. "He only just entered the ship himself."

"Probably to double-check the work he did on it," I said, giving more in the way of a smile than I was getting. "I don't blame him for not wanting to find out if he screwed up the hard way. Why don't you come aboard and get your final good-byes said while I start the departure check?"

"They've already been said," he answered with a sigh. "All I have left are yours, along with a request or two. You don't mind a request or two from a friend, do you?"

His dark eyes were studying me in a very sober, worried way. Considering the fact that Dameron knew more about what my line of work entailed than anyone else there, his worry had to be on behalf of my new partner.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear what those requests are before I agree to them," I said, putting my fist on my hip. "I'm not as silly as some people, who commit themselves before they know what they're committing themselves to."

"Don't rub it in!" he growled, looking annoyed, but then he grinned and laughed softly: He'd been so eager to do me a favor that he hadn't first asked what favor I had in mind, a silliness he'd be regretting for some time to come. When you make a habit of keeping your word, you really should take a good look around before giving it.

"Okay, okay, so I deserve to have it rubbed in," he conceded, one broad hand ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. "That doesn't mean I also deserve to be haunted by this thing for the rest of my life. I'd like to know just how deep a pit I dug for Valdon-and how good his chances are of climbing out again all in one piece. He's one of the best field agents I've ever had, but I don't know if he's good enough to survive at the level you seem to operate on. I still don't understand how you survive."

"That's easy," I told him with a wave of my hand. "I have the worst luck you've ever seen, always picking the wrong side to bet on. Any time I'm about to get a really hairy assignment, I make sure to bet someone that I'll finally get it so I don't. Works every time."

I grinned, but the good commander wasn't in the mood for a laugh. The look in his dark eyes hardened as he began straightening himself in annoyance, so I waved my hand at him again.

"Come on, Dameron, let's be intelligent about this," I coaxed, letting some of the tiredness I felt come into my voice. "I worked a long time at my job to get good enough to qualify for hyper-A assignments; you can't really believe they'll let Val share them just because he's giant size and has all those pretty muscles. He'll have to earn the right to put his neck on the line just like the rest of us, and by then it will probably be time for him to come home. Chances are you'll have less cause to worry about him than you would if you sent him back down to Tildor."

"But-you two are supposed to be partners," he protested, still seeming upset. "If you get one of those assignments then he'll get it, or at least he'll decide he has it. He won't sit back and let you do it all yourself, and you're crazy if you think he will. "

"Are you under the impression that I don't know what he's like?" I asked, a bit belligerently. "Have you forgotten all the time we spent together down on Tildor? When I want Val out of the way I'll have him out of the way, whether it makes him happy or not. On Tildor he had all of the advantages, but in the Federation we'll be on my stamping grounds. I'm even willing to bet on it."

"I thought you always backed the losing side," he retorted, but a shadow of his old humor was back, along with a fading of some of the worry. "I don't feel as much confidence as you seem to, girl, but for some reason I also don't feel as bad as I did. You're sure your people won't let him have any of these-hyper-A assignments?"

"Positive," I answered, grinning briefly at the way Dameron pronounced 'hyper-A'. We were speaking his base language, and there was no one-to-one translation for the phrase. "Hyper-A is short for 'high percentage risk agent,' a nickname for Special Agents. It means that if the computers rate the possibilities of success on an assignment at 9 percent or more against, that assignment is given only to a hyper-A. We're the ones who have already proven we can survive against odds like that by doing it, and the doing takes some doing. Val won't have the necessary time-or the opportunity. For the most part I plan to use him as a distraction while I do the actual work, either with his talent in full play or just as he is. A little less masculinity to his face, and he'd be downright pretty, and I can think of a lot of ways to use something like that. I wonder if he could change himself to directions. "