"Sharon Green - Diana Santee 3 -Tanderon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

Tanderon
Diana Santee - Spaceways Agent
Sharon Green




Chapter 1
"Ringer, I want out of here," I insisted, wrapping my hand around the bed's safety
rail. "Two weeks in a hospital bed are enough to drive someone crazy!"
"You have nothing to worry about," Ringer came back with a faint grin from the
chair he sat in. "Only sane people are in danger of going crazy."
"That's not funny," I told him, rising up onto my knees. "If you can't talk Val into
signing me out then do it yourself, but just get it done! I've had enough of this
place."
Ringer's sharp, black-eyed stare moved to me fast, showing how pleased he was
with my tone, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead he took a cigarette out of his
pocket and lit it, exhaled smoke in my direction, then got out of the chair.
"Valdon is not going to be signing you out," he said at last, standing himself right
next to the bed. "You've been off the pain killers for less than a week, and if you've
forgotten how badly hurt you were, he and I haven't. You don't move out of that bed
until a doctor gives his permission, and I don't care how bored you are."
The growl in his voice was flat and final, leaving no room for argument, but I'd
known Ringer a long time. It's not always possible to argue with him, but sometimes
he's vulnerable to reason.
"Do you really think I've forgotten how bad it was?" I asked, wrapping my arms
around myself as my mind touched fleetingly on the memory of the beating I'd gone
through. Cause and effect, like the chicken and the egg question, usually comes
down to a matter of which brings what about.
Do I always get the problem assignments because I'm a Special Agent, or do my
assignments grow complications because a Special Agent is involved? Either way,
my last assignment had been purely routine until a painful complication arose, and
even years of experience in ducking at the right time hadn't helped. I'd been in a bad
way when I was brought to the hospital section of Xanadu Orbital Station, but even
if I would not be forgetting it for a while, I had to separate Ringer from the memory.
"I'm not as irresponsible as you like to picture me," I went on, meeting Ringer's eyes
in a quiet, reasonable way. "Having been a Federation agent for twelve years has
given me some idea about what I can and can't do. Don't you think I'd stay here if I
really needed to?"
Ringer took a drag on his cigarette and shifted his short, pudgy body very slightly, a
thoughtful look on his face. Ringer, Chief of Agents for our Federation, looked like
he might be a salesman of something unimportant. He was short, stout,
conservatively dressed in a dark green four-piece business suit, usually unsmiling
and usually annoyed about something.
Possibly, Ringer's brown hair was a trifle too long for your everyday salesman, his
black eyes a trifle too hard, his movements too well balanced and coordinated. Even
so, few people would have taken him for a Special Agent who had lived to be
promoted to Chief of Agents.
Ringer's pudgy look was almost all camouflage, hiding bands of muscle that hadn't
been given a chance to go soft, and he hadn't forgotten any of the skills he'd