"Planet Of Twilight (Barbara Hambley)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

Shreel, for instance, either humiliated or servile.
In his off-duty moments-not that a Noghri was ever completely off duty-
the little hunter-killer would tell Leia tales of his childhood on Honoghr, of
his wife and children there, the same way Yeoman Shreel or Yeoman Marcoplus
would show her holos of their brothers and sisters and pets at home.
The Daysong folks objected violently to the synthdroids too, of course,
on the grounds that synthflesh was living and had rights as well.
The Theran Listeners, wandering around the desert holding conversations
with rocks, couldn't possibly be crazier.
Leia leaned her head against the back of the chair, tired beyond words.
Tired, she thought suddenly, as her hands and feet grew cold, beyond what
she should be. It didn't exactly hurt her to breathe, but every breath was an
effort. The hand she raised, or tried to raise, to rub the ache behind her
sternum felt as if she'd been manacled with lead.
This is ridiculous, she thought. Every member of Seti Ashgad's party and
yesterday's good-faith inspection of the vessel had been scanned.
Of course they'd been scanned. No virus, no microbe, no poison... nothing
had been detected.
Dizziness swamped her. She reached across the table for the comm button,
but collapsed halfway and slid to the floor in a great sigh of velvet robe.
"Your Excellency?" The door swished open. "Your Excellency, I have been
attempting to monitor fleet communications, and... Your Excellency!"
Threepio toddled into the stateroom, golden hands flying up in a
singularly human gesture of alarm. "Your Excellency, whatever is the matter?"
Artoo-Detoo, close on the protocol droid's shining metal heels, rolled up
to Leia's side and directed a scanner beam over her. He tweeped informatively.
"I know she's not well, you stupid bucket of bolts! And don't you go
quoting heart-rate readings to me." He was already at the wall comm unit.
"Infirmary? Infirmar? There's no answer!" He turned dramatically to his
counterpart. "Something terrible is going on! I attempted to get in touch with
the Adamantine just now to check on our departure for the rendezvous point and
there was no answer! We must..."
The stateroom door slid open, framing in its tall rectangle the slumped,
small form of Dzym.
"Oh, Master Dzym!" cried Threepio. "Something terrible has happened! You
must inform the emergency services..."
The man only stepped clear of the opener beam of the doorway and walked
to Leia's side. He seemed a trifle unsteady on his feet, as if drunk or
drugged. His colorless eyes half-shut, he wore on his face an expression
Threepio-never truly good at interpretation of human facial expression despite
the most advanced of pattern-recognition software-could not define or even
guess at: ecstasy, concentration, dreamy pain.
He stood beside Leia for a time, looking down at her. Then he half-knelt
and began to pull off his violet leather gloves.
The door swished open behind him. "Dzym!" cried Ashgad, striding through
as his secretary slewed around.
Dzym got quickly to his feet, pulling his glove on once again.
Ashgad dropped to one knee at Leia's side.
"Oh, Master Ashgad..." began Threepio, starting forward.
Ashgad said briefly, "Push him aside," and one of the fair-haired,