"William H. Keith Jr. - Warstrider 03 - Jackers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Keith jr William H)

"You will deploy at once with the entire Ohka
Squadron, Chujosan. The carrier Donryu. Five heavy
cruisers, eight light cruisers, and twelve destroyers. Eight
troop transports with a total complement of over four
hundred warstriders. New America has no sky-el, so you
will have to use reentry-capable warflyers and military
ascraft to seize landing sites for your transports. You will
need to go by way of our base at Daikoku to pick up some
of your assigned vessels. Detailed plans are included in
your orders."
"Your orders will be carried out precisely as written,
Gensuisama. "
"I know, Chujosan. I have complete confidence in you.
Now, if you would honor me by joining me for tea?тАж"
The room reserved for the tea ceremony was traditional,
nine feet square and with a real door rather than a
dissolving, nanotech panel, one so low that the celebrants
had to go in on hands and knees, a holdover from
centuries long past when such a posture spoke of mutual
trust and of the leaving of pretense and pomp outside. It
was impossible to enter while wearing the traditional two
swords, katana and wakazashi, of the samurai.
Inside, a single scroll hung in its alcove above a simple
arrangement of flowers. Through an open panel could be
glimpsed the fir trees and moss-covered ground, the
garden and stone water basin, of a scene on Earth. So
perfect was the illusion that Kawashima imagined he could
smell the scent of pine needles behind the subtle haze of
incenseтАж and perhaps, he realized, that was programmed
into the scene as well. The ceremony's hostess, a
provocatively lovely ningyo, was on her knees in the
garden, simmering water in an iron kettle over a charcoal
fire, each motion one of delicate grace and economy of
movement. Save for the lessened gravity, it was difficult to
remember that this was aboard the synchorbital Tenno
Kyuden, and not in some woods-shrouded teahouse in
Kyoto Prefecture.
The conversation turned now to the formality of the
ritual, outwardly reserved, inwardly relaxed as they
commented on the kettles, pots, and bowls, on the scroll
and flower arrangement, on the play of the hostess's
hands as she carried out the ancient motions of preparing
tea.
Kawashima felt ashamed, however, and unworthy.
Munimori was extending to him a signal and conspicuous
honor, but he found himself unable to leave worldly
concerns and troubles at the teahouse door as custom
required. His thoughts kept turning back to those intensely
blue, pain-filled eyes he'd seen in the outer room.
He had no doubt whatsoever that the effect was a