"Tom Kratman - A Desert Called Peace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kratman Tom)

transition. One moment he had been fine, if a bit nervous. The next had seen his mind temporarily erased
as his body disassembled and reassembled in an imperceptible instant. With the next he was on all fours
on the deck of his cabin, projectile vomiting, moaning, and cursing.
It was in this position, vile smelling puke forming a puddle beneath him, washing over his hands in a
flood and spreading to stain the knees of the black uniform trousers, that the captain of the Spirit of
Peace found her admiral and the incoming system and fleet commander.
The captain of the ship, Marguerite Wallenstein, accompanied by two of the voiceless proles that
handled janitorial services for the largely middle to upper-caste crew, hurried to kneel at the admiral's
side and help him regain his chair. The proles set immediately to cleaning up the vomit on hands and
knees while Wallenstein went to a nearby cabinet and took from it an amber bottle and two glasses. She
poured herself and the admiral a drink.
Color was just returning to Robinson's drained face as he gratefully accepted the glass from
Wallenstein.
"I was warned what to expect but nothing . . . ," the admiral began.
"Nothing prepares you for it," Wallenstein finished. "I know. It gets better тАУ a bit, anyway тАУ after
you've done it a few times."
"How many times have you . . . ?"
"This is my fifth transition," Wallenstein said, "and hopefully my next to last."
Younger than the admiral by some fifty years, Wallenstein looked to be the same age. A leggy,
slender and svelte Scandinavian, she was a Class II, ranking just below the Admiral in the hereditary
order of United Earth. Like him, she received full benefit of all the ADAF therapy and might, with luck,
live to see five hundred. Not precisely beautiful тАУ nose a bit too large and eyes a bit too small, she still
exuded much of the earthy sexuality the application of which had seen her through difficult times in her
rise within the hierarchy of the UEPF, the United Earth Peace Fleet. What low shipboard gravity did for
her breasts didn't hurt, either.
A competent officer, Wallenstein had ambitions. Chief among these was to be raised to Class One,
followed by promotion to Admiral, even High Admiral, and then to take what she considered her rightful
place among the ruling caste. It would be a rare honor and achievement. She also knew that without a
powerful sponsor it would never come to pass.
The proles finished their odiferous task and, bowing deeply and respectfully to the captain and the
admiral, made a quiet exit from the suite. Neither of the upper caste officers bothered to return the bows,
even symbolically. They forgot about the proles as soon as they, and the smell of vomit, had left. Who
knew or cared what proles thought, after all?
"You should have waited in freeze, Martin," Wallenstein said, reproachfully, once they were alone.
The admiral shrugged, already half recovered. "It seems to pass quickly. And I did want to
experience the transition, once anyway. Speaking of freeze, though, what of our passengers?"
"No malfunctions, if that's what you mean," Wallenstein answered. "They'll stay in freeze until a few
days before we assume orbit. We haven't the stores to feed and water them without recourse to Atlantis
Base, anyway."
Robinson nodded his understanding and agreement. Moreover, it would be months before the ship
would be able to take orbit around the target world. He had great respect for the position тАУ or at least
for the power тАУ of the clergy of Earth, but really didn't want them for company for all that time. The
representative of the Caliph of Rome, in particular, grew tiresome very quickly, despite the body she
would share gleefully and for the asking.
And on that not entirely happy thought, Robinson considered inviting the captain, once again, to his
bed.
It would be a long braking maneuver before the ship assumed orbit and, while he could, by right
and tradition, bed any female of the crew he wished, he had found the captain's technique most
agreeable, especially in low gravity. Wallenstein would make Peace's long descent to the planet
something other than a trial.