"Ann Maxwell - Concord 1 - The Singer Enigma" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

carried by sensitive Galactic travelers, the filters did more than block out exotic odors.
Tarhn breathed cautiously, but smelled/felt/sensed nothing unusual. The slakes showed no reaction
except relief at being able to breathe safely again.
With a few swift motions Tarhn dressed. Unless the slakesтАЩ hypersensitive olfactory perception had
sounded a false alarm, someone would be by shortly. He was more than a little curious to find put
whether that someone wanted him dead or merely unconscious.
The slakes were less discriminating. When they heard the door being unlocked they rose soundlessly
on their rear legs and folded their wings. Their attitude of sharp-toothed eagerness made Tarhn want to
laugh aloud.
*Not this time, my friends,* he thought firmly. *I need him quiet, yes, but still conscious.*
The slakes grumbled silently, but when the intruder entered only nтАЩLete bit him. And at that she only
allowed herself a small bite, enough to ensure that her paralyzing venom would penetrate quickly.
Tarhn caught the man before he fell to the floor, ensuring that no loud thumps reached curious ears.
The intruder wore the standard uniform of an Adventure crewman.
*Others?*
By way of answer, the slakes spread their huge wings and calmly began a grooming ritual.
*Good.*
Tarhn bent over the man and began to probe. No mind shields slowed him as he drilled key words
into level after level of the crewmanтАЩs mind. It was a technique the Carifil used in psychic integration, but
it served equally well for inquisition.
After long minutes of silence Tarhn ended the probe. The crewman knew little, but what he knew
was tantalizing. To him Tarhn was no more than an ordinary tourist who had passed the afternoon in the
shipтАЩs forward lounge. All forward lounge passengers were to receive a dose of amnesian, enough to
wipe out any memory of the previous twenty-six hours. But amnesian was unpredictable; different races
had varying degrees of resistance to it. Apparently whoever had planned the operation considered it
important enough not to risk unmeasured doses via the ventilating system. Instead, the victims were
knocked out by an airborne drug. When they were safely asleep, an individually calibrated dose of
amnesian would be administered.
Neatly planned.
Efficiently executed.
But why?
Tarhn rapidly reviewed the past day. As ordered, he had begun his surveillance of Lyra early
yesterday. Together with other tourists bound for Wilderness, they had entered a special Access and
emerged on the sixth planet in the Wilderness system. Then they had embarked onto the Adventure, a
ship on which they were to savor the archaic joys of sublight interplanetary flight. Lyra had gone straight
to her quarters, not to emerge until after todayтАЩs midday meal. He had watched, chosen his moment, and
effected a natural entry into her life. At no tune had he seen or sensed anything unusual, other than the
orange man.
And Lyra herself, of course.
Tarhn gave a muffled exclamation and injected the amnesian into the helpless intruder.
*Quickly, slakes. We go hunting.*
The slakes scrambled onto his shoulders, claws cool and sharp against his neck.
*Gently, nтАЩLete.*
 The slake obligingly retracted her claws and wrapped her sinuous lower body around TarhnтАЩs neck.
Tarhn moved past closed doors in a crouching, weaving run. Though he could sense no guards,
certain precautions were a matter of reflex. As he neared LyraтАЩs door he removed a pronged ornament
from his belt. Without hesitation he jammed the prongs deep into the circuit which controlled the door. A
short, low hum vibrated through his bones, then the door retracted part way.
LyraтАЩs body blocked the door from fully opening. Obviously she had sensed something was wrong,
but couldnтАЩt unlock the door in time.