"May, Julian - Galactic Milieu 3 - Magnificat" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

BRETTON WOODS, NEW HAMPSHIRE,
EARTH 18 JUNE 2078

The First Magnate of the Human Polity of the Galactic Milieu smoothed his striped silk tie, checked his spats, put on his pearl-gray stroller, tugged down his waistcoat, shot his cuffs just a trifle, and surveyed himself in the hotel suite's full-length mirror. He liked what he saw. Paul Remillard was a slender, striking man with a palpable air of command. The self-rejuvenating gene complex of his famous family made him appear half his actual age of sixty-four, and the archaic formal wear looked notably spiffy with his silver-streaked hair and well-trimmed beard.
All he lacked was the finishing touch of a boutonniere. Who had charge of the damned things, anyway?
He decided to farspeak Lucille. It had been her idea that the attire of the wedding party should reflect the romantic Edwardian Era when the White Mountain Resort Hotel was new. Jack and Dorothea, amused by the incongruity of the matriarch's conceit, had acceded willingly. Period clothing was optional for the guests but strongly encouraged. Even the attending Krondaku had insisted upon assuming human form and coming in fancy dress so that their normally monstrous appearance would not clash with the mise en scшne.
Paul sent out a farspoken hail on Lucille Cartier's intimate telepathic mode:
Mama! WheredoIpickupflowerformybuttonhole?
Goodafternoon dear my goodness aren't you the dapper boulevardier!
The posies. Where?
Flowersforgentlemen in Marc&Jack's suite just trot over pick yours up I'm inconference with cateringstaff yourPapa soothing IanMacdonald's wounded Scottish pride I suppose it really wasn't toowiseofme to suggest he forgo kilt for Englishstyle 1905soup&fish we'llmeetyou RooseveltParlor 1hour relax dear I have EVERYTHING IN HAND.
Super! [Passionate gratitude.]
Lucille laughed indulgently and withdrew her mind.
Paul thanked God that his mother had volunteered to oversee the nuptial arrangements. Who would have thought that the logistics would be so complicated--or that the popular media would take such an inordinate interest? Other children of the prolific Remillard Dynasty--including Paul's second son, Luc--had tied the knot without attracting any special attention. "Why," the First Magnate had grumped earlier to Lucille, "are the sensation-mongers getting into such a pucker over these two?"
His mother's response had been dry, but she charitably refrained from chiding him for his insensitivity. "Dorothea and Jack are Milieu heroes, Paul dear. Don't tell me you've been too preoccupied with your official duties to notice. And they're also quelque peu bizarres! There's the inevitable vulgar speculation about how in the world they'll ever manage to ... do it."
Paul had frowned quizzically as comprehension dawned. "That's a good question! But dammit, it's nobody's business but the newlyweds'. I don't often take advantage of my perks of office, but I'm going to do my utmost this time to make certain that our family privacy is respected."
"Good luck," Lucille had wished him tartly. "I'm sure you're a wiz at keeping great matters of state secret. But the marriage of Jack the Bodiless and Diamond Mask is something else altogether."

Carrying his top hat and gloves, the First Magnate went out into the sunny corridor. Windows at either end of the long hallway were wide open and their lace curtains flapped in the lilac-scented afternoon breeze. He looked down into the back garden from the elevator alcove and saw neat rows of folding chairs, a red carpet leading to a flower-banked altar area with florists still fussing over it, and a giant marquee with tables all formally set for the wedding dinner. A small ensemble of musicians was playing Mozart's String Quintet in E-flat for a group of appreciative listeners. Most of the four hundred guests had been ensconced in rooms in the hotel overnight, and numbers of them were already strolling about the lawn or seated in the chairs, humans in old-fashioned finery and exotics in their own version of traditional formal attire. Paul could not help chuckling. The place was starting to look like a fantasy adaptation of the Ascot Opening Day scene in My Fair Lady.
The door to one of the other hotel suites opened and two gorgeous beings emerged. They were members of the diminutive Poltroyan race, less than a meter in height and humanoid in appearance except for their violet-tinted skin and ruby eyes. Their bald heads were gold-painted in elaborate designs and they wore robes heavily embroidered with precious metal thread and edged with rich green fish-fur. Following Poltroyan custom, both were decked in the extravagant pearl jewelry they had worn during their own espousal celebration years ago. The First Magnate was so taken aback by their splendor that he hardly recognized his two old friends.
"Paul!" they exclaimed in happy unison, and came bounding over to seize both his hands.
Paul embraced them in turn. "Minnie... Fred. High thoughts!"
"What a beautiful day for your youngling's mate-affirmation," said the female Poltroyan, Minatipa-Pinakrodin.
"And do let me compliment you on your handsome costume," said the male, Fritiso-Prontinalin. "It's a bit different from the human nuptial garb we're familiar with."
Paul gave a humorous shrug. "Clothes like this were the height of fashion in this part of Earth about a hundred and eighty orbits ago, when this hotel was new. But my outfit won't be complete until I find a certain little bunch of flowers I'm supposed to wear right here." He thumbed his lapel. "I hope your rooms are comfortable."
"Our accommodation has a lovely view of the mountains," Minnie said. She added playfully, "The furnishings are just the least bit lackluster, but perfectly adequate to our needs."
Paul affected to be shocked. The sumptuous lifestyle of the Poltroyan race was legendary in the Galactic Milieu. "No emerald-studded bathtub? No solid-gold clothes hangers or platinum doorknobs? I'll complain to the management"
Minnie giggled.
Fred said, "It was very extravagant of you to have rented this entire huge establishment, but I suppose it was the only way to insure against an invasion by unwelcome newsgatherers."
The First Magnate let his exasperation show. "We've blocked the entry roads and set up sky barriers, and the hotel perimeter is cordoned with stun-fencing. In spite of all that, reporters in disguise have already been detected and ejected from the kitchen staff, the corps of waitrons, and the groundskeeping crew. One brazen gentlewoman of the tabloid Tri-D even tried to substitute herself for a viola player in the orchestra. Her AV recorder was hidden in the fiddle."
Both Poltroyans laughed. Then Fred's kindly face turned sober. "How is your sister Anne? We understand you personally saw to her safe transport to Earth."
"I got in from Okanagon late last night and took her directly to the Polity Genetic Research Institute in Concord. They say she's doing well, and her complete recovery is only a matter of time. But having Anne out of the picture for nearly a year will play merry hell with the Unity Directorate, and it's going to have to contend with a tricky matter of moment during the next Concilium session. You probably haven't heard the news yet, but metapsychologists from the Sorbonne in Paris are going to announce officially that they've detected the initial stages of emergent coadunation of the human racial Mind. I'm not familiar enough with autocatalytic set theory to understand the details, but it seems that a distinct phase transition is taking place."
"But that's wonderful!" Minnie exclaimed. "What is the difficulty? I should think you Earthlings would be overjoyed."
"There are certain human magnates who'll use the announcement as an excuse to inflame anti-Unity sentiment among our people. Anne was a past master at dealing with these loose cannons, but unfortunately the other Directors aren't nearly as handy in a brawl. Theoreticians, most of them."
"There's your son Jack," Fred suggested. "Wouldn't he be the logical chairman pro tem? His paramount mind--"
"Is only twenty-five years old," Paul said dismissively. "It's true that the majority of the Unity Directors are prepared to approve his interim appointment, but I'm afraid that he lacks the experience--and the authority--to deal with this impending crisis. The top guns among the Rebel magnates, people like Annushka Gawrys and Hiroshi Kodama and Cordelia Warshaw, would eat the boy for breakfast during a no-holds-barred debate over the protocols of Unification. It's not that Jack isn't brilliant. I'm just afraid he's not tough enough to be our principal spokesman on this issue."
"He might surprise you," Minnie said.
Fred asked, "If not Jack, then who?"
"I was thinking," Paul said, "of appointing Davy MacGregor."
The two Poltroyans were shocked into silence.
"I believe that the Lylmik Supervisors would agree if Davy would." Paul flashed an ironic smile. "You have to admit that
MacGregor is tough enough to take on the entire Rebel contingent with both hands tied behind his back."
"Indubitably," Minnie agreed. "But it surprises us that you would consider a person who is so... conspicuously uncongenial in his relationship to yourself and the other members of your family."
The First Magnate lifted his beautifully tailored shoulders. "Davy is the perfect one for the job--not only because of bis temperament and superior mindpower but also because of his great prestige as Earth's Planetary Dirigent. He's here at the ceremony, you know. A distant relation of the bride. I plan to sound him out later today. He may tell me to take a flying leap, but I hope not"
"If this plan of yours is for the best," Fred murmured, "then may the All in all speed its happening." He added telepathically: Paul mydearoldfriend can you afford to risk it? Deliberately bringing MacGregor into close association with Remillards enhances possibility of his discovering that Fury+Hydracreature are still alive&active.
Minnie's mind said: Davy has it in him to destroy you+yourfamily in order to avenge his wife...
Paul said, "He's a just man. If he takes the job he'll give it everything he's got. And to hell with the risk to my family! The Human Polity needs Davy MacGregor for the Unity debate. This issue is going to be crucial to the future of our race. If the Rebel faction ever gains the upper hand in the Human Polity, you know as well as I do that the exotic members of the Concilium will write us off as a bad job and rescind the Great Intervention."
The two little purple people nodded their gold-painted heads solemnly. "The Amalgam of Poltroy would cast its vote against you with the greatest reluctance," Fred said, "but we would have no other option. An unUnified humanity intent on cutting itself off from our confederation would present an unacceptable risk to the survival of the Milieu."
"Oh, please!" Minnie pleaded. "Let's not talk of such things on this day of joy for Dorothea and Jack."
Paul agreed and they said goodbye. The Poltroyan couple took the elevator down to the garden level while the First Magnate continued along the corridor and knocked on a door.