"Modesitt,.L.E.-.Ecolitian.Enigma.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

Nathaniel scarcely felt the needles that slammed him around, not after Sylvia threw him behind the slight cover afforded by their bags. For a moment, he just lay there. On Accord? With an Institute flitter less than a hundred meters away? How could an assassination attempt take place? And why? He'd already done his job, and nothing would stop implementation of the trade agreement.

Nathaniel squinted through his sudden dizziness at the sprawled form of the trainee and then toward the flitter.

Thrummmm. . . thrummm. . . Almost as quickly as the stunner bolts flew from the Institute craft, two figures in greens sprinted from the flitter toward the three sprawled on the permacrete.

Eeeeeee . . . The sirens seemed to waver in and around Nathaniel from a distance as he slowly eased himself into a sitting position.

His entire side was a mass of fire. "Are you all right?" Sylvia asked. "Will be . . . need to get to the Institute." He struggled to stand, then found himself being helped by both Sylvia and a young Ecolitan.

"Whoever it was is gone, professor. We've alerted the Prime, but we're to get you home double speed." The young crewman turned to Sylvia. "You, too, Ms. Ferro-Maine."

Nathaniel forced his legs to carry him toward the still waiting flitter, although it was more of a stagger than a walk. Still, he knew every pace was worth more than antique gold, especially if the needles had carried nerve collapse toxins. He blocked the pain and kept walking, but the permacrete and the flitter began to swirl around him. "Catch him."

The Fuardian officer wearing crimson-trimmed formal grays and a silver hawk on his shoulder tabs stepped inside the spacious office. "Ser?"

"I don't have time to read forty-page reports, colonel. Answer me simply. Are your operations going as planned?" asked the gray-clad officer behind the desk.

"Ah, sub-marshal . . . yes. We had not foreseen the Accord trade negotiations, but the Coordinate's conduct there has sharpened the Grand Admirals concerns. The use of an Ecolitan as a trade negotiator has definitely put the laser on the Rift. The devastation of the synde bean plague on Heraculon has reinforced those Imperial concerns . . ."
"How strongly?"

"The death toll is over four million so far. The Empire has had to divert most of its spare cargo capacity for food concentrates. They've even sent in military power systems from reserve units."

"Good. And?"

"There are still murmurs about Accord. We don't have the analysis yet, but those could be pushed by the trideo initiative. Either way, the laser points directly at Harmony. We've taken some additional steps there as well to point back at the Admiral . , or others. We had to divert a fast courier, but . . ."

"That's secondary, though, for now. Do we have enough seed stock for the next phase?"

"Yes, ser, and the next phase will target both the anchovies and the algae. Anarra, the Matriarchy, then Imperial Sector Four. We've established the probable secondary vectors if it were a natural plague, and those will be planted over the next few weeks, using the commercial trade system." The sub-marshal nodded curtly.

"What about the transfer arrangements?" asked the colonel. "Our contacts have asked about that,"

"We do not have to deliver anything-especially warcraft until the Ninth and Eleventh fleets are transferred to the Rift, or two other fleets in the sectors bordering the Three System Bulge are shifted along the Limber line." The senior officer smiled. "When that occurs, the general staff will be more than happy to approve the transfer. More than happy. After we occupy the systems, particularly . . . shall we say . . . those of the priggish Avalonians."

Yes, ser.

"And colonel?"
"Ser?"

"Next time, send a summary with the report. It will save us both time."

Nathaniel looked from his bed at the dark-haired dancer, her left arm in a sling and covered with a nerve regeneration sheathe. "I didn't expect . . , such a welcome here in Harmony."

"Neither did I." Sylvia offered a wry smile. "It was even more dramatic than your welcome to New Augusta."

"No one seems to want me to go anywhere, even home." He swallowed. "Are you all right?" As close as Sylvia sat on the straight-backed wooden chair, he couldn't miss the dark circles under her eyes. Behind her, through the wide window, he could see the low hills to the west of the Institute, their treed lower slopes a deep green. "You're asking how I am?"

"I know how I'm doing. I'll live, and nothing permanent's damaged."
"On Old Earth, you'd be dead, I think." She frowned. "I