"Elizabeth Moon - Vattas 4 - Command Decision" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

obtained this first false ID at Cascadia more than a decade before, and heтАЩd used it here several times,
on visits his family hadnтАЩt known about.

The trip from Cascadia had been no worse than usual; he had spent the twenty-nine days chatting with
 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html




other business travelers, exercising in the business-class gym, reading in the business-class lounge,
avoiding the gawking tourists and the family groups as his persona required, and carefully not thinking
about Ky or Stella Vatta. Ky was beyond his reach, probably dead; he could not tease Stella now, not
until she reached some equilibrium with her new identity.

Instead, he toyed with ISCтАЩs problems. How had so many ansibles gone bad all at once? Surely not
chanceтАжwho had done it? Why was repair so slow? If he himself could restore function in a few hours,
why werenтАЩt ISCтАЩs repair teams making more headway? How deeply had the pirates infiltrated ISC?

Landing on Nexus IIтАФhe carefully did not let himself call it homeтАФRafe pushed that puzzle aside.
Genson Ratanvi needed to find a way to contact RafeтАЩs family, discreetly.

First he headed for the Ambisor, a commercial hotel frequented by business travelers where he had
stayed before; his minimal luggage trailed him on a rented hoverpad. Once installed in his room, he first
dealt with the hotelтАЩs surveillance system and then installed his own unique gear. The hotelтАЩs system
would now inform the hotel that Genson Ratanvi came in, bathed, slept, and went out, on a reasonable
but not too rigid schedule; it would believe anything he sent it, including remotely from his implant.
Pseudo-calls would be noted; pseudo-messages would be sent. Then Rafe called up the business
directory on the room display, marking the sorts of businesses he should, in this persona, mark, then
tapping the key to collapse the rest of the directory.

What he really wanted to know, he had noted in passing: ISC headquarters still had the same public
access number. Not that Genson Ratanvi had any reason to call there.

After a mediocre meal at the hotelтАЩs caf├й, Rafe headed out into the city. It was autumn in this location,
just after midday, local time. He drew a deep breath, anticipating and then enjoying the familiar fragrance,
childhood-deep in his memory. His favorite time of year, with apples ripe on the trees and the autumn
mushrooms mingling their scent with that of fallen leaves, even here in the cityтАЩs commercial district.
Probably every world had its characteristic scents, but he spent nearly all his time on ships and stations.
He felt a strange mix of nostalgia and fear: this was home, and home could be deadly.

The Number 161 tram still ran from the spaceport hotel district out to the northern suburbs; Rafe rode it
to the last stop, seeing little change from the last time heтАЩd been here except that the long-delayed
northern extension of the freight monorail was finally in place. He got off in the bustling little market, now
full of school-children buying treats after school, and womenтАФmostly employees, he knewтАФbuying fresh
produce and meat for dinner.

He headed for LuceтАЩs, sat down at an outside table, and ordered a slice of honeycake and tea with lime.
The lime came partly pared, a curl of peel holding it to the rim of the glass. He stared at it a moment.
Where was Ky by now? Off on that idiot attempt to build a fleet out of a bunch of untrained privateers?
His shoulders twitched. Dead. She must be dead by now; he was not going to think about her.