"Pournelle, Jerry & S M Stirling - Falkenberg 2 - Prince of Mercenaries e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pournelle Jerry)

"Thank you. But the real thanks should go to Mrs. Reilly."
"Oh?" He turned to his right. "Indeed?"
"Not really." Alma Reilly was a small woman, expensively dressed, but her hands were square and competent. Lysander guessed that she was in her mid-forties, a few years younger than her husband. The Reillys had been chemical engineers but were now planters. They held one of the largest and most productive stations. Alma Reilly's gown was sequined and she wore a large opal brooch, but her only ring was a plain gold band. "Actually, our foreman shot the porker three days ago, and we knew the dinner was coming up, and I knew the governor likes marinated porker soЧ" She laughed. "I know I talk too much."
"No, please go on," Lysander assured her. "Is there much wild game here?"
"More than we like," Alma said. "HenryЧour sonЧhad a fight with a Weem's beast last week and he's still in the hospital."
"OhЧ"
"Nothing the regenners can't handle, but Henry's furious. He loves riding, and he won't be able to compete this year at all."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I take it you've had no trouble with the rebels, then?"
Alma Reilly glanced nervously up and down the table. "Trouble? We'd hardly have trouble with them, Your Highness. Most of them are our friends."
"Oh. But clearly you're not with them." He looked significantly at Colonel John Christian Falkenberg, who was seated near Governor Blaine at the head of the table.
"No, we've sent our crop in. Chris and I are agreed, Carleton Blaine is the best thing that has happened to Tanith since we got here. But it's not simple. Some of the reforms have been very hard on our friends." She looked across the table at Ursula Gordon. "Not that Governor Blaine wasn't right about many things, you understand. But it's very hard. There's precious little profit to be made on Tanith."
At the mention of profits, Dr. Phon Nol looked up from his plate and nodded. "Little enough before, and now we must make a further investment inЧmilitia," he said. "More than worth the money once the escapees and pirates are killed, but I must say that Colonel Falkenberg's services are more expensive than I had hoped."
Captain Jesus Alana smiled thinly. "I appreciate your difficulties, Dr. Nol, but you of all people on Tanith must understand the economics. Without munitions we'd be useless, and we have to import most of our supplies and just about all our equipment."
"I understand, I sympathize," Nol said. "But permit me not to care much for the expenses."
Both Captains Alana, Jesus and Catherine, laughed at that. "Permit us to dislike them just as much," Catherine said. "I can't imagine the colonel is much happier than you." She looked at Ursula on her right. "That's a very nice gown. From Harrod's?"
"Actually, no. LyЧPrince Lysander bought it for me at a little shop in the garden district. He was looking for something made here."
"Ah, very astute," Dr. Nol said. "Tell me, Your Highness, did you know our governor before you came to Tanith?"
"Not at all. We'd heard about him of course. Seems very dedicated to his work."
"He is that," Hendrik ten Koop said from Alma Reilly's right. "Too dedicated for some."
* * *
White-jacketed servants cleared the table and brought an elaborate three-tiered compote of sherbets and ices. After desert they brought crystal decanters of a rose-colored liqueur. Governor Blaine stood to offer the first toast.
"To our guest, Prince Lysander of Sparta. May there always be friendship between Tanith and Sparta."
That's a bold toast, Lysander thought. Considering that Sparta is sovereign and Tanith isn't. Not yet.
Lysander acknowledged the toast with a bow. "Our thanks. May we always be friends, and your enemies be ours." There was silence for a moment. Lysander looked across the table to smile reassurance at Ursula, then up toward the governor. Colonel Falkenberg caught his eye, and might have smiled. Lysander turned back to his left. "And if I may offer a toast to our charming hostess. Madame Chang."
Hendrik ten Koop laughed aloud. The portly Dutch planter had already drunk four glasses of port, but it hadn't seemed to affect him at all. "Good, good. May I second? To the real governor of Tanith."
"Why, thank you," Mrs. Chang said. "And in responseЧto the new order on Tanith." She looked significantly at Ursula Gordon. "But I can't quite let Mynheer ten Koop get away with that. To the best governor Tanith will ever have." She raised her glass toward Blaine.
Another moment of silence, even longer than the first. Then Falkenberg lifted his glass. "Well said," Captain Ian Frazer and both Captains Alana instantly lifted theirs. Dr. Nol smiled, a tiny smile at just the corners of his mouth. "If Colonel Falkenberg agrees, then it must be so."
Christopher Reilly was next. "Indeed. Thank you, Dr. Nol." He sipped at his liqueur.
"I see," Hendrik ten Koop said. "I see indeed." He drained his glass in one gulp.
* * *
The outside walls of Government House were bleak and fortified, with few windows. The building's roofed verandas all lined its inner walls, which enclosed a large courtyard dotted with fountain pools and crowned with a large illuminated aviary. Sprays of water traced sparkling paths through the multicolored spotlight beams, and the patter of the fountains was punctuated by the occasional cries of the birds.
There were ceiling fans out here as well as inside. Lysander watched a pair of brilliant blue-and-red hens strut in their cage, then turned to the others who had gathered around him at the veranda railing. "I'd thought Tanith was a young planet," Lysander said. "But surely birds are a late stage of evolution?"
"Quite late, Highness," Catherine Alana said. "Even though this planet looks like it's still in the Cretaceous, it's actually in an era beyond Earth's present period."
"Ah. I hadn't known that. And no intelligent life evolved. Not here, not anywhereЧ"
Ursula smiled. "Except on Earth, of course."
"Sometimes I wonder," Christopher Reilly said. He looked out over the fountains below. "If we're so intelligent, why do we act so stupid?"
"You're not being stupid," Captain Alana said. Her smile faded. "It's those others. They aren't going to win, so why are they making us fight? It will be expensive for everyone." She looked across the veranda where her husband stood with Colonel Falkenberg. "It could be very expensive."
"She ought to know," Beatrice Frazer said. "Catherine is the regiment's chief accountant."
"I see. Captain Alana is in uniform, but you're not, Madame Frazer," Lysander prompted.
"No, I'm a civilian." She laughed. "As much as we have civilians in Falkenberg's Legion. I teach in the regimental schools."
"Are there many women in your regiment?" Ursula asked.
"A fair number if you count the dependents," Beatrice said. "Most of the men are married, so there are nearly as many women as men. I expect Catherine could tell you exactly how many of us are in uniform. Actually, we don't make too strong a distinction between those in ranks and the dependents. We take care of our own."
"Do you fight?" Lysander asked Catherine Alana. He glanced at her holstered pistol.
"I presume you mean the women? Only if we have to. The regiment is organized so that it can take the field without us, and we manage the rear areas, so to speak. Sometimes things don't work the way they're planned." Captain Alana's blue eyes danced. "I should tell you? You've a whole planet to run. Or will have."
"It's not quite cut and dried," Lysander said. "Sparta has a dual monarchy, and the throne is elective in each royal house. Then there's the Senate, and the Council."
"How could they pass you over?" Catherine said.
"Well, it would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it?" Lysander grinned and turned so that he faced her, with his back to the others. "You seem to know everything, Captain. Tell me, please: What is all this about a revolt of the planters?"
"I expect you'll find out soon enough," Catherine said. "Very soon, in fact. Here's the governor, and if no one's already told you, he's revived the custom of inviting the menfolk into his office for after-dinner cigars."
Governor Blaine had brought Falkenberg down to join them. Like his officers, Falkenberg wore dress whites. Lysander smiled to himself. He'd already noticed that the colonel and his staff were the only guests wearing white upper garments.
"Your Highness, Colonel Falkenberg has asked me to provide you transport to his regimental compound tomorrow," Blaine said. "Easy enough to do, if you like."