"Robert F. Young - L'Arc de Jeanne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

influenced the weather, she could very well inspire them to a point where he would have to bomb them
into submission, and in the process lay waste to property that he already considered his own. So he gave
orders not only that the 97th be picked up and returned to the orbiting fleet, but that the rest of Drop
XVI be picked up and returned as well; then, for the time being, he turned over the campaign to
Smith-Kolgoz, his Chief of Intelligence.
In less than a week, Smith-Kolgoz had a report ready for himтАФand a plan.
Raymond D'Arcy, Decoder 2nd class, GGS Watchdog, had never attended a council of war before.
Nor had he ever before been on board the Ambassadress. He felt diffident and a little afraid.
The Ambassadress was a city in the sky. In the city, in addition to the crew, dwelled O'Riordan
himself, his advisors, his arbiters, his bodyguards, his Ministers of War, his Chiefs of Staff, his Secret
Police, his Civilian-Control Corps, his Reorganization Corps, his Intelligence Corps, his personal cuisine,
and his mistresses, valets, manicurists, barbers, and physicians.
In both shape and color the flagship resembled a monstrous orange. The orange hue, however, was
not a true color but resulted from the reflection of the starlight on the special alloy that constituted the hull.
There were seven decks altogether, the centermost and largest of which contained the units that housed
the executive, administrative, and judicial departments, and their respective personnel-suites. The units
encircled a large open area called the Green where real trees and genuine grass grew, and the trees and
the grass in turn encircled an asphalt plaza.
The decks were connected by companionways and elevator shafts and each level was equipped with
high-speed conveyor-corridors. In addition, the levels had boat bays that could easily be reached in time
of an emergency and whose size and whose number of escape boats were in ratio to the dimensions of
the deck. Artificial gravity was constantly maintained by intra-deck attractor-coils and the ship's power
unit was located on Deck No. 1 where no one, except the Ambassadress's maintenance men, ever
ventured.
The Council of War Chamber was part of the executive unit and overlooked the Green. D'Arcy
stood at one of the open casements, looking wistfully down at trees and grass and golden puddles of
artificial sunshine. There were flowers growing in hydroponic parterres and hidden tapes supplied a
nostalgic background of melodic birdsong. He tried to distinguish the various calls and warbles, but the
voices in the room behind him made the task impossible. Presently he realized that one of the voices was
directed toward him. "Over here, D'ArcyтАФO'Riordan's on his way down."
D'Arcy approached the long council table and took the seat that the council-co-ordinator had
indicated. There was a glass of water in front of him, and he drank some of it. His throat still felt dry. He
was uncomfortably aware of the row of important faces across the table; his own face struck a
discordant note in a similar row on his own side of the table. There was the sound of a door opening and
closing. It was followed by a thunder-clap of silence. "All rise!" the council co-ordinator commanded. All
did.
D'Arcy had seen O'Riordan on telecasts, but he had never seen him in person. He was a small
dynamic man with a flat face and bright brown eyes. He did not look his sixty-odd years. His face was
ruddy, with hardly a wrinkle showing, if you discounted the intense crows' feet at the corners of his eyes.
His hair was sandy and faintly flecked with gray. Even in the gorgeous blue and gold trappings of a
supreme commander, he still managed to look like what he wasтАФa one-time pauper who, by dint of
peasant shrewdness and determination, had become a political prince.
Flanked by flint-faced bodyguards, he entered the room and seated himself at the head of the council
table. "All sit!" the council co-ordinator cried. All did.
O'Riordan puffed a cigar to life and looked up and down the two rows of faces. His eyes flickered
faintly when they met D'Arcy's, alighted finally on the sharp-featured visage of the Chief of Intelligence.
"All right, Smith-KolgozтАФlet's hear what you've found out."
Smith-Kolgoz stood up. "I think it will be best, your Magnificence, if we hear the report directly from
the man who prepared itтАФLeopold McGrawski, Director of Field Operations."
 A burly man in mufti got to his feet. Smith-Kolgoz sat down. MCGRAWSKI: "We were successful