"Timothy Zahn - Night Train to Rigel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

hotel towels or something. I'd sparked a major furor in the press, been
responsible for a handful of political scapegoats having their heads handed to
them in the hallowed halls of the United Nations, and earned myself the
permanent loathing of both the secretary-general and the Directorate in the
process.
And all they'd had the guts to call it was professional indiscretion.
But I let that one pass, too. "There are plenty of other ex-Westali people
around who are as good as I am and a lot more respectable," I said instead.
"So again: Why me?"
Hermod's forehead wrinkled. "Your reticence puzzles me, Mr. Compton," he said.
"I would think that, considering your present circumstances, you'd jump at the
chance for employment."
My present circumstances. On the surface, an innocent enough expression.
Nearly as innocent, in fact, as professional indiscretion.
Did he and the Spiders know about my new job? It was hard to imagine how they
could, not after all the paranoid-level convolutions we'd gone through to keep
it secret
On the other hand, it was equally hard to imagine how they could not know.
Their messenger had been right there, after all, right outside the New Pallas
Towers the evening the whole thing had been finalized.
But there was no hint of any such secret knowledge in Hermod's face or body
language. There was no anticipation I could detect, no sense of the hunter
waiting eagerly beside his trap as the prey wanders toward the tripwire. There
was nothing there, in fact, except an almost puppy-dog earnestness set against
a background of distant fear and unease. If he did know about me, he was being
damn coy about it. "So my present circumstances aren't as good as I might
like," I said. "How about some information instead of flattery?"
His lips puckered. "There are many mysterious places in this galaxy," he said.
"One of them, which the Spiders have dubbed the Oracle, sits a short distance
from a siding similar to this one. Occasionally, Spiders passing through the
area see visions of future events." He gestured at the Spider standing over
him. "Five weeks ago, this Spider saw the future destruction of a Filiaelian
transfer station."
I sat up a little straighter in my chair. Filly transfer stations were among
the biggest and best-protected in the galaxy. "How sure are you that it was a
Filly station?"
"Very sure," Hermod said, his voice darkening. "Because there were the remains
of two gutted Sorfali-class warships drifting alongside it."
I threw a look at the Spider. "Your friend's been hallucinating," I said
flatly. "Filly soldiers are genetically programmed against rebellion or civil
war."
"I never said it was a civil war," Hermod countered, his voice going even
darker. "The attack came from somewhere outside the system."
I looked over at The Girl's expressionless face. If this was a joke, no one
was laughing. "Now you're the one hallucinating," I told Hermod. "You can't
smuggle weaponry through the Tube. Certainly nothing that could take out a
Sorfali. You know that better than I do."
"It seems impossible to the Spiders, as well," Hermod agreed. "Nevertheless,
that is what he saw. And since the Oracle's past visions have subsequently
proven valid, the Spiders have no choice but to assume this one may, too." His