[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
never doubted and with whose fairness the biases of the Empire contrasted so
unfavorably?.
Was it the growing awareness of social change, manifested Empire-wide in
such movements as the Ateys, the Droblocs, the Aghomers? Or was the Empire
merely one of those accidents of history that lasted so long as it did because
it took fifteen centuries for its peoples to discover that it had really never
lived?
The Last Great Empire
Ptior Petral, IV
New Avalon, 5467 N.E.C.
XXIV
LYR D'MERYON STEPPED out of the electrocab and into the warmlights of the
entry tunnel.
To her right was a towering figureùa doormanùwhose weight and bulk might
have qualified him for the Imperial Marines' Front Force.
She hesitated, then began a series of quick steps toward the portal,
where she presented the card that Commander Gerswin had left for her. Was he
the trustee or the commander to her?
She didn't know, but apparently the invitation was his apology. At least
she hoped that was all it was.
The portal accepted the card, but did not return it as it opened for
her.
Inside, the lighting was brighter, though fractionally, and the tiles
were replaced with carpeting. She looked again as her eyes took in the decor.
The foyer where she stood was about the same size as her private office and
was floored in dark wood, over which laid an individual carpet with a central
design, in turn bordered by a more geometrical design, both woven in a
harmonious blend of blue and maroons.
"Administrator D'Meryon?"
The voice came from a short, gray-haired man who stood by the tall
wooden table flanking the exit from the foyer into the next room.
"Yes?"
"Your patron has arrived already and is expecting you. If you would
follow me?"
Lyr inclined her head in assent and followed the man through the archway
into a dining area, dimly lit, with the tables arranged in a circular pattern,
each in its own paneled recess to create a sense of full privacy without
closeness.
The dark and heavy carpeting, the wood paneling, and the crisp white
linen all gave the impressions of a time from history, of a place removed from
the here and now.
Commander Gerswin, in a formal gray tunic and trousers that resembled a
uniform, stood as she neared.
Page 66
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
She almost smiled, more in embarrassment than in pleasure, as his eyes
came to rest on her. She wondered if he saw through people the way he seemed
to when he looked at them.
"Lyr. Pleasure to see you."
"I appreciate your asking me, Commander." Her tone was as cool as she
could politely make it.
He nodded in response, but said nothing until she was seated in the
comfortable armchair opposite him at the square table.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Squierre and flame."
Lyr did not see the waiter until the commander looked up over her head
and repeated the order.
"Straight fizz," he added.
She surveyed the room as well as she could from her chair without
turning around, and waited.
He waited.
And the waiter returned with both drinks, set them down in the
appropriate places, and departed without saying a word.
"Owe you an apology. Perhaps more. Start by saying I apologize."
The directness of his words took her breath away. She took a sip of the
squierre before answering.
"It's not that simple, Commander. You don't ask me to an obviously
expensive private club, say, 'I apologize,' and assume that everything is
forgotten and forgiven."
"No. I know that. So do you." He paused. "Have to start somewhere.
Foundation needs you. I need you."
"Fine. I'll accept that. But it means more trust on your part. Why don't
you start by telling me who you really are?"
He shrugged. "You know a lot already. Broken-down and passed-over I.S.S.
Commander. Pressed into public service in my off-duty time. One reason why I
need you." After sipping the nondrug, nonalcohlic drink, he waited for her
response.
"That doesn't compute. Broken-down commanders don't end up as sole
trustees of powerful foundations, unless they're related to Court families or
the Imperial family."
"I'm not. I'm originally from an impoverished and forgotten outer
system. Used the Service to improve myself, but, as ambitious officers will
do, ran into difficulties with High Command. Finis to promotions."
"It couldn't have been too bad or you would have been cashiered or had
to resign."
Page 67
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Delicate orbit. Some pushed for that. Public opinion ran my way, and
High Command backed off."
Lyr smiled wryly. "And you're just a poor, broken-down commander? If
they backed off because of the publicity, you must have had an extremely high
profile."
"Wasn't like that at all. Would have been inconvenient for the Service
to deal with me."
"The more you say, the more mysterious it gets. But you offer no
substance. No glorious battles from years in the I.S.S. It sounds more like a
series of screen-pushing assignments in headquarters."
"Ha!"
The single barked laugh startled Lyr, and she set down her goblet too
hard, hard enough for the liquid to splash and dribble down the outside of the
crystal. She dabbed at it with the napkin.
"I take it you have done more than screen pushing."
"A bit. Rated skitter and flitter pilot. Had command of a cruiser for
two tours."
"Which one?"
"Fleurdilis."
"The Fleurdilis? The one that discovered the bearlike aliens? The . . .
Ursans?"
"Same one. Yes."
"Yes?" Lyr's face screwed up into an inquiry. "Yes to what?"
"Was the C.O. at the time."
"Oh . . ." A slow smile crossed her face. "I suppose I owe you a bit of
an apology, Commander."
ôNo."
"Yes, I do. I've been thinking of you as more of an administrative
officer, a man who postures more than acts."
"All men posture," snorted the commander.
"Some have reason. And I can see why High Command left you well enough
alone for whatever else you did."
The commander nodded with an odd expression on his face, one which Lyr
could not place.
"Did you actually engage in hand-to-hand combat with an alien, the way
the faxers showed?"
"Combat, one on one, but not so romantic as the newsies recreated.
Pretty grubby. Should have been able to avoid killing him, her, it. Wasn't
good enough for that. Turned out all right in the end. Better than the
Page 68
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Dismorph first contact."
Lyr took a sip from the goblet.
"What about you?" the commander asked.
"Me?"
"Know your background, and you're a good administrator. Can tell that
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]