"Allen, Roger MacBride - Chronicles Of Solace 2 - Ocean Of Years" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

waiting for Koffield in the aircar that had brought him to the Executive
Mansion. The rain blew in the door as Koffield stepped inside.
“Spaceport,” Koffield said to the car’s controls, and sat back in the seat
facing Marquez.
“So what do we get?” Marquez asked.
“Everything,” said Koffield. “Blank check, with a few conditions. And I assume
we’ll find some other strings attached, sooner or later. But we’ll get all the
help we need, and the Dom Pedro IV will get a full upgrade.”
“Very good,” said Marquez. “I just wish she’d have a full crew.”
“How many do you think will want to stay behind?” Koffield asked.
“Two at least,” said Marquez. “With the two who died on arrival, that leaves us
short four crew before we even boost for the wormhole.”
“We can’t sign any new crew,” said Koffield, his voice hard. “Not on Solace.
We’ve been through that. Sign up four new crew, and we’d get spies on board for
four dif­ferent factions.”
“Maybe five factions,” said Marquez, with a tired smile. “I agree—reluctantly.
No new crew. We’ll have enough security problems without them.”
“Agreed. Kalzant wants the operation kept quiet— nearly as much we do.”
Marquez nodded. There were as many reasons for keeping the operation secret as
there were ways it could all go wrong.
And there were plenty of ways for it to go wrong.



SIX MONTHS LATER



CHAPTER ONE
THE REALMS OF THOR



A shaft of silver that gleamed in darkness, a javelin thrown across the black of
space, the great ship hurtled down toward a hole in the sky.
The Dom Pedro IV, flying under a false name and false pretenses, dropped toward
Hanson’s Timeshaft, more formally known as TR-40.2, in the Thor’s Realm
Timeshaft Wormhole Farm. She was the DP-IV no more, so far as the outside
universe was concerned. She flew now under the name “Merchanter’s Dream.” And if
that was the third most common name for a ship in all of Set­tled Space, that
could not be helped—and perhaps it would be very helpful indeed.
Norla Chandray sat in the copilot’s seat. She had the very distinct feeling that
she was not much help to any­one at the moment.
Captain Marquez sat next to her, in the pilot’s seat, seemingly imperturbable,
but with a hint of tension, ex­citement, hovering there beneath the surface.
“Give me a final check on all externals,” he said.
Norla ran her boards, blipped through all the telltales and camera ports. “All
retractable external devices re­tracted and stowed.”
“Close forward view shields,” Marquez ordered.
Norla activated the proper controls. Overhead, the shutters swung to over the