"Anderson, Poul - 1974 Flandry 11 - A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows (Knight Fl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

suspect not, to the extent that'd bring on overt conflict with us. But
they might well use the potentiality, the threat, to steer us into new
orbits--We've barely started tracing the connections."

Flandry scowled. "And those turn out to be Dennitzan?"

"Correct. Any such conspiracy would have to involve members of a society
with spaceships--preferably humans--to plant and cultivate the seed on
Diomedes, and maintain at least enough liaison with Ythri that the
would-be rebels stay hopeful. When our people first got on the track of
this, they naturally assumed the humans were Avalonian. But a lucky
capture they made, just before I left for Sol, indicated otherwise.
Dennitzan agents, Dennitzan."

"Why, on the opposite side of Terra from their home?"

"Oh, come on! You know why. If the Gospodar's planning an uprising of
his own, what better preliminary than one in that direction?" Hazeltine
drew breath. "I don't have the details. Those are, or will be, in the
reports to GHQ from our units. But isn't something in the Empire always
going wrong? The word is, his Majesty plans to leave soon for Sector
Spica, at the head of an armada, and curb the barbarians there. That's a
long way from anyplace else. Meanwhile, how slowly do reports from an
obscure clod like Diomedes grind their way through the bureaucracy?"

"When a fleet can incinerate a world," Flandry said bleakly, "I prefer
governments not have fast reflexes. You and your teammates could well be
quantum-hopping to an unwarranted conclusion. For instance, those
Dennitzans who were caught, if they really are Dennitzans, could be
freebooters. Or if they have bosses at home, those bosses may be a
single clique--may be, themselves, maneuvering to overthrow the
Gospodar--and may or may not have ambitions beyond that. How much more
than you've told me do you know for certain?"

Hazeltine sighed. "Not much. But I hoped--" He looked suddenly,
pathetically young. "I hoped you might check further into the question."

Chives entered, on bare feet which touched the carpet soundlessly though
the gee-field was set at Terran standard. "I beg your pardon, sir," he
addressed his master. "If you wish dinner before we reach the landing
approach zone, I must commence preparations. The tournedos will
obviously require a red wine. Shall I open the Chateau Falkayn '35?"

"Hm?" Flandry blinked, recalled from darker matters. "Why ... um-m ...
I'd thought of Beaujolais."

"No, sir," said Chives, respectfully immovable. "I cannot recommend
Beaujolais to accompany a tournedos such as is contemplated. And may I
suggest drinking and smoking cease until your meal is ready?"