"Eric Flint & K. D. Wentworth - The Course of Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

naked aggression this long without exterminating each other was a mystery.
Someone had to make them understand, before the Ekhat swept this way. Staring at
the shattered crockery, the gaudy crimson of human blood spattered across floor and
wall, with here and there a few spots of orange-colored Jao blood, he realized it was not
going to be him. Though he had tried repeatedly down through the five orbital cycles he'd
been stationed here, he simply did not have the skill and never would.
On his way back to his office, he considered how best to restore discipline. But by the
time he arrived, he discovered it was a moot point. Kaul resided on the base himself, and
he had already moved quickly. The Commandant had given orders to have the most
prominent of the involved humans put down. By now, it would already have been done.
Jao punishment was always swift.
No fewer than five, it seemed. Mrat was surprised at the severity of Kaul's actions.
Doubtless, the Commandant thought he could not afford to appear weak, with a new
high-status officer taking command of the jinau troops.
Perhaps this Pluthrak, fresh from training and with his grizzled fraghta, would be able
to make the humans see what was at stake. Mrat thought it unlikely. But it had better be
someone, and soon. The most recent reports on Ekhat activities in this galactic region
were ominous. No one on this world, Jao or human, had time for this kind of divisive
nonsense.
***
Aille's new quarters were disappointing, two painted squares with flat walls and tight
angles where they fit together. The air felt dead inside, as though flow itself couldn't
penetrate. And, worst of all, there was no pool, only a cramped bathing facility that could
hold but a dollop of water at a time, barely enough to dampen one's nap.
Sighing, he changed into his new harness, which was of a high-quality dark-green
augmented by colorful yellow and green Pluthrak banding about the buckles. For some
reason, the air in their quarters was artificially chill, a waste of energy, and he directed
Yaut to find the temperature controls.
"Terrans have a narrower comfort range than Jao," Yaut said a moment later. "They're
much more susceptible to extremes." He resumed unpacking Aille's kit and stowing the
items away, fingering the ceremonial halfcape he had tailored on the voyage to this
world. The fabric was very fine, the traditional Pluthrak insignia ornate. Yaut had sewn it
himself that his charge might show to his best advantage on this first critical assignment.
Aille was just contemplating a walk to inspect the base when someone knocked with
a summons from Commandant Kaul krinnu ava Dano.
Yaut deactivated the doorfield, accepted the flimsy from an unblinking Terran
soldier, then keyed the field back on in his face. He held the order out as though it were
contaminated. "Not one to waste time, is he?" Yaut's own face was fierce beneath its
scars.
"Would you be, if you were in his position?" Aille ran a brush back over his head,
smoothing the golden nap. "I would certainly want the measure of a new subordinate."
"You are Pluthrak," Yaut said. "By that alone, he has your measure."
"Pluthrak's measure, not mine." Aille thought of his six pool-parents, stern individuals
who had impressed upon their charges day after day that the honor of one was the honor
of all—and had them repeat it nightly before surrendering to dormancy.
"Do not be the first to let down Pluthrak," they had said at the start of every day, and
then again at the end. "And above all, die well."
 Dying was easy, he thought. Anyone could achieve that. Dying well was another
matter altogether.
Yaut inspected him, green-black eyes narrowed. "The harness is a fair fit, though I