"Keith Laumer - The Star Treasure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

The Star Treasure
By
Keith Laumer

PROLOGUE

The wide doors swung open; the elderly man, tall and straight-backed in a braid- and
decoration-heavy uniform advanced across the room, halted, executed a formal salute.

"Good morning, Admiral," said the man who sat behind the immense, mirror-polished
desk. "How pleasant to see you. It's been some time; not since your retirement, I believe."
He smiled faintly, the intricate network of fine wrinkles around his eyes almost invisible
against his dark skin. His small, round skull was entirely hairless. One large, pink-palmed
hand toyed with a silver writing instrument. Except for that and a folded paper the desk
was totally bare.

"I requested an interview two weeks ago," the old man said. His voice had lost its
resonance, but still carried force. His face, hollow and sagging with advanced age, was set
in a grim expression.

"Ah," the seated man said easily. "Unfortunately, I've been much occupied lately”

"I know," his visitor said. "That's the reason for my coming here today.”

The black man's smile faded by an almost imperceptible degree. "To be sure, Admiral.
I've read your note; I understand your concern—”

"You're making a serious mistake, Lord Imbolo. I don't know the reasons for what's
been happening—but whatever they are, they're in error.”

The seated man placed the pen on the desk carefully, as if handling a rare and fragile
object. He sighed. "There's no error, Admiral," he started— "The charges are fantastic!" the
old man cut him off. "They're lying to you, Imbolo!" "I think not, Admiral—”

"You have to call a halt to this pogrom, Imbolo. It can't go on!" The old man's voice
shook, but his eyes glared with the fierceness of a trapped falcon.

"Admiral, you've served the Public long and well; you find it difficult to believe that
changes are taking place—" "I know all about the changes, Imbolo. I've heard the Hateniks
ranting. I've seen the underground papers. I have nothing to do with that. It's the Navy I'm
thinking of. Over three hundred years of tradition are being destroyed by this sneaking
corps of informers, weasels, worming their way into every level of command—”

"You're not in possession of all the facts, Admiral. Rest assured—”

"I'll not rest at all until I've heard your assurance that these cases will be reopened,
your informers called off, and these men restored to duty!" "Impossible," Imbolo said flatly.
The old man's hand slipped inside his silver-buttoned tunic, came out gripping a flat, snub-
barreled power gun. Without a word he raised it, took aim at the still faintly smiling face
before him, pressed the firing stud.