"Elizabeth Moon - Vattas 4 - Command Decision" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

It had to be official. Something was very wrong indeed. “From a place…er…Luce’s?…they have
honeycakes and lime tea.”

“And when did you say you arrived?”

“A few hours ago; my ship from Cascadia docked at Nexus Station yesterday.”

“Do not attempt to end this call. Just a moment.” The connection hummed and hissed. Rafe finished his
honeycake and sipped tea while he waited.

The voice came back, a little less strained. “You entered the wrong number, a seven instead of a five.
We have confirmed your arrival today. You may end this call now.”

“What is this about?” Rafe asked. “Is something wrong?” Genson would ask that.
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“It is no affair of yours,” the voice said; the connection broke.

“Would you like something else?” Luce’s proprietor, whom Rafe had known since childhood, stood by
the table, looking at him with suspicion but no recognition.

“It’s very good,” Rafe said, waving his hand at the crumbs on his plate. “But this is confusing. I need to
contact Flasic’s Bakery Supplies, and I entered the wrong number and someone was very rude to me.”

“We aren’t as formal as you Cascadians,” Luce said, picking up the plate. “Don’t assume we’re rude if
we’re not all flowery.”

“No offense intended,” Rafe said. So Luce knew he was Cascadian? Who had told him? “I was just
surprised. Do you know where Flasic’s Bakery Supplies is? Perhaps I should walk there instead of trying
to call. I don’t want to make more mistakes.”

Luce smiled. “I can take you there myself; I was going over to get the estimate on a new oven.”

Rafe doubted that, but he was willing to let Luce walk with him the several blocks to Flasic’s. Anything
to convince the ants’ nest he’d kicked that he was harmless and forgettable. On the way, he was able to
convince Luce that he knew something about bakeries; Luce didn’t seem to realize that it was mostly
Luce’s own knowledge that Rafe had picked up as a boy, being fed back to him in handy snippets.

Once in the store, he invented a problem with oven manufacturers on Cascadia, and inquired soberly
about the possibility of importing high-volume, precise-temperature-control ovens from Nexus. He had
shipping costs at his fingertips; he ran over the figures with the enthusiasm and thoroughness of any
businessman, and finally shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said to the sales representative who was
talking with him. Luce, he noticed, was still hovering across the room, trying to pretend a serious
conversation with another man. “It’s simply too expensive, even if we went straight to your
manufacturers. Perhaps we can hire some of your experts as consultants instead. I know ovens are
supposed to be simple, mature technology, but every time we try to scale up bakery output, we end up
with inferior product and unhappy customers.” He smiled at his sales representative. “Thank you for your