"Vattas 4 - Command Decision - Moon, Elizabeth_13" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

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
time; you were very helpful, and I’m terribly sorry I can’t promise a sale. You will forgive me?”

The man blinked at him. “No need to apologize, sir; it’s my job—oh…you’re from Cascadia, right?”

“Yes. I suppose we do seem overly formal to you—but that’s not intended as an insult.” Rafe had
always enjoyed his Cascadian persona; overblown courtesy could be every bit as deadly as biting
sarcasm, an art form with its lethal edges well concealed rather than exposed.

“Not at all,” the man said. “We’re a bit too direct sometimes, probably. It was a pleasure, sir.”

“And to me, as well.” Rafe stood up to leave, and was not surprised that Luce was also through, and
coming toward him, smiling.

“Success?” he asked.

“Alas not,” Rafe said. “Transportation is still too high. But don’t let me detain you; you have a business
to run.”

Luce seemed willing enough, once outside, to turn back toward his own place. Rafe went to an
information kiosk and looked up the manufacturers whose names he’d just learned, then called each one





to inquire about offworld consultancy contracts. Since he could use the same spiel with each one, the rest
of his mind was free to wonder how long it would take to bore the man watching him from the cafй
across the street, and how soon he could evade his watchers.