"E. E. Doc Smith - D' Alembert 9 - The Omicron Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

another point of shared concern.

It was true, as he himself had pointed out, that they came from different social backgrounds.
Helena was from the upper levels of the aristocracy; she'd spent all her life in the glitter and glamour of
the top classes, and had been raised almost as a sister to Edna Stanley, the current Empress. Fortier was
from a family with a naval tradition—sturdy middle-class stock without titles or pretensions. There was
bound to be some conflict in their chosen lifestyles—but given the similarity of their interests and careers,
that could probably be reduced to a minimum. She was sure an intelligent person could adjust to a step
upwards in society much more easily than a step downwards.

She smiled warmly. It would be fun teaching her Paul the intricate ins and outs of protocol, the
complex patterns of formal etiquette in aristocratic society. She imagined the first few dinner parties they
would attend, and hoped he'd be up to making inane conversations with empty-headed countesses and
half-drunk earls. She thought of the splendid reception she'd have to throw to announce their
engagement—and that thought reminded her she'd have to tell her father.

She checked her ringwatch and discovered it was three in the morning, Miami time. Even with the
long hours her father kept as Head of the Service of the Empire, he would probably be asleep by now.
There would be plenty of time to tell him the wonderful news in the morning. She didn't think he'd raise
any objections; after all, it was he who'd encouraged her to get more closely acquainted with Paul Fortier
in the first place by assigning her to work with him as liaison between SOTE and NI.

She could not later remember her drive home from Headquarters to her apartment. Her head was
so in the clouds from this surprising development that her surroundings were just a blur. She'd had enough
presence of mind to hook her car's controls into the traffic computer network, rather than trying to drive on
her own; in her present euphoric state, she didn't want to risk an accident. She merely sat back in her seat
and spent the time in pleasant reverie.

As befit a lady of her rank, Helena lived in a penthouse suite at one of Miami's most exclusive
hotels. She had four, large, well-appointed rooms, maid service at her call any hour of the day, closets
filled with the latest fashions, a large and timely library of bookreels, and the latest in automated
conveniences. Her kitchen could handle banquets for twenty; the other three rooms had their own
characteristic periods, yet each contained touches of the others so that twentieth century "modern",
Aesthetic Movement Japonica, and Deco each were clearly followed and still tastefully blended—the
perfect setting for gracious entertaining.

It was everything a lady of leisure could wish. The trouble was, as she lamented to her father
repeatedly, she was anything but a lady of leisure. Between the grueling demands of the Service and the
obligatory social demands of the Imperial Court, she was almost never able to enjoy her suite. All she
usually ever did here was sleep—and she frequently skipped that; her busy workload often demanded she
grab mere catnaps on the couch in her office.
 Helena left her groundcar nestled in its underground parking slot, still walking lightly on air from
the delight of this evening. The day's fatigue was washed away. She resolved to get out of her work
clothes; as attractive as the champagne tuxedo-pleated jumpsuit was, it had been a long exciting day.
Helena looked forward to a hot whirlpool bath and a chance to lie down on her eyelet-covered flotation-
bed. She wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep at all, but she owed herself the opportunity to try. At least lying
down might stop the giddy spinning of her head.

She took her private elevator tube to the penthouse and pressed her hand to the keyplate. The
computer scanned her handprint and recognized it as acceptable, so the door opened and she stepped from