"Smith, E E Doc - D'alembert 09 - Omicron Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

Von Wilmenhorst considered that. "Perhaps I'm becoming a cynic in my old age, but all this altruism still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Suppose we do fight these aliens, and suppose we win. What price do you intend to extract from us?"
Traces of a smile, seen by the light of a gibbous moon in the deepening twilight, curled the outer edges of Lady A's lips. "Now that you mention it, there was something I was going to ask-only if we're completely successful, of course."
"What is it?"
"A war can't be won solely on the defensive. Sooner or later we'll have to go into the aliens' territory if we win. I want governance of any captured alien worlds, completely autonomous from the Empire. Who knows? Perhaps I'll end up with an empire of my own, and I won't need to bother yours."
Privately, the Grand Duke did not put any such limits on the woman's ambitions; if there turned out to be two empires, she'd simply want to rule them both. He considered it diplomatic, however, not to express those thoughts aloud.
"All this," he said, "is contingent on our finding a worst-case situation. You mentioned a joint venture to investigate the problem on Omicron. What did you have in mind?"
"What I don't think we should do is just send in some gunboats. That would just provoke another fight, and all it would prove is someone's there. I'd like to know a little more about the nature of the enemy-who they are, where they come from, what they're doing, what their plans are. That would require some stealth."
"You should be good at that."
Lady A smiled again. "Thank you. You have a few people of your own who aren't so bad. I was envisioning a small covert assault team, three people from each side. I would be in charge of my group personally, since I'm the only one I trust fully in this matter. I'll pick two of my best people to accompany me. On your side, I'd like Agents Wombat and Periwinkle and Captain Paul Fortier."
"I must have discretion over my choice of personnel," the Head countered.
"This is not negotiable." Lady A stood up and walked down to the edge of the sea, where the incoming waves just lapped at the toes of her boots. "I'm risking a great deal, tovarishch, by going on this mission personally. I want to make sure I'm surrounded by people I can depend on."
"You can depend on all three of them to hate your mechanical guts," von Wilmenhorst said quietly.
The woman shrugged. "If I'd wanted love I'd have chosen some other calling. I know perfectly well what they must feel about me. I also know perfectly well that they're dedicated enough not to let their personal feelings interfere with the success of their mission. Wombat, Periwinkle, and Fortier are the three best people you've got. If I'm to infiltrate enemy territory, I want them along with me.
"Besides," she added, turning to face him once more, "they're the three you'd pick anyway. On a mission this delicate, you'd want people whose reports you could trust. You certainly wouldn't take my word for anything: you'll need your most dependable agents along to make sure I'm not trying to trick you."
Von Wilmenhorst hated to admit it, but the woman was right. Jules d'Alembert and Yvette Bavol would certainly have been two of his choices, and while he might have chosen the spouse of either one as his third selection, Captain Fortier was an outstanding candidate.
Aloud, he merely said, "I'm not empowered to accept your terms, merely to listen to them and report to Her Majesty. I'm sure she'll find them of interest."
"Of course. You realize, though, the importance of speed in this matter. If you choose to accept my help-at least as far as the investigative mission, for now-call the same answering machine number and leave word: you'll be instructed later on meeting arrangements. If I don't hear from you within four hours, I'll assume the answer is no and prepare plans of my own."
Out over the ocean, the Grand Duke could see the lights of the returning copter as it blotted out an increasing number of stars: Lady A must have summoned it with a silent radio signal.
"Goodbye for now, Gospodin von Wilmenhorst," the woman said. "It's been pleasant doing business with you-you're so much more civilized than your employees. I won't insult your intelligence, though, with any nonsense about how we might have been friends if circumstances were different."
The Head nodded. "No, with our respective moral codes we'd be destined to be on opposite sides of any conflict."
"Let's just hope we're on the same side in this one," Lady A said. "The fate of the Empire may depend on it."
CHAPTER 4
Unwilling Allies
Life had changed significantly for the two best teams of agents in SOTE's arsenal since their last major assignment. Jules and Yvonne d'Alembert now had a son, Maurice, one year old and in perfect health. Pias and Yvette Bavol had a daughter barely six months younger: little Kari Bavol had been named in honor of Pias's mother.
Child-rearing on a three-gee world like DesPlaines was a particularly demanding chore, and the two women had been very much out of touch with their work for the Service. Their husbands had gone out on a couple of minor assignments together, trying to pierce deeper behind the conspiracy's armor, but had been largely unsuccessful. They'd broken some minor links in the chain, but the major structure remained intact.
Fortunately the last eighteen months had been an unusually quiet time for the Empire. If the agents hadn't known better, they might almost have thought the conspiracy had given up its plans of conquest and turned to respectable outlets for its endeavors. They'd learned from the past, though, that the longer a period of inactivity went by, the worse they'd have to pay for it later. They found themselves in the ambiguous position of wishing something would happen and dreading what it would be.
Jules and Yvette were getting a little itchy for other reasons as well. While they were in their prime as agents right now, their biological clocks were working against them. Their younger cousins, currently performing as star acrobats in the Circus of the Galaxy, were champing at the bit waiting to get assignments of their own, and Jules and Yvette knew they'd soon be asked to step aside for the next generation.
Not that they'd retire, of course. Retirement was almost unheard of in the d'Alembert clan, either from the Circus or from serving the Empire in an underground capacity. Members of the family had been known to carry out assignments well into their eighties, and Jules and Yvette knew there would always be jobs waiting for them.
But being SOTE's top team of agents required razor sharp reflexes. There could be no fumbles, no mistakes. Jules and Yvette had so far avoided them, and the time to leave graciously was before they made any, while they still had a perfect record. They were hoping for at least one more major assignment though, one last great task to set a standard for the next team to aim at. What they really wanted, of course, was a chance to demolish Lady A's conspiracy once and for all, so they could hand over the responsibility to their cousins with a clean slate.
All four agents were living at Felicitй, the d'Alembert estate on DesPlaines, more or less marking time. There was always something to do, and the women in particular worked out in the gymnasium to get back into perfect shape after having had their babies, but they were all quite relieved when they were summoned to the communications room for a call from the Head.
Von Wilmenhorst greeted them all warmly, but there was a strange, almost regretful look in his eyes that had them puzzled. The movements of the four agents were subdued as they took chairs around the well-worn oak conference table. Mercifully, the Head did not keep them in suspense too long. "The assignment is just for Jules and Yvette this time," he said, "but I'm afraid you're not going to like it."
"We've never expected to like our assignments," Yvette said quickly, "but we do whatever's necessary and be glad we can help."
"I know," the Head nodded, "but I suspect you'll find the conditions of this one a little more odious than most. You'll have to work with Lady A."
As the agents' faces clearly registered their astonishment, the Head filled them in on the background of the Omicron problem and the need to combine forces with the conspiracy to get to the bottom of the mystery as quickly as possible. "I've spoken with the Empress," he concluded, "and she's agreed to the Omicron mission at least; we're still keeping our options open regarding the larger venture until we see what we learn on Omicron. I want to hear your thoughts on the matter."
"My thoughts on the matter are not fit for delicate ears," Yvette said hotly. "Lady A is an amoral, lying, murderous, cheating traitor who killed her own granddaughter, not to mention hundreds-if not thousands-of other more innocent people in her quest for power."
"But can you work with her?" the Head persisted gently.
Jules cut in before his sister could continue her tirade. "Yes, we can work with her-if she's on the level. My concern is that this is just another of her tricks to get at Evie and me. What if she doses us with nitrobarb as soon as she gets us alone?"
"You'll have your suicide capsules, of course," the Head said somberly. "She knows that, too, which is why I'm pretty sure she's smooth with us right now. If this is some sort of hoax, she's gone to a lot of trouble for such a tiny payoff. The situation on Omicron is real enough; her description of the events is at least consistent with our own sketchy knowledge. We'd have to investigate anyway: her suggestion of a combined mission does make some sense."
"She always makes sense," Pias muttered. "That's what frightens me the most."
"Time is short," von Wilmenhorst reminded them. "I have to let her know soon whether we'll work together with her on this effort. Unless you think you'd have major problems carrying out your end of things, I intend to tell her yes."
"We'll be smooth," Yvette grumbled in agreement with her brother. "If it's for the good of the Empire, I can put up with nearly anything. But how far does our cooperation extend? If she doublecrosses us, I don't want to be hung out there like an idiot."
The Head nodded. "Perfectly understandable. You know I always give you discretionary powers. At the first clear sign of betrayal, the truce is off and you're free to take any actions you deem necessary. You're being sent along as her partners, not her lackeys: she'll have to accept that and not sell you out at some inconvenient moment."
"That's all I needed to know," Yvette said and, after getting a nod from her brother, she added, "We're in."
The Head called them back a few hours later with the rendezvous instructions he'd received from Lady A. The entire party was to gather on the planet Nereid, one of the closest worlds to Omicron. Lady A would supply the ship that would take them to Omicron; the SOTE agents would be responsible for the clothing, equipment, and weapons they brought along with them. The instant the team obtained what they considered sufficient information on Omicron, they were to leave immediately and proceed at top speed to Luna Base, where the Navy's military experts would examine the evidence they'd collected and make appropriate decisions from there.
The scheduled rendezvous was slightly more than three days from now; with Nereid being so far from DesPlaines, that barely gave them any time at all to prepare.
Since they didn't know what possible challenges they'd be facing, they had to make their selection as general as possible. For clothing they chose knee-high dark leather crepe-soled boots and a variety of dark colored jumpsuits; they were comfortable and fit close to the body so they were less likely to snag on anything in crucial moments, and they made little if any noise even during active movement. With the jumpsuits, they each carried a utility belt with a variety of compartments filled with handy tools, explosives, some small grenades, and a few all-purpose sensors.
For weapons, they ruled out stun-guns; if they really were dealing with alien beings, the creatures might have a different sort of nervous system that would make them impervious to stunners. That left blasters as the main powered weapons of choice: There was very little that would stand up to a Mark Twenty-Nine Service blaster. For added insurance, the agents carried a throwing knife strapped to the inside of each wrist and each boot top and, in a special pocket, seventy-five centimeters of piano wire. Thus accoutred they felt reasonably prepared to deal with any menace they might face. There were a lot more devices they could have taken, but anything else would simply have weighed them down. They preferred quickness to a slight additional firepower. The parting from their respective spouses and children was painful, especially when they knew how dangerous this assignment might be; if the alien enemy didn't do them in, their "allies" might. All four had hoped that, whatever the next job would be, they could all work on it together-but Lady A's insistence on picking the team ruined that hope.
"I'd feel a lot better about this if you didn't have to depend on that coldblooded murderess as part of your team," Vonnie d'Alembert said. "She'd just as soon let you die as lift a finger to help you when you get in trouble."
"It works two ways," Jules said philosophically. "She has to depend on us, too, knowing how we feel about her."
"But she knows you're honorable," Pias pointed out, "whereas you know she isn't. That makes all the difference."