"Diann Thornley - Ganwold's Child" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thornley Diann)

the locker wasn't constructed to jam them.
The hum shot up to a sharp whine; the boots stopped outside her enclosure. She heard an order—
— and then banging. Metal clashing on metal until she thought her head would split and Tristan's
sudden wail would be drowned in its clamor. When the locker door tore away, she stared up at three
armored shapes silhouetted against the dull light.
Dominion legionnaires.
The nearest one shoved aside the pressure suit, seized her by the wrist and hauled her to her feet. She
staggered, numb legs nearly buckling, and almost lost her hold on her child. From behind tinted helmet
visors the other two soldiers let their gazes roam her body.
Darcie jerked her wrist from her captor's gauntlet and wrapped both arms around Tristan. "This is
illegal, you know! It's been a month since the hostilities ended at Enach, and the talks are —"
"I don't think so," said the squad leader. "Where've you been for the last few years?"
She glared at him. Forced herself not to let her breath catch when one soldier stooped to search the
locker. Straightening, he handed something to his sergeant. "Look at these."
The crystal hologram pendants. Her joining portrait and a picture of Lujan and Tristan.
The sergeant held them up to the light and she saw his eyes widen behind his visor. "Yeah, I thought the
nametag looked familiar," he said. "The colonel will probably promote us for this!" He tucked the
holodiscs into his utility belt and reached for her arm. "It's my duty to inform you, Lieutenant Dartmuth,
that at no time in the last nine years has the Sector General recognized the governments of the Unified
Worlds. He sealed the Accords under duress, so we're not breaking a legitimate treaty."
She evaded his hand. "Nine years? Surely you can lie better than —"
She cut herself off when she remembered the futile attempts to make lightskip. The masuk slavers must
have succeeded at entering a time track, whether or not they had crossed space. She questioned the
legionnaire with her look.
"The Enach Accords weren't ratified as easily as the Unified Worlds had hoped," he said. "They didn't
fail as completely as Sector General Renier had hoped, either. You may be able to make that up to him."
"Renier?" Darcie stiffened. "Sector General?"
The squad leader smiled. "I wonder what kind of plea bargain the Unified Worlds might be willing to
make in exchange for you."
"It won't work, you know."
"We'll see." His smile turned grim. "Move." He shoved her shoulder, indicating the corridor. "Maybe the
war isn't over yet."
She yielded, her thoughts racing ahead. The transport had a cross-corridor aft of the bridge that had an
emergency shield door....
Hugging the child to her body, one hand rubbing up and down his back in reassurance, she set her
teeth. One soldier strode before her, two behind. There were no restraints, no firearms ready to hand;
they appeared to trust her feigned submission. But a glance back showed one soldier's hand resting on
the hilt of a boarding knife — one of a dozen strapped naked about his hips like armor's tasses made of
steel teeth. Boarding knives could be used as throwing weapons, she knew.
Several members of the crew lay in the corridor. She recognized Rahb Heike, the ship's captain, and
recoiled. He lay facedown in his own blood. Masuk work.
A hand pushed at her back when she paused. She stumbled, stepping in Heike's blood as she caught
her balance, and moved around another bloodied body. Lieutenant Baraq. He also had died before the
legionnaires arrived. She swallowed dryness and turned her head away.
She felt brief satisfaction at spotting several masuki sprawled in the corridor. The Unified soldiers had
died fighting. But the ship was too empty, of both military personnel and civilians.
Light from the intersecting corridor spread a square across the concourse deck ahead. She shifted
Tristan to her left arm and curled her right fist, keeping her head lowered.
Ten paces...
She lunged left into the cross-corridor, her right fist punching the manual trigger on its bulkhead. The