[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
you've never seen it."
"I have." Ford fought to keep his voice under control. It must have been the
spectacle of the year, he thought to himself.
"So there was a lot of buzzing around. My husband's attorneys got involved and
eventually everyone withdrew charges. The Ryxi ambassador himself sent a note
of apology. Everyone insisted I do the same.
But both of us kept our trophies. I had to agree not to display Aem then not
in public, you know but that was years back, and this is my own private
yacht."
Page 46
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It sounded as if she expected an argument; another fiance at Madame Flaubert
suggested with whom.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Ford Iwt protective, but realized that Auntie Q expected {and trained) her
menfolk to feel protective.
" >. "It's a wonderful story," he said, quite honestly. "I wish I'd been there
"
to see it." He meant that, too.
.Formal diplomatic functions with multiple races were osually painfully dull,
kept so by everyone's attempts not to break another culture's rules of
etiquette. Fleet officers stuck with attendance expected to spend long
62
McCaffrey and Moon
hours standing politely listening to civilian complaints while all the
good-looking persons of opposite sex enjoyed themselves across a crowded dance
floor. He remembered Sassinak telling him about a little excitement once, but
that was all.
His aunt leaned over and touched his cheek. "You'd have enjoyed it, I can
tell. You might even have helped me."
"Of course I would."
His stomach rumbled, loudly and insistently, and he felt himself flush. His
aunt ignored die unmentionable noise, turning instead to Madame Flaubert, who
was staring at Ford's midsection as if she could see into it.
"Seraphine, perhaps you could find the cube with die newsstories from that
event?" Her tone made it more command than request; Madame Flaubert almost
jumped, but nodded quickly and set her lapdog back down.
"Of course."
But even as she rose to comply, Ford's stomach clenched, and he realized he
was about to be sick. He felt cold, clammy, and his vision narrowed.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Excuse me, please," he said, between gritted teeth.
Auntie Q glanced at him politely, then stiffened. "You've gone quite green,"
she said. "Are you ill?"
Another pang twisted him, and he barely whispered, "Something I ate on the
tanker, perhaps."
"Of course. I'll have Sam find you some medicine." She rose, as imperious as
she had been after dinner.
"Come, Seraphine."
They swept out as Ford groped his way to the door. He was perversely irritated
that she had seen him lose control, and at the same time that she had left him
to find his own way back to his stateroom. He didn't want to throw up on her
elegant silver and rose carpet, but if he had to wander far. . . .
Page 47
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He had hardly taken a few steps down the corridor when a strongly-built man in
chefs whites (another uniform unchanged through the centuries) grasped him
under the arm and helped him swiftly back to his quarters.
He had been very thoroughly sick in the bathroom,
GENERATION WARRIORS
63
losing with regret that delicious dinner, hardly noticing the silent,
efficient help of the cook. When he regained his sense of balance, he was
tucked into bed, his dress clothes draped across a chair, and the cold
clamminess had passed into a burning fever and aching joints. What a beginning
to a social inquiry, he thought, and then lapsed into unrestful sleep.
He woke to a foul taste in his mouth, the sour smell of sickness, and the
suspicion that something was very wrong indeed. He had had bad dreams, full of
dire symbolism (a black Eyxi dancing around his
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
aunt's casket waving her two stolen plumes in macabre triumph? Commander
Sassinak handing him a shining medal that turned into a smoking fuse when he
pinned it to his uniform? A scaly, clawed hand tossing a handful of Fleet
vessels, including the Zaid-Dayan, like dice onto a playing board whose pieces
were planets and suns?).
He was quite sure that Madame Flaubert could "explain" them all, in ways that
would make him responsible if he didn't reform, but he felt too weak to
reform. Even to get up. Someone tapped on his door, and he croaked a weak
answer.
"Sorry, sir, to be so late with breakfast."
It was the man in white, the cook. Sam, he remembered. He had not expected
anyone, but if he'd thought, he'd have expected the servant who served dinner.
Sam carried a covered tray; Ford thought it probably smelled delicious, but
whatever it was he didn't want it. He shook his head, but Sam brought it
nearer anyway, and set it on a folding table he had had in his other hand.
"You're still not well. I can see that." Off came the tray cover, revealing a
small plate with crisp slices of toast, small glasses of fruit juice and
water, and a tiny cut-glass pillbox. "This may not sit well, but at least
it'll give me an idea what to try next . . ."
"I don't want anything." That came out in a hoarse voice he hardly recognized
for his own. "Something on the tanker ..."
"Well, I didn't think it came out of my kitchen." That barely missed smugness,
the certainty of a master crafts-
64
McCaffrey and Moon
man. "Did you get a look in that tanker's galley?" Sam held out the glass of
water, and Ford sipped it, hoping to lose the taste in his mouth. It eased die
dryness in his throat, at least.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"They told me, boasted in fact, that they didn't have a galley. Cooked their
own food, mostly just heated up whatever came out of the synthesizer."
"And didn't clean the synthesizer coils often enough, I daresay. It's not easy
to make great meals from basic synth, but it doesn't have to be sickening,
either." As he spoke, Sam offered the toast, but Ford shook his head again.
"Just the water, thanks. Sorry to cause you any inconvenience." Which was a
mild way of apologizing for the night before, when he had done more than cause
inconvenience. And what was he going to do now?
In Auntie Q's circle, he was sure that one did not inflict one's illnesses on
hosts. But he had no place to go. The Zaid-Dayan was on her way to FedCentral; [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl ocenkijessi.opx.pl
you've never seen it."
"I have." Ford fought to keep his voice under control. It must have been the
spectacle of the year, he thought to himself.
"So there was a lot of buzzing around. My husband's attorneys got involved and
eventually everyone withdrew charges. The Ryxi ambassador himself sent a note
of apology. Everyone insisted I do the same.
But both of us kept our trophies. I had to agree not to display Aem then not
in public, you know but that was years back, and this is my own private
yacht."
Page 46
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It sounded as if she expected an argument; another fiance at Madame Flaubert
suggested with whom.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Ford Iwt protective, but realized that Auntie Q expected {and trained) her
menfolk to feel protective.
" >. "It's a wonderful story," he said, quite honestly. "I wish I'd been there
"
to see it." He meant that, too.
.Formal diplomatic functions with multiple races were osually painfully dull,
kept so by everyone's attempts not to break another culture's rules of
etiquette. Fleet officers stuck with attendance expected to spend long
62
McCaffrey and Moon
hours standing politely listening to civilian complaints while all the
good-looking persons of opposite sex enjoyed themselves across a crowded dance
floor. He remembered Sassinak telling him about a little excitement once, but
that was all.
His aunt leaned over and touched his cheek. "You'd have enjoyed it, I can
tell. You might even have helped me."
"Of course I would."
His stomach rumbled, loudly and insistently, and he felt himself flush. His
aunt ignored die unmentionable noise, turning instead to Madame Flaubert, who
was staring at Ford's midsection as if she could see into it.
"Seraphine, perhaps you could find the cube with die newsstories from that
event?" Her tone made it more command than request; Madame Flaubert almost
jumped, but nodded quickly and set her lapdog back down.
"Of course."
But even as she rose to comply, Ford's stomach clenched, and he realized he
was about to be sick. He felt cold, clammy, and his vision narrowed.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Excuse me, please," he said, between gritted teeth.
Auntie Q glanced at him politely, then stiffened. "You've gone quite green,"
she said. "Are you ill?"
Another pang twisted him, and he barely whispered, "Something I ate on the
tanker, perhaps."
"Of course. I'll have Sam find you some medicine." She rose, as imperious as
she had been after dinner.
"Come, Seraphine."
They swept out as Ford groped his way to the door. He was perversely irritated
that she had seen him lose control, and at the same time that she had left him
to find his own way back to his stateroom. He didn't want to throw up on her
elegant silver and rose carpet, but if he had to wander far. . . .
Page 47
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He had hardly taken a few steps down the corridor when a strongly-built man in
chefs whites (another uniform unchanged through the centuries) grasped him
under the arm and helped him swiftly back to his quarters.
He had been very thoroughly sick in the bathroom,
GENERATION WARRIORS
63
losing with regret that delicious dinner, hardly noticing the silent,
efficient help of the cook. When he regained his sense of balance, he was
tucked into bed, his dress clothes draped across a chair, and the cold
clamminess had passed into a burning fever and aching joints. What a beginning
to a social inquiry, he thought, and then lapsed into unrestful sleep.
He woke to a foul taste in his mouth, the sour smell of sickness, and the
suspicion that something was very wrong indeed. He had had bad dreams, full of
dire symbolism (a black Eyxi dancing around his
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
aunt's casket waving her two stolen plumes in macabre triumph? Commander
Sassinak handing him a shining medal that turned into a smoking fuse when he
pinned it to his uniform? A scaly, clawed hand tossing a handful of Fleet
vessels, including the Zaid-Dayan, like dice onto a playing board whose pieces
were planets and suns?).
He was quite sure that Madame Flaubert could "explain" them all, in ways that
would make him responsible if he didn't reform, but he felt too weak to
reform. Even to get up. Someone tapped on his door, and he croaked a weak
answer.
"Sorry, sir, to be so late with breakfast."
It was the man in white, the cook. Sam, he remembered. He had not expected
anyone, but if he'd thought, he'd have expected the servant who served dinner.
Sam carried a covered tray; Ford thought it probably smelled delicious, but
whatever it was he didn't want it. He shook his head, but Sam brought it
nearer anyway, and set it on a folding table he had had in his other hand.
"You're still not well. I can see that." Off came the tray cover, revealing a
small plate with crisp slices of toast, small glasses of fruit juice and
water, and a tiny cut-glass pillbox. "This may not sit well, but at least
it'll give me an idea what to try next . . ."
"I don't want anything." That came out in a hoarse voice he hardly recognized
for his own. "Something on the tanker ..."
"Well, I didn't think it came out of my kitchen." That barely missed smugness,
the certainty of a master crafts-
64
McCaffrey and Moon
man. "Did you get a look in that tanker's galley?" Sam held out the glass of
water, and Ford sipped it, hoping to lose the taste in his mouth. It eased die
dryness in his throat, at least.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"They told me, boasted in fact, that they didn't have a galley. Cooked their
own food, mostly just heated up whatever came out of the synthesizer."
"And didn't clean the synthesizer coils often enough, I daresay. It's not easy
to make great meals from basic synth, but it doesn't have to be sickening,
either." As he spoke, Sam offered the toast, but Ford shook his head again.
"Just the water, thanks. Sorry to cause you any inconvenience." Which was a
mild way of apologizing for the night before, when he had done more than cause
inconvenience. And what was he going to do now?
In Auntie Q's circle, he was sure that one did not inflict one's illnesses on
hosts. But he had no place to go. The Zaid-Dayan was on her way to FedCentral; [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]