[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

brief moment, I envied her. Then I began worrying for her.
I had known Ghra longer than I knew most of my random passengers and we hadn't
bored each other after I roused her. In her quiet, wryly humorous way, her
company had been quite a treat for me: If she'd been more humanoid, and I'd
been more like my former self ... ah, well! That's one of the drawbacks for a
gig like me; we do see the very best, but generally all too briefly.
Ghra had sounded real confident about this camouflage scheme of hers. Not
talk-herself-into-believing-it confident, but certain
sure-there'd-be-no-problem confident. Me, I'd prefer something more
substantial than paint as protection. But then, I'm definitely the product of
a high-tech civilization, while Ghra had faith in natural advantages and
instinctive talents. Well, it was going to take every asset the Alliance had
to conquer the Khalian pirates!
Shortly before Bethesda's primary rose in the east, Ghra reported.
"I'm in place, Bil. I'll keep the combutton on so you'll know all I do. Our
contact's asleep. I'm stretched out on the branch of a fairly substantial kind
of a broad-leafed tree outside his window. I'll hope he isn't the nervous
type."
An hour and a half later, we both discovered that he was not the believing
type either. But then, who would have expected to be contacted by what at
first appeared to be a disembodied smile among the broad leaves shading your
side window. It certainly wasn't what Fildin Escobat had anticipated when his
implant had given him the warning zing of impending visitation.
"What are you?" he demanded after Ghra had pronounced the meeting code words.
"An Hrruban," Ghra replied in a well-projected whisper. I could hear a rustle
as she moved briefly.
"Arghle!"
There was a silence, broken by a few more throaty garglings.
"What's Hrruban?"
"Alliance felinoids."
Page 58
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Cat people?" Fildin had some basic civics education.
"I'm camouflaged."
"Damned sure"
"So I'm patently not Khalian...."
"Anyone can say they're Alliance. You could be Khalian, disguised."
"Have you ever seen a Khalian going about on all fours? The size of me? With a
face and teeth like mine? Or a tail?"
"No ..." This was a reluctant admission.
"Speaking Galactic?"
"That's true enough," Fildin replied sourly, for all captive species were
forced to learn the spitting hissing Khalian language. Khalian nerve prods and
acid whips effectively encouraged both understanding and vocabulary. "So now
what?"
"You tell me what I need to know."
"I don't know anything. They keep it that way." There was an unmistakable
anger in the man's voice, which he lowered as he realized that he might be
overheard.
"What were you before the invasion?"
"A mining engineer." I could almost see the man draw himself up with
remembered pride.
"Now?"
"Effing road sweeper. And I'm lucky to have that so I don't see what good I
can do you or the Alliance."
"Probably more than you think" was Ghra's soothing response. "You have eyes
and ears."
"I intend keeping 'em."
"You will. Can you move freely about the town?"
"The town, yes."
"Near the spaceport, too?"
"Yeah." And now Fildin's tone became suspicious and anxious.
"So you'd know if there had been any scrambles of their fighter craft."
"Haven't been any."
"None?"
"I tol' you. Though I did hear there's supposed to be s'more landing soon."
"How soon?"
Page 59
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"I dunno. Didn't want to know." Fildin was resigned.
"Do you work today?"
"We work every day, all day, for those fregmekking rodents."
"Can you get near the spaceport? And do a count of what kind of space vehicles
and how many of each are presently on the ground?"
"I could, but what good does that do if more are coming in?"
"Do you know that for sure?"
"Nobody knows anything for sure. Why? Are we going to be under attack? Is that
what you need to know all this for?" Fildin was clearly dubious about the
merits of helping a counterattack.
"The Alliance has no immediate plans for your planet."
"No?" Fildin now sounded affronted. "What's wrong? Aren't we important
enough?"
"You certainly are, Fildin." Ghra's voice was purringly smooth and reassuring.
"And if you can get that information for me, it'll be of major importance in
our all-out effort to free your planet without any further bloodshed and
unpleasantness."
He gave a snort. "I don't see how knowing what's on the ground now will help."
"Neither do I," Ghra said, allowing a tinge of resentment to creep into her
silken tone. "That's for my superiors to decide. But it is the information
that is required, which I have risked my life to obtain, so it must be very
important. Will you help the Alliance remove the yoke of the oppressor, help
you return to your former prestige and comfort?"
There was a long pause during which I could almost hear the man's brain
working.
"I just need to tell you what's on the ground now?"
"That's all, but I need to know the types of craft, scout, cruiser, destroyer,
whatever, and how many of each. And would you know if there had been
battleships here?"
"No battleships," he said in a tone of disgust. "They can't land."
If colonial transports could land on Bethesda so could Khalian battle
cruisers, but he didn't need to know that. What Ghra had to ascertain from him
was if there were cruisers or destroyers that could be launched in pursuit of
our convoy. Even a scout could blow the whistle on us and get enough of a head
start to go FTL right back to Target and fetch in some real trouble. Only the
fighters and cruisers escorting the convoy would be able to maneuver
adequately to meet a Khalian attack. They would not be able to defend all the
slowing bulky transports and most of the supply pods and drones that composed
a large portion of the total. And if the supply pods bought it, the convoy
could fail. Slowing takes a lot of fuel.
I took it as a small sliver of good luck that Fildin reported no recent
activity. Perhaps this backwater hadn't been armed by its Khalian invaders.
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Cruisers, destroyers, and scouts," Ghra repeated. "How many of each, Fildin,
and you will be giving us tremendously vital information."
"When'll we be freed?"
"Soon. You won't have long to wait if all goes well."
"If what goes well?"
"The less you know the better for you, Fildin."
"Don't I get paid for risking my hide? Those nerve prods and acid whips ain't
a bit funny, you know."
"What is your monetary-exchange element?"
"A lot of good that would do me," Fildin said disgustedly.
"What would constitute an adequate recompense for your risks?"
"Meat. Red meat. They keep us on short rations, and I'd love a decent meal of
meat once in a while."
I could almost see him salivating. Well, there's no accounting for some
tastes. A shacking goo!
"I think something can be arranged," Ghra said, purringly. "I shall meet you [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

skierniewice.pev.pl