[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Thinks the faith of Talamein is sacred."
"Uh-oh," the Emperor murmured.
"Nope. He thinks the faith of Talamein is for the vast-nesses-he did say that, 'cause I can't pronounce
that word- and so he's got a small troop of young men. They spend their time in manly sports, hunting
animals, fasting, retreats, and so forth."
"Mmm." The Emperor was deep in thought again.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"What's the problem, boss?"
"I can't remember whether I was on seven or eight."
"Eight. I think. Can I have the bottle?"
"Royalty has its privileges," the Eternal Emperor said, swallowing twice before he handed the jug to
Mahoney.
"Eighth, we want the cluster controlled by one entity, but one that's... amenable to reason. Which means
he'll listen to me without my having to send in the Guard. Nine, these Jan-nisars are impossible. No way
am I going to be able to keep a bunch of thug priests under control."
"Uh, you're saying you want ol' Theo to come out on top?"
57
"Not at all. I want somebody on his side to come out winners."
"Anybody in particular?"
The Emperor shrugged. "Hell if I care. You pick a winner, Colonel."
Mahoney felt himself sobering up. "Obviously this is to be a deniable operation?"
"Brilliant. Colonel. Of course I don't want the hand of the Emperor to be seen meddling in a cluster's
private politics."
Mahoney chose to ignore the sarcasm. "That means Mantis."
"By the way," the Emperor said, neatly plucking the bottle from between Mahoney's feet. "That team
that took the samples?"
"Yessir. Team Thirteen. Lieutenant Sten commanding."
"Sten?"
"He's handled some difficult assignments for us in the past, sir."
"Give him a couple of medals, or something," the Emperor said.
"Or something," Mahoney said.
"Any decision. Colonel?" the Emperor asked. "Before we get thoroughly drunk-which Mantis unit do
you intend to use?"
Mahoney took the bottle back and drained it. Oddly, when he was drinking or angry, he spoke with the
faint whisper of what used to be called a brogue. "Could I be troublin' you for some of your 'shine,
Emperor? And in answerin' your question, indeed, I think I have just the lad in mind."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT TOOK A while for Sten to hunt down the rest of his team members to let them know he was being
detached. They'd scattered across the Guard's Intoxication and Intercourse world as completely as they
could.
Bet, true to their agreement, had gone her own way- picking up a hunting guide and disappearing into
the outback with Hugin and Munin. Sten had given her the message briefly, over a com in Mantis
voice-code, then gotten clear. He wasn't sure he was that sophisticated yet.
Ida had been easy; she'd been comfortably ensconced in a casino, trying to see if her beat-the-game
system would bankrupt the casino before the officials threw her out.
Doc had disappeared into the wilds of the recworld's only university and was finally located growling
contentedly at anthropology fiches in the media center. Before him was a flask of Stra!bo blood-milk
drink that he'd conned a slightly revolted Guard tech to put together for him.
Detached service wasn't unusual for Mantis soldiers. But this was the first time it had happened to Team
13 and to Sten. But the Emperor orders, and man can but obey.
Sten was feeling a little homesick-in-advance and he was puzzled about how one man could accomplish
what Mahoney had ordered. Meanwhile he was scouring bibshops. He knew he would find Kilgour in
one of them.
58
59
He heard Alex before he saw him. as the voice boomed out the screen opening of the shop. "So the
adj'tant sae 'Sah,' an' dispatchit thae best Brit sol'jer. who fixit his bay'nit..."
"What's a clottin' bayonet?" another voice asked.
"Y'dinnae need to know. Jus' keepit silent an' list'n. So this braw Brit sol'jer goes chargint opp yon hill.
An' in a wee second, his head come bumpit. bumpit. bumpit back down.
"An' then yon giant skreekit e'em louder. 'Ah'm Red Rory ae th' Glen! Send opp your best squad!'
"Ah the Brit gen'ral, who's turnit purple, sae, 'Adj'tant! Ah wan' that mon's head! Send opp y'best
squad.' An' th' adj'tant sae 'Sah!' an' opp go thae regiment's best fightin' squad.'"
And Sten, wondering if he'd ever hear the end of the Red Rory saga, walked into the bar.
Alex saw him. read the expression, and grunted to the two totally swacked guardsmen who were pinned
against the wall by the table. "Ah gie y' a wee bit more ed'cation some other time. Be on wi' ye. lads."
He pulled back the table, and, relieved, the two guardsmen stumbled away. Sten slid into an empty
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
chair.
"Gie me th' worst, lad. An kin handl't."
And Sten repeated Mahoney's briefing, the anti-tap pak on his belt turned up to high.
"Ah wae wrong! Ah noo can handl't,'.' Alex moaned. He was even too depressed to order more quill.
"Whae m'mither sae i' she findit out Ah been cashier'l frae th' Guard?"
"It's just a cover, dammit. Your mother'll never hear."
"Y'dinnae ken m'mither." Alex groaned. "Ah whae y'be't, lad, if Ah'm a busted-out Guards RSM?"
"Obvious. I would like you to meet ex-Captain Sten, Third Guards, decorated, wounded, mentioned in
dispatches, and cashiered for committing nameless atrocities."
Alex groaned again, brought a paw out in what Sten thought would be mock-salute, and turned into a
grab for Sten's mug.
"Ah knewit, Ah should'a stayed Laird Kilgour." He sighed.
CHAPTER NINE
ACCORDING TO CHURCH dogma, Talamein had ordered his fleet of emigres to set down on
Sanctus because a vision told him that the water-world was particularly blessed by the spirit of the
cosmos.
Actually. Talamein had diverted for the first E-normal world that swam onto the scopes since he was
faced with near-mutiny and his people were developing a moderate case of the cobblies.
Sanctus had one major city-the City of Tombs-a few minor fishing villages, one minor port, and
hundreds of villages. Its population was composed of those in the theocracy, those who exploited the
pilgrims to the World of Talamein, and peasants-fisherfolk or farmers.
And Sten.
He shifted uncomfortably on the stone bench and massaged the stiff place in his neck. A cold breath of
air needled his spine. The Prophet's guardsman eyed Sten just as coldly as the breeze caressing his spine.
Sten grinned at him and the guard turned away.
He had been sitting on that bench for three hours, but patience was a virtue learned quickly on Sanctus.
Especially in the City of Tombs, with its drab bureaucratic priests, massive monuments to the long-dead,
and ghostly cold spots.
Not exactly soft duty, Mahoney, Sten thought, looking around the ancient anteroom in pure boredom.
Like everything else in
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
60
61
the City of Tombs, it was constructed of yellowing stone that had once been white. The chamber was
enormous, decorated here and there with chiseled faces, gilded statuary, and elaborate tapestries.
And the room was thick with the scent of incense.
But like everything else on Sanctus, everything in the room was worn and threadbare. The tapestry had
been torn and then mended, the gilded figures chipped.
Even the guard, with his ceremonial halberd and unceremonial projectile weapon, was threadbare, his
uniform far from clean and patched many times.
Sten, on the other hand, wore the brown undress of the Guards division, his chest hung with the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
