Odnośniki
- Indeks
- James Fenimore Cooper The Wing and wing [txt]
- James Patterson Alex Cross 09 The Big Bad Wolf
- !(Wam Recomended) Study Of The King James Bible Cleland Boyd Mcafee, D D
- James Axler Outlander 26 Sea of Plague
- James Blish Seedling Stars 1 Seeding Program
- James Doohan Flight Engineer Volume 1 The Rising
- James Axler Deathlands 00 Encounter
- James Craig Milcz nawet po mierci
- James Axler Deathlands 057 Breakthrough
- 086. James Julia Latynoski kochanek
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- shakyor.htw.pl
physicists and philosophers were still arguing over, was whether an action
initiated across the Multiverse would give rise to a new future that had not
existed previously. But emotions were running high, and he wasn't about to get
into it.
"Whatever we do, I suggest we get on with it," Chien said. "They could be on
their way to the airport already."
Although Eesyan was technically in charge of the mission until they made
contact with the Lunarians, he inclined his head to concede Showm the floor.
"Garuth," she said, "Can you get us a connection? We need the Lambian
government system in Melthis whichever department is the most closely involved
in Perasmon's affairs. The best place to start would probably be the Agracon."
* * *
The white phone beeped on the desk of Vazquin, the head of the translation
section. That was the Agracon's internal system, not connected to the outside.
Vazquin was away from his desk at the moment. Laisha turned in her chair and
took it. "Cerian translators. Laisha Engs speaking."
"This is Farissio. I'm in the communications room in the main building. We
need a translator here. Can you get over immediately?" Farissio was a senior
negotiator with the Cerian delegation. He sounded strained.
"Well, yes, of course. What "
"Just do it, please." Another voice in the background, clipped and harsh, said
something that Laisha didn't catch. Farrissio hung up. Mystified, Laisha threw
a pen and notebook into the bag that she carried for office chores. The
translators' offices were located in one of the peripheral buildings at the
rear of the Agracon complex, outside the secure zone that included the main
building. To get to the communications room she would need to check in at the
guard desk and get a Lambian escort. She made sure that she had her ID and
clearance papers, and hurried for the door, followed by one or two curious
looks.
Downstairs, Laisha exited through a side door that she had learned led to a
short cut, and followed a narrow alleyway along the rear of the VIP
transportation garage to a path leading to one of the access roads. Something
about the atmosphere of the whole place had changed. Although there was no
outward noise or fuss, Lambian soldiers were everywhere, moving swiftly and
purposefully. Sudden misgivings seized her that something had gone terribly
wrong.
Another alley brought her to a side door of the restaurant and staff
cafeteria. Cutting through to the main entrance would bring her out opposite
one of the guard posts into the secure zone. She had just entered the building
and was following the corridor past the kitchens toward the dining areas, when
Mera Dukrees, one of the delegation's technical specialists, came hurrying
toward her, apparently taking the same route in the opposite direction. He
looked distraught, casting anxious glances back.
"What is it?" Laisha asked.
"I'm not sure. There's some sort of takeover going on. Soldiers herding people
around. They've got the whole place sealed off in there."
"How did you get out?"
"An argument broke out at the gate just as I got there. I slipped through. I
think it might be a move to overthrow Perasmon." Raised voices and shouts of
protest sounded inside the building from the direction of the dining areas.
Dukrees gripped Laisha's arm to keep her attention. "But don't you see what it
means? If that's what's happening, this is only a part of it. That plane isn't
going to get there!"
Laisha shook her head and brought a hand up to her mouth. "Oh no!"
"Were there soldiers back at the offices when you left?" Dukrees asked her.
"They were around outside, but nobody had come in yet."
"There might still be a chance to get word out. Communications from inside the
secure zoneare all blocked. Come on."
A short passage off the corridor where they had met led to rest rooms and some
stairs. On the wall in a recess by foot of the stairs, Laisha spotted one of
the white internal phones. "There's no sense in both of us getting stopped,"
she said. "You go ahead. I'll try from there." She pointed. Dukrees looked,
nodded curtly, and hurried away. Laisha went to the phone and hammered in the
number for the press office behind the translators' room. At least, in the
side passage she was out of sight from along the corridor. She wasn't even
sure what she planned on asking anyone to do.
Ri-ing. Ri-ing. "Oh please, please . . ."
"Cerian Press Office."
"Uthelia, is that you?"
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Laisha. Look, there isn't time to explain. That line you had to that person
at NEBA in Osserbruk earlier. Is it still open?"
"It should be. Why "
"I need you to call him again. His name is Wus Wosi."
"Really, all this is most irregular, you "
"Uthelia, shut up! There isn't time for that! Just call him!"
Laisha's tone was enough. "What do you want me to say?" Uthelia asked,
sounding shaken.
Voices sounded at the end of the corridor from the dining areas. "Get three
men over here. Check down there. Secure all outside doors."
Laisha forced herself to speak slowly and clearly. "Listen very carefully.
There is a Lieutenant Klesimur Bosoros, at a Cerian army base. Wus knows how
to contact him. The president's plane is in some kind of danger I'm not sure
exactly what. Bosoros needs to get the message to Cerian High Command." A
warning via the military, originating from the Agracon in Melthis, seemed more
likely to get attention than an allegation by someone at the NEBA news bureau.
"Are you serious?"
"There's some kind of coup going on. They'll be over there any moment,
Uthelia. Just do it."
"Wus Wosi at NEBA. Lieutenant Klesimur . . . Bosoros?"
"Right."
"You! Phone. No!" The Lambian trooper barked in broken Cerian, at the same
time motioning menacingly with his rifle but not pointing it.
"It's okay. I speak Lambian," Laisha said as she replaced the handset.
"Who were you talking to?" an NCO demanded, appearing behind the trooper.
"It's the internal house line. I'm a translator with the Cerian delegation. I
was called to the communications room, but I lost the way. I was trying to
call for directions."
The Lambian NCO peered at her badge. "Your clearance?" Laisha produced the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]