tz.cobra strike-第18章

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　would　have　the　same　memories　of　Qasama　that　his　brother　did　。。。　and　those　memories　could　easily　spell　the　difference　between　success　and　failure　for　such　an　impersonation。　The　car　had　e　to　a　halt　by　the　curb。　Resisting　the　urge　to　run　his　own　muscles　through　the　proper　motions；　Justin　lay　quietly　on　his　couch　as　Joshua　followed　Cerenkov　and　the　others　up　the　three　outside　steps　and　into　the　building。
　Decker　York　had　been　a　Marine　for　twenty　years　before　leaving　the　Dominion　for　Aventine　eighteen　years　ago。　During　his　hitch　he'd　served　on　eight　different　worlds　and　had　seen　literally　dozens　of　officials；　ranging　in　pomp　and　power　from　village　councilor　to　full　Dominion　mitte。　From　all　of　it　he'd　developed　a　mental　image　of　what　human　leaders　and　their　surroundings　should　be　like。
　By　those　standards；　Mayor　Kimmeron　of　Sollas　was　a　severe　shock。
　The　room　Moff　led　them　to　was　hardly　an　office；　for　starters。　The　sounds　of　music　reached　them　even　before　the　liveried　guards　flanking　the　door　pulled　the　heavy　panels　open；　and　the　tendrils　of　smoke　that　drifted　past　as　the　group　started　in　were　evidence　of　either　incense　or　drug　use　inside。　York's　nose　wrinkled　at　the　thought；　but　fortunately　the　filter　bubble　enclosing　his　head　seemed　to　be　keeping　most　or　all　of　the　smoke　out。　Inside；　the　room's　lighting　was　muted　and　leaned　to　reds　and　oranges。　The　room　itself　seemed　large；　but　free…hanging　curtains　all　around　gave　it　the　feel　of　an　elegant　and　soft…walled　maze。　Moff　led　them　through　two　right　angles　to　the　room's　center…
　And　a　scene　straight　out　of　mankind's　distant　past。　On　a　cushion…like　throne　lounged　a　large　man　who；　while　not　fat；　clearly　hadn't　seen　strenuous　exercise　in　quite　some　time。　Facing　him　was　a　group　of　dancers；　both　male　and　female；　in　exotic　dress；　behind　them　was　the　semicircle　of　musicians…live　musicians…　who　were　providing　the　music。　Seated　on　other　cushions　scattered　around　the　room　were　a　handful　of　other　men　and　women；　all　seemingly　splitting　their　attention　between　the　dancers　and　low　work　tables　set　before　them。　York　sent　a　studiously　casual　glance　at　one　table　as　Moff　led　them　toward　the　central　throne；　noting　especially　what　seemed　to　be　a　portable　puter　or　puter　terminal　among　the　papers　there。　Qasaman　technology；　it　seemed；　extended　at　least　somewhat　beyond　guns　and　cars。
　Everyone　in　the　room；　except　the　dancers；　was　acpanied　by　a　mojo。
　Moff　stopped　them　a　few　meters　to　the　side　of　the　throne…and　if　its　occupant　was　surprised　by　their　appearance　he　didn't　show　it。　He　said　something　cheerful　sounding；　his　voice　clearly　audible　over　the　music；　〃Ah…wele；〃　York's　earphone　translated　it。　The　big　Qasaman　raised　a　hand；　bringing　the　musicians　and　dancers　to　an　orderly　halt　a　few　notes
　later。　〃I　am　Mayor　Kimmeron　of　the　city　of　Sollas；　I　wele　you　to　Qasama。　Please；　sit　down。〃
　Moff　indicated　a　group　of　cushions…four　of　them；　York　noted…placed　in　a　row　in　front　of　the　mayor。　Cerenkov　nodded　and　sat　down；　the　others　following　suit。　Moff　and　the　rest　of　their　escort　remained　standing。
　〃Now；〃　Kimmeron　said；　rubbing　his　hands　together　in　a　curious　gesture。　〃Your　names　are　Cerenkov；　Rynstadt；　York；　and　Moreau；　and　you　e　from　a　world　called　Aventine。　So。　What　exactly…exactly；　mind　you…do　you　wish　from　us？〃
　It　seemed　to　take　Cerenkov　a　moment　to　find　his　tongue。　〃You　seem　to　know　a　great　deal　about　us；〃　he　said　at　last。　〃You　surely　also　know；　then；　that　we're　here　to　reopen　munication　with　brothers　we　didn't　know　we　had；　and　to　explore　ways　of　making　such　contact　mutually　profitable。〃
　Kimmeron　had　a　sly　smile　on　his　face　even　before　the　translator　finished　its　version　of　the　speech。　〃Yes；　that　is　indeed　what　you　have　claimed。　But　why　would　you；　who　retain　space　flight；　believe　we　would　have　anything　worth　your　time？〃
　Careful；　boy；　York　warned　in　Cerenkov's　direction。　Primitive　doesn't　necessarily　imply　naive。　His　eyes　flicked　to　Moff　and　the　rest　of　the　escort；　wishing　he　knew　how　to　read　this　culture's　body　language。
　But　Cerenkov　was　on　balance　again　and　his　answer　was　a　masterpiece　of　pseudo…sincerity。　〃As　anyone　who's　opened　up　a　new　world　must　surely　know；　sir；　each　planet　is　unique　in　its　plants　and　animals；　and　to　a　lesser　extent　its　minerals。　Surely　your　foodstuffs　and　pharmaceuticals　will　be　markedly　different　from　ours；　for　a　start。〃　He　gestured　toward　the　musicians　and　dance　troupe。　〃And　for　any　people　who　respect　artistic　expression　as　much　as　you　clearly　do；　there　are　the　less　tangible　but　equally　rewarding　possibilities　of　cultural　exchange。〃　Kimmeron　nodded；　the　half…smile　still　playing　around　his　face。　〃Of　course。　But　what　if　we　came　to　Qasama　for　the　express　purpose　of　avoiding　cultural　contamination？　Then　what？〃
　〃Then；　Mr。　Mayor；〃　Cerenkov　said　quietly；　〃we　would　apologize　for　the　intrusion　and　ask　your　permission　to　leave。〃
　Kimmeron　regarded　him　thoughtfully；　and　for　a　long　moment　the　room　rang　with　a　brittle　silence。　Again　York　glanced　toward　Moff；　his　hand　itching　with　the　desire　to　have　a　weapon　in　it　。。。　and　at　last　Kimmeron　shifted　on　his　cushion　throne；　breaking　the　spell。　〃Yes；〃　he　said；　waving　a　hand　casually。　〃Well；　fortunately；　I　suppose；　we're　not　quite　that　strict　here　on　Qasama。　Though　some　of　us　perhaps　would　prefer　otherwise。〃　In　response　to　his　gesture　a　new　group　of　five　men　had　moved　forward　from　the　edges　of　the　room　to　stand　behind　the　visitors；　a　group　Moff　now　stepped　over　to　join。　〃Moff；　escort　our　guests　to　their　quarters；　if　you　would；〃　the　mayor　addressed　him。　〃See　that　their　needs　are　taken　care　of　and　arrange　a　general　tour　for　tomorrow。　If　you　have　no　objections…〃　this　to　Cerenkov…　〃we'd　like　to　run　a　general　medical　study　of　you　this　afternoon　as　well。　For　your　protection　as　well　as　ours。〃
　〃No　objections　at　all；〃　Cerenkov　replied。　〃Though　if　you're　worried；　our　experience　on　Aventine　indicates　most　disease　organisms　from　one　planet　don't　seem　to　bother　much　with　creatures　from　another。〃
　〃That　has　been　our　experience；　as　well；〃　Kimmeron　said；　nodding。　〃Still；　it　never　hurts　to　be　cautious。　Until　tomorrow；　then。〃
　Cerenkov　got　to　his　feet；　York　and　the　others　following　suit。　〃We　look　forward　to　seeing　you　again/〃　Cerenkov　said　with　a　small　bow　to　the　mayor。　Turning；　they　fell　into　step　behind　Moff　and　headed　from　the　room。
　And　now　straight　to　the　hospital；　York　thought　grimly　as　they　emerged　once　more　onto　the　sunlit　street　and　were　steered　toward　their　car。　The　physical　exam
　itself　didn't　particularly　worry　him；　but　he　would　bet　goulash　to　garnets　there'd　be　the　Qasaman　version　of　military　ordnance　experts　assisting　the　doctors。　And　if　they　somehow　managed　to　figure　out　exactly　how　his　calculator　watch；　pen；　and　star　sapphire　ring　fit　together　。。。　and　what　they　became　in　such　a　configuration。　。。。
　Cerenkov　and　Rynstadt　were　in　the　car；　and　it　was　his　turn　to　get　in。　Trying　not　to　grimace；　he　did　so；　telling　himself　there　was　no　need　for　worry。　The　Marine　palm…mate；　after　all；　had　been　deliberately　designed　to　be　undetectable。
　But　he　worried　anyway　as　the　crowded　vehicle　set　off　between　the　color…spattered　buildings。　Contingency　worrying　was　part　of　a　soldier's　job。
　The　room　Joshua　and　Rynstadt　had　been　assigned　to　had　been　dark　and　quiet　for　nearly　half　an　hour　by　the　time　Justin　finally　unhooked　himself　from　the　direct　feed　apparatus　and　rolled　stiffly　to　a　sitting　position　on　his　couch。　The　Dewdrop's　lounge；　too；　was　quiet；　its　only　other　occupant　a　dozing　Pyre。　Justin　moved　carefully；　working　the　kinks　out　of　his　muscles　as　he　walked　toward　the　door。
　〃There's　food　by　the　corner　terminal　if　you're　hungry。〃
　Justin　looked　back　to　see　Pyre　stretch　his　arms　out　with　a　sigh　and　straighten　up　in　his　chair。　〃Didn't　mean　to　wake　you；〃　he　apologized；　changing　direction　toward　the　tray　the　other　had　mentioned。
　〃S'okay。　I'm　not　actually　on　duty；　anyway…I　just　wanted　to　wait　till　you　were　up；　make　sure　you　were　doing　okay。〃
　〃I'm　fine。〃　Justin　sat　down　beside　the　other　Cobra；　balancing　the　tray　on　his　knees　as　he　attacked　the　food。　〃So　。。。　what　do　you　think？〃
　〃Oh；　hell；　I　don't　know；〃　Pyre　sighed。　〃I'm　not　sure　we　can　take　anything　they　say　or　do　at　face　value。　That　mayor；　for　instance。　Is　he　really　some　throw