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Timothy Zahn: The Third Lynx

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Timothy Zahn The Third Lynx

The Third Lynx: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Former government agent Frank Compton foiled a plot to enslave the galaxy in Night Train to Rigel. But the Modhri, an ancient telepathically linked intelligence, has walkers, unwilling hosts that can be anywhere, anything…and anyone. And Compton is the only man who knows how to fight them, as they wage a secret war against the galactic civilizations linked by the Quadrail, the only means of intra-galactic transit. Accompanied by Bayta, a woman with strange ties to the robot-like Spiders who run the Quadrail, and dogged by special agent Morse who suspects him of murder, Compton races the Modhri from station to station to acquire a set of valuable sculptures from a long-dead civilization. What the Modhri wants with them is anybody's guess, but if Compton can't outwit it, the whole galaxy will find out the hard way.

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"Hardly," I managed. "How did you get out of the cuffs?"

He smiled. "Come now. I'm ESS. We aren't entirely without our resources, you know." He looked around. "So this was it?"

"Still is it, actually," I said. I looked around, too …and as I did so, I suddenly understood what this place really was.

God in heaven.

"Frank?"

I looked around. Bayta was frowning at me. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Of course," I lied. "Back to business. By my count, there should still be one complete trinary weapon lying around somewhere. We need to find it and get it out of here, along with any spare Vipers that might have survived."

"Preferably before someone starts wondering what this strange glitch is on the weather satellite feed," Morse warned. "Let's get the loot, and get the hell out of here."

TWENTY-SIX :

We said our final farewells on the platform as the next Terra-bound train worked its way down the Tube toward us. "Good luck," I said to Stafford as we shook hands. "And watch yourself. If and when the Modhri decides to step up his operations on Earth, you'll be an obvious target for him to go for."

"I'll be careful," Stafford said grimly. "If he tries it, he'll have a serious fight on his hands."

"And not just from Mr. Stafford," Morse added. "I'll be with them the whole way."

"I appreciate that," I said. "Don't forget your promise."

"To keep all of this secret." Morse hissed between his teeth. "I know. Still, galling though it is to let Earth stroll along in blissful ignorance, I can see your point. We'll keep quiet."

"But if the silent routine changes, you let us know," Stafford said. "I still want justice for Uncle Rafael's murder."

"We all do, and we're working on it," I promised. I nudged my carrybag with my foot. "This should definitely help."

"I still can't believe the Spiders let you into the Tube with that thing in your bag," Morse commented.

"We have a good working relationship with them," I said, passing over the fact that with the weapon separated into its components again the Spiders couldn't have spotted it even if they'd wanted to.

"And don't forget your promise," Stafford added. "Whenever your friends get done studying the thing, I'd appreciate it if they would let me have the Lynx back."

"If they'll allow it, I'll deliver it to you personally," I promised.

"Someday you'll have to tell me the whole story of how you ended up in this war," Morse said, glancing around the station. "You and your sniper friend. Be sure to thank him for me, by the way."

"I'm sure he thanks you, too," I said. "Your timing was perfect."

"Actually, I could probably have shown up two minutes earlier and no one would have objected," Morse said dryly. "How did you arrange for him to be up there, anyway?"

"I didn't actually arrange anything," I said. "I just told him where we were going and the day and approximate time I expected us to arrive. He worked out the rest of the details himself."

"Except that you did know he'd be on the easternmost mesa," Stafford said. "I assume that's why you wanted us to come in via the southern one."

"I didn't know that was where he'd be," I said. "But that was the most likely place for him to set up shop. He would want the sun at his back if he could manage it."

With a squeal of brakes, the Quadrail came to a stop on the track in front of us. The conductors took their places outside the doors, and the exodus of passengers began. "You be careful," Morse said. He hesitated, then held out his hand to me. "I'm sorry for—well, you know."

"I understand," I assured him, feeling an unpleasant tingle as I shook his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Stafford; Ms. Auslander."

"Good-bye," Penny said, offering me her hand. "And thank you. You and Bayta both. I don't know how we'll ever repay you."

I took her hand and gazed into her eyes, trying to rekindle the attraction I remembered once having felt for her.

But there was nothing. The Modhri-induced feelings were gone, and I found myself wondering that I'd ever taken them seriously at all. "No problem," I told her. "Send me an invitation to the wedding."

Her eyes flicked sideways toward Stafford. "We'll do that," she promised.

The stream of disembarking passengers ended, and the conductors called the all aboard. "Say good-bye to Bayta for us," Morse called to me as the three of them climbed aboard. I waited, and after a minute Penny appeared at the window of her compartment. She smiled and waved, I waved back, and she disappeared out of my view, probably to start unpacking. The conductors went back aboard, the doors closed, and the Quadrail was once again on its way.

"Any trouble?"

I turned as Bayta came up beside me, her eyes following the train as it picked up speed along the tracks. "No, everything went fine," I said. "What kept you?"

"I was making our arrangements." Resolutely, she pulled her eyes away from the departing train. "The stationmaster says we'll be contacted somewhere between Trivsdal and Ian-apof for the transfer."

"Good." The sooner the Chahwyn pulled their little detached-car routine and took the remaining Shonkla-raa weapon components off our hands, the sooner I would be able to relax. A little. "The others said to say good-bye. And to thank you."

Bayta didn't answer, but turned and started walking. "We'll be leaving from Platform Eight," she said over her shoulder.

I caught up and fell into step beside her. "Come on, now," I cajoled. "It worked out all right, didn't it?"

"Did it?" she countered.

I sighed. "Look. I know I behaved like an adolescent idiot. I also know that I hurt you, and I'm really and truly sorry. But you know now that the whole thing was straight Modhran manipulation."

"How?" she countered. "What happened on Veerstu rather disproved your theory that Agent Morse is a walker. Are you going to suggest next that all that manipulation came from one of the Halkan soldiers?"

"No, of course not," I said, taking her arm.

She twitched it away from me. "It's none of my business," she said, trying to hide the trembling in her voice. "Whatever you feel for her—"

" Felt for her, past tense," I said. "And whatever I felt wasn't real."

"It's none of my business," she repeated in a low voice.

"It's every bit your business," I corrected, glancing around. None of the other passengers wandering the station was in earshot. "Because Veerstu didn't prove anything. Morse is , in fact, a walker."

She spun, her eyes angry and hurt and shimmering with tears. "Don't lie to me, Frank," she said fiercely. "You hear? Don't ever lie to me."

"I'm not lying," I said, catching her hands in mine and forcing her to a stop. She tried to pull away again, but this time I didn't let her. "It's the only way this makes sense."

"Unless you really did fall in love with her."

"Would you get off Ms. Auslander for a minute?" I growled. "I'm talking about the thought virus that got planted in me on the Bildim train."

"Which must have come from the Cimma."

"Which couldn't possibly have come from the Cimma," I shot back. "We've been through this, remember? Morse had probably already set up the thought virus for me to go to the baggage car, only there was no time to embed another one strongly enough to cancel it. All the Modhri could do was throw in the Cimma and hope I'd think it was him."

"Then why did Agent Morse help us on Veerstu?" she countered. "The Modhri was on the edge of winning it all when he showed up. If he's a walker, why didn't he help defeat us?"

"Because we made a mistake, Bayta," I said quietly. "All of us. A huge mistake." I braced myself. "We let Morse see a Chahwyn."

She stared at me, her face suddenly rigid. "Oh, no," she breathed.

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