[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The comlink was live, and Alex was on his very best behavior, including a
fresh, and only marginally rumpled, uniform. He sat quietly in his chair, the
very picture of a sober Academy graduate and responsible CS brawn.
Tia reflected that it was just as well she'd bullied him into that uniform.
The transmission was shared by Professor Barton Glasov y Verona-Gras, head of
the Institute, and a gray-haired, dark-tunicked man the professor identified
as Central Systems Sector Administrator Joshua Elliot-Rosen y
Sinor. Very high in administration. And just now, very concerned about
something, although he hid his concern well. Alex had snapped to a kind of
seated 'attention' the moment his face appeared on the screen.
"Alexander, Hypatia, we're going to be sending you a long file of stills and
holos," Professor Barton began. "But for now, the object you see here on my
desk is representative of our problem."
The 'object' in question was a perfectly lovely little vase. The style was
distinctive; skewed, but with a very sensuous sinuousity, as if someone had
fused Art Nouveau with Salvador Dali. It seemed, as nearly as Tia could tell
from the transmission, to be made of multiple layers of opalescent glass or
ceramic.
It also had the patina that only something that has been buried for a very
long time achieves. Or something with a chemically faked patina. But would the
professor himself have called them if all he was worried about were fake
antiquities? Not likely.
The only problem with the vase, if it was a genuine artifact, was that it did
not match the style of any known artifact in any of Tia's files.
"You know that smuggling and site-robbing has always been a big problem for
us," Professor Barton continued. "It's very frustrating to come on a site and
find it's already been looted. But this, this is doubly frustrating.
Because, as I'm sure Hypatia has already realized, the style of this piece
does not match that of any known civilization."
"A few weeks ago, hundreds of artifacts in this style flooded the black
market," Sinor said smoothly. "Analysis showed them to be quite ancient, this
piece for instance was made some time when Ramses the Second was Pharaoh."
The professor was not wringing his hands, but his distress was fairly obvious.
"There are hundreds of these objects!" he blurted. "Everything from cups to
votive offerings, from jewelry to statuary! We not only don't know where
they've come from, but we don't even know any thing about the people that made
them!"
"Most of the objects are not as well-preserved as this one, of course,"
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Sinor continued, sitting with that incredible stillness that only a
professional politician or actor achieves. "But besides being incredibly
valuable, and not incidentally, funneling money into the criminal subculture,
there is something else rather distressing associated with these artifacts."
Tia knew what it had to be as soon as the words were out of the man's mouth.
Plague.
"Plague," he said solemnly. "So far, this has not been a fatal disease, at
least, not to the folk who bought these little trinkets. They have private
physicians and iii-house medicomps, obviously."
High families, Tia surmised. So the High Families are mixed up in this.
"The objects really aren't dangerous, once they've been through proper
decontam procedures," the professor added hastily. "But whoever is digging
these things up isn't even bothering with a run under the U V gun. He's just
cleaning them up."
Tia winced inwardly, and saw Alex wince. To tell an archeologist that a
smuggler had 'cleaned up' an artifact, was like telling a coin collector that
his nephew Joey had gotten out the wire brush and shined up his collection for
him.
"Cleaning them up, putting them in cases, and selling them." Professor
Barton sighed. "I have no idea why his helpers aren't coming down with this.
Maybe they're immune. Whatever the reason, the receivers of these pieces are,
they are not happy about it, and they want something done."
His expression told Tia more than his words did. The High Families who had
bought artifacts, they must have known were smuggled and possibly stolen, and
some members of their circle, had gotten sick. And because the Institute was
the official organization in charge of ancient relics, they expected the
Institute to find the smuggler and deal with him.
Not that any of them would tell us how and where they found out about these
treasures. Nor would they ever admit that they knew they were gray market, if
not black. And if they'd stop buying smuggled artifacts, they-wouldn't get
sick.
But none of that meant anything when it came to the High Families, of course.
They were too wealthy and too powerful to ever find themselves dealing with
such simple concepts as cause and effect.
Hmm. Except once in a great while, like now, when it rises up and bites them.
"In spite of the threat of disease associated with these pieces, they are
still in very high demand," Sinor said.
Because someone in the High families spread the word that you'd better run the
thing through decontamination after you buy it, so you can have your
pretty without penalty. But there was something wrong with this story.
Something that didn't quite fit. But she couldn't figure out what it was.
Meanwhile, the transmission continued. "But I don't have to tell either of you
how dangerous it is to have these things out there," Professor Barton added.
"It's fairly obvious that the smugglers are not taking even the barest of
precautions with the artifacts. It becomes increasingly likely with every
piece sold at a high price that someone will steal one, or find out where the
source is, or take one to a disadvantaged area to sell it"
A slum, you mean, Professor. Was he putting too much emphasis on this?
Tia decided to show that both she and her brawn were paying attention.
"I can see what could happen then, gentlemen," she countered. "Disease spreads
very quickly in areas of that sort, and what might not be particularly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
The comlink was live, and Alex was on his very best behavior, including a
fresh, and only marginally rumpled, uniform. He sat quietly in his chair, the
very picture of a sober Academy graduate and responsible CS brawn.
Tia reflected that it was just as well she'd bullied him into that uniform.
The transmission was shared by Professor Barton Glasov y Verona-Gras, head of
the Institute, and a gray-haired, dark-tunicked man the professor identified
as Central Systems Sector Administrator Joshua Elliot-Rosen y
Sinor. Very high in administration. And just now, very concerned about
something, although he hid his concern well. Alex had snapped to a kind of
seated 'attention' the moment his face appeared on the screen.
"Alexander, Hypatia, we're going to be sending you a long file of stills and
holos," Professor Barton began. "But for now, the object you see here on my
desk is representative of our problem."
The 'object' in question was a perfectly lovely little vase. The style was
distinctive; skewed, but with a very sensuous sinuousity, as if someone had
fused Art Nouveau with Salvador Dali. It seemed, as nearly as Tia could tell
from the transmission, to be made of multiple layers of opalescent glass or
ceramic.
It also had the patina that only something that has been buried for a very
long time achieves. Or something with a chemically faked patina. But would the
professor himself have called them if all he was worried about were fake
antiquities? Not likely.
The only problem with the vase, if it was a genuine artifact, was that it did
not match the style of any known artifact in any of Tia's files.
"You know that smuggling and site-robbing has always been a big problem for
us," Professor Barton continued. "It's very frustrating to come on a site and
find it's already been looted. But this, this is doubly frustrating.
Because, as I'm sure Hypatia has already realized, the style of this piece
does not match that of any known civilization."
"A few weeks ago, hundreds of artifacts in this style flooded the black
market," Sinor said smoothly. "Analysis showed them to be quite ancient, this
piece for instance was made some time when Ramses the Second was Pharaoh."
The professor was not wringing his hands, but his distress was fairly obvious.
"There are hundreds of these objects!" he blurted. "Everything from cups to
votive offerings, from jewelry to statuary! We not only don't know where
they've come from, but we don't even know any thing about the people that made
them!"
"Most of the objects are not as well-preserved as this one, of course,"
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Sinor continued, sitting with that incredible stillness that only a
professional politician or actor achieves. "But besides being incredibly
valuable, and not incidentally, funneling money into the criminal subculture,
there is something else rather distressing associated with these artifacts."
Tia knew what it had to be as soon as the words were out of the man's mouth.
Plague.
"Plague," he said solemnly. "So far, this has not been a fatal disease, at
least, not to the folk who bought these little trinkets. They have private
physicians and iii-house medicomps, obviously."
High families, Tia surmised. So the High Families are mixed up in this.
"The objects really aren't dangerous, once they've been through proper
decontam procedures," the professor added hastily. "But whoever is digging
these things up isn't even bothering with a run under the U V gun. He's just
cleaning them up."
Tia winced inwardly, and saw Alex wince. To tell an archeologist that a
smuggler had 'cleaned up' an artifact, was like telling a coin collector that
his nephew Joey had gotten out the wire brush and shined up his collection for
him.
"Cleaning them up, putting them in cases, and selling them." Professor
Barton sighed. "I have no idea why his helpers aren't coming down with this.
Maybe they're immune. Whatever the reason, the receivers of these pieces are,
they are not happy about it, and they want something done."
His expression told Tia more than his words did. The High Families who had
bought artifacts, they must have known were smuggled and possibly stolen, and
some members of their circle, had gotten sick. And because the Institute was
the official organization in charge of ancient relics, they expected the
Institute to find the smuggler and deal with him.
Not that any of them would tell us how and where they found out about these
treasures. Nor would they ever admit that they knew they were gray market, if
not black. And if they'd stop buying smuggled artifacts, they-wouldn't get
sick.
But none of that meant anything when it came to the High Families, of course.
They were too wealthy and too powerful to ever find themselves dealing with
such simple concepts as cause and effect.
Hmm. Except once in a great while, like now, when it rises up and bites them.
"In spite of the threat of disease associated with these pieces, they are
still in very high demand," Sinor said.
Because someone in the High families spread the word that you'd better run the
thing through decontamination after you buy it, so you can have your
pretty without penalty. But there was something wrong with this story.
Something that didn't quite fit. But she couldn't figure out what it was.
Meanwhile, the transmission continued. "But I don't have to tell either of you
how dangerous it is to have these things out there," Professor Barton added.
"It's fairly obvious that the smugglers are not taking even the barest of
precautions with the artifacts. It becomes increasingly likely with every
piece sold at a high price that someone will steal one, or find out where the
source is, or take one to a disadvantaged area to sell it"
A slum, you mean, Professor. Was he putting too much emphasis on this?
Tia decided to show that both she and her brawn were paying attention.
"I can see what could happen then, gentlemen," she countered. "Disease spreads
very quickly in areas of that sort, and what might not be particularly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]