<div dir="ltr">Ehm no, quello che ha fatto il volo è Toran, il tattico galleggia nello spazio con Alia :P<div><br></div><div>Silvia</div></div><div class="gmail_extra"><br clear="all"><div><div class="gmail_signature" data-smartmail="gmail_signature">------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br>Ci sedemmo dalla parte del torto visto che tutti gli altri posti erano occupati. Bertolt Brecht<br>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br></div></div>
<br><div class="gmail_quote">Il giorno 18 gennaio 2018 14:08, LordMax _ <span dir="ltr"><<a href="mailto:lordmax@gmail.com" target="_blank">lordmax@gmail.com</a>></span> ha scritto:<br><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0 0 0 .8ex;border-left:1px #ccc solid;padding-left:1ex"><div dir="ltr">Ma quindi abbiamo già fatto fuori il tattico?<br>^__^<div><br></div><div><br></div></div><div class="gmail_extra"><div><div class="h5"><br><div class="gmail_quote">2018-01-18 12:34 GMT+01:00 Fabio <span dir="ltr"><<a href="mailto:fab4web@email.it" target="_blank">fab4web@email.it</a>></span>:<br><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0 0 0 .8ex;border-left:1px #ccc solid;padding-left:1ex"><div style="word-wrap:break-word;line-break:after-white-space">Brava, bel pezzo.<div>Mi piace come hai usato il mio personaggio :)<br><div><br><blockquote type="cite"><div><div class="m_3768944270666121473h5"><div>Il giorno 17 gen 2018, alle ore 18:55, Silvia Brunati <<a href="mailto:sbrunati@gmail.com" target="_blank">sbrunati@gmail.com</a>> ha scritto:</div><br class="m_3768944270666121473m_6284007202819480331Apple-interchange-newline"></div></div><div><div><div class="m_3768944270666121473h5"><div dir="ltr"><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">Ciao!</div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">Ecco il mio pezzo.</div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">E' un pò lungo e ho fatto accadere un pò di cose. Ho giocato un pò con le dinamiche fra i personaggi.</div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><br></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">Spero vi piaccia</div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">Silvia</div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><br></span></b></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial">------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<br>Ci sedemmo dalla parte del torto visto che tutti gli altri posti erano occupati. Bertolt Brecht<br>------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<wbr>------------------------------<b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><br></span></b></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><br></span></b></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">******************************<wbr>******************************<wbr>*</span></b><span style="font-size:9.5pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">BRANO 3.07</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">BRANO PRECEDENTE: </span></b><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Conoscenze</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">TITOLO: C</span></b><font face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size:14.6667px"><b>hi ha bisogno di una Libera Uscita?</b></span></font></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">AUTORE: Sidzi Drax</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">******************************<wbr>******************************<wbr>*<span></span></span></b></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 22:00</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Il locale era affollato al punto che molti dei clienti si
erano riversati sulla camminata appena fuori, con i bicchieri in mano, rendendo
difficoltoso il passaggio. Risate, musica e voci che cercavano di imporsi l’una
sull’altra assaltando le orecchie per martellarle con dolorosa frequenza.
Nessuno sembrava farci caso però, in quel momento a Deep Space 5 erano
ormeggiate tre navi della flotta stellare, quattro mercantili e una nave
trasporto passeggeri e sembrava che tutti gli equipaggi si fossero dati
appuntamento li.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Toran aveva stampato sul viso il sorriso di chi non vede
l’ora di godersi la libera uscita mentre, accanto a lui Shinead O’Lauglin mostrava
tutti i segni del fastidio alla vista di quella confusione. Convincerla a
staccarsi dal laboratorio non era stato facile, ma il consigliere aveva
‘velatamente’ suggerito a tutti di godersi questa franchigia e che era auspicabile, se non obbligatorio, che tutti sbarcassero per almeno un
paio d’ore per ‘assaporare un po’ di libertà dai ruoli che segnano
costantemente le loro vite’. Erano state quelle le sue parole precise
accompagnate dal movimento perentorio del dito indice che indicava la direzione
della sala teletrasporto. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Il comandante Toran aveva storto il naso, ma alla fine le aveva dato ragione: l’equipaggio della Erinle aveva decisamente bisogno di
riposo. </span><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:11pt">Il sorriso gli si allargò al pensiero di come la sua vita
fosse cambiata negli ultimi tempi: da agente operativo, costantemente sul filo
del pericolo, a premuroso comandante che si preoccupa della salute del suo
equipaggio.</span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Comandante..:”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Toran, non siamo in servizio ricorda?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Sissignore,” rispose Chorate arrossendo subito dopo per
l’imbarazzo, “volevo dire Tor..Insomma lei. Come conosce questo posto?” Chiese
inglobando con un unico gesto del braccio la passeggiata ed il locale.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Ho una carriera lunga alle spalle,” rispose mantenendosi sul
vago Toran mentre valutava la situazione che li attendeva. Il suo sguardo si
posò su un gruppetto di persone che rideva troppo rumorosamente giudicandone
pose, sguardi e movimenti. “che mi permette di sapere a chi chiedere dove ci si
diverte veramente.” Si girò a guardare Chorate e O’Lauglin con un sorrisetto di
divertito, “e stasera ci si divertirà alla grande!” <span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Passeggiata – Postazione
Elevata – Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Contemporaneamente</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Robert Naholo era appoggiato alla ringhiera che scorreva
lungo la passeggiata superiore con l’espressione annoiata di chi ha troppo
tempo libero per le mani e non sa cosa farsene. Aveva appena finito di scorrere
le offerte di Deep Space 5 ed ora perdeva tempo nel suo passatempo preferito:
guardarsi attorno. <i>Coppia che farebbe
meglio a trovarsi un alloggio; maschio, singolo, stringe troppo il bicchiere
dal quale non ha bevuto: in cerca di compagnia? No, attaccabrighe in cerca di
vittime. Uhm, perché però non ha bevuto? Le persone di questo tipo solitamente
alimentano l’irritabilità con l’alcool. </i>Spostò lo sguardo a sinistra. <i>Due maschi, una femmina, divisa della flotta
stellare, probabilmente di una delle navi attraccate, non la Erinle, no. Sei
persone, ridono, bevono, danno fastidio, con troppa esagerazione. Una femmina
ed un maschio, non una coppia, aspiranti tali? Civili, probabilmente; armati,
sicuramente pericolosi se infastiditi. L’attaccabrighe farebbe meglio a non
scegliere loro. Un ornariano, una boliana ed un’umana, la barzelletta perfetta.</i><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">L’ufficiale tattico si staccò dalla ringhiera con uno
sbadiglio, incamminandosi a passo lento verso le scale che portavano al piano
inferiore. Non capiva perché Toran avesse scelto proprio quel locale per
un’uscita dell’equipaggio, solitamente gli ufficiali della flotta stellare si
ritrovavano alla “Nave Perduta”, tre ponti sopra, ma il comandante aveva
ribattuto con un sorriso allegro che per godere veramente della licenza,
avrebbero dovuto mescolarsi, non fare gruppetto con gli ufficiali delle altre
navi. “Cerca la noia o il vero divertimento tenente?” <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">L’entusiasmo del comandante Toran era stato contagioso, ma
non era per quello che Robert aveva accettato il suo invito. Da quando era
salito a bordo della Erinle, aveva capito che l’ornariano non faceva mai nulla
per caso e se aveva insistito così tanto perché lui si unisse a loro, doveva
per forza esserci qualcosa sotto e Robert aveva tutte le intenzioni di scoprirlo.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Robert ce l’ha fatta!” La giovialità del saluto di Toran era
esagerata, sarebbe stato al suo gioco. Ricambiando il sorriso Naholo rispose al
saluto e si affiancò a Chorate. Visti da fuori, loro quattro, sembravano due
coppie in cerca di divertimento, Robert non poté fare a meno di notare però che
sia lui, che Toran avevano preso le due posizioni esterne, tenendo al centro
Chorate e O’Lauglin.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Il comandante aveva messo a parte le due ufficiali delle sue
intenzioni, qualunque fosse il suo piano, o erano all’oscuro come lui?<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Erano ormai arrivati al locale e Robert provò la strana
sensazione che l’avrebbe scoperto presto.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Ufficio del Medico Capo –
U.S.S. Erinle – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 22:15</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Non si fidi del capitano Drax”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">A quelle parole Friedrich Koll guardò sorpreso il tenente
comandante Soraya che continuava ad armeggiare con i suoi ferri a maglia con
un’espressione così rilassata che per un momento pensò di aver sentito male. Il
consigliere distolse l’attenzione dalla maglia per incontrare il suo sguardo.
“Non faccia quell’espressione stupita, signor Koll,” rise, “come tutti i
capitani, Sidzi Drax segue alla lettera il regolamento, si presenta alle visite
di controllo e ai colloqui, ma ha sviluppato un’abilità particolare nel non far
trapelare quello che pensa o sente veramente. Rilascia le informazioni che
ritiene necessarie e nulla di più.”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">All’inizio, quando il consigliere si era presentata nel suo
ufficio, Friedrich aveva temuto che fosse per un colloquio conoscitivo. Aveva
così tanto da fare che non poteva perdere tempo con quelle cose adesso, aveva
pensato irritato. Soraya invece l’aveva riempito di informazioni su tutto
quello che riteneva importante lui sapesse sull’equipaggio e sull’Erinle.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Del resto,” proseguì intanto la donna, “un ufficiale con il
passato del nostro capitano, deve per forza aver imparato a nascondere quello
che pensa veramente…Oh, per diana!” Si interruppe per recuperare un punto della
maglia che apparentemente le era sfuggito dal ferro. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Che cosa intende?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Soraya tornò a guardarlo perplessa. “Con cosa?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Con quello che ha detto.”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Il consigliere agitò una mano accompagnando il gesto con un
piccolo sbuffo, “non ci faccia caso, dottore, è un’esclamazione della quale non
riesco a liberarmi, nella mitologia romana, Diana era…”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“No,” la interruppe Koll seccato, “che intendeva dire con
quella frase sul capitano:”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Ah, quello,” Soraya sorrise posando i ferri sulle ginocchia.
“non è un segreto il passato del capitano, per lo meno non tutto.”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Koll la fissò perplesso non sapendo bene come prendere quello
che il consigliere aveva appena detto. “E lei?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Io cosa?” Soraya riprese in mano il suo lavoro.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“C’è da fidarsi di lei?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Assolutamente no.” Ed il sorriso che accompagnò quella frase
un po’ inquietò Koll.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Hangar Navette – U.S.S.
Erinle – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 22:30</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Sinclair sedeva al posto del pilota tamburellando
nervosamente con le dita sulla plancia. Avrebbe dovuto essere già su Deep Space
5 a godersi la meritata licenza, ma il comandante Toran gli aveva ordinato di
salire sulla navetta ed attendere una sua chiamata. Non gli aveva spiegato come
mai, né gli aveva fornito particolari dettagli su quello che avrebbe dovuto
fare una volta ricevuta la chiamata. Tutto quello che sapeva è che doveva
salire a bordo della navetta, contattare Deep Space 5 e riferire che
probabilmente sarebbe uscito per fare dei controlli di routine. Toran gli aveva
esplicitamente ordinato di non entrare nello specifico. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">La cosa più strana non era l’ordine in se, in passato ad
Alexander era capitato altre volte di eseguire ordini dei quali inizialmente
non aveva capito il fine, ma il modo in cui gli erano stati impartiti. Toran
l’aveva invitato a provare il nuovo programma di simulazione sui pirati ideato
dal tenente O’Lauglin i cui obiettivi di missione errano quelli che ora
l’avevano portato su quella navetta. Sinclair aveva capito che erano ordini
reali perché Toran aveva usato ‘Lo sguardo’.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Nel corso degli ultimi mesi, il timoniere aveva passato
parecchio tempo con il comandante, soprattutto in sala ologrammi, ed aveva
imparato che quando lo guardava in quel modo, anche se sorrideva e parlava di
argomenti del tutto innocenti, c’era sempre un sottotesto che Alexander doveva
capire. Non era mai accaduto al di fuori delle simulazioni però e quando Toran
aveva usato ‘Lo sguardo’ prima di sbarcare su Deep Space 5, Sinclair aveva
capito che non doveva di certo andare in sala ologrammi.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">E ora era lì, in attesa ma mezzora, che arrivasse il momento
di agire. Nei dettagli di missione della simulazione, ad un certo orario
avrebbe dovuto lasciare la nave ed attendere la chiamata di un tizio di nome
Kwar che aveva sottratto informazioni importanti ad un gruppo di ufficiali
della flotta stellare e aveva necessità di scappare in fretta. Alexander era
abbastanza certo che questo Kwar non fosse un vero pirata, ma qualcuno che
Toran aveva bisogno fosse allontanato in fretta da Deep Space 5. Come avrebbe
fatto a farlo, sinceramente Sinclair non lo sapeva, si augurava che tutto si
sarebbe chiarito una volta che la chiamata fosse arrivata.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 24:00</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Anche
se il locale era troppo rumoroso per i suoi gusti, Shinead si stava divertendo.
Al di fuori dall’uniforme, il comandante Toran era un uomo che amava divertirsi
e far divertire, in grado di affascinare anche chi non lo conosceva. Nemmeno
un’ora dopo che erano arrivati, un capannello di persone sii era formato
attorno a loro per ascoltare i tragicomici aneddoti di cui l’ornariano sembrava
avere una scorta infinita.. Un paio di volte si era ritrovata con le lacrime
agli occhi per le risate e lei e Chorate si erano scambiate sguardi sorpresi nel
vedere quel nuovo aspetto del comandante. L’unico a non sembrare divertirsi era
il tenente Naholo che, appoggiato al bancone, si limitava ad ascoltarli
sorseggiando la birra. Ad un certo punto Toran l’aveva abbracciato invitandolo
a rilassarsi e per tutta risposta il tenente aveva scosso la testa
concedendogli solo un sorriso divertito. A quel punto l’ornariano gli aveva
sussurrato qualcosa all’orecchio e l’aveva lasciato alla sua bevanda dopo
avergli dato una pacca sulla spalla. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">un’ora dopo Toran si rivolse a lei e Chorate dopo la
conclusione dell’ennesimo racconto, comincio a non avere più storie da
raccontare, che ne dite se ci allontaniamo da questo luogo di perdizione?” Un
coro di proteste si levò dal gruppo di persone attorno a loro e Toran sorrise
divertito, “dovrò pur avere il tempo di vivere le mie avventure per tornare poi
a raccontarvele no?” <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Sempre che tu le abbia vissute veramente,” ribatté un grosso
klingon seduto su uno sgabello a pochi passi da loro. L’ornariano si girò verso
di lui portando una mano al petto con espressione ferita.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Giuro che è tutto vero, ma,” sollevò un dito, “se non lo
fosse, sarebbe stato bello viverlo”. Nuove risate scoppiarono nel locale,
mentre rideva Shinead si sentì tirare per la manica. Si girò a guardare
Chorate.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Hai idea di dove sia finito Robert?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Con stupore Shinead si rese conto che l’uomo non era più al
suo posto. Da quanto tempo non l’avrebbe saputo dirlo. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“No,” rispose perplessa alla boliana, “era qui fino ad un
minuto fa.” Si guardarono entrambe attorno, ma c’era decisamente troppa gente
per riuscire a distinguere qualcuno. Il sospetto, che fino a quel momento si
era sforzata di scacciare che ci fosse qualcosa di strano in quella serata, si
fece decisamente più concreto. Shinead aveva scritto troppe trame per programmi
olografici per non pensare che ci fosse qualcosa di sospetto in quella serata.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Credo che il comandante stia tramando qualcosa,” commentò
Chorate come se le avesse letto nella mente, la sua voce era così bassa che
nella confusione Shinead riuscì a mala pena a sentirla, “qualcosa che ha a che
fare con quello che abbiamo scoperto prima di arrivare qui.”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Si scambiarono un’occhiata di intesa, “e non ci ha detto
nulla,” commentò a sua volta Shinead, “ci ha inviate qui con una scusa e non ci
ha detto nulla.” Seccata lanciò un’occhiata al comandante che aveva ripreso a
tenere banco, “e ci toccherà pure dargli una mano”. “Quella serata non era più
divertente come prima. <span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 24:05</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Approfittando
della confusione, Robert Naholo si era allontanato dal gruppo e da circa
mezz’ora attendeva in fondo al locale fingendo di aspettare che il bagno si
liberasse. Nel frattempo rimuginava sulle parole che il comandante gli aveva
sussurrato all’orecchio quando l’aveva abbracciato.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Alle
24:10 arriverà un messaggero, la sua parola di riconoscimento sarà Kwar. Lo porti
fuori di qui.” Per esperienza Robert sapeva che un ordine simile sottintendeva
le parole ‘vivo’ e ‘illeso’ e che quindi il suo compito era proteggere questo
messaggero a costo della vita. Si chiese, non per la prima volta, se questo
Kwar fosse collegato all’assalto delle navi Xinti o se riguardasse l’improvvisa
licenza che una certa tenente </span><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">aveva richiesto, ed ottenuto, prima che
arrivassero a Deep Space 5. A</span><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">lla prima occasione avrebbe preteso
chiarimenti in merito a Toran perché se c’era una cosa che non sopportava era
essere tenuto all’oscuro, soprattutto se si trattava di cose che rientravano
nelle sue competenze, o, se non lo facevano, ci andavano molto vicine. Per il
momento avrebbe fatto quello che gli era stato chiesto ed avrebbe tenuto occhi
ed orecchie aperte per questo Kwar.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">La
porta del bagno si aprì per fare uscire un’andoriana malferma sui piedi, come
se avesse bevuto troppo. Robert le lanciò una rapida occhiata valutandola.
Sembrava brilla, su questo non c’erano dubbi, ma non così tanto da non riuscire
a camminare. L’andoriana fece un passo in avanti, inciampò su una sedia e cadde
dritta fra le braccia di Robert che istintivamente l’afferrò.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Fece
appena in tempo a sentire la parola ‘Kwar’ prima che lei lo baciasse.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Navetta “Felix” – Spazio
attorno a Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 24:10</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Sinclair lanciava diagnostiche dalla navetta in direzione
della Erinle fingendo di effettuare i controlli che nessuno gli aveva ordinato
di fare. Erano tutti programmi che avrebbe potuto interrompere immediatamente,
qualora fosse arrivata la chiamata del misterioso Kwar. Nessuno, né
sull’Erinle, né da Deep Space 5 aveva obiettato alla sua richiesta di permesso
di uscire nello spazio con la navetta. Il capitano in persona, dalla plancia,
si era raccomandata che facesse il suo lavoro con attenzione. Segno che Sidzi
Drax sapeva il perché Sinclair doveva uscire nello spazio, segno che non si era
sbagliato ad interpretare gli ordini del comandante Toran, segno che se questi
ordini non gli erano stati dati direttamente e apertamente, c’era qualcosa
sotto.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Tenendo a stendo a bada l’impazienza, Sinclair riprese a
tamburellare con le dita sulla console.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Contemporaneamente</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Toran
svuotò il suo bicchiere e rispose ad una battuta di uno dei suoi nuovi amici
strappando altre risate. Avrebbe potuto continuare all’infinito se necessario,
ma sapeva che non avrebbe potuto tirare troppo la corda e stava finendo l’inventiva.
Naholo aveva una finestra di tempo molto piccola in cui tutto sarebbe potuto
andare bene o terribilmente male, si augurò che Alia ce la facesse a mettersi
in contatto con lui. Per come era la situazione ora lui non poteva fare altro
che continuare ad attirare l’attenzione. Più le persone si fossero concentrate
su di lui, meno avrebbero notato quello che succedeva in un altro punto del
locale.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Se
pensate che le sue storie siano divertenti, aspettate di sentire quelle che
riguardano come lo abbiamo conosciuto!” La voce di Shinead si levò sopra le
altre approfittando di un momento di silenzio. Toran lanciò un’occhiata sorpresa
alla donna che, salita su una sedia, con una bottiglia di sidro in mano, si
lanciava in un racconto totalmente inventato su come lei e Chorate l’avessero
incontrato due anni prima. La boliana incorporava e ingigantiva il racconto
dell’ufficiale scientifico con una serie di particolari che rendevano la storia
decisamente più interessante delle sue. <i>Grazie
al cielo! </i>Pensò sollevato l’ornariano approfittando dell’inaspettata pausa
che le due gli stavano regalando. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Con la
coda dell’occhio, dietro al loro gruppo, gli sembrò di intravedere Naholo, ma lo
spiraglio fra le persone che gli aveva permesso di vederlo si chiuse troppo
presto perché potesse verificare se avesse preso contato con Alia.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Navetta “Felix” – Spazio
attorno a Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 24:15</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">=^= Koll a Sinclair, mi sente tenente?=^=<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Forte e chiaro dottore, cosa posso fare per lei?” La voce
del dottore sembrava preoccupata.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">=^= Il capitano mi ha ordinato di tenermi pronto per un trasporto
di emergenza proveniente dalla sua navetta, ha detto, precise parole, ‘che
potrebbe esserci bisogno del mio aiuto. Ora io odio le frasi criptiche, lei può
dirmi qualcosa di più?=^=<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">“Magari…” mormorò Sinclar prima di rispondere un più
diplomatico, “ne so quanto lei signore”.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Pochi secondi dopo</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Se una
bella andoriana ti si getta fra le braccia e ti bacia, chi sei tu per
rifiutare? Se quella stessa andoriana sussurra la parolina magica che stavi
aspettando, cos’altro puoi fare se non stringerla fra le tua braccia e ricambiare
quel bacio e continuarlo mentre ti sposti verso l’uscita portandola con te? Diamine,
quante volte ti capiterà un’altra occasione simile? Staccandosi solo un’istante
per riprendere fiato e valutare quanto mancava all’uscita, Robert fu colto
totalmente di sorpresa quando lei gli saltò in braccio stringendo le gambe
dietro la sua schiena e afferrando con entrambe le mani il suo volto. “Hai una
stanza?” <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Tutte
quelle che vuoi.” Ribatté lui osservando affascinato le antenne azzurre che si
tendevano verso di lui come due secondi occhi per poi reclamare nuovamente le
labbra dell’andoriana, “tutte quelle che vuoi.” Ripeté fra un bacio e l’altro
portandola di peso con se verso l’uscita.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Ehi!”
Una mano si posò pesantemente sulla sua spalla rischiando di far cadere
entrambi. Robert si girò verso l’energumeno che aveva interrotto il suo
cammino.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Che
palle, Tov,” protestò l’andoriana, “mi sto divertendo!”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Il
capo ha detto di non allontanarsi.” Ribatté ringhiando l’altro.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Eri tu
quello che voleva farsi un goccetto e che ha proposto di venire qui! ” Gli
gridò lei allungando un pugno chiuso verso il suo volto, Robert cercò di non
perdere l’equilibrio mentre lei si piegava in avanti. “Ora lasciami divertire!”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Giusto,”
intervenne lui tirandola nuovamente verso di lui, “lasciaci divertire…” <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">L’andoriana
gli rivolse un sorriso da ubriaca e tornò ad avvicinare il viso al suo, mentre
il tizio di nome Tov li fissava torvo. Probabilmente non era così che si era
aspettato che finisse la serata quando l’aveva invitata a uscire. “Tornatene al
tavolo con gli altri,” lo invitò l’andoriana e, mentre quello sembrava
combattuto sul da farsi, Robert valutò distanza dall’uscita, dimensioni di Tov,
tempo necessario a stenderlo e fuggire con la ragazza.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">La
soluzione al problema venne risolta dall’improvviso scoppiare di risate alle
loro spalle che distrasse Tov e permise a lui di coprire gli ultimi metri che
li separavano dall’uscita.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Quando
furono all’aperto, Kwar o chiunque fosse l’andoriana, smise di stringerlo e saltò
a terra. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Andiamo,”
le disse Robert afferrandola per la mano e dirigendosi a passo veloce verso uno
dei turboascendori.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Molo d’attracco
6,” ribatté lei mentre dietro di loro cominciavano a levarsi voci agitate.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Bar “La Stazione Stellare”
– Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Contemporaneamente</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Chorate
si era seduta sul tavolo, non perché non ci fosse altro posto dove sedersi, ma
perché in questo modo avrebbe avuto una visuale migliore del locale. Certo non
era come quella di Shinead che, in piedi sulla sedia, superava le teste di
quelli che li circondavano, ma comunque riusciva a vedere qualcosa di più di
prima. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“…così,”
stava dicendo l’ufficiale scientifico, “mentre noi due cercavamo di far capire
a questo testone, che no non eravamo interessate a quello che offriva..”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Lo
baciammo..”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Lo bac…cosa?”
Shinead guardò sorpresa Chorate che gli fece freneticamente cenno di continuare
mentre cercava di non perdere di vista il tenente Naholo.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Lo
baciammo sulle guance,” riprese a parlare Shinead, dopo un secondo, mentre poco
distante Toran seguiva lo sguardo della boliana e con una scusa si allontanava
in quella direzione. “Perché alla fine quando mai ti capita un’occasione del
genere?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“E che
uomo! Così grande e possente!” Aggiunse Chorate vedendo Toran avvicinare un
tizio che era grosso il doppio di lui. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“..non
direi proprio così grosso,” la corresse Shinead perplessa cercando di
continuare la storia e nello stesso tempo vedere cosa stesse succedendo, “era
solo…”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Molto,
ma molto muscoloso e arrabbiato…”  offrì
Chorate.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Arrabbiato
, si giusto, così arrabbiato che noi non gli prestassimo la dovuta attenzione
che ci sentimmo in dovere di..”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Picchiarlo.”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Picchiarlo!
Picchiarlo?”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Il
suono di qualcosa di pesante che cadeva sopra un tavolo mandandolo in pezzi, coprì
l’esclamazione di Shinead che aveva visto il volo del comandante Toran in
direzione dello sfortunato tavolino.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Credo
sia venuto il momento di andare via!” Esclamò Chorate afferrando l’umana per un
braccio. Shinead saltò a terra senza farselo dire due volte ed insieme
cercarono di farsi largo fra la folla per raggiungere Toran.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Ci dovranno
delle spiegazioni.” Mugugnò la boliana.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Un
sacco di spiegazioni”, annuì Shinead.<span></span></span></div><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><p style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span> </span></span></p><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;background-image:initial;background-position:initial;background-size:initial;background-repeat:initial;background-origin:initial;background-clip:initial">Navetta “Felix” – Spazio
attorno a Deep Space 5 – 4 settembre 2397 – Ore 24:30</span></b><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif"><span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“=^=
Kwar! Kwar! =^=<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Era la
voce di Naholo quella? Sinclair si raddrizzò di colpo sul sedile-e si affrettò
a rispondere.<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Qui
navetta Felix! Vi ricevo!”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">=^= Molo
d’attracco 6, tenente, si muova! =^=<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Digitando
rapidamente i comandi, Sinclair mosse la navetta verso la direzione indicata. <span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">“Arrivo
previsto fra un minuto, devo attaccare o…”<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">=^= Non
credo sarà necessario =^=<span></span></span></div><div style="margin:0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;text-align:justify;background-position:initial initial;background-repeat:initial initial"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif">Fu in
quel momento che i sensori della navetta segnalarono la presenza di due forme
di vita che galleggiavano nello spazio.<span></span></span></div><div class="gmail_extra"><br clear="all"><div><div class="m_3768944270666121473m_6284007202819480331gmail_signature"><br></div></div>
<br></div></div></div></div>
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<br></blockquote></div><br><br clear="all"><div><br></div>-- <br></div></div><div class="m_3768944270666121473gmail_signature" data-smartmail="gmail_signature">--<br>Massimiliano Enrico<br><br>Owner: Gilgamesh di Enrico Massimiliano<br>Coaching per autori e scrittori<br>Socio Lydians, giochi per il tuo marketing<br>Coautore di "Sì! Oscuro Signore" © by Zib & LordMax<br><br><a href="http://precettore.blogspot.it" target="_blank">http://precettore.blogspot.it</a><br><br>Email me at <a href="mailto:max.enrico@gmail.com" target="_blank">max.enrico@gmail.com</a><br>For personal or private comunication email me at <a href="mailto:lordmax@gmail.com" target="_blank">lordmax@gmail.com</a><br>G-Talk me on <a href="mailto:max.enrico@gmail.com" target="_blank">max.enrico@gmail.com</a><br>Skype me at lordmax10<br>Call me at <a href="tel:+39%20347%20602%208663" value="+393476028663" target="_blank">+39.3476028663</a><br><br><a href="http://www.flyingcircus.it" target="_blank">www.flyingcircus.it</a> : Siamo artisti del gioco. Siamo artisti per gioco.</div>
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