STAR TREK - TNG - 18 - Q-In-Law
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Peter David - Star Trek - Q-In-Law
Chapter One
Kerin let out a slow breath, trying to calm the slamming of his heart against his chest. The stars hung
suspended around him, the stars that had been part of his daily existence for as long as he could
remember.
He'd heard that when one stood on the surface of a planet, the stars actually twinkled because of
atmospheric distortions. He wouldn't know firsthand, having never--in his eighteen years--set foot on a
planet.
At the moment, the thoughts of planets were as far off as the stars. His full concentration was on the great
mother ship of the Graziunas that loomed in front of him. It was dark blue, oblong, with great spires
jutting out at odd angles. Swarming about it, insectlike, were a variety of single- and double-pilot ships,
patrolling in a leisurely formation against incursion by any enemies who might be in the area.
Kerin could clearly see the great landing bay at the far end of the mother ship, and even if he couldn't, the
array of instrumentation in front of him could easily pinpoint it for him. He scanned it with practiced ease.
He knew his high-powered, single-pilot shuttle inside and out. It was a gift from his father for his twelfth
birthday, and for a moment he allowed himself the luxury of remembering the thrill of the first time he'd
stepped inside the shuttle, run his fingers across the controls, and sat in the command seat--his command
seat. All his.
Kerin glanced at his own reflection in the viewport before him. He was amazed how much he was
beginning to look like his father. His hair was cut into the widow's peak that was customary for all
members of the house of Nistral. He was sloe-eyed, his pupils dark, yet luminous. His skin was a dusky
silvery hue that gave him an almost metallic sheen. He had a strong jaw that was set in a determined
fashion.
Glancing across his weapons array he noted with satisfaction that everything was fully charged. All engine
readings were normal. He'd checked and rechecked everything a hundred times before setting off from
the Nistral mother ship. The nervousness he felt and his overcaution had gotten him some good-natured
ribbing and derision from his friends. He didn't care, because the redundant checks that had consumed
hours before now gave him the confidence to worry about nothing except his obstacles.
The first of the patrol ships of the Graziunas family had broken off and were approaching. Only two.
More than enough for a routine check.
"Approaching craft," said a crisp voice, "state your business with Graziunas." His long, tapered finger
paused over the comm controls for a moment before he flicked a switch.
"This is Kerin of the house of Nistral. I go where I wish. I do what I wish. And I take what I wish." There
was a silence on the other end. A long, significant silence.
"If that is how it must be," the slow and measured response finally came, "then that is how it must be."
Message sent. Message received. Everything understood at both ends.
Kerin let out another breath and tried to calm himself, tried to forget everything that was at stake. Just let
the reflexes take over, the long, practiced movements that had been drilled into him for as far back as he
could remember.
He took one more look at the battle array, belted himself in, and slammed into overdrive.
The sleek craft shot forward, dipping just under the two wing fighters that were coming towards him for
the intercept. He dropped like a stone, then levelled off quickly and angled straight towards the great
mother ship.
The fighters banked around and came after him.
Kerin had them both tracked, timing their pulse bolts, his fingers racing over the computer navigator for
evasive maneuvers. Blasts exploded to his right and left, and his shuttle swayed gracefully, avoiding them
with amazing precision. He allowed a small smile to play across his lips. "Catch me if you can," he
muttered.
A shot clipped his right-hand stabilizer and he lurched wildly, scrambling to bring his bearings back on
line. He muttered a low curse and went straight up in a sharp L pattern. The fighters stayed right after
him.
"This is your final warning to retreat with honor," the admonition crackled over the comm.
"Noted," said Kerin briskly, and he slammed the thrusters into reverse.
The fighters shot right past him, leaping straight into his computer target sights. Kerin opened fire, the twin
guns of his shuttle blasting. He clipped the wings of both of the fighters, sending them into a momentary
spiral. It was all he needed to sail clear of them and dive down towards the mother ship.
More fighters were coming towards him, but Kerin's confidence was growing with each moment that
brought him closer to the ship. He hurled his shuttle into a dazzling array of evasive maneuvers that
seemed impossible for anything but the sleekest of fighter ships. Kerin had counted on the unassuming
exterior of his shuttle to be his salvation, and thus far he had wagered correctly. He heard exclamations of
surprise at the dexterity and capabilities of the little craft. Blasts exploded around him, but no one was
able to pin him down.
He dove as his pursuers laid down a pattern fire after him. But he had studied every pattern that the
Graziunas used and was prepared to dodge every one.
The landing bay lay directly ahead of him, and then suddenly he was hit. Obviously, he thought wryly, the
Graziunas fighters had developed some new patterns.
He lurched wildly, trying to bring his shuttle back under control. Its wild flight now proved to be
something of a salvation, as more shots that might have struck home now exploded harmlessly nearby
him.
The shuttle hurtled into the docking bay, the walls of the bay flying past him in a dizzying blur. He was
moving fast, too fast. He had brief glimpses of men who normally helped to manually guide ships in, and
they were scattering madly to get out of his way. He tried desperately to bring his nose up, knowing that
if it struck first, he'd flip over and crash, possibly--hell, probably--fatally. At the last possible second he
edged it upward. The bottom of the shuttle sparked and squealed, and Kerin let out a brief shriek.
"Hold together, baby," he prayed.
The shuttle slid crazily, vibrating Kerin to the point where he thought his teeth were going to shake loose.
Reflexively he closed his eyes as he sped towards the wall at the far end, bracing himself for the impact.
He knew he was going to hit, and the only question was how much impact there was going to be when he
did.
The shuttle half-turned once more and the rear end slammed into the wall. Kerin was forced back against
his seat, gasping, as the world spun around him. He took an unsteady breath, his head still ringing from
the ear-splitting howling of metal on metal.
From his vantage point, he could see men of the Graziunas running towards him, shouting and pointing.
He unbuckled quickly and ran to the door.
It was jammed. He slammed the release button a second time, but still nothing happened.
With a curse, he yanked out his blaster and opened fire. He hated having to inflict damage on his own
ship, but there was no other choice. Within seconds he had blasted a hole large enough to squeeze
through, and that he did immediately.
He leaped out of the ship and pivoted, simultaneously powering down his weapon. He ran around the
side of his shuttle, and at that moment a guard came at him, swinging his weapon up with a blood-freezing
yell. It didn't freeze Kerin, however, who--with an outward calm that he didn't feel inwardly--fired off a
quick shot.
It struck his attacker full in the chest and hurled him backwards, knocking the breath out of the man. He
lay there, gasping, and Kerin leaped over him and out the nearest exit door. It hissed shut behind him as
several blasts from behind ricocheted off it. Kerin wondered in passing if their blasters were set to a
lower setting as well.
The corridors of the ship were large and elaborate swirls of blue and orange, sweeping and graceful. It
was a stark contrast to the sharp black and silver that were the colors of the Nistral. Kerin looked right
and left, trying to remember which way to go. He had memorized the schematics of the ship so carefully,
so thoroughly, that he'd been confident he would be able to find his way. Now he wasn't so sure. He felt
his blood pounding against his head and then heard another pounding--that of feet directly behind him.
He was fairly certain he was supposed to make his first right, and that's what he did. With the first
decision made, the subsequent ones came faster and easier, his confidence growing with every passing
moment.
A right up here, then another right, then a left and.
He skidded to a halt, wincing against the light.
He stood in the open doorway of the grand chamber of Graziunas.
Graziunas was the name of the house, and Graziunas was also the name of he who was head of the
house. It was an inherited title.
The man who was at present known as Graziunas was massive, barrel-chested, with a shock of red hair
swept back and over his gleaming blue face. He had a long moustache that hung down as well, almost
down to his collarbone.
His court was crowded with retainers and other family members. Everyone was on their feet.
Everyone was watching Kerin.
Next to Graziunas was his daughter, Sehra. Certainly word that Kerin was coming had reached her, and
she was standing there, looking almost as nervous as Kerin must have felt. She was slim where her father
was stocky, but in her eyes there was something of the same firmness of spirit that her father possessed.
She was watching Kerin, taking in his every move hungrily.
Graziunas stepped down from his dais and walked towards Kerin with firm, steady steps.
Kerin made no move, standing in a combat-ready position. No one was making the slightest noise.
The only sound at all was the steady whisper of Graziunas' boots on the polished floor.
He wore a tunic and leggings that were blue, trimmed with orange, as was the long cape that swirled
about him with every step.
He walked to within a few paces of Kerin and then stopped, his arms folded.
"Yes?" His voice was deep and commanding, and yet there was a tinge of amusement to it.
Kerin's mouth moved, and nothing came out.
Vapor lock.
It did not get easier under the steady gaze of Graziunas. His eyes seemed to widen, and Kerin felt himself
wilting under the unyielding gaze.
Kerin looked frantically to Sehra. She was mouthing something. Words.
His words.
"... as a supplicant..." he said, coming in on the middle of the sentence.
"What?" Graziunas looked as if he were trying not to laugh, and the implied condescension angered Kerin
so that he promptly forgot again what he was supposed to say.
He closed his eyes a moment, took a breath to cleanse his thoughts, and then opened his eyes again. "I
come to thee," he said, praying that his voice wouldn't crack, "as a supplicant.
and as one who demands." "Demands what?" said Graziunas.
"Demands the hand of thy daughter in marriage." He saw her with alarm give a quick shake of her head,
and then he realized his error. Mild, to be sure, but everything had to be just so. "Demands the hand of
thy most honorable daughter in marriage," he quickly amended.
"And if I do not grant it?" asked Graziunas quietly.
Kerin steeled himself. "Then I shall fight thee for her. With every breath in my body, with every spark in
my soul, I shall fight thee. For she shall be mine, and I hers, until all the stars burn away." Graziunas
swung a quick right that Kerin quickly dodged. There was a gasp from the people of the court.
Kerin came in quickly and drove as hard a punch as he could directly at Graziunas' face.
Graziunas caught the boy's fist effortlessly.
Kerin grunted, trying to draw back, then drive forward. Neither move did him any good.
Graziunas had a grip like steel, and he closed it that much tighter on the boy's hand. He waited for Kerin
to cry out, smiling mirthlessly.
But the heir to the house of Nistral would not cry out, as much as the agonizing pressure on his hand
urged him to. Instead he clamped his teeth down on his lower lip, to make certain that no sound of
weakness escaped him.
All around held their collective breath, waiting to hear if Kerin would make some sort of noise. Nothing.
His body was shaking, and blood was starting to trickle down his chin.
Graziunas laughed loudly, a sound so startling that several people jumped slightly. He released his grip on
Kerin and the boy staggered back, rubbing his hand.
"Thou hast shown spirit, son of Nistral," said Graziunas grudgingly. "Spirit and fire. Thou hast spoken the
words as they should be spoken, and issued the challenge. Thou hast not defeated me, but thou hast
displayed thy worth." He stepped back and gestured towards Sehra. "If she will have thee, then the hand
of my only daughter is yours." Kerin couldn't believe it, and yet already there were the sounds of
admiration and cheers from all around. Smiling now, he shook his hand slightly to restore circulation, a
gesture that engendered a bit of good-natured chuckling. He accepted it in stride, for the pressure was
off.
He crossed quickly to Sehra, who was standing there, smiling, her hands extended to him. He took her
hands in his and when she squeezed his, he tried not to wince.
"You'll have me?" he said, forgetting that he was supposed to speak in the formal tongue.
Sehra didn't bother to correct him. She was smiling too widely. "Of course." She stepped down off the
dais and embraced him, which prompted more applause and laughter throughout the room.
"How did I do?" he whispered in her ear.
"Fine." She ran her fingers across his tight-cropped hair. "You did just fine."
Chapter Two
Lieutenant Cohen was sitting in the Ten-Forward lounge, watching the stars glide by.
He held up his glass of synthehol and watched the stars refract through the scintillating, swishing liquid.
He sighed the sort of long sigh that was a clear indication--should anyone be listening--that he was
depressed about something. So depressed that he desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, but
likewise too depressed to get up the energy to discuss it with anyone.
Guinan glided several paces towards him, then stopped short. She raised a nonexistent eyebrow and
pursed her lips. Her eyes twinkled no less than the stars through Cohen's glass as she stepped back and
then moved diagonally across Ten-Forward.
She had not seen Geordi La Forge come in; her back had been to the door at the time. She didn't need
to have seen him, though, to know that he was there.
"Geordi," she said softly.
He looked up at her. Or rather, he tilted his head and observed the flickering trace patterns of her body
that his VISOR perceived. There was always something a little different about the way he saw Guinan as
opposed to the way he saw others. A sort of--it was hard to pinpoint--coolness about her.
As if her soul floated in an inner calmness that was reflected in the heat emanations of her body.
At the moment, he was alone at the table. He was expecting O'Brien and Riker to be joining him before
too long, but he was already feeling in an expansive mood. "Guinan!" he said cheerfully. "Problem?" She
inclined her head slightly. "Him." "Who?" "Cohen." He glanced in the direction she'd indicated.
"Cohen?" "Yup." A smile broke across his face, and he shook his head. "We going to be talking in
one-word sentences all night?" She smiled in return. "Maybe." "What's with Cohen?" "He seems a little
down," Guinan told him. "Since he's one of your staff, I thought you might want to cheer him up." "Isn't
that your department?" he asked, but he was already getting up from behind his table.
She took a step back. "Something tells me this might be "man" stuff." ""Man" stuff?" he said with a touch
of amusement.
"You know," and she raised her arm in a flexing gesture. ""Man" stuff." "Right," he agreed, flexing in
return.
Considering the knack that Guinan had for sweetly strongarming people into doing things, he had a
sneaking suspicion he knew who had the stronger muscles.
Walking across the Ten-Forward lounge, he took notice of the way Guinan paced him a couple feet
away, only to break off and head in another direction as soon as he got near Cohen. He heard Cohen
sigh loudly and knew the tone of it. He'd heaved a sigh or two like that himself.
"Cohen?" he asked.
Cohen looked up at him. "Oh, Lieutenant Commander. Hi." "Hi," Geordi replied, sliding down into the
chair opposite. "Call me Geordi.
We're off duty, and we're all friends here." "Geordi," said Cohen uncertainly.
"And I should call you--?" "Cohen." "Oh." Geordi paused a moment. "Something got you down, Cohen?"
Cohen raised an eyebrow. It was the sort of subtle face movement that Geordi could not detect. Instead
he depended on his ability to read pulse jumps, or the slight tilt of a head that usually accompanied a
facial reaction.
"You could tell that?" asked Cohen, impressed.
"Wow. You know, I saw you come in, but you were way over there, and I didn't think you'd even
noticed me. How were you able to tell from way over there?" Somehow, Guinan told me wouldn't sound
impressive. "Call it a knack," said Geordi. "So... you want to talk about it?" Cohen looked down. "I don't
think so.
No. I'd really rather not discuss it." "Okay," said Geordi, and he started to get up.
"I'm so depressed. My life stinks," said Cohen.
Geordi sat back down again.
Cohen stared into his glass, and Geordi said, "You want to elaborate on that?" "Life in general." "Ah."
"And women." "Ah," said Geordi, this time with more understanding.
"Look at me, Geordi," said Cohen, and then he quickly amended, "I mean... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
offend you..." Geordi laughed. ""Look" isn't a dirty word, Cohen." "Yeah, yeah I know. Look at me,
then.
I'm thirty-four years old today, Geordi." "Happy birthday!" said Geordi. "I'm sorry, I should have--"
Cohen waved it off. "That's not the point.
I'm thirty-four years old. My hair is thinning. I've put on some weight--look at this. My uniform's getting
tight around the waist.
That's embarrassing. And yesterday I broke up with Technician Jackson." "Jackson, huh?" said Geordi.
"She's cute. You two were a couple?" He was mildly annoyed with himself. Since his promotion to chief
engineer, he'd been a hell of a lot more busy.
He wasn't in the rumor loop as much as he used to be.
"Eight months," said Cohen sadly.
"Eight months down the Jefferies tube. Look at me: I'm wasting my life.
I signed on with Starfleet to explore. All I ever explore is the engine room. I never serve on away teams.
I never make any sort of discovery. I'm just... just there. I'm a grunt. Look at what I've got." "Yeah," said
Geordi. "Yeah, let's look at what you've got. Look out there," and he pointed out the viewport.
Cohen didn't understand. "What am I supposed to see?" "The stars." "The stars. Great," said Cohen
dismally. "So what? What do they have to do with me?" "You live among the stars, Cohen!" said Geordi
with enthusiasm. "Do you have any idea what that's like? Centuries ago, people stared up at the stars,
their feet unable to leave the earth. They never saw outer space. Your ancestors never went to Mars,
which was practically next door. The kind of life you lead--it would have been the most incredible flight
of fancy to them. The things you take for granted." He nudged Cohen's shoulder. "You don't know what
you've got." "What have I got?" said Cohen. He still looked skeptical.
Geordi leaned back in the chair, his arms folded. "Why don't you tell me?" "This is silly," said Cohen.
"Consider it an order," said Geordi, still friendly.
Cohen stared at Geordi, trying to figure out if the engineer was kidding or not. He didn't seem to be. "Tell
you what I've got." "Right." Cohen gave it some thought.
"Nothing comes to mind." Geordi blew air through his lips. "You help keep this ship running," he said.
"That's one thing.
There's a thousand people on this ship that depend upon the engineering department--more than any
other--to get them where they're going. Now, maybe you consider your duties to be routine, even
humdrum. But it's the ability to stay on top of those duties, even when they're tedious, that makes you a
good officer." "I suppose," said Cohen slowly. "I mean... I can look at it with an eye that all these people
need me." "Right!" said Geordi.
"And, well, I do get shore leave, occasionally. And with the holodeck..." "Exactly," smiled Geordi. "You
can simulate anyplace you'd want to go. And only the very latest starships are outfitted with holodeck
technology." "And it's not like I've got a dead-end job," said Cohen. "I mean, there's room for
advancement." "Now you're getting it!" "I mean, it's not like I'm chief engineer.
Now that's a dead-end job." Geordi opened his mouth and then closed it again.
"Oh! No offense!" said Cohen quickly.
"None taken," Geordi said evenly. "I suppose some people might perceive that job as such, but I assure
you--" "Oh, you don't have to assure me of anything," Cohen told him. "I understand fully." "Well, good."
Geordi smiled. "We were talking about you." "About good things, yeah." Cohen was looking back out
the viewport. "When I see the stars, it reminds me of Jackson's eyes. She has the most gorgeous eyes.
When she would look at me in that way, with her eyes twinkling--there was nothing like it. You know
what I mean?" No. Because I've been blind from birth, and I can see a single burning coal from thirty
paces, but I can't see a woman's eyes burning with love from thirty inches away. "Sure I do," said
Geordi. "There's nothing like it, you're right." "And I could always have something done about the hair,
right?" he said, running his fingers through his thinning pate. "And just work out more to drop those extra
pounds. It's not really a big deal, is it? Just self-discipline." Right. Dealing with his "shortcomings" is no big
deal. As opposed to me. If I have my "shortcoming" attended to--my sight restored-- I lose the sensory
abilities of my VISOR, and that would simply be too much to give up. "Just a little self-discipline," Geordi
echoed.
"And even if Jackson and I did break up --well, hell, we did have all that time together.
And when we were together, it was fantastic.
Fantastic woman, great conversationalist, great sex. There's nothing like a relationship when it's working,
huh, Geordi?" I haven't had a serious relationship in close to two years. "Nothing like it," said Geordi.
Cohen stood, filled with new confidence. "You know, Geordi, I'm going down to engineering just to run a
routine systems check. I mean, it's not due for another two hours but, hell, you can't be too careful,
right?" As Geordi nodded silently, he went on, "And then I'm going to see Jackson and tell her just what
she's missing out on. And if she still wants to keep it broken off, well, there's lots of fish in the sea, or
stars in the skies. Right?" "Right," whispered Geordi.
Cohen got up, clapped Geordi on the shoulder, and strode out of Ten-Forward. As he exited,
Commander William Riker entered.
Riker nodded briefly in acknowledgment, and Cohen tossed off a jaunty salute. This surprised the hell out
of Riker since salutes were hardly required, or even expected. Cohen walked away, arms swinging,
whistling softly.
Riker glanced at the table where he and Geordi customarily sat, but he didn't see the chief engineer. Then
he spotted him on the other side of Ten-Forward. Geordi was staring out a viewport when Riker walked
up and dropped into the chair across from him, straddling it. "Geordi?
Something wrong?" Geordi looked at him. "I'm so depressed," he said.
"You're joking." "Do I look like I'm joking?" "Well, no," admitted Riker. "You want to tell me about it?"
"I don't think that would be--" Riker's communicator suddenly beeped.
Riker tapped it and said briskly, "Riker here." "Commander," came the clipped tone of Captain Picard,
"to the bridge, please." "Right away, sir." "Bring Mr. La Forge with you." "Yes, sir." Riker didn't question
how Picard knew that Geordi La Forge was with him.
Somehow, his being the captain was sufficient reason.
He stood and said to Geordi, "You heard the man." "Yeah, I know," said La Forge, getting to his feet.
"You'll tell me about it on the way to the bridge," said Riker. "Whatever's bothering you, I'm sure we can
shake it." "If you say so, sir."
Jean-Luc Picard rose from his command chair the moment that Riker and La Forge entered the bridge.
With a curt gesture of his head he indicated that they should retire to the conference lounge. Worf was
already heading there and Riker stopped just short of the door, protocol clearly dictating that the captain
enter first.
Picard glanced at his first officer and chief engineer, some instinct that was attuned to the moods of his
command crew immediately tipping him that something was wrong. Geordi seemed in a chipper enough
mood.
Indeed, perhaps even excessively jovial, with a large smile and cheerful demeanor.
Riker, on the other hand.
Picard gestured that Geordi and Worf should precede him, and they did so. Picard then took a step
closer to Riker and said softly, "Number One, are you quite all right?" "I'm fine," said Riker,
unconvincingly.
"You seem a bit... put off." "Just a little depressed, Captain. It'll pass." At that moment Deanna Troi
entered. "I'm sorry for the delay, Captain," she said. "My duties elsewhere..." "You don't wish to run out
in the middle of a counseling session if it can be avoided," Picard said.
She nodded gratefully. "I'm glad you understand, Captain." "The body of a ship runs on the hearts and
minds of her crew," said Picard.
"If I may say, sir, you seem unusually cheerful today," said Troi. One hardly needed empathic ability to
perceive it. Picard was smiling, virtually ear to ear.
"You'll understand why shortly, Counselor." He entered, and Riker was about to follow, when Deanna
placed a hand on his forearm. "Are you all right, Commander?" "I don't want to discuss it," he said with
such firmness that she took a step back.
"You just seem a little depressed..." "I'm not depressed," said Riker in no uncertain terms and stalked into
the conference lounge.
Troi sighed inwardly. This had the makings of a long day.
Geordi passed a cup of coffee over to Riker and took one for himself. He made sure to sit several seats
away from the first officer, who gave him a glance that seemed to say, I was having a good day today
until I talked to you.
At least, that's how Geordi was interpreting it.
He would have felt guilty about it if he weren't already feeling so darn good about his life.
"Gentlemen and ladies," said Picard, for Dr. Crusher had shown up as well to join Troi, Riker, La Forge,
Data, and Worf in the conference lounge. "We are going to be hosting a wedding for a very important
group of people." "How marvelous!" said Troi.
"What is the occasion?" said Worf. In contrast to Troi's upbeat and cheery reaction, Worf was sullen and
already thoughtful. Large numbers of newcomers on the Enterprise meant that all sorts of security
questions would have to be answered. If the individuals coming aboard were among the more aggressive
members of the Federation, the entire thing could be a logistical nightmare.
"A wedding among the Tizarin," Picard informed them. "Not an unusual occasion in and of itself, of
course, but this is a cross-marriage between the houses of Nistral and Graziunas." "All right, I'll bite," said
Geordi.
"Someone want to tell me who all these people are?
I've never heard of the Tizarin or these "houses" you're talking about." There was dead silence for a
moment.
Picard looked in surprise at Data.
"That's your cue, Data." "I am endeavoring to practice more restraint when I supply information," the
gold-skinned android said in his calm, almost monotone voice.
"I am beginning to perceive how an unending, and even unasked for, supply of facts can be unnerving in
many situations." "That's very good, Data," Geordi said.
"For example, there was a doctoral thesis written thirty-seven years ago, wherein a test group of subjects
from four different races was barraged for twenty-six hours with sensory input ranging from..." "Data,"
said Picard quietly. "The Tizarin." "Oh. Yes. The Tizarin," Data continued, switching subjects without
missing a beat, "are a spacegoing race of merchants, somewhat similar to the earth peoples known as
Gypsies. If there is a home planet for the Tizarin, it is unknown. They are spread throughout the galaxy,
engaging in trading with most races in the Federation with the exception of the Ferengi." "Why not the
Ferengi?" asked Troi.
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分类：外语学习
价格：5.9玖币
属性：122 页
大小：334.68KB
格式：PDF
时间：2024-12-20
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