"C. J. Cherryh - Chanur 03 - The Kif Strike Back" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cherryh C J)

"Send that message," Pyanfar said to Tirun, and unbuckled her AP and passed it to Haral to put in the locker with the rest. She turned back to Hilfy. "Go wash up. We're not through yet, niece."

"Aye," Hilfy said, and turned and walked off.

"You too," she said to Chur. "Geran, get her out of here."

"Want the gfi," Chur protested.

"Fine. It'll come back there where you are, just fine." She stood there while Geran helped her sister up from Haral's chair and supported her toward the door. "Stay to Khym's cabin, huh? I want to keep you near controls. Might need you to sit watch."

"Aye," Geran said on Chur's behalf, a departing glance.

The situation was not what they had feared, in all: hostages murdered, Mkks with major damage-That was what could have happened even before they made dock. It was little short of a miracle they had worked, getting in and getting Hilfy free.

But it was not good enough.

Haral slid into the chair that Chur had left, powered it about again and got to work in Haral's own unflappable fashion, mind going instantly from dockside to those boards with no glitch-ups likely. Pyanfar tested the weapons-locker door and heard the electric tick of the resisting latch. "That access camera and the motion-sensor better stay on. We don't control those gates down there."

"Right," Haral said, and reached and keyed mode and number without a beat missed, while the numbers ticked by on comp's other sections.

"Got a confirmation on that final dump," Tirun said, holding the complug to her ear. "Captain, just got the confirm from Aja Jin. Captain's compliments and he'll see you here soon as he gets in."

Pyanfar looked at the chronometer. They were down to two minutes Light on response-time between themselves and the incoming ships. "Understood," she said.. Two minutes as light moved. A good deal longer for a ship that had blown off its C- fractional energy to move into station's slow-going frame of reference, and longer still to dock. "I'm going for that bath."

Mayhem and chaos might erupt. There might be attack. There were wobbles in her knees, deprivations coming due. There was still time for a bath, a cup to drink; in the meanwhile it was The Pride's seniormost crew at controls. No flap, no emotional decisions, no foulups. Thank the gods.

She dumped it all into their laps and headed down the corridor untying belt-cords as she went.

Hilfy had gone below, to the empty crewquarters. Alone. She would not have had that. But there was nothing else to do, nothing else to offer.

So we throw the party later, kid. When it's due.

Gods help us all.

She thumbed the door open and headed straight for the bath, shed trousers into the bin, hung the com on the bathroom wall within reach of the shower cabinet and turned on the warm mist with a melting sigh.

Fur by the fistful swirled into the drain at her feet-gods, only half of it was left from jump: the kif business had scared the rest off. And the while she lathered and rinsed under the warm flood she tried to collect her jump-scattered wits, plotting and replotting how to bet the next dice-throw. The kif would have a trick or two. She knew.

And the com beeper went off as she reached to cut in the drying-cycle.

"Gods, what?" she asked, snatching the com, shedding water on the floor. Her heart thudded. Showers-any offduty indulgence-had begun to make her paranoid. They knew; somehow the whole universe knew the moment her guard went down.

"Got a kif outside in the access way," Haral's voice came back. "Captain, it swears it's yours."





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