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

"-He's still asking questions," she said to Tully.

"I shall be asking them," Sikkukkut said. "I do ask them." The silence lingered. Light kifish fingers touched her shoulder, stroked the fur-

-withdrew. She sucked in a kif-tainted breath, trembling. Her ears were flat. She went deaf, near blind, hunter-vision narrowed to one long black tunnel focused on the kif. But Sikkukkut drew away. He settled down again onto his many-legged chair and tucked his legs up until he indeed resembled some ungainly insect.

Tully's shoulder touched hers and leaned there. She felt his weight, the chill of his flesh: gods, no, stay upright, don't give way, don't faint, they'II go for you-

The kif lifted his hands to the hood he wore and dropped it back to his hunched shoulders, the first sight she had ever had of any kif unhooded, and it was no pleasant thing, the long dark skull, the dull black wisp of mane that lay forward-grained along the centerline: he was virtually earless, stsho-like in that respect. She had seen models. Holos. None were this peculiarly graceful, ugly thing.

The eyes rested on her, apt for such a face, dark and glittering. "You will understand these things: this creature has more than sfik-value; it has sfik itself. Let me speak in hani terms: Akkukkak perished of embarrassment. Therefore I love this creature, because it has killed my superior and now I have no superior."

"Gibberish."

"I think it quite clear. It has value. If it yields me its value and tells me what I ask I shall be further grateful,"

"Sure."

"Perhaps I shall keep it in my affection and let it see the death of my friend Akkhtimakt. Perhaps I shall let it eat of my rivals."

It still spoke hani. The words meant other, kifish things. Her nape bristled. She wanted out, out of here.

"Translate this."

"-He's crazy as all kif."

The thin body shook and hissed atop its insect-perch. "Bigot. I shall make my own translations. Kkkt!"



"Fool!" mahen authority screamed into com; and other, less complimentary things.

"Stand by third dump," Pyanfar said.

"You fool, daughter ten thousand fools, what do? what do? You get report sent han this outrage; we report you endanger-"

The Pride dumped speed, a breakup of telemetry-

-phased in again, into a new flood of station chatter.

"Khym. List." Tirun's voice, prompting him in his muzziness. "Shift it. Move."

The incoming shiplist turned up on number two screen, Haral's transfer of data smooth and routine while station's voice suddenly grew quieter ...

"That's two minutes Light," Geran said. They were virtually realtime with Mkks station, moving at a crawl now, within the capacity of their realspace braking thrust.

Harukk, the shiplist said. There were other kifish names. A lot of them. A few mahendo'sat. A stsho. (A stsho, at Mkks!) A flock of tc'a and chi in Mkks' small methane-sector.

"Thank the gods," Pyanfar muttered, and began to take he telemetry again, shifting her mind back to business. "Approach," she said; and when Geran delayed: "Course clearance, gods rot it, look to it!" She began The Pride's high-V braking roll. "Hang on. We're going with it. Now."