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

-"We meet you at dockside. We bring security. Make negotiate this matter. We appeal-"

Clank-thump. The grapples took, from their side and from station's; the hookup routines started. They had a docking crew waiting. And security. So Mkks Central said.

"They've stopped talking," Khym said anxiously, meaning he had done nothing to cut them off by accident, in his inexperience. "They just went quiet."

But half a heartbeat later, another call came through.

"This is kif port authority," said a clicking voice." You are clear. Welcome to Mkks, Pride of Chanur. You may even bring your arms. The hakkikt extends safeconduct. You will have guides. Welcome, again, to Mkks."

"Gods rot those bastards!" Geran cried.

"They've got their own personnel inside Central for sure," Tirun said. "That was a valid code."

"Move. We've got no choice." Pyanfar powered her chair about and hurled herself out of it, slapped the back of Haral's seat. "Get that linkup made."

"Rifles or APs?" Tirun was already on her feet; Haral's sister, tall, full-maned and bearded, with gold rings winking from her ear. There was Geran, slight and fairer: slight indeed against the size of Khym nef Mahn who climbed out of his seat and towered there, wider and taller and dead grim.

"APs," Pyanfar said with a tautness about the mouth, a drawing-down of her mustaches. "But I'll take a rifle; want you with one, too. Might want a distance weapon on those docks-might-want a lot of distance, huh? And I don't think we have to worry about the law here."

There were quiet laughs, a soft explosion of ugly humor. Tirun opened the locker and passed out side-arms to her and Geran, mahen weapons that fired an explosive shell, not the motley patchup of pocket guns they had had back at Kshshti: APs with the necessary extra cartridge-case on the holster belt. And the two rifles, hers and Tirun's, longer-range and capable of a precise target, unlike the APs.

Pyanfar took the rifle and checked the safety and cycled the power-test while com crackled with further instructions. "We will meet you outside," the kifish voice said. Thumps and clanks went on, the securing of lines and hoses.

The kif intended ambush. They took that for granted. Ambush might come later, after they had gotten far from the ship, or it might be a kifish rush the moment the airlock opened, and gods help any mahen dock-worker caught between.

"They're moving the access link in." Haral spun her chair about. "We're in." She rose and belted on the AP Tirun handed her.

"One of us," a voice said from the door, "has got to stay here and hold the farm."

"Gods rot-" Pyanfar did not need to turn. She saw Chur clearly from where she stood. Geran's sister leaned in the doorway of the bridge, blue breeches drawstringed perilously low, beneath the bandages swathing her midsection. "Chur-"

"Doing fine, thanks." The tightness about Chur's nose and mouth denied it. "Na Khym's worth more outside, isn't he? And I can bust her loose from dock if need be." Chur limped across the bridge into her sister's reach and waved off Geran's help. She reached for her own accustomed seat at scan and leaned on the back of it, kept going as far as Haral's co-pilot's post and sat down. "You tell me when you want her opened, captain. I'll figure shut for myself. No mahe's getting in, huh? Gods rotted sure no kif either."

Pyanfar gnawed her mustaches and threw one look at Geran, whose head lifted in terminal stubbornness. No reasoning with either sister. It ran in the blood. No reasoning with that sudden fire in Khym's eyes, when he saw a chance more to his liking than sitting guard up here. "Fine," she said. "Get Chur a rifle. In case. And get him one. Move Khym, you keep your wits about you out there. You don't breathe without my order. Hear? We've got one problem on those docks. One. Hear me?"

"Aye."

They were husband and wife at other times. Not here. Not out there. As males went, he was a rock of stability and self-control.

And Chur was right: he was helpless with the boards.

Clank-thump-clang. The access way was firm. They had connection to Mkks station.

Geran laid a rifle into Chur's grasp. Chur lifted it deliberately, though she had done well to lift a hand the other side of jump's time-stretch. Click-click. Safety off and on again. looked up, ears pricked, mouth pursed in a wry smile that showed hollowness below her cheekbones, substance waste in jumpspace healing. Her gold-red fur was lusterless and dulled. Light showed through her ear-edge where rings belonged. Chur had not dressed for amenities, not even important ones like that. "Get them out, huh?" Chur said, meaning Hilfy, meaning Tully, and gave a look at Geran before all of them. "Want you all back, too." she said.

"Come on," said Pyanfar. She turned on the pocket com she had hooked to her belt and gestured at the door. She wore no finery this trip, none of the bright color she favored, just blue spacer breeches, same as the rest, excepting Khym, who wore plain brown.

She headed out the door without a backward look, with Khym thumping along beside her and Haral and Tirun and. Geran at her back.