"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 17 - The Carnadyne Horde" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

thumbed the hatch shut and glided across the cabin to the study. Captain
Darkblood sat at the room's terminal, staring at a SIPACUM computer simulation
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of the asteroid that Taras Bulba was towing. Fingers tapped against the chair
arm, first a thumb, followed by each of four fingers in turn, followed by the
opposing thumb. Its orange skin looked less orange and more reddish in the
screen's light. Darkblood took a deep breath to savor the delicious perfume of
the HRal's arrival before turning around to face her. The Jarp
smiled. "T'lee?" it whistled in a deep, thrumming tone, pleasant but
strong. HReenee made a gesture with her hands. They seemed to entwine and then
rise and spread out like a flower in bloom. 50 Captain Darkblood understood
the gesture. On its native Jarpi, gestures were seldom translatable as words
and more often were gifts. Darkblood accepted the gift with a gesture of its
own and rose to take her in its arms. Captain Darkblood was an enigma even in
the variegated, turbulent Galaxy where nothing shocked or surprised. Though
well known to anyone around the spaceports and mining worlds frequented by
Taras Bulba, Darkblood lived a life of adventure that few believed and even
fewer could dream of experiencing. Born on Jarpi, sold into slavery at an
early age, Dark-blood might have lived out its life as yet another of millions
of Jarps. A slave of Galactic masters. The young Jarp refused to accept
submission. It was prized as an amusement and a sexual toy. Like all Jarps, it
was a true hermaphrodite, possessing both a testicle and an ovary, a penis and
vagina. Darkblood-who in those days had been called Knobbles because of its
larger than normal breasts (for a Jarp)--had been abused, humiliated, raped,
and occasionally tortured. Its master-a Thebanian politician-had raped it both
hetero- and ho-mosexually. Knobbles didn't object to the sex as much as it
objected to the trespass. That it was forced to engage in such acts with a
partner it despised, under threat of death, was the source of its hatred. One
night the Jarp's master died in an unpleasant manner that caused his political
cronies to whisper the letters TGO. His less-than-adored son inherited most of
the politician's wealth, including the Jarp. One day, the orange-skinned slave
presented its new owner with an alarming sum of money. It demanded to buy its
freedom. (The money was stolen by deft, slender Jarp fingers. Its master knew
this, but there was enough that he didn't mind.) He set Knobbles free. 51 The
damned brooding orange thing made him nervous. Knobbles swore never again to
be a slave to anyone. The first Galactic that tried to enslave it again met
with a surprisingly gruesome death. The Reshi (in a Thebanisport bar) had not
expected a "mere" Jarp to own a knife truncheon or know how to swing it. The
Jarp owned one and had learned its use well. The seven razor-thin titanium
blades on the business end of the meter-long truncheon bit and slashed and
ripped. Knobbles had earned a new name. The witnesses to the fight confirmed
to the policers that the Jarp had acted in self-defense. They had been more
impressed with its fighting skill than with any consideration of its civil or
individual rights. They saw the cold, vicious look in the alien's eyes when it
placidated the Reshi. Its normally sweet brown eyes- wide and round-had
narrowed to dark, blood-lustful slivers. Knobbles walked out of the bar as
Darkblood, still free. Vehemently free! The next mining spacer to leave