"Jerry Pournelle - Houses of the Kzinti" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pournelle Jerry)

peacetime, so far as I knew,"
he said. "The old patrol craft I leased didn't have a
weapon on it."
"You lie," the navigator hissed. "We saw them."
"The Weasel was not my ship, Tzak-Navigator. Its
commander brought me back under
protest; said the Interworld Commission wanted
noncombatants out of harm's
way-and here I am in its cloaca."
"Then it was already well-known on that ship that we
are at war. I feel better
about killing it," said the commander. "Now, as to
the ludicrous cargo it was
carrying: what is your title and importance?"
"I am scholar Carroll Locklear. I was probably the
least important man on the
Weasel-except to myself. Since I have nothing to
hide, bring a telepath."
"Now it gives orders," snarled the navigator.
"Please," Locklear said quickly.
"Better," the commander said.
"It knows," the navigator muttered. "That is why it
issues such a challenge."
"Perhaps," the commander rumbled. To Locklear he
said, "A skeleton crew of four
rarely includes a telepath. That statement will
either satisfy your challenge,
or I can satisfy it in more-conventional ways." That
grin again, feral, willing.
"I meant no challenge, Grraf-Commander. I only want
to satisfy you of who I am,
and who I'm not."
"We know what you are," said the navigator. "You are
our prisoner, an important
one, fleeing the Patriarchy rim in hopes that the
monkeyship could get you to
safety." He reached again for Locklear's shoulder.
"That is pure torture," Locklear said, wincing, and
saw the navigator stiffen as
the furry orange arm dropped. If only he had recalled
the kzinti disdain for
torture earlier! "I am told you are an honorable
race. May I be treated properly
as a captive?"
"By all means," the commander said, almost in a purr.
"We eat captives."
Locklear, slyly: "Even important ones?"
"If it pleases me," the commander replied. "More
likely you could turn your coat
in the service of the Patriarchy. I say you could; I