"John Rankine - Dag Fletcher 1 - The Ring of Garamas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankine John)

beside his own.

There was a quick-spreading pollen cloud of verbena, a muted sigh effort and a Garamasian citizen
hauled herself out of the void to take the neighbour seat on his bench.

She was young. Not more than twenty at a guess, though estimates of age for other ethnic groups was
liable to surprising error. The female of the Garamasian line was more sympathetic than the male. This
one looked like a Raggedy-Ann doll, and was clearly working hard to fight back fear. Her left hand, still
clutching the table top, had picked up a small muscular tremble and she covered it with her right to make
it behave.

It was a gesture that made more impact on Dag Fletcher than any number of words. At first, he had
meant to play it out after the Garamasian pattern of neutrality. But any human being fighting fear needed
an ally. He said, тАЬAre they looking for you?"тАФusing the basic speech-tone code which was the lingua
franca of the galaxy.

The girl answered obliquely, anxious to save face before a stranger, speaking in English in a husky,
vibrant voice. тАЬDo not think that I am afraid for myself. But I know my limitations. If I am taken, I shall
be forced to talk. That will involve others. There is only one safe way.тАЭ

It was an open confession, that was dangerous enough in itself. But the ongoing action aimed to take the
risk element out of it. The move to the end alcove had been made to gain time for a definite purpose. She
stretched over, picked a tooth-edge steak knife from the cutlery rack and, without a pause, began to saw
at the inside of her left wrist.

Fletcher had a split second to make a decision. A man or, in this case, a women, had a right to decide
when the life situation was untenable. It was a choice he was prepared to make for himself. Indeed, every
deep space operator, military or civilian, carried an oblivion capsule to make such a choice possible,
when circumstance turned sourтАФa statistical possibility that they learned to live with.

But that was when human endeavour had gone to the limit and was still not enough. Here, there must be a
chance for life. He grabbed for the knife and stopped its movement.

The nearest guard was two alcoves away, haranguing a countryman in high-pitched Garamasian.

Fletcher said, тАЬYour name. Quickly. Your name.тАЭ

тАЬIt is Yola. Please allow me to continue. You do not know what you are doing. Please.тАЭ

тАЬI am Fletcher. Commander Fletcher, I.G.O. corvette Terrapin. You are attached to me as interpreter.
Do you understand?тАЭ

It was unlikely that anyone on Garamas would know that Terrapin was a burned-out wreck on a cinder
heap and that just now, waiting for a new posting, her one-time commander was in a limbo with no
official status, until the enquiry court made the formal announcement that his conduct of the engagement
had been free from negligence.

тАЬIt will not work.тАЭ

тАЬIt will work.тАЭ