"Kristine Smith - Kilian 1 - Code Of Conduct" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Kristine)

bastards. Don't see none of 'em here, do you? No, they gotta shut themselves away
all private."

"Tsecha's the Pathen Haarin's religious as well as secular leader," the woman said.
"They're required
to gather together in their meeting hall to listen to him. Then afterwards, they'll pray."

Jani nodded in agreement. Genta had, in fact, committed a serious breach of order
by not attending the program. But even the most humanish-behaving idomeni felt that
acting one way while believing another was disorderly; Genta's cultural conditioning
prevented him from hiding his displeasure with his ambassador. Likewise, his
council's action against him would be very public, and very swift. If his delivery
contracts are canceled, the MA will explode. And she would be dragged in to ladle
oil over
the whitecaps, sure as hellтАФ

"Them and their prayers." The dockworker glared at Tsecha's image. "Everything's a
damned prayer. Even their damned meals. Say it's their religion, but whoever heard
of a religion where it's a sin to eat
in public? With friends. Like normal."

The woman frowned at him. "Eating's different for them. They store food very
carefully and keep records of where it comes from. They call their meals sacraments
and their cooks priests. They eat by themselves and pray the whole time. Very
ceremonial. Very precise." She nodded knowingly. "That's how they honor their
gods."

"The Haarin honor money more than gods," another man said. "You can buy some
of their blessed sacrament if you really want it." He grimaced. "Don't know why you
would, though. They season their food like to blow the top of your head off. Even
the sweet stuff."

"Sacraments." The dockworker snorted. "Bunch of creeps. Talk like they got
marbles in their mouths, look at you like you're dirt." He walked away, his
expression stony. "Didn't need any damned ambassadors for almost twenty years.
Why now?"

Interesting question, sirтАФI've pondered it myself the past few weeks. Jani cast a last
look toward the screen, taking note of the ministers sharing the stage with Tsecha.
Every face wore a broad smile. Well, those expressions would be wiped out soon
enough when they realized what they'd let themselves in for. At least this time she'd
be far enough away to avoid shrapnel. For once in her screwed-up life, she'd
stationed herself, as her mainline Service buddies used to say, well back of the front.

The rain had turned to mist. Time to head back to the Association tracking station
she called home.
Jani hurried in the direction of the lot where her skimmer sat charging, picking up her
pace even though her back had begun to ache. Her bosses would soon be screaming
for the official morning docking numbers. She couldn't afford to piss them off any
more.