"Carver, Jeffrey A - Star Rigger 02 - Star Rigger's Way" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carver Jeffrey A)

STAR RIGGER’S WAY
by Jeffrey Carver
Star Rigger 2
1
Star-Freighter Sedora
Gev Carlyle struggled to put the frustration out of his mind. It was
essential to maintain control of himself; he knew that. But the alien just
kept staring at him from across the ship’s gloomy bridge like some
frightful catlike apparition.
Who could stay calm looking at something like that?
“Cephean,” he said, his voice trembling. (A rush of impatience interrupted
him—the alien’s.) “Cephean!” he demanded furiously. His eyes went out
of focus as he tensed, struggling to frame his words. He refocused and
gazed at the creature again. The cynthian was as large as a tiger and black
as coal dust, and he was plump and furry like an enormous Persian cat.

Cephean’s eyes blinked slowly, indignantly. They were gold-flecked
obsidian, with irises of molten copper.
“You told me that your ship operated the same way as mine. And you
know how to fly your own ship. Correct?”
“Hyiss-yiss,” insisted Cephean. “Hoff khorss.”
“Of course,” Carlyle muttered. He reminded himself: there must be
confidence before it can work. The cynthian said that he was capable; but
who could be sure? The telepathic link with the alien was incomplete and
largely one-way. The cynthian perceived the thoughts behind the human’s
words, but somewhere in the communication, the cynthian was
misunderstanding Carlyle’s instructions. There was only so much he could
explain about flying the starship, anyway. How could he explain intuition?
Cephean stared at him with coppery eyes. Waiting behind his front paws
were his two small companions, the riffmar, which followed him
everywhere. The riffmar were thin-trunked, walking ferns with root-toed
feet; from their midsections they waved muscular, slim-fingered branches.
They pranced about and squeaked and twitched their fingers
disconcertingly.
“All right,” Carlyle said. “You have to feel what I am doing when I fly.
And you have to help me. When I guide the ship, when I turn it, you back
me up as steadily as you can. Don’t struggle, and don’t work against me.
Do you understand? Just follow.”
Cephean looped his tail behind his triangular ears. His eyes flickered. “Hi
khann ff-hollow, Caharleel,” he hissed.
Carlyle nodded, thinking that they should be able to work together—they
had to, if they didn’t want to die together, adrift between the stars.
Whatever their differences, they were both riggers in their own fashions.
“Let’s go, then.” He pointed the way. (He felt a twinge of preoccupation—
Cephean’s.)
“Are you paying attention?” he asked quietly, angrily.
Cephean sputtered—then dipped his head and padded over to the sternrigger’s
alcove, with the riffmar dancing behind. He stopped and sat in
front of the rigger-seat which Carlyle had dismantled and adapted for his
use.