"Cherryh, C. J. - Chanur 1 - The Pride of Chanur_289" - читать интересную книгу автора (C J Cherryh - Ealdwood 01 - The Dreamstone (v4) (HTML))

The grin died, leaving deadly seriousness. "Maybe."
"You really merchant, mahe captain?"
"Long time, honest hani. Mahijiru longtime merchant ship, me, my crew, longtime merchanter, sons and daughters mer-chanters. But we know this Hinukku, yes. Longtime bad trouble."
Pyanfar looked into that broad dark face and wrinkled her nose. "Swear to you, mahe captain-I didn't think to bring trouble down on you. I give you the trade goods, make no claim for return. You saved our hides, put us onto that kif bastard. Owe you plenty for that."
The mahe frowned. "Deal, hani. They make you repair, you get quick leave . . . danger. Tell you that free."
"Mahijiru took no damage getting out of Meetpoint?"
"Small damage. You take advice, hani."
"I take it." She pressed the lift button, took a second look, to remember the face of this mahe beyond doubt. "Come," she said as the lift arrived empty. She shepherded Chur and Tully through the door and turned once inside. Goldtooth/ Ismehanan and his companions showed no inclination to go with them. The door closed between and the lift started down. She looked back, at Tully and at Chur, and gathered Tully by the elbow as the car, unstopped this time by other passengers, made the whole trip down and let them out on the docks.
The crowd had dispersed somewhat, thank the gods; but not enough. It gathered quickly enough as they crossed the dock, and Pyanfar watched on all sides, flicking quick glances this way and that, reckoning that by now, trouble had time to have organized itself.
And it was there. Kif-by the gantries, watching. That presence did not at all surprise her. Tully failed to spot them, seeming dazed in the swirl of bodies, none of which pressed too closely on them, but stayed about them.
The rampway access gaped ahead. A group of mahendo'sat law enforcement stood there, sticks in hand, and the crowd went no farther. Pyanfar thrust her companions through that line, with her own legs trembling under her-want of sleep, gods, want of rest. Chur was in the same condition, surely, and Tully was hardly steady on his feet, unfit mentally and physically for this kind of turmoil. She sighted on the rampway and went, hard-breathing.
But among the gantries beside them . . . hani shadows. Moon Rising's folk, none of her own, had spilled over from the next berth, behind the security line. "Come on," she said to Chur and Tully. "Ignore them."
She headed into the rampway's ribbed and lighted gullet, had led the two of them up the curving course almost to the security of their own airlock when she heard someone coming behind. "In," she said to her companions, and turned to bar the intruder who appeared around the curve. Her ears were flat; she reached instinctively for the weapon she had left behind-but the figure was hani, silk-breeched and jeweled, striding boldly right up the rampway.
"Tahar," she spat, waved a dismissing hand. "Gods, do we need complications?"
"I've done napping." The Tahar captain stopped just short of her, took her stance, hands at her waist, a large figure, with a torn left ear beringed with prosperity. Broadfaced ... a black scar crossed her mustache, making it scant on the left side, and giving Dur Tahar no pleasant expression. Her beard was crisply rippled and so was her mane, characteristic of the southerners, dark bronze. Two of her crew showed up behind her, like a set of clones.
"We've managed," Pyanfar said, "without troubling your rest."
Dur Tahar ignored her, looked beyond her shoulder-at what sight, Pyanfar had no trouble guessing. "What's that thing, Chanur? What creature is that?"
"That's a problem we've got settled, thank you."
"By the gods, settled! We've just been ordered off the station, and it's all over the dock about this passenger of yours. About hani involved with the kif. About a deal you've made-by the gods, I'll reckon you've settled things.-What are you, trading in live bodies now? You've found yourself something special, haven't you? That fracas that sent you kiting in here with your tail singed-involved with that?"
"That's enough." Her claws came out. She was tired, gods, shaking on her feet, and she stared at Dur Tahar with a dark tunnel closing about her vision. "If you want to talk about this, you ask me by com. Not now."
"Ah. You don't need our help. Are you planning to stay here in dock with your tail hanging... or did you and the mahendo'sat come up with a deal? What kind of game are you proposing, Chanur?"
"I'll make it clear enough. Later. Get clear of my airlock."
"What species is it? Where from? The rumor flying the docks says kif space. Or knnn. Says there's a knnn ship here that dropped a hani body."
"I'll tell it to you once, Tahar: we got this item at Meetpoint and the kif took out Handur's Voyager for spite, no survivors. Caught them sitting at dock, and they and we hadn't even been in communication. We dumped cargo and ran for Urtur, and the kif who followed us struck at Faha's Starchaser with no better reason. Whether Starchaser got away or not I don't know, but they At least had a run at it. The kif want this fellow badly. And it's gotten beyond simple profit and loss with them. There's a hakkikt involved, and there's no stopping this thing till we've got him. Maybe we did, at Urtur. He looked bad, and that may settle it. But if you want to make yourself useful, you're welcome to run our course."
"Suppose you make yourself generous. Give this thing into my hands. I'll see it gets safe to Anuurn."
"No, thanks."
"I'll bet not. You can deal with the mahendo'sat, after all, but not with a rival. Well, Chanur's not going to sit on this one, I'll promise you that, Pyanfar Chanur. And if this turns out to be the fiasco it promises to be, I'll be on your heels. That brother of yours is getting soft. Back home, they know it. This should do it, shouldn't it?"
"Out!"
"Give me the information you traded the mahendo'sat. And we may view things in a better light."
"If you were mahe I'd trust you more. Look him over, Dur Tahar. But anything else you want to know . . . I'll decide on when I've got this straightened out. Never fear; you'll get the same data I gave the mahendo'sat. But if you leave this in our laps, then by the gods, we'll settle it our way without your help."
Dur Tahar laid her ears back and started to go, lingered for one poisonous look beyond, toward the airlock, and a focus snapped back on center. "I'll ask you at Anuurn, then. And you'll have answers, gods rot you. You'll come up with them."
"Nothing personal, Tahar. You always did lack vision."
"When you beg my help-I might give it."
"Out."
Dur Tahar had made her offer. Perhaps she expected a different answer. She flinched, managed a lazy indifference, smoothed her rippled beard, turned and looked back toward the airlock a last time, slowly, before she stalked out, gathering her two crewwomen as she went.
"Gods," Pyanfar muttered through her teeth, put a hand wearily to the rampway wall and turned about to the airlock, feeling suddenly older. That was muffed. She should have been quicker on her mental feet, slower of temper. The Tahar might have been talked into it. Maybe wanted to be talked into it. If a Tahar could be trusted at their backs. She hated the whole of it, mahe, Tahar, Outsider, all of it-winced under Chur's stare. Not a word from Chur the whole way back, regarding the business she had conducted, this tape-selling, trust-selling.
And Tully's face ... of a sudden he jerked away from Chur's grip and went into the airlock, Chur hastening to stop him. Pyanfar broke into a run into the hatchway, but Chur had got him. Tully had stopped against the inside wall, his back against it, his eyes full of anger.
"Captain," Chur said, "the translator was working."
Pyanfar reached into her pocket and thrust her audio plug into her ear, faced Tully, who looked steadily toward her. "Tully. That was not a friend. What did you hear? What?"
"You're same like kif. Want the same maybe. What deal with the mahendo'sat?"
"I saved your miserable hide. What do you think? That you can travel through Compact territory without everyone who sees you having the same thoughts? You didn't want to deal with the kif-good sense; but by the gods, you haven't got a choice but us or the kif, my friend Tully. All right. I traded them the tape you made-but not that I couldn't have gotten the ship repair without that: they're anxious to get rid of us; they'd have come round tape or no tape, you can bet they would. But now everyone's going to know about your kind; gods, let the mahendo'sat make copies of it; let them sell it in the standard kit. It's the best deal you can get. I'm not selling you, you rag-eared bastard; can I make you understand that? And maybe if your ships meet our ships . . . there'll be a tape in the translators that may keep us from shooting at each other. We meet and trade. Understand? Better deal than the kif give you."
A tremor passed over his face, expressions she could not read. The eyes spilled water, and he made a move of his arm, jerked at Chur's grip on it and Chur cautiously let him go.
"You understand me?" Pyanfar asked. "Do I make myself understood?"
No response.
"You're free," Pyanfar said. "Those papers let you go anywhere. You want to walk out the rampway, onto the dock? You want to go back to station offices and stay with the mahe?"
He shook his head.
"That's no."
"No. Pyanfar. I #."
"Say again."
He reached to his waist and drew out the papers, offered them to her.