"C. J. Cherryh - Chanur 05 - Chanur's Legacy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cherryh C J)

"Why us?" Tiar asked. "Begging the captain's pardon, of course."

Meaning if "he" was mahe, there were mahen ships to take him, and if "he" was kif there were kif enough, not to mention the stsho.

"Because," she said quietly, "he's hani."

"Gods ..." Chihin's ears went flat.
"I want him out of here. I want the hide of the captain that dumped him. Most of all, I want him away from the kif. If he shows up-when he shows up-check his papers. Make sure of those papers, if you have to keep him waiting to do it: get into station comp and make sure there's no proliferating taint of any kind on his record, you understand. Above all, don't take him aboard until they're clear. The governor wants him out of here, and once he's aboard we don't have that leverage-immigration does, you understand?"

"No question," Tiar said.

"Ship left him?" Fala asked, her young face all seriousness.

"It's a long story. We're taking him out of here, is all we can promise. Catch his ship if we can. Just be nice. Be nice."

She clapped Tiar on the shoulder, Chihin second, and deliberately did not hear Chihin say, "That's what comes of letting men into space ..." Chihin was conservative, so was Tiar, and you didn't change her overnight.
But things had changed. They had changed so far a hani ship could bring a hani lad forty lights away from home and leave him to a station where kif were the guards and stsho were the only justice.

She walked up the ramp and into the yellow-ribbed access tube, trod the chilly distance to the lock and locked through. In the lowerdeck ops station, she found Tarras working comp on the loaders, and she snagged Tarras for the computer work.

One did not drop a strange cube into the ship's main computer or any terminal in touch with it. Not that one didn't trust gtst excellency. Of course not.

So it was the downside auxiliary, the computer that suicided and resurrected on command.

"I want a printout," she told Tarras. "One original, one through the translator, stsho formal, but first I want you to diagnose the source. I don't want the thing changing, erasing, or cozying up to our navigation. Ma'sho?"

"Sho'shi," Tarras said, ears pricked, all enthusiasm.

"Fast. Inside the hour."

Tarras' ears went to half. "Captain...''

"You can do it."

Tarras muttered another word in mahen trade, gave a shiver and took the cube, looked at it on one side and another-for obvious things like inbuilts.

"I need a laser on this."

"Check for more exotic contagions after we get the print. I need the print, Tarras. All of us need this printout."

"What's up?"

"Only our operating budget. Only a major contract I don't know if I want and I don't know if we can get out of, on which the governor's good will happens to be riding."

"I'm on it," Tarras said, and went.


The sounds and smells of the cells were dreadful. Hallan slept when he could, a sleep disturbed by distant sounds of doors, attendants coming and going. It went on constantly, but you could never see anything; just a blank door and blank gray walls, and the sounds to let you know you were not alone. He had long since lost track of the time. He amused himself by adding chains of figures. They had said when they arrested him that his captain would have to get him out. And then, days and days ago, the kifish guard who brought him his breakfast had said his ship had left without him.