"George R. R. Martin - The Plague Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

fortune, have conspired to make up for my ignorance. Still, I would welcome the opportunity to
strengthen my grasp of military principles. If you would care to assay the game once again, I will carefully
study your subtle strategies so that I might in future incorporate a sounder, more authentic approach into
my own poor play.”
Jefri Lion, whose silver fleet had been the first eliminated in every game they had played during the past
week, cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Yes, uh, you see, Tuf,” he began.
He was saved from embarrassment by a sudden shriek and stream of profanity that issued from the
adjoining compartment. Haviland Tuf was on his feet at once; Rica Dawnstar was right behind him.
They emerged into the passageway just as Celise Waan staggered out of the living quarters, in pursuit of
a small, fleet black-and-white form that went hurtling past them into the control room. “Catch it!” Celise
Waan screamed at them. Her face was red and puffy and swollen, and she looked furious.
The door was small, Haviland Tuf large. “For what purpose, might I inquire?” he asked, blocking the
way.
The anthropologist held out her left hand. There were three short, deep scratches across her palm,
welling blood. “Look what it did to me!” she said.
“Indeed,” said Haviland Tuf. “And what did you do to her?”
Kaj Nevis emerged from the living quarters with a thin, hard smile on his face. “She picked it up to toss it
across the room,” he said.
“It was on my bed!” said Celise Waan. “I wanted to take a little nap, and the damned creature was
asleep on my bed!” She whirled to face Nevis. “And you, wipe that smirk off your face. It’s bad enough
we all have to be cooped up together in this shabby little ship. I simply refuse to share what little space
there is with this impossible man’s filthy little animals. And it’s your fault, Nevis. You got us into this!
Now do something. I demand that you make Tuf get rid of those vicious pests, do you hear me, I
demand it!”
“Excuse me,” Rica Dawnstar said from behind Tuf. He glanced back at her and moved aside. “Is this one
of the vicious pests you had in mind?” Dawnstar asked, with a grin, as she stepped into the passageway.
She was cradling a cat against her chest with her left hand, and petting it with her right. It was a huge tom
with long, soft, gray hair and arrogant yellow eyes; it must have weighed twenty pounds, but Rica held it
as easily as if it had been a kitten. “What do you propose Tuf do with old Mushroom here?” she asked
as the cat began to purr.
“It was the other one that hurt me, the black-and-white one,” Celise Waan said, “but that one’s just as
bad. Look at my face! Look at what they’ve done to me! I can scarcely breathe, and I’m breaking out
all over, and whenever I try to get a little sleep I wake up with one of them on my chest. Yesterday I was
having a little snack, and I put it down just for a moment, and when I came back the black-and-white
one had knocked over my plate and was rolling my spice-puffs around in the dirt as if they were toys!
Nothing is safe around these animals. I’ve lost two light pencils and my best pinky ring. And now this,
this attack! Really, this is just intolerable. I must insist that these damned animals be put down in the
cargo hold at once. At once, do you hear?”
“My hearing is quite adequate, thank you,” said Haviland Tuf. “If your missing property has not turned up
by the end of our voyage, I will be most pleased to reimburse you for its value. Your request in regard to
Mushroom and Havoc, however, I must regretfully deny.”
“I’m a passenger on this joke of a starship!” Celise Waan screamed at him.
“Must you insult my intelligence as well as my hearing?” Tuf replied. “Your status as a passenger here is
obvious, madam; it is not necessary for you to point it out. Permit me to point out, however, that this
small ship which you feel so free to insult is my home and my livelihood, such that it is. Furthermore, while
you are undeniably a passenger here and therefore enjoy certain rights and prerequisites, Mushroom and
Havoc must logically have substantially greater rights, since this is their permanent abode, so to speak. It
is not my custom to take passengers aboard my Cornucopia of Excellent Goods at Low Prices. As
you have observed, the space available is scarcely adequate to my own needs. Regretfully, I have
suffered various professional vicissitudes of late, and there is no gainsaying the fact that my supply of