"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 13 - Jonuta Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

hat with a sad bow and an indigo coat over loose pants, dark green. The
bustling spacefarers and officials, laborers and clerks, inspectors and
money-changers in busy Dallastation paid her no attention whatever. She was
obviously unarmed and totally unimportant. The private launch meanwhile
docked, the lady having been awakened one minute before. She dispatched one of
her trio of bodyguards, the one in the red doublet, to fetch the Customs
chief. Not someone from Customs; the official in charge. Her two remaining
bodyguards kept watch, alertly and 7 with ever-moving eyes. The pilot used a
hand-scanner to read a cartridged book. After a few minutes a man approached.
He was nice-looking, medium young, and wore station blues with prass buttons,
and an official cap with a badge. The female bodyguard challenged him anyhow.
He produced ID without even attempting to look within at the important
personage. "Your, ah, courier asked me to advise that he has gone on to the
ship-using Spoke T," the Customs man said. Both bodyguards gave him sharp
looks, then exchanged a glance. The huge man shrugged and said nothing. His
companion nodded over the ID she had been handed, which clearly identified the
uniformed man before her as the Senior Inspector, Dallastation/Lanatia
Customs. She nodded again and handed it back. "Our packages came up from
planetside?" "Pos. All were scanned without being opened, the first as a
matter of course and the second as an accommodation to your employer. They
should be on Hindilark by now, awaiting you. Would you like to walk out to
your berth, or might I offer the totally unobtrusive privacy of an empty
baggage-mover? A closed cart, you understand." "We-" "I shall walk," a voice
said from inside the shuttle. Although the huge bodyguard frowned, he and the
other got out of the way. She hurried to scramble forth and make a quick
look-about before her mistress emerged. The Customs man stepped back as the
robe-swathed lady appeared. He was discreet and gentlemanly enough not to
glance down when a foot, shod in a pointed-toe softboot, stepped down the few
centimeters. He offered his arm only half-heartedly. It was ignored. "Would
you care for a station security escort, Seety?" "No." She glanced back in time
to see her very big escort emerge. The other was several paces away, being
alert. "It will be necessary that I accompany you to your ship," the man in
blue said, again adding the respectful "seety." "I suppose it will," she said,
and slipped a white- 8 gloved hand between his upper arm and his uniformed
torso. "Well, I shall take your arm thus, and walk serenely on the arm of an
attractive man." "Thank you, Seety, and it is my pleasure." She smiled back
and turned to her huge retainer, who was frowning in obvious disapproval. She
said, "Achmet," without vocal expression, and began walking. The attractive
man in blue matched his pace to hers. Ahead moved the lithe woman with the
crested white turban and the watchful eyes. Behind came Achmet in
whiskey-colored doublet, watchful of deep-set eyes under his crested white
turban. He stared briefly at everyone they met. They attracted a great deal of
attention in the busy station while they paced the length of the
tunnel-forming spoke marked T. Two Jarps passed and one pretended to be
staggered by sight of the young beauty on the blue-uniformed man's arm. She
ignored all but him, chattering. He answered her queries concerning his job,
his family, the traffic at Dallastation both incoming and redshifting, and
whether his job was dull or ever had its exciting moments. (A short distance
away, Dallastation's security chief and an aide were talking with a
floppy-hatted woman in indigo and green. Their weapons were not drawn,