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Crashlander :: Нивен Ларри
Страница: 170 из 199They helped me into it and let me fish through the pockets of my own ragged garment before they tossed it in the locker.
They had given me my life. By Fafnir custom my response would be a gift expressing my value as perceived by myself … but Wil and Tor hadn't told me their full names. I hinted at this; they failed to understand. Hmm.
My dime disk hadn't spoken of this. It might be a new custom: the rescuer conceals data, so that an impoverished rescuee need not be embarrassed. He sends no life gift instead of a cheap one. But I was guessing. I couldn't follow the vibes yet.
As for my own history –
«I just gave up,» I blurted. «It was so stupid. I hadn't — hadn't tried everything at all.»
Toranaga said, «What kind of everything were you after?»
«I lost my wife four months ago. A rogue wave-you know how waves crossing can build into a mountain of water? It rolled our boat under. A trawler picked me up, the Triton.» A civil being must be able to name his rescuer. Surely there must be a boat named Triton? «There's no record of anyone finding Milcenta. I bought another boat and searched. It's been four months. I was doing more drinking than looking lately, and three nights ago something rammed the boat. A torpedo ray, I think. I didn't sink, but my power was out, even my lights. I got tired of it all and just started swimming.»
They looked at each other, then at their soup. Sympathy was there, with a trace of contempt beneath.
«Middle of the night, I was cold as the sea bottom, and it crossed my mind that maybe Mil was rescued under another name. We aren't registered as a partnership. If Mil was in a coma, they'd check her retina prints —»
«Use our caller,» Wilhelmin said.
I thanked them. «With your permission, I'll establish some credit too. I've run myself broke, but there's credit at Shasht.»
They left me alone in the cabin.
* * *
The caller was set into a wall in the cabin table. It was a portable — just a projector plate and a few keys that would get me a display of virtual keys and a screen — but a sailor's portable, with a watertight case and several small cleats. I found the master program unfamiliar but user-friendly.
I set up a search program for Milcenta Adelaide Graynor, in any combination. Milcenta was Sharrol and Adelaide was Feather, as determined by their iceliner tickets and retina prints. Milcenta's name popped up at once.
I bellowed out of the hatch. «They saved her!» Wil and Tor bolted into the cabin to read over my shoulder.
Hand of Allah, a fishing boat.
They had given me my life. By Fafnir custom my response would be a gift expressing my value as perceived by myself … but Wil and Tor hadn't told me their full names. I hinted at this; they failed to understand. Hmm.
My dime disk hadn't spoken of this. It might be a new custom: the rescuer conceals data, so that an impoverished rescuee need not be embarrassed. He sends no life gift instead of a cheap one. But I was guessing. I couldn't follow the vibes yet.
As for my own history –
«I just gave up,» I blurted. «It was so stupid. I hadn't — hadn't tried everything at all.»
Toranaga said, «What kind of everything were you after?»
«I lost my wife four months ago. A rogue wave-you know how waves crossing can build into a mountain of water? It rolled our boat under. A trawler picked me up, the Triton.» A civil being must be able to name his rescuer. Surely there must be a boat named Triton? «There's no record of anyone finding Milcenta. I bought another boat and searched. It's been four months. I was doing more drinking than looking lately, and three nights ago something rammed the boat. A torpedo ray, I think. I didn't sink, but my power was out, even my lights. I got tired of it all and just started swimming.»
They looked at each other, then at their soup. Sympathy was there, with a trace of contempt beneath.
«Middle of the night, I was cold as the sea bottom, and it crossed my mind that maybe Mil was rescued under another name. We aren't registered as a partnership. If Mil was in a coma, they'd check her retina prints —»
«Use our caller,» Wilhelmin said.
I thanked them. «With your permission, I'll establish some credit too. I've run myself broke, but there's credit at Shasht.»
They left me alone in the cabin.
* * *
The caller was set into a wall in the cabin table. It was a portable — just a projector plate and a few keys that would get me a display of virtual keys and a screen — but a sailor's portable, with a watertight case and several small cleats. I found the master program unfamiliar but user-friendly.
I set up a search program for Milcenta Adelaide Graynor, in any combination. Milcenta was Sharrol and Adelaide was Feather, as determined by their iceliner tickets and retina prints. Milcenta's name popped up at once.
I bellowed out of the hatch. «They saved her!» Wil and Tor bolted into the cabin to read over my shoulder.
Hand of Allah, a fishing boat.