Read Online A Murder of Clones: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel by Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
listen to the entire interchange.”
“Protection and safety from what?” she asked.
“From the humans,” Uzven said.
“Which humans?” she asked.
Uzven’s large liquid eyes turned toward her. “Those that want to kill him.”
“Not all humans?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Uzven said. “I need to listen to the entire interchange.”
Her stomach turned. She had a hunch, one she didn’t like. “The words that this boy uses,” she said, “are they the ones that the Eaufasse used with you when you said the boy wanted asylum?”
“Protection and safety,” Uzven said, turning its gaze back to the images. “What is that, but asylum?”
She cursed and slammed her hand on the table. Uzven leaned back as if it thought she was going to hurt it.
“ You inserted the word ‘asylum’?”
“The boy needs protection. Others were killed, by humans. The others were clearly clones. Your barbaric attitudes toward—”
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “Get out.”
“You need me to listen to the entire interchange—”
“I don’t need anything from you right now,” she said. “Get out of this room before I kick you out.”
It stood, adjusted its mask, and hurried toward the door. There Uzven stopped. “None of us understand the Eaufasse well. We don’t speak the language as well as that boy does. There are nuances—”
“That some other translator will find,” Gomez said. “Consider yourself fired. I’ll take care of the documentation myself.”
Uzven made a noise she had never heard before. Its eyes had become slits. Then it let itself out of the room.
She stood, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. It had taken all of her strength not to grab Uzven and slap that scrawny little superior creature silly. It had cost her hours, and it had cost the legal department hours. She had a feeling that those hours would prove precious, although at the moment she couldn’t say why.
And she also knew that Uzven’s politics had gotten in the way of a solution. She could have spoken to the boy shortly after learning about him. Because Uzven was wrong. Protection and safety from the humans was not the same as asylum from all humans.
The boy just wanted to make sure he wasn’t assassinated like his three compatriots.
She paced the room for another moment, gathering herself before she contacted Mishra. She’d listen to what research he had finished—it wouldn’t hurt to know asylum rules on the Frontier—but she would also tell him how Uzven had interfered.
She needed a good interpreter. She wasn’t sure how to find one. But she would have to ask.
She could never trust Uzven again.
EIGHT
THE EAUFASSE WOULD not let her see the boy for another twelve hours. Apparently there were private rituals she did not understand, Eaufasse traditions that happened after Epriccom moved into a position opposite one of the other moons.
She discovered, to her dismay, that she was not allowed to fire translators, so she sent Uzven back to its superiors with a reprimand. She requested two more translators qualified to work with the Eaufasse, and was told they wouldn’t be available for a week. So, she found her own off-site translator from a group she had worked with before. She chose the only one who claimed he was fluent in Fasse. He swore he would be here shortly.
He was not Peyti. He was human, and of questionable character. He’d been arrested by the Earth Alliance for trafficking in stolen goods, but for once, the charge didn’t entirely stick. He was doing community service, and that service entailed putting his sizeable linguistic talent to use.
His name was Ragnar Okani. He did not allow accurate visuals on a link, which she suspected was an old habit from his criminal days. Still, others had worked with him and found him to be excellent. And she had no choice. Even so she tested him through the link.
She had made a snippet of that early conversation between the Eaufasse
“Protection and safety from what?” she asked.
“From the humans,” Uzven said.
“Which humans?” she asked.
Uzven’s large liquid eyes turned toward her. “Those that want to kill him.”
“Not all humans?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Uzven said. “I need to listen to the entire interchange.”
Her stomach turned. She had a hunch, one she didn’t like. “The words that this boy uses,” she said, “are they the ones that the Eaufasse used with you when you said the boy wanted asylum?”
“Protection and safety,” Uzven said, turning its gaze back to the images. “What is that, but asylum?”
She cursed and slammed her hand on the table. Uzven leaned back as if it thought she was going to hurt it.
“ You inserted the word ‘asylum’?”
“The boy needs protection. Others were killed, by humans. The others were clearly clones. Your barbaric attitudes toward—”
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “Get out.”
“You need me to listen to the entire interchange—”
“I don’t need anything from you right now,” she said. “Get out of this room before I kick you out.”
It stood, adjusted its mask, and hurried toward the door. There Uzven stopped. “None of us understand the Eaufasse well. We don’t speak the language as well as that boy does. There are nuances—”
“That some other translator will find,” Gomez said. “Consider yourself fired. I’ll take care of the documentation myself.”
Uzven made a noise she had never heard before. Its eyes had become slits. Then it let itself out of the room.
She stood, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. It had taken all of her strength not to grab Uzven and slap that scrawny little superior creature silly. It had cost her hours, and it had cost the legal department hours. She had a feeling that those hours would prove precious, although at the moment she couldn’t say why.
And she also knew that Uzven’s politics had gotten in the way of a solution. She could have spoken to the boy shortly after learning about him. Because Uzven was wrong. Protection and safety from the humans was not the same as asylum from all humans.
The boy just wanted to make sure he wasn’t assassinated like his three compatriots.
She paced the room for another moment, gathering herself before she contacted Mishra. She’d listen to what research he had finished—it wouldn’t hurt to know asylum rules on the Frontier—but she would also tell him how Uzven had interfered.
She needed a good interpreter. She wasn’t sure how to find one. But she would have to ask.
She could never trust Uzven again.
EIGHT
THE EAUFASSE WOULD not let her see the boy for another twelve hours. Apparently there were private rituals she did not understand, Eaufasse traditions that happened after Epriccom moved into a position opposite one of the other moons.
She discovered, to her dismay, that she was not allowed to fire translators, so she sent Uzven back to its superiors with a reprimand. She requested two more translators qualified to work with the Eaufasse, and was told they wouldn’t be available for a week. So, she found her own off-site translator from a group she had worked with before. She chose the only one who claimed he was fluent in Fasse. He swore he would be here shortly.
He was not Peyti. He was human, and of questionable character. He’d been arrested by the Earth Alliance for trafficking in stolen goods, but for once, the charge didn’t entirely stick. He was doing community service, and that service entailed putting his sizeable linguistic talent to use.
His name was Ragnar Okani. He did not allow accurate visuals on a link, which she suspected was an old habit from his criminal days. Still, others had worked with him and found him to be excellent. And she had no choice. Even so she tested him through the link.
She had made a snippet of that early conversation between the Eaufasse
Similar Books
