Chanur's Homecoming

  We got ships out there—needing help.

  “Human ship!” Tully cried. And talked to someone a steady stream of babble, as if they were on the same timeline. It was Tully’s old message those incoming ships must have picked up. It was the old message they had responded to.

  The same as Goldtooth must have gotten their own former chatter, and known well what ships were out to meet the enemy. She cut the mains, let them go inertial on what they still had, on the rotational G.

  While Tully poured out something, rapid and urgent. And went on saying it. One assumed it was friendly. One assumed nothing nowadays.

  She felt a hundred years older. And turned herself and her chair and looked over the bridge, at a crew worn and tired beyond clear sense, at more gray hair than she recalled a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was the stark lighting. Or maybe it was that they all looked older, thinner, abraded away by distances and a load they had carried too long.

  I want to see Chanur again.

  But Chanur land was Mahn territory. Nothing could change that, unless Kohan could take Kara Mahn; and the weary, grayed man who had met her on Gaohn docks had not the strength left. The wit, yes; the wit and the will and the canny good sense that had been more than figurehead in Chanur these many hard years. A real power. A mind and an insight shrewder than many a woman’s. But time bore down on Kohan, that was all. The only hope was Hilfy Chanur, who might find herself a man to take care of Kara Mahn: there was nothing Pyanfar Chanur or Rhean or any of the former powers could do about it any longer.

  She saw Hilfy sitting there, talking to someone, likeliest one of the nearby hani. Up to you, kid. It all is, from now on. Our time is done. You think you’ve grown up. You’re Chanur now, have you figured it out? I don’t envy you.

  Except your youth. I wish I’d known you and you’d known me forty years ago. They looked like rough years then. But the years you’ve got ahead—I can’t see into them. Like there was something in the way of me and this ship, like a curtain I can’t see past.

  I always used to know where I was going. And now all I can see is aliens. And all I can think of is the mistakes I’ve made; and how to get this straight somehow.

  Her eyes drifted to Tully. To him. The alien among them.

  It’s an enemy at his back, isn’t it?

  I got to be, Tully, poor Tully, I got no choice. You warned me, and I see it clear, I see everything down that way with no trouble at all, and I’m going to do you hurt, I can’t turn back from that.

  You gods-be knew it, didn’t you? Knew it from the time you came to us. Always thinking, never talking. Afraid of me and not afraid. For two good reasons.

  What’ll they do to you when I’m through? Where’ll you go?

  My friend.

  “Hilfy. Get me Banny.”

  “I got Prosperity right now. You want Banny in person?”

  “I want her.” She turned the chair back square to the board and punched in. “Banny. Banny, you hear me?”

  “Such as it is, Chanur. It looks like we got help out there.”

  “I don’t know how much the mahendo’sat told you, Banny, but we got some other visitors out there and I can’t talk about it real clear just now: we got politics here. I’m asking hani ships to form up; I’m going to ask the kif to do the same and they’re going to do it, Banny, they’re going to do it. Then we’re going to have to do some talking—you want to take charge of the hani ships for me, just keep it kind of quiet and trust me. We’re not out of this yet. We got a real problem here. A real problem. Banny.”

  There was prolonged silence.

  “Banny. Haurosa naimur f’fhain’haur murannarrhm’ha chaihen.” Ambush in the trees, Banny. . . .

  More of the long silence. “Accepted.”

  That was the first thing.

  The next was harder.

  “Message, Hilfy: tell the kifish ships to put themselves in order and stand by for instruction. Stop all forward drift.”

  “Aye.”

  “Chur: transmission to Mahijiru. Quote: This is Pyanfar Chanur. Hold your ships where they are. Your Personage is aware of the kifish advance; mahen ships were in position to prevent escape by the Ajir corridor. Ajir corridor, repeat, is secure. We ask you dump all V and wait. This situation insystem is still extremely volatile. The kif remaining here are under my personal direction and within han jurisdiction. I ask you instruct your allies to total dump and recall all other mahen ships to your group immediately. Cease all hostile operations. All ships are in han jurisdiction. Repeat, request immediate total dump and hold pattern. Endit and repeat at intervals. Transmission to Nekkekt: This is the mekt-hakkikt in person. Permit withdrawal of mahen ships from center system. Continue to reduce all V: cease all drift toward mahen position. Take no action against mahendo’sat. Wait orders. Endit.” She slumped back in the chair. Waited with her claws clenched.

  “That’s a dump,” Geran said finally. And she began to breathe freely again. More when they saw the second one.

  But attacking ships might do as much.

  Then Mahijiru took the third dump, coming down to insystem velocities.

  “Thank gods, thank gods,” she muttered. And over com: “Banny, we’re gaining on it. We got it stopped.” Out on that channel. “Hilfy. Get me Goldtooth.”

  “Working. Lagtime ten nine.”

  Twenty-two on the roundtrip of messages. Far out in the range still. But Goldtooth had to be AOS on the initial message now. Ten minutes ago. Other ships incoming were observing the same sequence; and that was all but certain to be pre-arrangement.

  Humans, migods, humans drug themselves senseless. We got doped-up pilots out there. Robotics. Gods know what.

  They have to stop with the mahendo’sat. Stop and get their bearings. Or plan to blow the system to a mahen hell.

  They wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Gods save us. They have to take Goldtooth’s lead till they figure things out.

  It’s not over.

  She drew a shaky breath. “We’re going stable,” she said on bridgecom. “Free to move about, arrange your own covers, five minutes, maybe longer: maybe ten, fifteen gods-be days out here, I dunno.” She lifted shaking hands to her face, just shut out the sight of things if not the sound, and rested. Quietly some of the crew saw to themselves. “I’m all right,” she heard Khym’s low complaint. “Gods rot it, I can get to the gods-be head.”

  From her husband. Who had a hole in his leg and a plasm patch, a deep wound that had to be swollen and hurting if it was not worse than that. She wanted a trip to the head. Desperately. She decided to take the chance and unbuckled.

  “Captain,” Hilfy said. “Nekkekt: stand by replay.”

  “Uhhhhn.” It starts. Kif have sorted out. Who am I dealing with?

  And from the earplug. “Mekt-hakkikt, I have all these ships in my hand, praise to you. We will strike at your order.”

  “Who am I talking to?”

  “Mekt-hakkikt, to your faithful Skkukuk. I have carried out all your orders. I will deal with all your enemies. Name them to me.”

  “Right now, Skkukuk, I’m just real glad to hear from you. You keep those ships of yours under control and you don’t make a move without my direct order. Hear me?”

  “I will give you your enemies’ heads and hearts.”

  “I’m real fond of you too, Skkukuk. Just do what I said. You get your com linked up to mine and you stay in constant touch. Anyone twitches, I want to know about it. These hani with me are allies. They won’t cause any trouble.”

  “And these mahendo’sat and these invaders?”

  “Wait for my orders. That’s all.” She punched the contact out. She was trembling. She set her elbows on the counter and dropped her head a second time into her hands, wiped her mane back. Haral was still by her. Someone else was moving about. It was all distant. She had no wish to talk to anyone.

  “Captain.” It was Nifeny Tauran holding out a sandwich and a container of something liquid with a null-cap. The sight of it turned her
stomach and attracted her shaking hand. Gfi. She took a sip of it, and felt another urge unbearably strong.

  “I got to take a break,” she said to Haral. “We got the gods-be kif, don’t we?”

  “Go,” Haral said.

  She spun the chair about and took her own way to the galley corridor and the head. The air everywhere seemed stagnant. Three days and we’ll have the whole gods-be lifesupport in a mess. We can’t go that long. Crew’s got to get that system up.

  She passed Tauran crew in the galley, one with wrapped ribs, sitting white-nosed at the table, the other capping up food as fast as she could. “We got a while stable. Get the slinkers out of the godsforsaken filters, get that lifesupport up.”

  “Aye,” the Tauran said, a distracted, exhausted look till she realized who was talking to her. Then the ears came up. “Aye, cap’n.”

  She made the trip, into the closet of a head, came out and shouldered past Tirun on the same mission.

  “Captain,” sounded in the com-plug in her ear. “We got Mahijiru. They’re indicating that they want us to pull back to Gaohn. They’re waiting for reply.”

  “In a mahen hell,” she muttered, and went through the galley, down the corridor with a hand to either wall, onto the bridge where she had sight of Hilfy and the rest. “Tell them hold that perimeter. We’ll accept Mahijiru only. That ship can come in for conference, and we’ll draw back to Gaohn. We’re not having any others.”

  “Aye,” Hilfy said. “We’ve got query from Vigilance,” Sirany said. “Ayhar is telling them shut it down.”

  It was one more thing than she wanted to know. She hand-over-handed herself back to her own post, fell into it, and sat drinking at the gfi in minute sips that did not agitate her stomach.

  It was a long wait for messages. Goldtooth and the humans were a long distance out.

  She drank. She wiped her blurring eyes and leaned back against the seat in as much relaxation as she could take. While The Pride slewed on, inertial. The hani formation was spreading itself around the kif. Vigilance was far to nadir now and out of her way. Ayhar was considerably off to sunward and beginning to take some of the way off. So were others of the merchants, trimming up. Kifish ships were in hard decel, those going in both directions until they could take the speed off and achieve a coherent pattern.

  But The Pride was going where it belonged. Out into the open. Where it formed no part of any group.

  One of the calls Chur had handled, listed on monitor three: from Rhean: Do you need assistance? Reply: Negative: fully operational; thanks.

  Another, from Ehrran: Query, query, query. Reply from Fiar: All queries deferred. Your patience appreciated.

  One more, from Ehrran: Protest lodged. Reply from Hilfy: Sink it in your own datafile; advise you kifish allies are monitoring your transmissions and misunderstandings are possible. For your own safety and safety of those near you maintain com silence.

  Tully’s, through the translator: This is # # Tully # # # call # # # # do not # # this is # # hani # # with ##. . . . No reply listed.

  From Shanan’s Glory, far to the rear of the combat: Shall we come in or hold position? From Banny Ayhar, monitored: Hold relative position. Maintain full-sphere surveillance.

  From Gaohn station: This is Gaohn Central: general inquiry. From Banny Ayhar, monitored: Firing has stopped. Situation uncertain but improved. Harun’s Industry will be making return to Gaohn with casualties for medical assistance and will courier details. Possibility of strike in your vicinity still exists but is less probable. Reserve other inquiry for Industry. Chanur remains in contact with various allied ships. Ayhar is directing hani ships in the zone of contact. . . .

  From Ayhar: We have computed trajectory on missing ships. All vessels along these lines be alert to evade or assist as needed. . . .

  “Captain,” Hilfy said. “Message from Mahijiru.”

  It had already hit the screen: Ana Ismehanan-min advise you we got talk number one urgent.

  “Reply: Quote: Mahijiru is welcome alone. All other mahen and foreign ships must hold position. We will not support violation of our system borders by any agency however friendly. The approach of Mahijiru is clear and velocity should not exceed normal limits. Please convey to all your ships our thanks for their support, and proceed without escort to a point where we may conference without appreciable timelag. There is no urgency. I repeat the earlier advisement: few ships passed our system borders and there were more than adequate mahen forces on the outgoing vector to have handled the problem. Akkhtimakt is finished. Sikkukkut likewise. End. Repeat that at five till acknowledgment.”

  “Aye,” Hilfy said.

  She rested a moment then. Just rested, eyes shut, head against the seat back. It was all the rest they were going to get.

  While around her, crew moved carefully about on necessary errands or took a chance to stretch. Chur Anify and Khym went offshift to the galley, their two walking wounded, while a pair of exhausted Tauran risked their necks trying to clean the lifesupport filters. Fans went on, highspeed, shut down again. Went on yet again, with a decided ozone smell in the air.

  “Mahijiru’s moving,” Tirun said finally, on cover for Geran. “Priority, priority, we’ve got a general movement all along their formation.”

  It was already on monitor, a sudden and ominous blinking all along the mahen front that sent her heart speeding. “Message? Gods rot it, is he saying anything?”—while crew, away from seats, in the galley, wherever they had strayed to, came scrambling unordered: in-ear coms, and a fine sense of disaster when it started.

  “Negative. He’s just started to move. All of them— We got—got an inquiry from Nekkekt, quote: Shall we attack? Advisories—”

  Other crew hit the seats, low murmur of exchanged information, the passing of duties, briefings in two words and a key punch that logged in: Geran, Hilfy. Others were already there. “I tell human stop,” Tully protested. “Give com.”

  “General output,” Pyanfar snapped, as Haral hit the seat beside her and logged on. “Hold steady. Message to Mahijiru: Hold position. Keep your ships back. We will not be bluffed. Reply to query at once and brake. Endit and repeat. What’s our lagtime?”

  “Fourteen nine,” Tirun said; and a hani message turned up on channel two. “Chanur, this is Ayhar. What in a mahen hell is going on?”

  “Ayhar. Hold firm. Hold firm.”

  “Hold firm! We got a half a hundred ships gone stark lunatic! What do they think they’re doing?”

  “They think they’re getting through, they’re pushing us, that’s what they think they’re doing. Those are human ships out there. Stand firm—”

  “Mahijiru,” a voice broke in on her into her left ear. “Same Goldtooth. H’lo, Pyanfar, old friend!” Cheerful as any dockside. “Good hear you voice, same good find you one piece. Long time chase, damn good job stop these bastard. Got you number one message, good news. You number one fine, a? Same. Plenty ship. Same you tell these fine kif they stand by, we make deal ’bout how they get home.”

  “Mekt-hakkikt!” Into the right ear. “We are tracking this advance. Give us the order! We are your allies! This mahendo’sat is a devious and a ruthless liar! Take him!”

  “Goldtooth, I got a real anxious kif here. Now it’s seven-odd minutes ago, and if I don’t see those ships of yours start braking in thirty seconds from the time you get this, I’m going to take some serious measures. I’ll clip you good, friend. Your ship. Now you stop, and you get ready to talk this out, you don’t push your way here. You want an incident, you want trouble that’s going to echo all the way to Iji, I got to serve you notice these hani ships aren’t moving. I’m timing this real close. I know you, old friend. If I call your bluff like this, you’ll shoot if I don’t. So you better be doing what I say by now, because if you aren’t, you got a fight coming. Endit. No repeat. Time that bastard. Skkukuk! You keep those ships of yours in line.”

  “Yes.”

  “Jik!” Hilfy’s voice, between two beats of a panic
ked heart. “Jik’s transmitting, incoming—”

  “Negative scan,” Geran said.

  Lightspeed wavefront, inbound, the buoys not reporting and no one in position to pick him up.

  “Pyanfar—” the thin voice reached her. “We follow you fast we can, damn, you not engage, not engage—”

  He was talking about the kif. She realized that finally. He was that far away. Hours out.

  Hours ago, when he had fired off that message, he had known Sikkukkut incoming and that a few fool hani were in a lot of trouble.

  About his own partner, he could not know.

  Nor could Goldtooth know that he was there. For seven more minutes.

  “Goldtooth. I’m in contact with your partner now. Ismehanan-min. My friend. There’s a lot of data you don’t have. Critical information. It’s Iji at stake. It’s your border. We’ve got a kifish hakkikt here willing to talk borders. What we’ve got left at Meetpoint you know and I don’t. But I’ve got a passenger, an old mutual acquaintance, who has some real important information. And I’m not talking to a fool, Goldtooth. I want a face-to-face meeting. You, me, a few old friends.”

  “One minute,” Tirun said, timekeeping.

  “At Gaohn. Dockside.”

  Chapter 15

  The docks at Gaohn were deserted, with the profound chill that came of seals cutting off the air circulation, the deckplates so cold they burned the feet; and Pyanfar limped a bit—had been limping since she rolled out of bed stiff and sore and knowing what there was yet to face.

  There had been a little leisure, on the way back to Gaohn, a little time for The Pride to run at a decent, safe rate; for aching crew to tend their own needs and the ship’s, and to catch a nap and a hot meal.

  She went in spacer’s blues. It was all she had left, and that was borrowed. She went with her own crew about her, and left The Pride in Sirany’s capable hands.

  Another lostling had turned up. Dur Tahar had quietly showed up on-scope, blinking in with an ID signal and turning out not to be a piece of hurtling wreckage. “Friggin’ hell,” Tahar had said when they got her on com: “you don’t think I’m going to run my ID, us, while we got you standing off half the Compact and most every hani ship out here ready to blow us to dust and gone. I’m not coming in yet, Chanur. I’ll meet with you or one of your ships, I’ll let Vrossaru and her crew off, but I’m not going to go in to dock . . . not this old hunter. I’ll just watch awhile.”