“Sit on things here. Who’s going to do that undock?”
“Central says they’ve got crew moving up. Mahendo’sat.”
“Fine.” Pyanfar headed for the door. “Fine. Get Tully’s drugs for jump. Tully, hear?”
“I got.” Tully patted his pocket. “But kif—”
“Thank the gods. Brains.”
“I work jump.”
“You work, huh? You work it flat on your back. You go to bed, hear? And, Chur, you’re going to quarters on this, from undock out.”
“Captain—” Chur powered the chair about and opened her mouth to protest.
“You heard me. You’re still not sound. Haven’t got time to take care of you. Don’t make me problems.”
“I’m begging you this one. Captain. I’m going to be fit. It’s a rough one. I want to be there.”
“Huh,” Pyanfar said. Thought about it a moment too long and shook her head. “Gods rot it, all right, take duty.”
“I,” Tully said. “I work.”
Another unanswerable stare, blue-eyed this time. His mouth trembled in that way he had when he had gone his limit.
She remembered then she had put a thing in her pocket, transferred from yesterday’s plain trousers. She had meant to give it to him. Now it took on a superstitious feel, like saying no to Chur. She fished it out between thumb and foreclaw and took his hand and laid it there, a small gold ring meant for human hands, not ears.
He closed his fist on the small bit of gold that had belonged to some lost friend. It meant something profound to him. “Where get?”
“Just keep it on your hand this time.”
He put it on his finger. Looked up again with fever in his eyes. Then he clasped her hand with a fierceness that disarranged joints and claws; she flexed claws out in self-protection, strength opposed to strength, and he let go. “You sit this chair, huh?” You sit here, stay steady, keep Hilfy—gods, keep her thinking. Shame her into it. Don’t let her be a fool, Tully.
“I work, captain.”
“Captain. Huh.” Someone had taught him that. He managed it in hani, confounding the overworked translator, which sputtered through the com at his belt. “Takes orders, does he? Huh. Tully, you watch.”
She walked out.
* * *
The lift opened and let her out on the lower main. Tirun was in the corridor. She expected that.
That Tirun waited there with her back against the wall and that trouble-look on her face, she did not expect.
She slowed down, distracted from one crisis for one that confronted her, and Tirun’s ears sank further, tight-folded. “Captain.”
“Spill it.”
“Kif won’t eat the frozen stuff. He wants to talk to you personally.”
She let go a long slow breath. “Wonderful. Tell him we’ll have a long friendly talk at our next port of call.”
“I told him you’re busy.”
“He said?”
“That you were a fool. Captain.” Staring straight ahead, not a twitch of a tightly-folded ear. “I asked who was sitting in the washroom of someone else’s ship. It said hani humor is unsubtle.”
“You leave it the frozen stuff?”
“I left it. Thawed. I could puree the stuff.”
“Kif’s got teeth.” She walked off.
“Captain. I could—bribe a docker, maybe, well, get one of those small live things—”
She looked back, at Tirun standing there with a revolted look. “Reason with it.”
“I tried.”
“Try again.” She headed for the lock, jammed hands in pockets, past the butt of a gun in the righthand one. Gods. Live food. Raw was one thing. Raw and protesting was another.
She entered the short lock corridor and hooked the recessed button on the panel with a foreclaw. The inner hatch shot back unexpectedly and she glowered at the two Ehrran clanswomen on guard there, who faced her with an aborted leveling of rifles.
“Who you planning on firing on from this side? Escaping crew?”
“Captain.” Politeness must have choked the Ehrran. And when Pyanfar walked through their midst and reached toward the com panel to tell Haral to open up the lock, an Ehrran arm shot into her way: “Captain, begging pardon, but it’s a half hour—”
Pyanfar turned and looked, nose to nose with the Ehrran crewwoman. The ears wilted first, the arm dropped next, and the body went third, a backstep that got the Ehrran not quite out of her reach.
“Haral.”
“Aye, captain.”
“Open us up down here.”
The outer hatch shot back. Pyanfar heard it, felt the chill draft. She still glared at the Ehrran eye to eye. “You,” she said to the Ehrran. “You want to walk out there into the access and see if captain Nomesteturjai’s anywhere about?”
“I’m not to leave my post.”
“What? Even if I cycle the airlock? You’re a lunatic.”
“I don’t think it’s a case—”
“—about the same. A lot the same.”
“What, captain?”
“Arguing with me. Get!”
They flinched, the pair of them; they both flinched, and then it was too late. Pyanfar took the ground they gave, backed them up against the threshold of the open hatch, and it was suddenly a case of resisting a captain on her own deck or moving from their post. “Out!”
For a moment she thought they would actually stand fast, rifles and all; and her claws came out and her nose rumpled into a grin. But then one Ehrran’s foot hit the hatch-rim and threw her off-balance. The Ehrran caught herself and backed up; the other did, and then they were both in retreat down the chill yellow accessway.
Pyanfar followed in long strides, one hand on the gun in her pocket—it was still a kifish dockside once around that bend and into the rampway. She heard the thunder of hastening feet on the plates; and when she had reached the right-hand turn she saw a tall mahen figure upward bound toward the black-breeched hani, a mahe garishly dressed in red-striped green and laden with gold chains and bracelets and a monstrous large sidearm slung at his hip.
Mahen guards, far below, held the foot of the ramp. Jik strolled up the center, and the outbound hani caught-step to avoid him and passed him in great haste.
Jik stared back over his shoulder, faced forward and came on with a shrug. “What they got?” he asked with a gesture backward.
“Both ears,” Pyanfar spat. She was shaking—gods, she had been in dockside brawls and barfights and a set-to with her son and never lost her head like that. The peripheries around Jik refused to come clear: hunter-vision had set in. Her ears were plastered tight against her skull and her muscles shuddered. Jik stopped—just stopped, dead still and quiet.
Pyanfar sucked air. Spat in the accessway. “You want something.”
“You got time?” Judiciously and from safe distance.
A third spit. “I got time.” The peripheries of her vision began to clear. She jerked a hand back toward the lock, led the way, and as they rounded the turn, she saw Tirun standing there with ears flat and a pistol in her fist.
“Haral said there was trouble,” Tirun said.
“Over now. Get. Haral needs help up there. We got mahen guards outside.”
“Aye.” Tirun went at a run.
“Come on.” Pyanfar brought Jik on through the airlock into the inner corridor, and punched the com panel. “Haral. It’s all clear. Seal both hatches.”
“Aye—”—from the bridge, without comment.
SSSShhhh-t. The door went. Sealed with an electric thunk.
She looked at Jik. Her lip still twitched. She flicked her ears with a jingling of rings. “I tell you, Jik, the han’s changed. It’s changed. Hani used to go where they liked, do what they liked without some gods-rotted government note-taker stalking and lurking—”
“You think you make mistake, a?”
“I think I just made a gods-rotted big one. Mistake! When’d it get to be a mistake to throw two lousy insolent spies off
my deck? When’d it happen, Jik?”
“Maybe—” Jik cleared his throat. “Maybe you make, Pyanfar. You bring lot strangers to Anuurn. Anuurn hani—they not got used to outside. They scare. Lot scare, Pyanfar. They got hani renegade Tahar go work for kif. You know what think? I think this Ehrran got lot suspicion Chanur got too much power—”
“Too much? We got debts, friend—we got debts up to our noses, my brother’s not getting any younger—he’ll go down one day, and gods even know if it’ll be a Chanur that takes him. My nephews are all fools.” It was too much to say. Far too much already. She shrugged and looked elsewhere down the corridor.
“Chanur got space,” Jik said. “Maybe Chanur bring back thing these world-hani not want, a?”
She slanted an ear back and looked at him then, this hunter-captain who was way, way up in mahen councils. Mahendo’sat had brought hani into space. Given them ships. Created, if hani ever admitted it, the very concept of the han. And Jik understood that. He understood it very well indeed. “You longtime got your hands in every nest in the Compact, mahe—” She slipped deep into the pidgin, facing wrinkle-ringed brown eyes, a sober, too-wise stare. “You know this Rhif Ehrran?”
She expected a shrug from Jik, denial, some glib answer. Instead: “Maybe Chanur enemy get organize, a? Maybe you watch you back, friend. I make big mistake at Kshshti, bring Ehrran in this thing. Big mistake.”
“I believe you,” she said. “Now I believe you. What you want here, huh?”
“Want say same thing. Want make sure you not come ‘cross bow with Vigilance at Kekt. I like you one piece, hani.”
“Come here.”
“A?”
She grabbed him by the arm and brought him down the corridor, around the corner and down again, where the lowerdecks washroom was. She pushed the button and the door shot back.
The kif sat on a folded stack of blankets on the tiles against the far wall. Its robes were tucked close about it. It had dropped its hood. Now its head came up and it rose in one muscular glide and bowed, showing empty hands, before it looked up again.
Courtesy of a killer-kind.
“Is it ker Pyanfar?”
“It’s me. This is the captain of Aja Jin.”
“Sssstk.” A deep nod of the head. “I am impressed. Nomesteturjai.”
“Kif,” Jik said.
“His name is Skkukuk. He says he’s mine. A gift, from Sikkukkut.”
“A. A noikkhe?”
“Skku nik kktitik kuikkht kehtk tok nif fik pukkukk.”
—Why? Pyanfar followed threads of it.
—Subordinate, weapon, for pride, revenge—
“Nfkokkth shokku hakhoth nkki to skohut.”
“A,” Jik said.
“Well?” said Pyanfar.
“You got kif,” Jik said, and shrugged.
“I am starving,” it said.
She shut the door, laid her ears back and looked at Jik. “What do I do with it, huh? Put it out the hatch?”
“They kill him sure.”
“Well, gods rot it, do I run a charity for kif?”
Another shrug. “Sikkukkut give you crewman. Not number one important. Maybe fellow make mistake—”
“Maybe a crewman whose loyalty’s in question? Maybe even one off that disabled ship?”
Jik’s eyes flickered. “Maybe so. All same, he belong you. You got deal, a?”
“Gods rot, you want him?”
Jik rubbed at his nose. “Tell you truth. That give you sfik away. I friend, say no do.”
“You mean status with that gods-rotted kif? Sikkukkut?”
“Best thing you kill this kif. Send same pieces to Sikkukkut.”
“Huh.”
“No do, a? Maybe you turn him out naked on dock.”
“So they kill him.”
“He same kill few, maybe.”
“I’ve traded up and down docks from Jininsai to Meetpoint, and I’ve never heard the like. You understand it? What’s Sikkukkut up to?”
“I fight kif long time. Long time, Pyanfar. Kif at Meetpoint, they quiet kif. This be border. Dis-pu-ted Zone. This space no one got. Where we go next, this be true kif space. You not see before. Not see before these thing. No hani see—’cept maybe Tahar. And she lot crazy.”
“You’ve seen Tahar?”
“I talk with her, one time, two. She strange. Lot strange—” He touched his brow.
“She was strange before she ditched us and turned tail at Gaohn; and took kif money—”
“Hani law.”
“You gods-rotted right, hani law. A lot of hani’d like to get a piece of that ship.”
“Maybe do.”
“Maybe do. Rhif Ehrran was already headed for Kefk when we picked her up at Kshshti. You know why?”
“Maybe you know.”
“I don’t. That worries me, Jik.”
“Worry me too.”
“What’s an honest hani doing going Kefk way? What’s an honest hani know about a kifish system?”
Jik ducked his head and rubbed his nose. “Tell you, hani, few ship I know sometime maybe got rig turn off ID squeal. Sure you not know such thing. Maybe ship also got rig make fake ID to beacon. Vigilance hunter-ship, a? Got lot stuff. Lot stuff. Also maybe know Kefk pretty good.”
“Been there?”
“Stsho been there. Come, go. Stsho know lot stuff. Maybe sell in-for-mation.”
“I’ll believe that. But what’s she doing there?”
“Kefk be Tahar port,” Jik said. “She hunt Tahar. Also—maybe—maybe she got stsho interest. Stsho business. You think, hani: stsho don’t fight. Stsho always hire guard. Who they hire?”
“Mahendo’—” The suspicion got through. She looked up into mahen brown eyes, murkier and darker than any hani’s. “Good gods, they count us barbarians. They wouldn’t hire hani for anything but—”
“Who else they got hire when got falling-out with mahendo’sat? Hire kif? They not fools. No, maybe all sudden they got idea hani not bad neighbor—maybe all sudden want make good friend with the han. Maybe one day there be hani guard at Meetpoint, not mahendo’sat. Big advantage to hani. To some hani. Lot money. Lot stsho money—and they plenty rich. I tell you truth, friend. I tell you truth. Ehrran want stop all hani make problem this deal. Moon Rising. You.”
“You put us in the same—”
“Ehrran do.”
“Gods.” She flung a gesture up, put distance between herself and Jik. Stared at him.
“I tell you, you got lot enemy, hani.”
She stood there a long moment. Jik made his mouth a thin, inturned line, as if more might get out.
“What you do?” he asked finally.
“What do I do? What do I do? I ought to gods-be head out of here and leave you and Ehrran to the kif.”
“You not do.”
“Try me.”
“No, you not do. Where go? Maing Tol? Han got ‘nough suspicion already. Also—you not stsho. Chanur don’t go hide in fight, wait for thing be better, let friend die. . . .”
“Friend!”
“I save you neck.”
“For politics, for—”
“—same good reason, a?”
“Gods rot you, Jik.”
“I try save you now. Want you at Kefk. Need you. Need you stay ‘live, hani.”
She looked off across the corridor. Anywhere else. Jik’s voice was dim. Her ears lay flat against her skull. “So what do I do with the gods-be kif in my washroom, huh?”
“You keep. I want you keep. He yours. He got nowhere to go, a? You got plenty sfik he fight like devil kill you enemy.”
“And if he decides I don’t have?”
“You kill him quick. He offer you weapons, a?”
“Huh.”
“He tell truth. Kif truth.” Jik laid a careful hand on her shoulder. “You keep him lock up tight. A? Later I take. I got reason.”
“I’m sure you do.” Her nose wrinkled. She endured the hand, that was no small weight, and turned an
d stared up into his face. “So what’s the game at Kefk? What’s Sikkukkut want? He wanted me. Before you ever got into it. He got me to Mkks. What’s he want, dragging me into this Kefk business?”
“You got damn lot sfik.”
“You’re crazy.” She shook the hand off. “He’s crazy.”
“You got think like kif.”
“I’m sure you’re good at it.”
“You friend.”
“Friend, my—”
“Maybe kif play same game like Ehrran.” He shrugged, hands in the back of his belt. “He kif. Kif mind got twists. One, he hate Akkhtimakt. Two, he want take opposite from Akkhtimakt. Three, he got no heart. Got no way understand you not all time mad like kif. You add all up, think like kif. He give you kif advisor—he number one smart: you take kif advice, he hope know what you do. You got lot sfik with him. Also you got tame human.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Kif all time got disadvantage, try predict what outsider do. Sikkukkut lot curious ‘bout hu-man-ity. Same way stsho not understand kif: stsho want make deal with Akkhtimakt, want make same deal with Sikkukkut, same with Ehrran hani, a? Someone eat they heart someday. Maybe Sikkukkut. Meanwhile, Sikkukkut want get me, a? Want also get human. Human be big problem soon. Same tc’a. Stsho—they nothing without make alliance with hani, if they not more trust mahendo’sat. Anuurn hani damn fool get involve in this politic.”
“They’re not the only ones.”
“You born involve, Pyanfar. You spacer hani. You too smart.”
“Then why am I here?”
“You got stake. We all got stake.”
“Like what, like hani do all the fighting and mahendo’sat pick up all the eggs? Same as you and your partner did to me at Gaohn? Same as get me barred from Meetpoint—same as—”
“Pyanfar. We all got stake. This Mkks be half mahen station, a? I go take walk, I talk few people. Learn thing.”
“Learned what?”
An expansive shrug. “Like knnn be upset. Like tc’a big disturb. Chi crazy like always. Like big rumor on methane-side got lot human come. Lot human. Stsho damn upset.”
Mahen visionaries. Prophecies on the com. “Gods-be.” It was there to have been read. She raked a hand through her mane. “Geran said.”
“What say?”
“Rumor’s all over Mkks. Thousands of humans coming. Where are they coming to?”