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Chanur's Homecoming cs-4

Page 17

by Caroline J. Cherryh


  "-Akkhtimakt's just lost any reason he had for restraint," Haral said. "He's losing. Mahendo'sat aren't dealing with him. He's gone off toward Urtur; there's two moves he could make. One's us. One's the mahendo'sat. Things could get ugly. Real ugly. That's what we been thinking."

  "Huhhhn." Another body hit the cushions, hard. She heard the click of restraints. Geran was in. Heard a wild high chittering coming down the corridor, which was a kif in full career, headed for his station and trying to tell them to wait for him: a shove of The Pride's, mains would send him smashing back into the lift door with the same force as if he had fallen off a building roof.

  "We hear you," she said over general com. "You got time, Skkukuk."

  And thought about the web of jump-corridors around Meetpoint and where they led.

  Gods know what's already been launched at us. "Mahendo'sat aren't going to sit still for it," she said. "It's not their style."

  "If they push back," Haral said, "it's going to shove that bastard right into hani space. We figure there's a push coming here. Cap'n, Tully says human ships can drop out of hype in deep space. Do a turn. Says he thinks the mahendo'sat can do it too."

  She shot Haral a look. It was a knnn maneuver, that stop-and-turn. Or tc'a. "Friends turning up in odd places."

  "From here, cap'n, it's a real pocket out Kura-way."

  It was: hani space was an appendix of reachable space, right on the mahendo'sat underbelly, near the mahen homestar. But the accesses in that direction were few and defensible.

  "Yeah," she said, thinking of that geometry, which thought suddenly shaped itself into coherent form, in full light. "Yeah. It might work. If they can do that kind of thing. But that'd mean those human ships aren't freighters in any sense of the word- wouldn't it? What's a ship with holds need with that kind of rig, huh?"

  "Sure seems like not. And a strike coming in here rams it right down hani throats. Again."

  "It does that, too. If they can do that." Another and worse thought. "If mahendo'sat can pull this-wouldn't be the first time they had some new rig they didn't tell us about. Wouldn't be the first time the kif turned up with it too. Before we did. Praise to the mahendo'sat. More gods-be careful of what their allies learn than what gets to their enemies."

  Gods, don't let Ehrran be a fool.

  Then, down the boards: "Priority," Geran said. "Priority, we got a shift going on, we got a vector change on some of Sikkukkut's lot. That's Noikkhru and Shuffikkt-"

  It came up on the monitor, part of the image changing color again as kifish ships finished their braking and began to slew off on new headings.

  Headings at angles to Sikkukkut's.

  Chapter Six

  Color-shifts multiplied on the scan.

  "Gods," Pyanfar muttered, and put in the general take-hold. Alarm rang up and down the corridors. In case. "Message to our partners: hold steady, keep course; Khym, advisement to Chur: Take precautions, we got kif moving gods know where. Tirun, feed scan down to Jik's monitor; tell him we're all right, we're still on course, we just got something going here."

  Acknowledgments came back.

  "Captain," Haral said, "Hilfy's got this idea-"

  "Tahar acknowledges," Hilfy said. "They're on our lead. Aye-we got that, Aja Jin. Thanks-"

  "-Akkhtimakt's got bad troubles," Haral said. "I think we got 'em too."

  She waited. Waited till she heard Tirun report all personnel accounted for; Tirun had made it onto the bridge. A last safety snicked into place.

  They were secure for running. If they had to.

  On the screens the flares continued as the doppler recept sorted it out and got information trued again.

  And one and another of Sikkukkut's ships flaring green and going into maneuvers.

  Not all on the same vector. They were headed out like thistledown scattering from a pod. Everywhere.

  In every direction open to them, mahen space and hani and stsho and tc'a.

  "They go," Jik exclaimed over the open com. And something else profane in mahensi. He was monitoring the situation, down there in his sealed cabin. "Damn, they go, they go-"

  To every star within reach. To strafe every station and every system where there might be a hostile presence.

  "Priority, priority," Hilfy said, overriding something Geran was saying: ''Harukk-com says: Pride of Chanur, proceed on course."

  "They go hit ever' damn target in Compact," Jik cried. There was the sound of explosion. Or of a mahen fist hitting something. "Damn! Let me out!"

  "She was right," Haral muttered. "Gods-be right. They're going to do it anyhow and we got kif every which way. Captain, they're going to push Akkhtimakt right down that open corridor, to Anuurn, captain, by the gods they are."

  "We got problems," Pyanfar muttered.

  While a stream of mahen profanity warred with Chur's insistent question on the com.

  "Kkkkt." From a forgotten source behind them.

  And station was ahead. Meetpoint, with three hundred thousand stsho and a handful of hani citizens. With kif closing in on them with declared intent to dock.

  "Transmit:" Pyanfar said. "The Pride of Chanur to all hani on station: prepare to assist in docking for incoming ships. Join us. This is your greatest hope of immediate safety."

  Offer a hani an overlord, a master, a foreign hegemony-

  They would spit in Sikkukkut's face. And die for it. That, beyond doubt.

  But if they heard the reservation in that message, if they keyed on the nuances of safe-shelter-in-storm and all the baggage that went with it-even if the kif did, it was no more than kif expected, even if it was something no kif dared say: until we find a better.

  "Repeat?" Hilfy queried.

  "Repeat."

  "Still braking," Geran said.

  And the brightness on the amber lines that was their own position crept closer and closer to their own brake-point for station approach.

  "Harun's Industry; responds," Hilfy said, "quote: We take your offer enthusiastically."

  It took awhile, for ships to reduce V.

  It took awhile for outbound kifish ships to go their way, leaping out into the dark, toward Hoas Point and Urtur System, toward Kshshti and Kefk and Tt’a’va’o and V'n'n'u and Nsthen. Seven ships, to follow right down Akkhtimakt's tail in a second strike after the first one; and right down the throats of Goldtooth and humans and mahendo'sat and whoever else might be coming in if they could find them.

  It was, Pyanfar reckoned bleakly, both ruthless and effective.

  "Kkkkt," was Skkukuk's comment. "Kkkkt."

  "Kkkt," said Skkukuk. "He is challenging you all. Kkkkt. But his throat is unprotected. You are here. He thinks to daunt you. Surprise him, hakt'."

  She spun her chair about to face the kif who sat at the aft of the bridge. And there was not a hair on her unbristled. "What has he in mind for us?"

  "You are part of his sfik. You increase him. Kkkkt. His move is very good. He has penned you all in with his main force. Any attempt to exit toward your territories of resource are blocked first by his enemy and then by his own ships, whose capacities you do not know. It is a fine move, hakt'. But I have faith in you."

  "Faith."

  "Inappropriate word? Sgotkkis."

  "Call it faith." She laid her ears back and stared at her private curse with coldest, clearest threat. "Since you don't have an idea in a mahen hell what I'm likely to do about it. But / am still here. And my resources have not diminished."

  "Kkkkt, kkkt, skthot skku-nak'haktu."

  Your slave, captain.

  "Captain," Hilfy said. "Communication from Harukk. Quote: You have made a proposal to hani ships. You will gather these captains for my inspection on-station. End message."

  Second move. It's going too fast. 0 gods.

  "Acknowledge," she said, cold as routine. While they slogged their way at a sedate pace through a system laced with kif, toward a station which was going to be under kifish occupation. "Sikkukkut's going into dock. Cocky son's going
to bring that ship in."

  If Goldtooth and the humans have stopped short and the kif pass them by in hyperspace, we could get hit here.

  Hilfy and Haral have got it figured. All of us do.

  If Akkhtimakt's set up to dive in here again-an attack could be poised at system's edge right now. Or already inbound. Not saying whether the kif are onto that trick of stopping a jump. They could well have it. Maybe and maybe. It's not saying all their ships can do it.

  "Transmit," she said. "Honor to the hakkikt: beware system edges. I fear more than spotters."

  "Done," Hilfy said.

  We help the bastard we're with. While we're with him.

  We take whatever they want to do. And maintain our options. Ehrran's lost all hers. We got hani on that station and gods know how many fluttering stsho. Keep a cool head, Pyanfar Chanur. It's by the gods all the chance you've got.

  "We're getting docking instructions," Hilfy murmured finally. They turned up on screen, where kifish ships were already well toward touch with station.

  And from Chur, plaintively over com:

  "What in a mahen hell's going on?"

  "Easy," Geran said. "It's all all right."

  "Got crew falling on their noses tired," Pyanfar muttered. "Haral, keep it steady, standard dock. Tirun, get yourself below, take the rest of your break."

  "Aye," Tirun said. Old spacer. And falling-down tired. A belt snicked. Tirun went away in silence, to food, sleep, anything she could get.

  "Jik's requesting to be out," Khym said. So that voice had vanished off com. Khym had silenced him. A mahen hunter captain, locked in a lowerdecks cabin and probably trying to think how to shortcircuit the latch or take the door apart.

  "Jik," she said, cutting in on that blinking light on her com section. "We're all right. F'godssakes, be patient, get some rest, we've got our hands full, you got our scan image. We're moving in on dock and that's all that's going on for a while."

  "Pyanfar." The voice was calm, quiet, reasoning. "/ understand. I make problem, a? You got protect you crew. I make 'pology. I lot embarrass', Pyanfar. Long time with kif make me crazy. Now I got time think-I know what you do. We be long time ally. We befriends, Pyanfar. Same interest. You unlock door, a?"

  "I tell you there's nothing you can do up here. You got awhile to rest, Jik. Take it. You may need it."

  "Pyanfar." Thump. Impact of a hand near the pickup. Hard. So much for patience. "You in damn deep water. Hear? Deep water!''

  "We got another expression." She flattened her ears, lifted them again. "Told you. After we dock. We got enough troubles, friend. I want your advice, but I got enough to deal with right now."

  "It be war," Jik said, and sent a chill up her back. War was a groundling word. "Fool hani! The ships go, they go ever' damn place, not got stop, not got stop!"

  "F'godssake, this is open space! This is the Compact, we're not talking about some backwater land-quarrel!"

  'No. No hanis. New kind thing. Not with rule. We talk 'bout make fight all kif, all hani, all mahendo'sat, make ally, make strike here, strike there. This new kind word. Not like clan and clan. Not like go council. Here we got no council. War, Pyanfar, all devils in hell got no word this thing I see."

  Colder and colder.

  "I see it too. So what are the mahendo'sat going to do about it? What have they done about it? Play games with the kif til we got 'em all at each others' throats? Shove Akkhtimakt off toward hani space? My world? How'm I supposed to be worried about you and yours, rot your conniving hide, when you doublecrossed my whole species! You doublecrossed the stsho, f'godssakes, and that takes fast dealing! You double-crossed the tc'a, gods help us, you doublecrossed them and the chi and maybe the knnn!"

  "We got humans. We got humans, Pyanfar. Same got hunter-ships, got way shove these bastard back from out hani territory, you got listen, Pyanfar. Pyanfar, I got timetable!"

  Her finger was on the cutoff, claw half-extruded. She retracted it.

  "Do you? Way I hear, you got something else too. Like a fancy new maneuver your ships do, just like humans." Silence from belowdecks then. Profound silence. Then: "Open this door, Pyanfar.''

  "At dock."

  "Soshethi-sa! Soshethi-ma hase mafeu!"

  Thump.

  She cut him off. Looked Haral's way. Haral studiously lowered her ears. "Not too happy," Haral said. "Timetable. What's he mean?"

  "By the gods I bet there's one. At our expense. Mahen gifts. 'Got a present for you.' Jik, turning up at Kshshti. Us, miraculously getting our papers cleared so we could turn up back here."

  "I'd sure like to know what was in that packet Banny took on, I tell you that."

  "Eggs to pearls that Jik slipped something into it. Goldtooth's version, I got a copy on. The stuff that didn't take a translator to dupe, at least. Which won't be the sensitive stuff. But anything might be helpful. Downgrade the nav functions: we'll run that packet of his with the decoder."

  "I'll start it," Hilfy said. "My four."

  She keyed the access up and sent the packet over, while The Pride started freeing up computer space.

  Jik had held out on Sikkukkut. And on her. It was certain that he had. He had been dead silent on that gibe about mahen ship capabilities.

  The archive in question blinked into Hilfy's reach.

  And they slipped closer and closer to dock.

  "Might have some lurker outsystem," Hilfy said. "I've been thinking about that. Might have a strike here most any time."

  "Cheerful," Geran said. That sounded almost normal, crew bickering and muttering from station to station.

  "Station's on," Hilfy said. "Docking calc."

  "That's got it," Haral said, and sucked them into nav. "Auto?"

  "Might as well. Nothing problematical here." Pyanfar sat and gnawed her mustaches, gnawed a hangnail on her third finger. Spat. "Hilfy: send to all hani at dock, hani-language,

  quote: The Pride of Chanur to all hani at dock: we are coming in at berths 27, 28, 29 consecutive. Salutations to all allies: by hearth and blood we take your parole to assure your security. Industry, salutations to your captain in Ruharun's name: we share an ancestor. Let's keep it quiet, shall we? End."

  "Got that," Hilfy said.

  Haral gave her a look steady and sober, ears back-canted. "Think the kif read poetry?"

  "Gods, I hope not."

  Five decades ago. Dayschool and literature. When she had ten times rather be at her math. Stand and recite, Pyanfar.

  "I hope to the gods this younger generation does."

  On a winter's eve came Ruharan to her gates beneath black flight of birds in snowy court. White scarf flutters in the wind, red feather the fletch of arrows standing still in posts about the yard and the holy shrine where stands among a hundred enemies her own lord, no prisoner but of her enemies foremost seeming.

  But Ruharun knew her husband a man with woman's wit and woman's staunchness.

  So she cast down her bow and spilled out the arrows, on blood-spattered snow cast down defense, bowed her head to enemies and to fortune. . . .

  "Industry answers," Hilfy said. "Quote: We got that. 27, 28, 29. We have another kinswoman here in Munur Faha. Greetings from her. We are at your orders."

  "Gods look on them." Pyanfar drew a large breath. Message received, covered and tossed back again under kifish noses. Munur Faha of Starwind was kin to Chanur. But not to Harun. Harun had no ties of any kind.

  And Faha had a bloodfeud with Tahar of Moon Rising.

  A small chill went down her back. It was response to her own coded hail. It was just as likely subtle warning and question, singling out Faha for salutations: strange company you keep, Pyanfar Chanur, a mahen hunter, a kifish prince, and a pirate. The Faha-Tahar feud was famous and bitter.

  At your orders, smooth and silky. It was kifish subservience, never hani; it was humor, bleak and black and thoroughly spacer. Let's play the game, hani. You and your odd friends. Let's see where it leads.

  It took a mental shift, gods help
her, to think hani-fashion again, and to know the motives of her own kind. Like crossing a gulf she had been on the other side of so long that hani were as strange as the stsho.

  "Reply: See you on my deck immediately."

  Grapples took. The Pride's G-sense shifted, readjusted itself. Other connections clanged and thumped into seal. They were not the first ship in. Ikkhoitr and Chakkuf crews were already on the docks. Harukk was in final. But no kif came to help non-kif ships dock. Pointedly, they handled their own and no others. They were Industry crewwomen risking their necks out there on the other side of that wall.

  "I've got business," Pyanfar said, and unclipped the safeties.

  "Aye," Haral said. "Routine shutdowns, captain. Go."

  She got out of the chair and saw worried looks come her way. Tully's pale face was thin-lipped and large about the eyes, the way it got in Situations.

  Thinking, O gods, yes, that this might be the end of his own journey, on a station where the kif had won everything that he had set out to take; and where humans were still a question of interest to Sikkukkut an'nikktukktin. He had reason to worry. The same as Jik did.

  Queries were coming in, com from Moon Rising as it docked, operational chatter. Aja Jin was a minute away from touch.

  Still playing the game, Kesurinan trusting that her captain was consenting to this long silence.

  "Stay to stations," she said to all and sundry. "Khym, monitor lowerdecks."

  "You going down there with him?" He looked at her with his ears down, the one with its brand new ring.

  She flattened her own. He turned around again without a word. "Tirun's down there," she said to his back and Tully's face and Skkukuk's earnest attention.

  / would go, hakt', that kifish stare said. Tear the throat out of this mahendo'sat, I would, most eagerly, mekt'hakt'.

  "Huh." She made sure of the gun in her pocket and walked on out, wobbly in the knees and still with the sensation that G was shifting. She felt down in her pocket, remembering a packet of concentrates, and drank it in the lift, downbound.

  The salty flood hit her stomach and gave it some comfort. Panic killed an appetite. Even when panic had gotten to be a lifestyle and a body was straight out of jump. She ate because the body said so. And tried not to think about the aftertaste.

 

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