Pyanfar said nothing. She uncapped the safety switch on what few armaments The Pride had, and broke another law.
"Eighteen to final dump," Haral said.
"Call coming—Tirun—Tirun—which one?" Khym's voice betrayed strain and panic, inexperienced as he was at that board. Disoriented as well as jump-sick, it was well possible. But the switch got made and the station's voice came through, dopplered out into sanity.
Mahen voice. "Confirm dump, confirm dump—"
"Repeat previous message. Tell them we want that shiplist. Fast."
There were codes they might have used to get cooperation from the mahendo'sat. There was no way to use them. The kif had ears too.
So they went at it the hard way, and Mkks station began to panic, dopplered message overlaying message, continuing a few seconds yet in the initial assumption: that they had a ship incoming dead at them in helpless malfunction.
By now their own message would be flashing to the kif, who would not be so naive.
The kif might—might—at this stage get a ship out to run; but she had not read Sikkukkut an'nikktukktin as that breed of kif.
Not with prisoners in his hands.
It was a hall somewhere within the upper reaches of the ship docked gods-knew where. Hilfy Chanur knew the ship-name now. It was Harukk.
And she knew the kif seated before her, among other kif. His name was Sikkukkut. He sat as a dark-robed lump on an insect-chair, among its black, bent legs. Sodium-glow relieved the murk close in, casting harsh shadow and orange-pink light. Incense curled from black globes set about the room and mingled with ammonia-stench. She could not so much as rub her offended nose. Her hands were linked with cords behind her back, Tully's likewise, for all the good that he could have done if his hands were free. Tully's face was pale, his golden mane and beard all tangled and sweat-matted, his fragile human skin claw-streaked and bleeding in the lurid glow. He had done his best. She had. Neither was good enough.
"Where did you hope to go?" Sikkukkut asked. "To do what?"
"I hoped," Hilfy Chanur said, because it never paid to back up with a kif, "to fracture a skull or two."
"No fracture," Sikkukkut said. "Concussed."—whether that this was a kif s humor or a kifish total lack of it. Harukk's captain unfolded himself from his insect-chair in a rustling of black robes. There was no color save the sodium-light, none, throughout all the ship. Objects, walls, clothes were all grays and blacks—They're color blind, Hilfy thought, really, totally blind to it. She thought of blue Anuurn skies and green fields and hani themselves a riot of golds and reds and every color they decked themselves in, and held that recollection like a talisman against the dark and the hellish glare.
Sikkukkut moved closer. There was a sound like the wind in old leaves as other kif moved beyond the lights and the curling wisps of smoke. She braced herself; but it was Tully the kif aimed at.
"This speaks hani," Sikkukkut said. "It tries to pretend not—''
Hilfy stepped into his path.
"And where our understanding fails," the kif said in flawless hani accents, "I know you have expertise with the human. We can secure that. Can't we?" He brushed past her and jerked Tully suddenly toward him by one arm and the other. The kif s claws made small indentations in his flesh and Tully stood there, face to face with those jaws a hand's breadth from his eyes. Hilfy could smell the sweat and fear.
"Soft," Sikkukkut said, tightening his grip. "Such fine, fine skin. That might have value on its own."
Closer still.
"Let him go!"
The dark snout wrinkled and the tip twitched. Kif sustenance was mostly fluid, so outsiders said: they were total carnivores, and disdained not at all to use those razored outer jaws. Two rows of teeth, two sets of jaws. One to bite and one fast-moving set far up inside that long snout to reduce the outer-jaw bites to paste and fluids the tiny throat could handle. The tongue darted in the v-form gap of the teeth. Tully jerked and winced in silence. The long face lifted, to use its eyes at level, its jaws—
"Stop it! Gods rot it—stop!"
"But it will have to stop struggling," Sikkukkut said, "I can't release my claws.—Tell him so. ..."
Hilfy took in her breath. But Tully had stopped resisting, slopped—all at once, betraying himself.
"Ah. It does understand."
"Let him go."
The kif sniffed, jerked Tully against his chest and flung him free all in two quick motions.
Tully stumbled back. Hilfy thrust her shoulder between him and Sikkukkut's step forward and stood her ground with her knees wobbling under her from stark fear. Her ears were back; her nose rumpled into a grin that was not at all the grin of Tully's helpless primate kind.
A dry sniffing. Kifish laughter. Sikkukkut gazed at her from within the hood, the dim light glinting off his eyes. 'Implicit in the hani tongue are concepts like friendship. Fondness. These are different than sfik. But equally useful. Particularly I do not discount them when you have such success talking to this creature. How have you bound him?"
"Try kind words."
"Do you think so? I have been kind. Perhaps then my accent confuses him. Tell him I want to know everything he knows, why he came, to whom he came, what he hopes to do-—Tell him this. Tell him that I am anxious and impatient and many other things."
She weighed it for what seemed forever. She wondered that the kif s patience could last so long.
It broke. The kif reached and she blocked that reach a second time with her shoulder. "—He's asking questions, Tully," she said all in one breath. "He wants to talk."
Tully said nothing.
"Guess he doesn't understand," she said. "He gets words muddled up—"
"I was skku to the hakkikt Akkukkak in his day." Sikkukkut's voice was soft, cultured; but in its softness she heard distinctly the clicks within the throat, the clashing of inner jaws as he lifted his chin. "We do know each other, he and I- We have met— before this. At Meetpoint. Does he remember?"
"—Friend of Akkukkak's," Hilfy said. Distract him; gods, distract him, get him off the hunt. "—If kif had friends."
"This human has sfik," Sikkukkut said, unmoving. "Akkukkak failed to know this. How could so soft a creature have so much sfik as this, to elude kif on Meetpoint docks? Had I been there, of course, he would have fared less well. And now I am here, and he is here, and I am asking him these things."
"—He's still asking questions," she said to Tully.
"I shall be asking them," Sikkukkut said. "I do ask them." The silence lingered. Light kifish fingers touched hershoulder, stroked the fur—
—withdrew. She sucked in a kif-tainted breath, trembling. Her ears were flat. She went deaf, near blind, hunter-vision narrowed to one long black tunnel focused on the kif. But Sikkukkut drew away. He settled down again onto his many-legged chair and tucked his legs up until he indeed resembled some ungainly insect.
Tully's shoulder touched hers and leaned there. She felt his weight, the chill of his flesh: gods, no, stay upright, don't give way, don't faint, they'II go for you—
The kif lifted his hands to the hood he wore and dropped it back to his hunched shoulders, the first sight she had ever had of any kif unhooded, and it was no pleasant thing, the long dark skull, the dull black wisp of mane that lay forward-grained along the centerline: he was virtually earless, stsho-like in that respect. She had seen models. Holos. None were this peculiarly graceful, ugly thing.
The eyes rested on her, apt for such a face, dark and glittering. "You will understand these things: this creature has more than sfik-value; it has sfik itself. Let me speak in hani terms: Akkukkak perished of embarrassment. Therefore I love this creature, because it has killed my superior and now I have no superior."
"Gibberish."
"I think it quite clear. It has value. If it yields me its value and tells me what I ask I shall be further grateful,"
"Sure."
"Perhaps I shall keep it in my affection and let it see the death of my fri
end Akkhtimakt. Perhaps I shall let it eat of my rivals."
It still spoke hani. The words meant other, kifish things. Her nape bristled. She wanted out, out of here.
"Translate this."
"—He's crazy as all kif."
The thin body shook and hissed atop its insect-perch. "Bigot. I shall make my own translations. Kkkt!"
"Fool!" mahen authority screamed into com; and other, less complimentary things.
"Stand by third dump," Pyanfar said.
"You fool, daughter ten thousand fools, what do? what do? You get report sent han this outrage; we report you endanger—''
The Pride dumped speed, a breakup of telemetry—
—phased in again, into a new flood of station chatter.
"Khym. List." Tirun's voice, prompting him in his muzziness. "Shift it. Move."
The incoming shiplist turned up on number two screen, Haral's transfer of data smooth and routine while station's voice suddenly grew quieter ...
"That's two minutes Light," Geran said. They were virtually realtime with Mkks station, moving at a crawl now, within the capacity of their realspace braking thrust.
Harukk, the shiplist said. There were other kifish names. A lot of them. A few mahendo'sat. A stsho. (A stsho, at Mkks!) Aflock of tc'a and chi in Mkks' small methane-sector.
"Thank the gods," Pyanfar muttered, and began to take he telemetry again, shifting her mind back to business. "Approach," she said; and when Geran delayed: "Course clearance, gods rot it, look to it!" She began The Pride's high-V braking roll. "Hang on. We're going with it. Now."
"What business?" Sikkukkut asked; and Hilfy pressed close to Tully's side, hearing the shifting of bodies about them beyond the smoke and the lights. "What did it arrange with the mahe? Kkkt. Ask it. Get an answer, young Chanur."
"—He's asking about deals," Hilfy said, and shifted again, for a kif moved up on that side of Tully. She looked at Sikkukkut. "He doesn't understand. He can't understand, gods rot it. He uses a translator on our ship. He can't speak, he can't shape our words even if he knew what I was saying to him."
Sikkukkut gathered up a silver cup from the table, a ball-like thing studded with thumbsized, flat-ended projections. He extended a dark tongue, dipped his snout into it and drank—gods knew what. He lifted his face. A thin tongue flicked about his muzzle. He still held the cup, his fingers caressing the flat-studded surface. "Choose better words: They will harm him, young Chanur, my skkukun; they will. Persuade him. Break this silence of his. If there are mechanical translators needed, we will supply them. Only make him speak."
"I'm trying." She shifted again, bringing herself between Tully and the circling kif. "Back off!—Tully, Tully, tell him something. Anything. I think you'd better."
—Lie, she wished him; play the game, I'll help you—She felt the chill of his body against her side. She tried to look up at him, but he looked only to the kif, perhaps without the wit left to lie at all.
"Perhaps," said Sikkukkut—A door opened, admitting sullen light: another kif came in, silhouette like all the rest.—"We should consider another private interview with him. Kkkk-t?"
The kif hastened past the others. Sikkukkut turned his head.
"Ksstit," it hissed. "Kkotkot ktun."
Message. Hilfy drew a breath and felt Tully shiver against her. The interloper bent its hooded head near its captain's and whispered shortly. Sikkukkut rested with his hands upon his knees. His shoulders moved with a long, long breath and his jaw lifted.
"Kkkt! Kktkhi ukkik skutti fikkti knkkuri. Ktikkikt!"
All about them the room rustled with kif. Take them from here. Hilfy knew that much kifish. But not the inflections. Not why, or what had happened, or what happened next.
Kif closed about them: Tully let out an unaccustomed sound as they tore him from her side.
"Claws in," she yelled at the kif, "you stupid clot!"—She raked a kifish shin with a bare-clawed foot. A returned blow jolted her teeth and claws bit into her shoulders. There was nothing, with her hands tied, that she could do. They were enough to carry her. They seized her about both knees and did that at the end, despite her twisting and turning.
"Bastard!" she yelled past kifish bodies. She saw Sikkukkut still sitting there like some graven image in the dark, flanked by other kif.
"They are here," Sikkukkut said.
The door came between and closed.
Mkks station was a wall in front of them as The Pride homed in: the berth Mkks had assigned her glowed with the comeaheads on the number two screen while the closing numbers ticked off.
—"Please you wait," mahen authority had protested via com during the last part of their approach, a much, much more conciliatory tone. "Got already advise Harukk, same want conference, repeat, want conference. Request reply^—"
And closer still, in their silence: "We make request you delay dock, Pride of Chanur, you got problem, please, we negotiate—"
Because there was no way a station like Mkks had to stop any ship from coming in. And worse, there were fifteen vulnerable kifish ships dead-vee at dock, attached to Mkks' very vulnerable side. Mkks would have sounded alarms by now and thrown the section-seals on its docks, fearing projectiles launched, fearing kif; and riot.
—"Please," the protest went on from Mkks authority: ''You stop this make negotiate the kif: We forbid you carry quarrel here."
But they had the berth they demanded, a clear spot with nothing directly next them on either side. There were kif at hand. Harukk was in the sixth berth down, within the section. Two mahen traders were docked far over on the other side of Mkks' torus. Kif ships lined the adjacent section's docks. There were more mahen ships beyond. The solitary stsho. And tc'a and chi on methane-side.
—"We meet you at dockside. We bring security. Make negotiate this matter. We appeal—"
Clank-thump. The grapples took, from their side and from station's; the hookup routines started. They had a docking crew waiting. And security. So Mkks Central said.
"They've stopped talking," Khym said anxiously, meaning he had done nothing to cut them off by accident, in his inexperience. "They just went quiet."
But half a heartbeat later, another call came through.
"This is kif port authority," said a clicking voice." You are clear. Welcome to Mkks, Pride of Chanur. You may even bring your arms. The hakkikt extends safeconduct. You will have guides. Welcome, again, to Mkks."
"Gods rot those bastards!" Geran cried.
"They've got their own personnel inside Central for sure," Tirun said. "That was a valid code."
"Move. We've got no choice." Pyanfar powered her chair about and hurled herself out of it, slapped the back of Haral's seat. "Get that linkup made."
"Rifles or APs?" Tirun was already on her feet; Haral's sister, tall, full-maned and bearded, with gold rings winking from her ear. There was Geran, slight and fairer: slight indeed against the size of Khym nef Mahn who climbed out of his seat and towered there, wider and taller and dead grim.
"APs," Pyanfar said with a tautness about the mouth, a drawing-down of her mustaches. "But I'll take a rifle; want you with one, too. Might want a distance weapon on those docks—might-want a lot of distance, huh? And I don't think we have to worry about the law here."
There were quiet laughs, a soft explosion of ugly humor. Tirun opened the locker and passed out side-arms to her and Geran, mahen weapons that fired an explosive shell, not the motley patchup of pocket guns they had had back at Kshshti: APs with the necessary extra cartridge-case on the holster belt. And the two rifles, hers and Tirun's, longer-range and capable of a precise target, unlike the APs.
Pyanfar took the rifle and checked the safety and cycled the power-test while com crackled with further instructions. "We will meet you outside," the kifish voice said. Thumps and clanks went on, the securing of lines and hoses.
The kif intended ambush. They took that for granted. Ambush might come later, after they had gotten far from the ship, or it might be a kifish rush the mom
ent the airlock opened, and gods help any mahen dock-worker caught between.
"They're moving the access link in." Haral spun her chair about. "We're in." She rose and belted on the AP Tirun handed her.
"One of us," a voice said from the door, "has got to stay here and hold the farm."
"Gods rot—" Pyanfar did not need to turn. She saw Chur clearly from where she stood. Geran's sister leaned in the doorway of the bridge, blue breeches drawstringed perilously low, beneath the bandages swathing her midsection. "Chur—"
"Doing fine, thanks." The tightness about Chur's nose and mouth denied it. "Na Khym's worth more outside, isn't he? And / can bust her loose from dock if need be." Chur limped across the bridge into her sister's reach and waved off Geran's help. She reached for her own accustomed seat at scan and leaned on the back of it, kept going as far as Haral's co-pilot's post and sat down. "You tell me when you want her opened, captain. I'll figure shut for myself. No mahe's getting in, huh? Gods rotted sure no kif either."
Pyanfar gnawed her mustaches and threw one look at Geran, whose head lifted in terminal stubbornness. No reasoning with either sister. It ran in the blood. No reasoning with that sudden fire in Khym's eyes, when he saw a chance more to his liking than sitting guard up here. "Fine," she said. "Get Chur a rifle. In case. And get him one. Move Khym, you keep your wits about you out there. You don't breathe without my order. Hear? We've got one problem on those docks. One. Hear me?"
"Aye."
They were husband and wife at other times. Not here. Not out there. As males went, he was a rock of stability and self-control.
And Chur was right: he was helpless with the boards.
Clank-thump-clang. The access way was firm. They had connection to Mkks station.
Geran laid a rifle into Chur's grasp. Chur lifted it deliberately, though she had done well to lift a hand the other side of jump's time-stretch. Click-click. Safety off and on again. looked up, ears pricked, mouth pursed in a wry smile that showed hollowness below her cheekbones, substance waste in jumpspace healing. Her gold-red fur was lusterless and dulled. Light showed through her ear-edge where rings belonged. Chur had not dressed for amenities, not even important ones like that. "Get them out, huh?" Chur said, meaning Hilfy, meaning Tully, and gave a look at Geran before all of them. "Want you all back, too." she said.
The Kif Strike Back cs-3 Page 2
