The Kif Strike Back

by C. J. Cherryh

  “Aunt. What’s this Kefk business?”

  Pyanfar swung the chair all the way about in Hilfy’s direction and leaned her head back on the cushions. Nobody came onto The Pride’s bridge and used that tone to her. But Hilfy—Hilfy wanted latitude lately. Pyanfar gave it. “We’re going there, yes. Got a bit of business to take care of.”

  “Kif business?”

  Her own ears went down. She saw the fracture-lines in Hilfy, the unreason. And said nothing for a breath.

  “Well, is it?”

  “Jik’s business. Look, we got a bill to pay, niece. A godsrotted big bill.”

  “To whom?”

  “Jik, for one.” In spite of herself her heart raced, her ears lay back, her claws jerked half out of sheaths and gouged the upholstery. “Jik. You think I got the influence to pull a mahen hunter-ship and a han deputy in here to help us bail you out without some tradeoff? You’re expensive, niece.”

  That slapped young Hilfy in the face. The whites showed at her eyes’ corners. Her nostrils dilated. “What do we do, then?”

  “What we do—” Pyanfar’s voice cracked, utter weariness. She waved a hand. Hilfy wavered there on her feet in no better condition. It was madness. All of them were that tired. “What we do, niece, is what we’re set to do, whatever we’re set to do. Yes, we go into Kefk. I don’t see we have much choice. Debts are being called in. We don’t doublecross Jik. Even Ehrran’s going on this one. Don’t ask me why. To spy, that’s gods-rotted sure. For us, it’s what I said. Debts. We got you out. Best I could do.”

  “We’ve got a kif on this ship.”

  “Not my choice.”

  “What is, lately?”

  She did not believe for a moment she had heard that; and then her muscles moved, one convulsion that took her from the chair. And Hilfy backed up, stood there with her ears flattened and dismay on her face, as if she did not believe she had said it either.

  Khym climbed from his chair; his ears were back; and that was trouble on two feet.

  “How much territory do I give you?” Pyanfar asked. “What are you due, huh?” Down the corridor the lift doors had opened again. Chur and—gods—Tully both were on their way to the bridge, faster than either of them ought; while all about the bridge there was a dire silence, whisper of leather as crew turned in their chairs. “You got some particular recommendation, niece?”

  “No.” The word got out, finally. Chur and Tully arrived on the bridge, all but carrying each other at the last.

  “Maybe you better go back on break,” Pyanfar said. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “Gods rot it, aunt—”

  “I got you out! Gods and thunders, Hilfy Chanur, you want to argue method with me?”

  Tully pushed off from the counter edge—feckless, fever-crazy, wandering between two mad hani. But he stopped there wobbling back and forth with panic in his eyes.

  So she understood then; and had a look at the way things had been among the kif. So all the crew did. Further things she did not want to surmise. Hilfy took Tully by the shoulders and carefully set him to the vacant side, where Khym was not, back in Chur’s keeping.

  There was deathly silence after that, with only the beep and flash of unliving things.

  “Hilfy,” Pyanfar said, and sank into her chair. “Hilfy—” —hearing those beeps and the chatter of incoming printout. “We’re all tired. We’re not up to this. Other ships have got other shifts, crew to spare—Geran, put a call over to Jik. Tell him fry his gods-rotted schedule; we’re going offline. Hilfy: when we picked up Jik, he’d had a skirmish with the kif somewhere. He’d twisted Akkhtimakt’s tail, right well. We don’t know where Akkhtimakt is right now, but he wants our hides, no question of it. Sikkukkut swears it was Akkhtimakt’s agents blew Kshshti docks to blazes and made a grab for you and Tully—”

  “Does it matter which gods-rotted kif—”

  “Shut up and listen. Sikkukkut grabbed you instead, for his own reasons. And it doesn’t call for gratitude. Just common sense. Akkhtimakt’s agents ran from Kshshti. They’ll have gotten back to him; and that means we’ve got precious little time. Chances are there’s one of Akkhtimakt’s spotters hovering about Kshshti system. It’s hard to find those kind of things till they transmit. And if that’s the case he’ll find out where we went the minute he skims through Kshshti system, he’ll get the whole story of what happened there before he dumps speed, and gods help them if he stays to settle things with them. We don’t think he will. We think he’ll come for us non-stop. But we can’t bet on that. We also have a report that earless stsho that just ran out of here took the Kefk route home, to spill everything gtst knows in the process, don’t doubt it. We’ve got problems here, niece.”

  “We’re within a one-jump of Maing Tol or Idunspol, for the gods’ own sakes! What happened to getting Tully there? Where did that priority go?”

  “With Banny Ayhar, from Kshshti. Prosperity couriered Tully’s packet on, with a human-language translation tape, updated. If Banny didn’t run into something, that packet’s already at Maing Tol. Or will be.” Her mind had trouble with trans-light figures, tired as she was. “We’re faster than we were. And think of this—if you’re so concerned for Tully’s welfare. If we do take him to the mahendo’sat at Maing Tol, they’ll grab him sure. Why’d you think I wouldn’t give him to Jik out there? They’d lock him up and go at him till he’s spilled everything. You want that for him, huh? Maybe he still knows something. Maybe I’m crazy not to get him off my hands; but I’m not doing that to him. It’d kill him, after this. Hear? They’d never let him loose.”

  “You were ready enough to turn him over at Kshshti!” Hilfy yelled, and over at her side there was a constant drone from the translating com-unit at Tully’s side. His eyes were dark and wide.

  “That was before,” Pyanfar said, “gods rot it, before the thing blew up, before we—”

  “—ended up in debt. Admit it. He’s for sale. He’s expendable if it gets us out of hock. That’s what you’re holding out for! A better gods-be deal!”

  “Mind your mouth, whelp!”

  “Well, isn’t it the truth?”

  “Gods and thunders, no, it’s not. Not—” —since that hall, she thought. Not since she went into a kifish stronghold after him. And had a look at how it was. “Not any more, it isn’t.”

  “So we ally with them? Risk all our lives when we’re within a one-jump of mahen space?”

  “We got a debt. Like you said. And it’s mahen space. Under mahen law. Mahen politics. You want to walk into it, throw ourselves on their charity? You want to gamble everything you got on someone else’s priorities?”

  “I thought we were falling-down grateful to our allies here. I thought it was debt. Them to us. Now it’s something else.”

  “Maybe if I gods-be knew what it was, niece, I wouldn’t be going along with this. Mahendo’sat go on status. You want Jik killed, do you? Want him to go—and what happens to his Personage then, and what happens to his friends, like Goldtooth and like us? We got interests in this. And they don’t call for blind trust.”

  “We’re not a warship, aunt!”

  “No,” she said. Her gut hurt. Missed meal? Missed sleep? Raw fear? “We’re a trading ship without a cargo, in debt up to our noses, and the han deputy’s got enough in her files to ruin us, the stsho at Meetpoint are bound to send their own complaint back to the han—I don’t trust that bastard Stle stles stlen further than I can see him; and we got a kif loose who’s got us down as number one target in the whole gods-forsaken universe. Akkhtimakt wants to be head kif over all the kif, and if he makes it you can make your own guess what our personal chances are. So you want to know why I take alliance with the mahendo’sat?”

  “You don’t think they’ll let us have fair chance at any human trade. They’ll double-deal us, they will, all our precious allies, first chance.”

  “I expect they’ll try. They’re good at that. But right now they’re all the credit we’ve got. You want to g
o to Maing Tol, try to limp the long way back to Meetpoint to bail out our cargo—what with, niece? Go back to Anuurn and try to argue away all the charges in the han? When this gets back, your father’s going to have challenges; every whelp with ambitions is going to try him, Ehrran’s going to make double-sure of that—and Kohan’s getting old, imp. He can’t take everyone. That’s the way it is.”

  “So we risk The Pride?”

  “That’s the way I choose.”

  No one moved. Hilfy stood there trying to catch her breath. There was a persistent beep from com.

  “What we do,” Pyanfar said, “we take the rest we’re due. We back up this lunatic mission of Jik’s and we guard the deputy’s blackbreeched backside. And we hope to all the gods Goldtooth’s in reach. The best we can do is keep the mahendo’sat well-disposed. Sikkukkut’s only normal crazy. You got out alive. What I hear about Akkhtimakt I don’t half like. That kif’s got a real grudge against us. Sikkukkut’s only half mean—that’s the truth, niece. Listen to me. You want Akkhtimakt to be the great hakkikt, the one that unites the worlds, the leader the kif have been waiting for since they discovered piracy? Or you want Sikkukkut, who at least has limits? Maybe we have got a personal stake in this kif fight, huh?”

  “So we let Sikkukkut into bed?”

  The coarseness set her ears back. “We don’t let the bastard anywhere. Yes, we made a deal. It benefits both sides.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve had that bastard’s hands on me, I’ve had drugs and shocks and every lousy trick that kif could think of—gods know what all they did to Tully: he couldn’t even tell me—you want me to approve this deal?”

  “No. I don’t. I didn’t ask.” She rested her head back. “I just tried to let you know what happened. You want to ride this one out in quarters, go on. You’re due the rest. I don’t recommend you get off here at Mkks. It’s going to be real hot here in a little while. Real hot, about the time the word gets to Maing Tol and to Akkt. We’re talking about the mahendo’sat losing a star station, hear? Or the kif taking one. And no one’s just real happy. You’re not alone in troubles. Gods know what the mahendo’sat will do or how good Jik’s credit still is back home. We’ve lost any backing we might have had from the han. All we’ve got is Jik. And Goldtooth. And if they go, we’ve got nothing. Nothing. Chances are they’ll double-deal us just the way you say. But if they go—chances are the Personage they work for goes down; and there’ll be a new Personage. New deal. New policies. I’m not sure we’d like that. I’m not sure even Ehrran would.”

  Hilfy’s shoulders fell. She had a look of pain. The beep from com went on. It was her station. She waved a hand in defeat and went over and picked up the earplug, pushed the button. “Pride of Chanur,” she said to someone. “Com officer speaking.”

  Hilfy sat down. Back turned. Got to work.

  “Tully,” Pyanfar said. She held out her hand and he came over to her chair. He gave her that blue-eyed, thinking stare. But he took her hand gently as he had learned; and she curled her claws round his hand, not enough to prick his soft skin. “Go below. Go rest. It’s all right. It’s all right, Tully. It’s just a discussion. It’s just talk. Go on below and rest.”

  “I’m crew. Scan tech. I work.”

  “You’re mincemeat; and you can’t read our boards, let alone work our controls without a probe. You want to work? Go get some sleep. You work later. Go.” She freed her hand and gave him a swat on the rump to send him off, but Tully failed to move. Khym was standing there watching all of this. It set her teeth on edge. Her husband. This male. And an adolescent with a gut-deep hurt and gods knew what notions acquired in a kifish cell. “We all go off duty and get some rest. Sleep. Food. All right?” A second swat, clawtips out. He did move, startled-like, and looked back at her in shock. “Get,” she said in a no-nonsense way, ears back; and he backed up.

  “Aunt,” Hilfy said. Business voice, sane and sensible. “It’s Aja Jin. Captain’s compliments and he’s got a problem. He says he’s got to talk to you direct. He won’t take no. You want to talk to him?”

  “I’ll take it.” Anything—anything—to maintain Hilfy’s quiet. “I can guess.” She swung her chair about. “Tully; Khym; Chur; Geran; get out of here, get fed, get to bed. Now. Move it. Hilfy. You too. One other thing, Hilfy.”

  “Aye?” Defensively.

  “Kif says Tahar’s friendly with Akkhtimakt.”

  “Moon Rising?” Hilfy’s eyes widened.

  “Since Gaohn. Makes sense, doesn’t it? She played close with Akkukkak; after Gaohn, where else could she go? Vigilance is real interested. Thought you’d like to know.”

  “Gods rot. Aunt—”

  “Mind that language. You’re back in civilization, niece.” She punched the contact in as Haral switched it, a solid stream of mahen exigency in her ear. “Gods-be, Jik—”

  “—time. You got take comp feed. What you want, wait Akkhtimakt, wait Harak kif?”

  “What you want, my crew loses it in jump?”

  “Got no damn time this rest. I got same station authority my neck, got same want board ship. I got explain kif you want sleep, a?”

  She raked her mane back and flicked her ears. Rings chimed, light and constant. “Then I’ll explain to the hakkikt, friend. You want that?”

  A moment of silence from the other end. “I talk hakkikt. Damn.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Before sign off, maybe get comp feed through. Deal, a?”

  “No! My crew’s gone the limit, understand? No more!”

  “We got stsho run go Kefk.”

  “We can’t do it, Jik.”

  “I send crew.”

  “Not on my deck, you don’t. No way.”

  “You want I come over there explain? We got stationer trouble, got urgent request we clear dock, got big fear, Pyanfar. Got kif trouble. What I say to kif? Sorry, hani got take nap?”

  “Explain all you like. I got fall on my face, bastard. I’m out, through; whole crew’s going offshift.”

  “Got finish comp feed.”

  “Twelve hours. Then we do it.”

  “Nine.”

  “Eleven.”

  “Damn, hani, this not merchant deal. Nine. Nine all we possible got. We cover you tail that long. Listen.”

  “Nine,” she muttered. “Nine.” She punched the contact out, turned the chair and got up.

  Hilfy and Chur had gone. Khym and Geran. But Tully lingered, alone against the bulkhead door frame, hands behind him.

  Looking at her.

  “Scared you, huh?”

  “Pyanfar.”

  “I’m not mad at you. I give you an order, na Tully, you move, hear? Did I say get?”

  “Pyanfar.” He stood his ground. His mouth was set, his eyes showed panic. But he stood away from his wall and came as far as the observer seat—came further suddenly and flung his arms about her. She hated that. But it spoke more than Tully could. She patted his head, pushed him back and looked at him.

  Trust. Gods knew he had no reason.

  “You’re a gods-be fool, Tully.”

  “Hilfy say you come.”

  “Hilfy’s another.” But it touched her all the same. And what had he thought when she left him with Sikkukkut? What had he believed then—not being hani, not being kin or anything but trouble to them? “You go rest, huh? We take care of you.”

  “I don’t go kif.”

  “No. You don’t go to the kif. Not to anybody. We keep you with us.” She thought things over and poked him with a foreclaw to get his attention. “We got a kif aboard. Hilfy tell you that?”

  “Kif—on The Pride?”

  “Prisoner. Name’s Skkukuk. Know him?”

  A shake of his head. “No. ## prisoner?”

  “Missed some of that. Sikkukkut gave him to us. That’s where we got him. You don’t be afraid, huh?”

  A second shake of his head. “Hilfy—Hilfy—want # say—she # kif.”

  “Missed that too. She’s not happy. I kno
w that. But we take care of her.”

  “She’s good. Good.”

  “I know that too.” She cuffed him gently on the arm. “They get some food for you?”

  “Not want.”

  “Not want. Come on.” She took Tully by the arm and led him across the bridge. Stopped and looked at Haral and Tirun, whose eyes wept dark streams from exhaustion. Her own watered. She wiped at them. “Get off duty.”

  “You,” Haral said.

  “Me,” she said. “I am.” She held Tully by the wrist and headed up the gentle curve to the galley. Behind them, chairs hummed and there were sounds of switches thrown.

  There was activity in the galley: Geran and Khym had gone that way, and gods, she ought to have flinched at dragging Tully in there with Khym, but she was beyond it all. “Sit down,” she said to Tully, and he did that, in the nearest spot, took the cup Geran put into his hands—Geran’s own. He drank. “Going to have to take some food down to Hilfy,” she said. “And Chur.”

  “I will,” Geran said, and dumped more into the brewer as Haral and Tirun showed up and went over to haunt the counter and rummage the supplies.

  “Here. You need it.” Khym shoved a cup into Pyanfar’s hands. “Sit down yourself.”

  “Huh.” She subsided onto the bench and drank the steaming cup from both hands, set it down and wiped her mane back from her face.

  Com beeped.

  “Gods rot,” Haral said, and took it from pocket com. “Pride of Chanur: you got our recording; we’re on shutdown. Is this an emergency?”

  “I have a personal message from the hakkikt. I am waiting at your dockside.”

  “Gods and thunders,” Pyanfar moaned. “Kif.”

  “Don’t go,” Khym said. “Send it away.”

  “You can end up regretting a thing like that.” She swallowed a massive gulp of gfi. “Tell it come up. Tell Ehrran’s guards let it pass. I’ll deal with it below.”

  “Kif,” Tully said softly. His alien eyes shifted this way and that in evident alarm. “Kif come—”

  Pyanfar signed for quiet. Haral relayed the message.

  “It’s coming up,” Haral said. And with a lifting of her jaw. “You know those gods-be Ehrran are going to report this business.”