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were hisses, the click of kifish speech. She shut her eyes and opened them again and the nightmare remained true.
* * *
Pyanfar stopped and looked about her, swung the rifle about as she heard someone coming in this zone of wreckage and shot-out lights. Hani silhouette against the lighted zone. "Captain," Haral cried, and the echoes went up. "Captain—" Her first officer gasped for breath and stopped, leaning on a gantry leg. " Harukk just left dock. Mahendo'sat just sent word.... "
She said nothing. Nothing seemed adequate. She only slung the rifle to her shoulder and started running for the center of the search, for what help there was to find.
* * *
They had left. "Tully," Hilfy said. The g stress was considerable, and it was hard to breathe; the kif had beat that out the door, gone somewhere for protection, but they had left Tully lying there on the table, no blanket, nothing against the cold. "Tully—" But he did not move. She gave over trying to rouse him. They had patched the worst, she reckoned. They were headed for long acceleration, for jump, and they wanted their prisoner to stay alive that long.
She, she reckoned, was quite another matter. Against Chanur, quite a number of kif had a score to settle.
"Going where? She built the map in her head. Kefk, likeliest. Kefk, inside kif territory. They could do that in one jump."
The whole ship jolted. Hit, she thought with one wild hope that someone, somehow, had moved to stop it; but the g grew worse then, incredibly worse. The ship had dumped cargo, no, not even cargo: she remembered Harukk, the sleek wicked lines of her docked at Meetpoint. It was the false 182
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pods that had just blown, and stripped Harukk down to the hunter-ship she was.
Nothing could catch her now.
* * *
"How long ago?" Pyanfar shouted at the messenger, and the tall mahe backed up a step. "Soon ago, soon." The mahe laid hands on his chest. "I messenger, hani captain, got com shot up, come office Personage give me same, say bring you."
Pyanfar took a swing at nothing in particular, turned away and found Rhif Ehrran in her path.
"Well, Chanur? Got any brilliant plan?"
"If you weren't down here on the dock, if you hadn't left the only ship fit to chase them sitting crewless, you gods-rotted fool!"
"To do what? Chase a hunter-ship to Kefk? You're the fool, Chanur.
There'll be a full report. Believe me that there will."
"Py, don't!" It was Khym who got her arm in time and dragged her back, so it was too late to do it at white heat. She straightened herself, stared at the Ehrran whose crew had moved in to back their captain.
"Captain," a mahe said, moving in. "Captain, Personage want see, quick, please quick. Got car."
She shoved the rifle at Khym, turned and followed the mahe across the littered deck. She was aware of Haral with her, Tirun, Khym hastening to catch up.
"Chanur." A hani voice, a portly hani moving up from the side. "Chanur—
" Banny Ayhar caught her arm and tried to stop her.
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She flung the hand off. "Get out of my way, Ayhar. Go lick Ehrran's feet."
"Listen, Chanur." Ayhar caught her arm with force this time and thrust her bulk in the way. "I'm sorry! You want passage?"
She stopped dead and stared at Banny Ayhar's broad face.
"She hire you?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"See here, Chanur—"
Pyanfar walked off.
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Chapter 9
The lift let them out where Tully and Hilfy should have gotten to, in the upper security levels, where guards looked nervous at the appearance of a clutch of blood-stained hani armed with rifles, and one of them a male.
But doors opened for them unquestioned, doors upon doors of Kshshti's utilitarian architecture, gray steel, heavy security, armed guards at intervals.
Stars and dark: Pyanfar lost the sight in front of her for that, remembrance of the kif hunter-ship in dock at Meetpoint, sleek, deadly, fast; of a ship outbound to Kshshti nadir and the jump range at a greater and greater fraction of c. She went there the guard motioned, went where doors parted.
The last let them into a dim chamber with a plasteen division, with violet light beyond. On the white-lit side, a desk and two mahendo'sat. On the violet one, a huge serpent-form, which moved and shifted restlessly before the waist-up glass.
Tc'a. The sight of the methane-breather shocked her to an involuntary stop. The barrier looked frail, the presence hani were accustomed to see only on vid and dimly, showed detail that made it seem all too imminent: wrinkled, soft-leather skin with phosphor-glow in the gold, eyespots large as a fist, five of them clustered round a complex trifold mouth/sensor. The tongue darted, constantly. The body shifted to this side and that, which tc'a always did.
"Esteemed captain." The Voice spoke, uncharacteristically subdued. "I present the Personage Toshena-eseteno, stationmaster this side Kshshti; the Personage Tt'om'm'mu, stationmaster methane side."
"Honorables," Pyanfar murmured. The tc'a alone deserved the plural, several times over; and gods help psychologists.
The leathery serpent-shape loomed closer, twisted to peer through the glass with its five orange eyespots. A wailing came through, five-voiced, 185
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from a brain of multiple parts, as a monitor below the glass displayed the glowing matrix:
* * *
TC'ATC'AHANIHANIMAHEKIFKIFCHICHISTAYSTAYSTAYGOGO UNITYUNITYANGERANGERANGERGOGOSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAY
STAYGOMESSAGE
"Thank the tc'a Personage. What message?"
"Kif." The mahen Personage rose slowly from the desk, robes falling into order, severe robes unlike the display of Personages elsewhere. He held out a paper with his own hand, and she took it. "This come," the Personage said, not through the Voice, "from Harukk. All three kif ship outbound. We got two mahe ship chase."
"Shoot?"
"No shoot."
She held a small, horrid doubt whether they should have refrained, hostages or no. For the hostages' sake. If it were The Pride in pursuit—but she pushed that thought away. Unfolded the paper.
Hunter Pyanfar, it said. When the wind blows one should spread nets.
Mine was fortunate for us both. Should your sfik insist to meet with me, Mkks is neutral ground. There you may reclaim what is yours.
"He's got them," she said for the crew's benefit. She gave the paper to Haral. Mkks. Disputed Zones. Not Kefk, in kif territory.
Bait. Where she could reach it.
"I make order," the Personage said, " mahe ship track this kif. Go Mkks.
Try use influence."
" Influence. How much influence, when a kif's got what he wants?"
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The Personage made a small, casting-away gesture. Pyanfar stood there with her pulse hammering in her ears and no trust at all. Nothing, where they crossed the mahe's interest.
"You follow this kif?" the Personage asked. "Or you go Maing Tol?"
Which gets my ship fixed, Honorable? But she did not say that. She cast a look toward the glass where the tc'a dipped and wove aimless patterns.
Back then to the mahendo'sat in his ascetic robes. "You have a suggestion?"
The Personage lasped into mahen language.
"Hani captain," the Voice said, "kif use proverb mean he got result from confusion someone else. Maybe not plan. Got maybe other motive. This Sikkukkut—" The Voice shifted footing and put her hands behind her.
"Forgive. Not got polite hani word. Hatonofa. He look get number one position."
"I know the word. I don't know this kif. No one knows a kif, but another kif."
Another exchange between Personage and Voice.
"Personage," said the Voice, "want make delicate this. I confess lack skill."
&
nbsp; "Say it plain. I'll add the courtesy."
"Ask what else you got this kif want."
"I don't know."
The tc'a made a sound.
CHITC'AHANIHANIKIFKIFKIFSTAYWARNDATADATAWANTGO
TWANTTC'AKSHSHTIMKKSMKKSMKKSKEFKAKKTFEARWARN
DIEDIETAKETAKETAKE
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"Information," Toshena-eseteno translated that.
"What's the Kefk and Akkt mean?"
The screen went dark and stayed that way.
"What's it mean?" she asked the mahe.
"Not clear." The Personage walked to the glass and laid his hand on it.
"Not always clear, tc'a colleague. Warn you. Got warn you. Crew—already work repair you ship. Where go?"
She gnawed her mustache. "Twenty hours."
"Maybe do better."
The screen lit again. The serpent wailed.
CHITC'ACHIKNNNHANIHANIMAHETC'AHANIHANIHANISAMEO
THEROTHERKSHSHTIKSHSHTIKSHSHTIKSHSHTIKSHSHTIKSHS
HTIKSHSHTIMKKSMKKSMKKSMKKSMKKSMKKSKSHSHTISEES
EESEESEEGODIESTAYDANGERDANGERDANGERTHREATDANG
ERDANGERDANGER
"What threat?" Pyanfar asked. The matrix had potential to be read in any direction. The computer picked it out of the harmonics and no sequence was certain. "Knnn? What hani die? Present or future?"
The tc'a reared back from the glass.
AVOIDAVOIDAVOIDAVOIDAVOIDAVOIDAVOID
"Is that the answer or the reaction?"
The tc'a dipped and weaved. A chi skittered up into view from below the glass, a hani-sized bundle of rapidly moving sticks phosphoresced in the violet light. It clambered up the tc'a wrinkled side and clung there, touching with frenetic quivers of its limbs.
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The Compact's sixth alleged intelligence. Or a tc'a symbiont. No one had figured that out.
DANGERDANGERDANGERDANGERDANGERDANGERDANGER
"Still, be still." The mahen Personage lifted his hands to the violet glow, turned about against the light. His ears were back. The light glistened in a halo about him; his profile was shadowed, featureless.
"One broke out of Meetpoint," Pyanfar said. "Knnn. Tc'a too. There was trouble there. Haven't seen it since."
"Knnn come, go. No one ask."
"Might be here, you mean."
"Knnn business. Not talk this."
"They snatched the human ships."
"Not talk this!" The Personage turned to face her, totally shadow now.
She flicked her ears and lifted her head in one long grudging breath.
"Apologies." A second, shorter breath. The air seemed close. "I'd better go, Honorable."
" Where you go?" the Personage asked. "Maing Tol? Mkks?"
"You want to tell me which?"
"I say, you not listen, true?"
Not dull-witted. No.
And not, adding up the asked and not-asked, not knowing everything Goldtooth had planned or done. Maybe the wavefront of that information was one lonely hani ship. Or maybe Maing Tol had not trusted Kshshti security.
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Coils within coils within coils. To pull the snake's tail one had to know which end was which.
"I got orders," Pyanfar said, " mahe who gave me this job. He trust. You?"
The Personage said something the Voice did not render, and turned and gazed at Tt'om'm'mu. The tc'a and chi were otherwise occupied, the chi busy waving its limbs over the tc'a's leathery hide. Speech, maybe. No oxygen-breather knew.
The mahe turned round again. "You go where choose. Got no bill, no dock charge. Kshshti give."
"Gratitude."
The mahe joined his hands in courtesy. The tc'a Tt'om'm'mu— remained occupied.
"Hurts," Chur murmured. Her eyes cleared somewhat, looking up at them clustered about her bed. "Want—" The rest of it faded out.
"Sedation's pretty heavy," Geran said, leaning forward from her low stool at the bedside to brush at her sister's mane. Pyanfar nodded, hands within her belt. Geran had gotten the news outside the door, knew the contents of the message. "Good treatment here. Kshshti medics get a lot of practice."
It was a joke, desperately delivered. Eyes still closed, Chur gave a twitch of a smile, as forced as the joke. "Get me out of here, captain. Gods-rotted dull port."
"Get your rest." Pyanfar leaned over and closed her hand on Chur's arm.
"Hear? We'll be back."
"Where's Hilfy? Tully?" Chur's eyes opened, far sharper than she had thought. "You find them?"
"We're working on it."
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"Gods rot." Chur moved, a stir of her whole body. "Where are they?"
"Go to sleep. Don't move about like that."
"Something's wrong."
"Chur." Geran slipped a hand in and held her arm. "Captain's got work to do. Go back to sleep."
"In a mahen hell. What's the news? "
There was no lying about it. Not to Chur. Not likely. The blood pressure would go up and up. She would worry at it. "Mkks," Pyanfar said. "Kif snatched them both. One Sikkukkut. Says he's talking deal. Wants us to go to Mkks to meet him."
"O gods."
"Listen." She held Chur's arm, hard. "Listen. It's not hopeless. We've got help from the mahendo' sat. We'll get them back. Both."
"You going to let the mahendo'sat do it?"
She hesitated on that answer. Gave it up for the second truth. "Haral and Tirun and I. We can handle The Pride. They're going on the repairs."
Chur's ears went down against the pillow. Her eyes were shut. "Promised.
You."
"Can't do it. Can't do it now."
"Tomorrow. I'll be there. At the ship. Geran too."
"You rest."
"Huhhhhnn." Chur's eyes flashed open. "Patch will hold. I'll stand jump just fine. Captain."
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Pyanfar stood back, met Geran's eye.
"See you at the ship," Geran said.
Pyanfar laid her ears back. "Listen." She set a hand on Geran's shoulder and drew her aside.
"We can handle it, much as we can do. Gods-rotted place to be left. Stay with her, huh?"
" Then what?"
Shipless. Two hani, stranded. She had no answer for that.
"See you," Geran said.
One hani left behind. No better. Chur without Geran. They had never been apart, never looked to be. It was a final shock, in what sense remained unnumbed.
"See you." She dropped the hand and turned to gather up Tirun and Haral.
Khym stood by the door. No rifles. They had left those outside with a nervous stsho medic and scrubbed up in a washroom. But the stench of smoke still hung about their clothes. Strong soap and smoke. The smell turned her stomach. "Come on. Better let her rest. Chur. You take it easy, hear? We'll fix it. Trust us for it."
Asleep, she reckoned.
"Captain." Geran bent beside the bed and picked up a white plastic sack.
Washed, since Chur had had it beneath her head, "It's in there. Packet's intact."
"Huh." She took the white bundle and tucked it within her arm. Kif would have killed for it, would have wiped the station to get it— if they knew.
The stationmasters themselves had not known. Knew comparatively little, all things considered. "Thank her, huh?"
* * *
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She laid the sack on the bridge counter, lacking the heart to delve into the personal things. She drew the packet from it and checked inside.
Intact. Rumpled papers. Recordings protected in their cases. She put the lot into security storage, closed the coded latch.
Sounds reverberated through the hull, horrendous sounds from aft as skimmers performed their work and cut away the stern assemblies. The shocks went through the very frame as a third of The Pride's length was sheared away. "Py. Captain."
She looked up and back. Khym was standing there.
"You didn't mention me— when you talked about crew going to Mkks."
"Khym—"
"I can fetch and carry. I can scrub galley. Lets skilled crew free. Doesn't it?"
Protective instincts rose up. Another image did. Khym's arm between her and the Ehrran; Khym, whose mind had gone on working when hers quit.
"Good job," she said, "that business on the docks." She walked past him, patted him gently on the arm.
"Captain."
Not Py.... She looked back, saw rage, and hurt.
"For godssakes don't dismiss me with that! "
She stood there, trying to recall what she had said or done. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm sorry."
He managed nothing, no answer.
"You want to go," she said, "gods rot it, you're in. Get killed with the rest of us. Happy?"
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"Thanks," he said flatly. In a hostile tone.
She turned and walked off. It was the best way, when his tempers got obscure. Gods defend him. Fool.
He was fond of Hilfy, that was what. Age got on him and he doted on daughter-images, remembering his own. Theirs. Tahy. Who had been no defense to him against her brother. Hilfy respected him. Called him na Khym. Fixed special things for him and pampered him the way he was accustomed.
Gods rot.
She reached the galley, delved into cabinets and threw gfi into the brewer, feeling the wobble in her knees. She had not cleaned up, except the scrub at the hospital. She did not care to now, wanting only something on her stomach.
"Fix that for you?" Khym offered, having followed her. "Sit down, Py."
Her arm tautened to slam the unit lid down. She lowered it carefully and looked around, bland as he was. "Galley's all yours."
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