Chanur's Venture (12 page)

Chur took it, whirled and headed out of the bridge with a scrape of claws. So

that was seen to. If Stle sties stlen did not have all their messages

intercepted, rot his pearly hide.

"Crew to stations. -- Khym--" She stood up and in the general mill of crew

taking seats she took Khym's arm and took him into the small nook of quiet in

the corridor outside.

"For this one I recommend the tranquilizer," she said. "Tully takes it. Topside

med kit still has it."

"I don't need it," he muttered, his ears gone down. "I don't need--"

"Listen to me. Old hands lose their stomachs in this kind of thing. G like

planetary lift; we'll be cycling the vanes--"

"I'm not going to my cabin. Look, you wanted me on the bridge, work, you said--"

"You're not staying on the bridge."

"There's the observers' seats."

"No."

"Please, Py." His voice sank to its lowest pitch. His amber eyes were quick and

large. "Captain. Win a ring, you said. In front of them, for the gods' sake, Py.

I won't make trouble. Won't."

Her ears fell; her heart went over. "Gods rot it, this isn't a simple hop from

port to port."

"Part of the crew. Isn't that what you meant?"

"This isn't a question--"

"Pride's pride, Py. You put me there; you by the gods leave me there. Or do you

think the crew won't have it?"

Soft-headed, that was what.

"You take number one observer," she said. "You watch Geran watch scan and if you

get sick in the cycles you by the gods reach the bags undercabinet, I don't care

what else is going on. If you haven't ridden through a high-v vector change with

someone heaving up you haven't seen a mess. Got it?" She jabbed him with one

sharp claw, saw him go tight around the nose. "Besides, it fogs the screens."

Without a word he ducked back into the bridge.

She went back behind him, while he set himself into the first of the three

observer posts, at Geran's elbow: Geran gave him a look, betraying no dismay,

but a look all the same. He fumbled after belts and began fastening them-not

nervous, no. He only missed the insert twice.

She slipped into her own place, snapped the restraint one-handed and powered the

chair about all in one smooth sequence, because she could, and failed to realize

why she did it until she had.

She argued him onto the bridge for one reason and turned surly when he put

himself there. And knew it. Gods.

"Ready to disengage the probe," Haral said. "Chur's still down there. Hilfy,

advise Vigilance they've got a message coming."

"Aye." A small delay. "They acknowledge. That's all."

She gave Rhif Ehrran that, she was not prone to destructive chatter.

Advise you, that couriered message said, kif on our trail. Stop at nothing, even

attack on han deputy. Do not attract interest. Station at hazard. Ours more. We

take evasive measures, best possible. No explanation possible.

Well to be out of port when that hit Ehrran's lap.

A series of thumps rang up from the bow, The Pride's own language of clangs and

bumps, reliable as her telltales: docking probes had retracted; vents were

sealed. Outside the station hull, the grapples disengaged.

"Gantry's clear," Haral said, busy with the prep sequences.

"Where's Chur? She make it?"

Com relayed. "She's coming," Tirun said. "All clear."

"Give me out-schedule."

"Up," Tirun said, and: "Huh."

Banny Ayhar's Prosperity was on the list, outbound for Urtur via Hoas Point. So

was Marrar's Golden Sun.

There went gossip on its way to Anuurn, fast as a loaded merchant ship could

travel and carry an Ehrran message.

Likewise a stsho ship had gone outbound half an hour ago, one E Mnestsist, Rhus

flisth' ess commanding. Hoas-bound for Urtur.

So every ship bound from Meetpoint to mahen-hani space had to go to Urtur via

Hoas. Unless they were doing it cargo-stripped, to make Urtur in a single jump.

The Pride's own course showed Urtur-via-Hoas, which was a lie.

There were other possibilities from Meetpoint: Nsthen in stsho space, where only

stsho and methane-breathers were allowed. The tc'a border-port of V'n'n'u; the

tc'a port of Tt'a'va'o: methane-breather/stsho again. The kif port of Kefk, the

one kifish corridor to Meetpoint; Kshshti in the Disputed Territories. Messages

could go a great many ways from Meetpoint, that being the nature of Meetpoint in

its conception.

And a tight-beamed lightspeed message could get to an outbound ship like E

Mnestsist before it had time to jump. It could still do a vector change ... if

one Stle sties stlen had something gtst wanted relayed.

Conniving bastard.

The Pride of Chanur was listed departure -----, without a time. They had been

bumped up ahead of Prosperity and Golden Sun.

That would not sweeten Barmy Ayhar's mood, no question at all.

And there was not a single kif listed.

"No telling what's been delayed off that list," she muttered. "Could have a raft

of kif leaving ten minutes behind us. Station that can't keep its registry

boards running dockside, gods know what it does with out-schedules when money

changes hands- Power up, Haral: keep us null for outbound."

"Up," Haral said; she heard the distant sound of the pumps delivering their

load; the electric whump! of startup normally followed by the louder crash of

cylinder-lock going off; but it stayed locked. They would have no G but

after-thrust on this system transit. Safer that way. It made sudden moves safer.

She heard the sound of running feet scramble into the bridge at her back; heard

a body hit a seat.

"Chur's in."

"Message went," Chur said over the com, above the noise. "Saw it go into the

slot."

"Helm to one." Helm to her own board. She pushed buttons, let the auto-interlock

stay in during the undock, the computer reckoning their mass and how hard to

push to stay inside legal parameters. The holds were empty. The thrust-indicator

was way down. The ordinary mark would have hit The Pride like a hard kick at an

empty can.

"Aunt." That was Hilfy at com one. "Question."

"Ask it."

"That bill--"

"What about that bill?"

"Mahendo'sat paying that?"

"Huh. Yes."

"They know it?"

"Tell you something, imp. There's two strong reasons for one-jumping this. One

of them's the kif."

"Gods, aunt--"

"Tirun, you teaching the kid to swear?"

"How do we pay it?"

"It's paid. Goldtooth paid it. He just doesn't know it yet. Stand by the vector

shift. We're not going out of here like last time. By the book, at least till we

get running room."

They reached the l-zone limit, two-vectored as they were with station's spin and

their own bow-thrust, headed tailfirst across the invisible mark. She gave the

port thrust a ten-second burn that slewed the bow about in the same line as spin

and gave comp its heading.

"But, aunt--"

The comp did the next burn, trueing up. "Put it this way. All of you listening?

There's a little matter with the mahendo'sat. They're paying the bar bill. Hear?

-- Put her zero two on mark, Haral. Get the cameras working port-side."

"Want a look at that kif?"

"Number one right, cousin. Geran, handle that."

"Got it. Image to your four."

The image came to fourth screen on her board, clear, fine color, the outside of

Meetpoint Station, a portion of its torus shape, the huge painted dock numbers

obscured here and there by ships nose-on to station. "Main that," she said. The

drifting image went to all stations, the strange shape of a stsho trader, the

sleek, wicked silhouette of kif, leaner than they had to be; and one, one with

uncommonly large vanes and a series of tanks about the waist.

"Those tanks will blow off real easy," she said. "Take a good look, Hilfy, Khym.

A real good look."

"Hunter-ship," Hilfy said.

"No trader. That's for sure. Gods-rotted kif hunter. That's Harukk, no need to

look for numbers." She keyed the safety systems to *ADVISE ONLY* and pushed the

mains in hard.

G hit, pressed her elbow into the brace and triggered the over-arm lock that

held her hand within reach of the board. New system. It worked. She had rigged

The Pride with what protections they could afford, since Gaohn; handholds,

line-rigs, braces at all boards. A few extra firearms, quietly acquired.

"That's the kif reason," she said against the G. "And the other one for putting

a little hurry on -- I'd like to beat a certain check to the bank."

"Can we cover it?" Tirun's voice, over com. "-Later?"

"Huh. That's still Goldtooth's problem."

"What's going on?" asked Khym.

Silence, except for ship noise, the long misery of acceleration.

"What's going on?" he asked again.

"Just a business arrangement," she said. "Hold onto your stomach. We're coming

up on two-range. Going to give ourselves a boost."

"Pyanfar--"

"Tell you later. Haral, set her up."

"Captain, got another ship undocked," Chur said from scan.

"Gods rot. Who?"

"Can't tell yet. Station's not talking. Stand by."

They were not yet far enough and fast enough for C to play havoc with

information: not far enough and fast yet by far to be out of range of that sleek

kif ship back there.

That ship could start out a day late and be waiting for them on Urtur rim. No

question. She drew quiet small breaths against the G and calculated. A rush

after them made no sense, for a ship that fast.

It was not kif that had undocked. She was willing to bet not kif. It had no need

to race, being able to guess their course.

"Ship is knnn."

"Oh, good gods."

"What's the matter?" (Khym.)

Knnn. Methane-breathing, dangerous and lunatic in their moves. No one wanted the

knnn stirred up.

And kif trouble might. Any trouble might.

"What's the matter?" (Khym again).

"Long explanation," Pyanfar muttered. "Hold the questions, Kyhm. We're busy."

"Com coming up," Hilfy said.

An insane wailing came over com, knnn-song, which announced to the universe and

other knnn whatever it was the knnn thought good to say.

Or it was simply singing for its own amusement, and putting it out on com out of

thinking as obscure as the rest of its logic.

"Bearing zero two by fourteen."

Askew for them. That meant nothing. Knnn ships obeyed different laws.

"Stand by that cycle," she said, and listened for Haral's acknowledgment. "Take

it twice. We're getting out of here."

Vanes cycled in, a brief, stomach-wrenching lurch to a higher energy state.

Nausea threatened. Instruments recycled with a flurry of lights, recalibrating.

She checked the nav fix on Urtur.

"Knnn no change," Chur said.

Second pulse.

"Helm to one." Controls flashed live under her hands as Haral handed it over.

They were up to V, outbound. "Stand by jump. Fix on that knnn to the last

gods-rotted second."

Knnn had policy, somewhere in their moves. Black hair-snarls animate on long

thin legs, they built good ships -- far better ships than oxy-breathers could

survive, unless things also went on in them that played games with stress.

Nothing could talk to knnn but the leathery, serpentine tc'a, and tc'a brains

were manifold matrices.

Nothing could reason with knnn but tc'a. Time was, knnn took anything they

liked, stripped ships in midcourse, raided the earliest stations: so stsho said.

It was before the hani came. Tc'a got through the concept of trade -- at least

so knnn left something in their forays. Now they darted manic-fast into

methane-breather sectors, deposited some object, which might be anything, and

skittered off again with whatever they wanted -- which might, again, be

anything.

Tc'a coped. Chi did, one supposed; but chi, looking like a collection of yellow,

rapid-moving sticks, were crazier than knnn. And tc'a themselves were hazy on

trade-concepts. Gods knew how they ran their worlds. No outsider did.

"Mark to jump: five minutes."

"How's that knnn?"

"Still-- It just cycled, captain."

"I want better news. That's four and counting."

"Continuing to cycle. That's into our lag-time--" Meaning that in the lag of

lightspeed information the knnn might be doing other things.

"Rot the book." She shoved the jump cycle in.

--dropped

--seatfirst--

--topside down--

--rightside up

--back again in here and now, and the stomach still wanting to turn itself

inside out--

There was that wretched halfway-there, while senses swam, fingers took an hour

clenching on controls, instruments underwent a slow ripple of lights that took a

subjective day arriving at nothing special at all --

Solidity then, with one focus, sharp-edged and dreadful as the soft

uncertainties before, with endless fascination in the angles of counters, the

colors, the textures. A mind could get lost in the endless detail of a

counter-edge.

Pyanfar swallowed against the dry mouth and copper taste that came with

compressed time, flexed hands that had not flexed for three-odd weeks local. The