Chanur's Venture (24 page)

Now he could get a hani sentence out. And Sikkukkut had fluency.

"Captain," Haral said when she walked out on the bridge. "Got a request from the

repair chief. They want to get column access from inside. I told them go ahead.

I'm opening lower deck for that."

"Get their security down there." The thought of outsiders straying at random

through The Pride's interior workings set her nerves on edge. But they were out

of personnel. Out. Totally.

"Second item," Haral said. "A freighter turned up about 0300 last watch in

approach to 29.

Our scan's been down. It just turned up, blink, on station output, at the

one-zone. I didn't think it was worth waking you, but I queried station. They

identified it as Eishait, said it came in during the Harukk business and

security had it scan-blocked. I queried Prosperity. They had their scan shut

down. They're too far round the curve for the cameras to help. I put in a call

to Vigilance, begging your pardon--"

"They get it?"

Haral dipped her ears. "They said, quote, they had no authority to release

information. I suggested they wake their captain. They suggested I wake you."

She drew a tight slow breath and leaned against the counteredge nearest the

doorway.

"At that point," Haral said, "it was committed to dock and I figured there

wasn't all that much to do about it that fast. Stationmaster's office stuck by

the Eishait story. I called Prosperity back and suggested one of them take a

walk down that way." "Should have waked me, gods rot it." "Prosperity agreed.

They say it's all security down there. Can't get past. Our work crew never

stopped back there, no sign of any concern while that ship was inbound.

Meanwhile there's nothing kifish on com. I think it's a mahen hunter."

"Not friendly of station not to say. Wouldn't you think?"

"Worries me," Haral said. "Whole gods-forsaken place worries me." Her eyes

shifted minutely aft, by implication including the repair work. Back again. "You

still want that mahen security on our access?"

The breakfast lay uneasy at her stomach. "Put them on it. They're all we've got.

And log those exchanges."

"They're logged." Haral powered her chair about and punched into the station

comlink. "Kshshti central, this is the watch officer, from the bridge, The Pride

of Chanur. . . . Get me dock security."

Pyanfar stood away from the counter and looked left as Tirun came shambling in

half asleep and nodded a courtesy.

"Morning," she said to Tirun. "Chur's doing fine. Get some breakfast."

"Huh," Tirun said, and went, blindly trustful. Down on lowerdeck they had a lock

about to open.

Pyanfar sat down in Tirun's place at bridge ops, conscious of the pistol she

kept in her pocket, its weight swinging against her leg. She started locking

doors, putting the lift on key/bridge operation only, sealing every hold access

but the necessary one that would get work crews to The Pride's vitals.

"Security's coming," Haral said.

* * *

Mahen workers came and went, an occasiona splatter of bare running feet, a rush

of blacl and brown mahen bodies in the lower corri dors carrying this and that

item the tech: wanted -- honest mahendo'sat, Pyanfar con vinced herself. She

came down to see the faces, to judge reactions, and the earnest look of the

workers reassured her. Their speed reassurec her, and the surprised reflexes of

respect. Some recognized her, blue breeches and all as she took the tour through

ops, where mahen techs ran checks. Above, aft, the first new vane pane was

moving up in the careful grasp of a pusher-ship, and suited mahendo'sat prepared

the column to receive it.

It was a hundred ten panels wide to the old ninety and looked monstrous large.

The olc drive could not have pushed it. The old drive The Pride's old heart, had

gone off in the clutches of a mahen pusher and a new, mahen-made unit was

coupled to the ship's alloy spine, struts recoupled -- as good amputate a part

of her, and put back some fancy foreign part. She watched the floods sparkle

bright off the panel rim and glisten off the black panel surfaces as the pusher

turned. A shiver prickled up her back, worry about telemetry complications,

systems that might not mesh and set them, further back, despite the Voice's

assurances. Topside, Tirun ran calculations and more calculations, had the

third, this time sulphurous request in for raw specifications on the individual

units. . . . "Make soon," the reply had come back from the supervisor, "give

composite." And when Tirun objected that: "Got get security dear give that

information."

"Good gods!" Tirun had screamed into com. "It's part of our ship, you

gods-rotted lunatic!"

"I make request," the supervisor said.

Meanwhile the panel was moving in, and mahendo'sat ran their own checks in ops;

and things felt -- marginally in control. Not just the unit back there on the

tail. The bill. The finance.

Nine tenths of The Pride's physical value, excluding her licenses and rights --

and mahendo'sat picked up the tab.

Foreign hire. Vigilance had made that charge already. They were down there

logging everything. There would be inquiry.

The han would have questions.A lot of questions. If they lived through Mkks.

She turned from the screens, walked past a cluster of chiso-babbling mahendo'sat

who had their own instruments linked into auxiliary sockets on the ops board,

headed out in the hall for fresh air. They had the place chilled down for the

mahendo'sat. The hall was frigid. A cold draft wafted in from the lower lock,

with the flavor of Kshshti docks, oil and old beer and mahendo'sat as she passed

that corridor. Workmen in their orange coveralls came in, some went out. She

pursued her way to the lift.

Hilfy. The thought came nudging in whenever she let it, and she pushed it away.

"Captain," mane said. "Come."

She stopped, blinked at the workman who beckoned her to the lock, opened her

mouth to refuse that imprudence, but the mane had flitted around the turn again,

hasty as every mahe was hereabouts.

Some gods-rotted supervisor with questions. Her ship. Her access. She refused

the jangling of her nerves and went after the workman. But her hand was in her

pocket as she walked into the lock.

No one. She spun a look over her shoulder, looked back again as something dark

came into her way, mahe-tall and spacer-ringed with gold.

Her finger tautened, hand cocked to aim through cloth and all. "Pyanfar!" the

mahe cried, flinging up both hands; and the finger stopped.

"Jik!" she gasped, and her heart started up again. The mahe still held his hands

up till she had gotten hand from pocket. "Where'd you come from?" And then she

knew. "That's Aia Jin in 29, isn't it?"

"Same." Jik still looked nervous. "Make quick come here. Got trouble, huh?"

She looked him up and down., this lank solitary mahe with enough gaud in his

dress to turn a hani envious. "Jik." It seemed half the troubles in the universe

fell off her shoulders. "O gods. About time. About gods-rotted time, hear me?"

He flung up his hands again, pleading for quiet. She grabbed him by the arm and

pulled him back toward the lift. "Come in here like this," she muttered, fishing

up the key. She stuck it in. "Dressed like that." The lift doors hissed wide.

"Get in." She snatched him inside, this mahe a third again her size. He leaned

against the lift wall as it shot them up topside and the door shot open.

Khym was in the hall. His mouth fell open at the sight.

"Jik," Pyanfar identified him. "My husband, Khym. Old friend. Goldtooth's

partner. Come on, Jik."

Chapter 1O

Nomesteturjai was his name: captain Keia Nomesteturjai. Jik to tongue-bound

hani, this thin, anxious-looking mahe. "Sit," Pyanfar said and, spinning the

com-post chair about, backed Jik into it. She leaned on the counter and one

chair arm with not an arm's length between their noses. "Where's Goldtooth?"

"Not know sure."

"What, not know?"

Jik's dark eyes shifted uncomfortably at that range. "Think near Kefk."

"Kefk!"

"Not know sure." The eyes shifted back and forth, bloodshot-rimmed. "Not good

make guess."

"Gods and thunders, what are we in?"

"You go Mkks?"

She stood back. "Khym. Get him a hot drink, huh?" Gods. Him. A weary twitch went

through her nerves, a panic rage at biology.

But: "Aye," Khym said and went. Pyanfar sat down on the counter edge. Haral

settled one hip on the console near her station, to keep an eye to things, Tirun

slouched onto the padded arm of observer two.

"We talk," Pyanfar said. "Real slow. You understand me."

"Not sleep," Jik said, wiping a lank, blunt-clawed hand over his face. His

shoulders slumped. "God, lousy course change Urtur system."

"It took us out," Pyanfar said. "Come on, Jik. What's going on out there? Hilfy

and Tully are headed for Mkks, Chur's in hospital, they're dicing up my ship,

the Personage says he's sorry and don't discuss the knnn I've had on my tail."

The arm went stiff in mid-motion, eyes fixed on hers. "Knnn."

"Out of Meetpoint. Maybe to here. I don't know. Kshshti stationmasters are

nervous as stsho. What's going on?"

"Got kif take human ship. Human lot upset."

"Knnn take human ship, gods rot you, tell it straight! And I've got other news.

Ship named Ijir. The other courier with other humans. Kif got it."

"God." He leaned back against the leather seat, arms on either rest, and looked

at her. "How you know?"

"Message from Sikkukkut an'nikktukktin. Same as got Tully and Hilfy."

"He got Ijir?"

"Don't know."

Jik let go a deep long breath. His reddened eyes traveled up again as Khym

padded in with a tray. Khym offered him the first, stiffly courteous, and Jik

took it without a flinch. "We not meet. Both Gaohn station."

"Huh," Khym breathed, a grinding in his throat. But his ears came up with

interest. He passed cups around, kept one for himself and settled, silent --

gods, decorous -- on the arm of the com-station seat, empty tray aside on the

counter, quiet as Haral, as Tirun.

"Hunter ship," Pyanfar said for Khym's benefit, while Jik drank gfi and wrinkled

his nose, shuddering as he drank. Gfi was not a mahen favorite, but it was

substance and Jik seemed to need that. The strength looked to have drained out

of him as if he had run a long, long time. "Best pilot in mahen space," Pyanfar

said, not lying. "You talk to the stationmaster, Jik?"

Weary eyes lifted, guileless. "Go station center, talk." Another sip of gfi,

another small shudder and grimace at the taste. "Got ask you -- Pyanfar. Where

packet?"

She drew in a long, long sip of her own cup. "What packet?"

Jik swallowed hard. The gfi was hot and tears sprang to his eyes, which acquired

a heat of their own and a hard glitter of thought. "Bastard," he said. "No

game."

"It isn't. When they get my tail back working, huh? You know, it occurs to me

with Aia Jin in port they might take me off priority. They got hunter ship, huh?

Not need hani now."

"Fix."

"Sure, they will."

He sat there a moment, breathing in and out and a good deal more rapid going on

behind his eyes. "You got packet, huh? Kif got Tully, you got packet and you go

Mkks. What want? Give both to kif?"

"Maybe trade."

The least uncertainty crept into his expression. "No. You no do." It became

fear. "You got too much smart, Pyanfar."

"No," she said, gazing deep into his eyes. "I got friends. Don't I, Jik?"

He drew a breath, "You give packet. Damn, hani! You try hold this thing, Kshshti

authority board and take!"

"Stationmaster doesn't know it exists. Does he? Not Eseteno, not Tt'om'm'mu, not

our pink-slippered cutthroat Stle stles stlen. But you know. And the fewer know

it exists, the better. Don't you think?" She jabbed a claw at him, "How'd the

kif know to move that quick, to set up an ambush on the docks? How'd we get set

up, huh?"

"You say Stationmaster?"

"You say kif make lucky guess?"

"I know this Eseteno. No. No, Pyanfar. Not. He honest, long time got post. Trust

him."

"All right. That's one. But how far down the line does honest go? How much does

it take? Kif got some security agent's relatives, make deal, huh?"

Jik's dark face was very sober, ears down. "All time possible."

"Maybe same got agent repair crew, huh?"

"Kif want you go Mkks. Want blow ship there got lot chance. Not need sabotage."

It made sense. It was the cheerfullest reassurance she had had since the docks

blew up. She drew her mustache down, thinking on the odds.

"Give packet," Jik said. "Got go Maing Tol, this packet. I ask. Number one

important."

"Goldtooth's observations, is it? His report -- what's going on out there in kif

space. Knnn stuff too."

Jik's small ears went back. "You got no profit make guess, Pyanfar."

"I make deal. I trust my honest mahe friend.