C Cherryh: Chanur's Homecoming

Quiet then. Even the downworld hani had it figured how precarious it was.

“We don’t need any shooting,” Pyanfar said, her own heart lurching and thumping and her knees shaking. Her

voice gathered itself somewhere at the bottom of her gut. Khym was by her, close by her; between her and the hani, thank gods for his wits and his instincts. She waved a hand to clear the kif back and get a view of where the humans were, where the various mahendo’sat had gotten to; and the humans had stayed where they were, a good distance back. Goldtooth and his armed group had followed up all too close and Jik maneuvered to the side, both of them between the kif and the Personage. “Use your gods-be heads! Skkukuk, just stand there. Just stand. Goldtooth. Ana. We’re all right here. You’re not going to be using those guns; let’s just all calm down, can we?”

“We come here talk. Same settle this mess;.” Goldtooth’s dark brow was knit. He waved a hand indicating the perimeters. “We got knnn out there all upset. You got lousy mess, Pyanfar. Now I talk with you, you make big mistake.”

“Yeah. I found out about that. Nice of you to tell me what you were doing. Nice of you to tell Jik, too.",

“Jik got no choice. Got important hani, got human, all same mess at Kefk. Try to pull you out. You got go pull Tahar out, we don’t ’spect same. Bad surprise, Pyanfar. Bad surprise. All same come out. We got Sikkukkut, got Akkhtimakt, both. We got no more worry with kif, a? So you let these fine kif go back to ship. They want go home, we let go. Best deal they got.”

“Have no dealings with this person,” Skkukuk said, beside her. “Our ships are the defense of this system. We are faithful, mekt-hakkikt.”

No threats, no untoward move. The hair prickled down her back. It was not subservience in this kif. Just quiet. The intimation of power, but not quite enough power: the kif was here, talking. It was a move Sikkukkut excelled at, but this kif was smoother, and Goldtooth was giving good advice, O gods, if there were a power that could shove the kif back to their borders and keep them there.

That power was standing right in front of her. A mahen-human association.

If she did not know what she knew, from Tully, about what humans stood to gain. About human powers currently at each others’ throats, and spread over an area that would,

could! (a single look at the starcharts told that) dwarf the Compact.

“I have to know,” she said, quietly, reasonably, to Goldtooth, “what happened to the stsho.” Like it was gentle concern. It was desperation. It was suddenly their bulwark on that side, their trading-point. Without them—

Does he see? Does he suspect why I ask? He’s no fool, was never a fool, O gods, this is one of half a dozen minds that rules the whole godshelpus Compact, he always was, he’s one of those the mahendo’sat just turn loose to do things on the borders, things that echo years across civilized space. He still is. Even with a Personage here.

“We do fine.” An unlooked-for voice. Jik had pulled out one of his abominable smokes and was in the process of lighting it, as if those dark eyes of his were not alert to every twitch from hani and kif. “Ana tell me he get there number one fine, three, four day fight. Chew up Sikkukkut good. Fine for us here. Our friend Sikkukkut-” He capped the lighter and drew in a second lungful of smoke. “He know then damn sure he got trouble. We owe damn lot to Banny Ayhar. Same you, friend. Same all hani come spread alarm.”

“The stsho-”

“Little damage. Lot confuse. Methane-folk take care real good.” A gesture with the back of the hand with the smokestick, vaguely outward. “Same knnn. Official, a? With tc’a interpreter. Same be tc’a been long time with.”

“The same from Mkks?”

“A. Same all way from Kshshti. Tt’om’m’mu been real co-operative.”

“Then it is your agent.”

A wave of the fingers, amid a hani and a kifish murmuring. “Same talk lot people, a? I tell you, Ana-shoshi na hamuru-ta ma shosu-shinai musai hasan shanar shismenanpri ghashanuru-ma shesheh men chephettri nanursai sopri sai.”

Dialect, thick and impenetrable. It had as well be coded. But Goldtooth’s face went guarded, his eyes darker, with the least small shift toward the left.

Toward Tully. Just that little twitch.

It was a guess what Jik had said. Or how much. A second shift of the eyes, that little degree that showed a white edge around the brown. Back to her this time. “Nao’sheshen?”

“Meshi-meshan.” Jik tilted his head back, a gesture behind him. “Meshi nai sohhephrasi Chanuru-sfik, a?”

It did not please Goldtooth, whatever it was. “Shemasu. We talk. We talk plenty. We tell Personage. You tell these kif go. Now. We deal with methane-folk. You fix stuff here.

“Fix stuff!” She caught her breath and her wits in the same gulp after air, saw backs stiffen left and right and lowered her voice instantly. The han was back there. The Llun. There was a deafening silence.

“Kkkt,” Skkukuk said. “Kk-kkt. This mahe does not dictate here. There will be no escort. There will be no mahen ships in our territory. Do not be deceived.”

“We talk later,” Goldtooth said, and got one step.

Weapons came up. In one move. So did mahen weapons.

“Hold it!” Pyanfar yelled, and shoved a rifle barrel. A kif’s. It was momentarily safer.

“Chanur,” a hani voice began.

“Shut up,” Tirun said.

“Let us begin it here,” Skkukuk said. While Jik put himself between the kif and Goldtooth. Carefully.

“Let’s not.” Out of the peripheries of her vision she saw a human movement, a quiet melting away of certain of that group toward cover. “Tully! Stop them.”

Tully shouted out, instant and shockingly alien and fluent. With an uplifted hand. And that motion stopped.

“Cease this!” the Voice snapped, and said something else in mahensi, too fast and too accented to follow.

“Withdraw them,” a hani said. Downworlder, graynosed. Elderly and overweight. My gods, Rhynan Naur. That gray, that old. The voice rang with something of its old authority in the han. “We will not have our space violated. We will not countenance-”

Skkukuk’s rifle swung that way. “Don’t,” Pyanfar said sharply. “Gods rot it-shut up, Naur. Everybody. Don’t anybody move.”

“You Personage,” Jik said at her left, at Skkukuk’s. “You want stop, you got stop. Shemtisi hani manara-to hefar ma nefuraishe’ha me kif.”

“Trust that we will do that,” Skkukuk said, all hard and with jaw lifted ominously. “We do not intend to take any voyage in your company.”

“We got solution.” Jik winced and pinched out the smokestick that had burned down to his fingers. “Pasuru nasur. Kephri na shshemura, Ana-he. Meshi.”

“Meshi ne’asur?”

“Lot better. Same I say.” Jik looked her way. “We got spacer hani, same. Sikkukkut be damn fool doublecross you, a? Damn fool. All time I say you lot smart. Got whole lot sfik, whole lot stuff, Pyanfar Chanur-same like I say. Same Ana here find you, same Sikkukkut want you-damn good. Now you got say like Personage, you got make decide.”

“Decide, decide, fgodssakes, there’s no decide. We got you and the kif trying to blow each other to the hereafter all through our solar system-”

“You Personage. You got kif. You want deal for the han?”

“I don’t deal for the hani I’m telling you, me, Pyanfar, you talk to your Personage and tell him what Tully told us.”

“I do.” Jik looked at her in a strange and maddening way. “You not be han. You be Personage. Send hakkikt back to kif-how you guarantee, a? Stoheshe, Ana.” With a glance at Goldtooth. And back again. “The han decide this, decide that. You do what you want with han. But the han be for Anuurn. You be Personage for hani, Personage for kif, same Tt’om’m’mu want save you life. You got the Person-thing. Born with. You understand this?”