“That story will go from station to station,” Pyanfar said bitterly. “Gods, but I don’t think we’ve got much choice. Get them to shepherd us out of here.”
“When we can get our tail put together again,” Tirun said glumly.
There was a noise from down the hall, a footstep in the airlock. Every head turned for the doorway and Pyanfar reached for the gun in her pocket and thrust her way past Tirun getting to the op room door and the corridor, clicking the safety off the gun.
It was hani — Hilan Faha, who flung up a startled hand and stopped at the sight of her. Pyanfar punched the safety back on with a clawtip and thrust the weapon back into her pocket, aware of others of her crew now behind her.
“Changed your mind of a sudden?” she asked the Faha.
“Need to talk to you. To my young cousin.”
“To your cousin, rot you; and to me. Come on inside. Neither she nor I’ll talk out here like dockside peddlers.”
“Ker Pyanfar,” the Faha murmured, manners which in no wise mollified her temper. Pyanfar waved the lot of them back into the op room — only then recalled Tully, who was trapped there in the corner, but there was nothing of secret in his presence on the ship, and no cause to send him slinking out past them all. Let the Faha talk in front of him; let her deliver her excuses under an Outsider’s stare — served her right.
And Hilan Faha stopped in the doorway at the sight of Tully, this naked-skinned creature hani-styled and hani-dressed sitting at the counter among the crew; and Hilan’s ears went flat. “This,” she said, rounding on Pyanfar, “this is that item the kif wanted — isn’t it?”
“His name is Tully.”
Hilan’s mouth tightened, am ominous furrowing of the nose. “A live item. By the greater gods, where have you been, Chanur, and what’s going on with this business?”
“If you were traveling on this ship you might ask and I might answer. As things are, you can learn when the Tahar do.”
“Rot you, Starchaser died in your cause, for this—” She spat, swallowed down a surplus of words when Pyanfar stared at her sullenly. “It was the captain’s decision; we off-loaded everything at Urtur and tried to run to give you a break for it. But where were you then? Where was our help?”
“Blind, Hilan Faha — off in the dust and stark blind. We tried, believe that; but at the last we had to jump for it or risk collision; we hoped you could get off in what confusion we created.”
Hilan drew a quieter breath. “The captain’s decision, not mine. I’d not have budged out of dock: know that. I’d have sat there and let you sort it out with the kif, this so-named theft of yours…”
“You take kif word above mine?”
“If you have an explanation I’ll be glad to hear it. My cousins are dead. We’re broken. We’ll not get another ship, not so likely. Great Chanur makes plans, but the likes of us — we’ll go on other Faha ships, wherever we can get a berth. I’ll reckon you know where the profit’s to be found, and, gods rot your conniving hide, you’ve stirred up what a lot of ships are going to bleed for. What a lot of small companies are going to go under for. They gave me a message to give you, Pyanfar Chanur — the kif gave me this to tell you: that what you’ve done is too much to ignore and too great to let pass. That they’ll come after you wherever you are in whatever numbers it takes — even to Anuurn. That they’ll make it clear to all hani that this prize of yours is no profit to you. This from their hakkikt. Akukkakk. Him from Urtur. His words.”
“Kif threats. I’d thought you had more nerve.”
“No empty threats,” Hilan said, eyes dilated, her nostrils flared and sweat-glistening. “Tell all hani, this Akukkakk says — desert this Pyanfar Chanur or see desolation… even to Anuurn space.”
“And where did you hear all this? From a scattering of ships and a kif who never caught us — who failed to catch you. Hilan Faha; and if we’d gotten together at Urtur—”
“No. — No. You don’t understand. They did catch us, Chanur. Did overhaul us. Killed two of my cousins doing it. At Kita. And they let us go… but we broke down in the jump. They let us go to deliver that message.”
The Faha’s shame was intense. There was a silence in the room, no one seeming to breathe.
“So,” said Pyanfar, “do you believe all your enemies say?”
“I see this,” Hilan said, gesturing at Tully. “And all of a sudden the game looks a lot larger than before. All of a sudden I see reason that the kif might gather, and why they might not stop. Chanur’s ambition — has gone too far this time. Whatever you’re into, I don’t want part of it. My sister’s alive; and two of my cousins; and we’re going home. — Cousin,” she said, looking at Hilfy, “to you — I apologize.”
Hilfy said nothing, only stared with hurt in her eyes.
“Hilfy can leave with you if she likes,” Pyanfar said. “Without my blame. It might be a prudent thing to do… as you point out.”
“I’d be pleased to take her,” Hilan said.
“I stay with my ship,” Hilfy said, and Pyanfar folded her arms over a stomach moiling with wishes one way and the other at once. And pride — that too.
“So,” Pyanfar said, “I wish you safe journey. Best we should travel together, but I’m sure that’s not in the Tahar’s mind now.”
“No. It’s not.” The Faha looked down, and up again, in Tully’s direction, a darkening of the eyes. “If you considered your relations to others, you wouldn’t have done this thing. You’ve taken on too much this time. And others will think so.”
“What I took on myself, arrived on our ship without a by your leave or my knowledge it existed. What would you do with a refugee who ran onto your ship? Hand him over to the kif at their asking? I don’t sell lives.”
“But you don’t mind losing them.”
“You throw away what they did,” Hilfy said suddenly, “with your smallness.”
The Faha’s ears flattened. “What are you to judge? Talk to me when you’ve got some years on you, cousin. This—” She came dangerously near Tully, and Chur who had been sitting on a counter slid down to plant both feet, barring the way. Tully got out of his chair and stood as far back in the bend of the counter as he could get. The Faha shrugged, a careless gesture throwing away her intent. “I’ve another word,” the Faha said, looking straight at Pyanfar. “Whether or not you intended what you’ve involved yourself in — it just may be the finish. Your allies might have stood by you, but it’s all gotten too tangled. It’s gotten too risky. How long since you’ve been home?”
“Some few months.” Pyanfar drew in a breath and thrust her hands into her belt, with the taste of something bad coming — that ill feeling of a house at its height, in which any breath of change was trouble; and of a sudden she misliked that look on the Faha’s face, that truculence which melted into something of discomfort, a decent shame. “Maybe more than that,” Pyanfar said, “if you count that I didn’t go downworld last call. What is it, Faha? What is it you’re bursting to tell me?”
“A son of yours — has taken Mahn from Khym Mann. He’s neighbor to Chanur now. He has ambitions. The old Mahn is in exile, and Kohan Chanur is finding sudden need of all his allies.” Hilan Faha shrugged, down-eared and white about the nose and looking altogether as if she would wish to be elsewhere at the moment, instead of bringing such news to a Chanur ship. “My captain would have backed you; but what are we now, with one of our ships gone, one out of the three Faha owns; and what do we think when you take on something like this when you already have as much as Chanur can handle? You’ve lost your cargo; you’ve gotten yourself a feud with the kif, and kif threatening to go into Anuurn /ones, for the gods’ sake — how can Chanur hold onto its other allies when that starts? I’ve lost my ship, my captain, some of my cousins — and I have to think of my family. I can’t involve myself with you, not now: I can’t make Faha part of this and get our ships a feud with the kif. You’re about to lose everything. Others will decide the same, and Chanur won’t be there even if you get back. I’m going home, Ker Pyanfar, on the Tahar ship because I have to, because I’m not tangling what’s left of us in Chanur fortunes.”