Chanur's Venture (25 page)

That repair crew stays on the job and my engineer gets specs on those parts

number one quick."

"Got."

"Got authority, do you? Lot of authority, same as Goldtooth."

Jik's ears twitched. "Some thing yes."

"Some thing, huh? You want this packet, you go with me to Mkks."

"Hani, I guard you tail at Gaohn!"

"Guard it at Mkks and you get the packet."

Gently: "You bastard, Pyanfar."

"You same kind bastard. You say, you do. I know this."

"I go Mkks," he said.

"Get the packet, Haral."

Haral moved. Jik leaned back into the leather cushion and watched, bestirred

himself to take it when it came, this largish several-times crushed envelope

with a dark stain at one corner. "All here?" Jik asked.

"Everything they sent me. What are you going to do with it?"

"Try find honest captain."

"In this port? Stay away from the hani."

"A?" He looked her in the eyes and the ears sank slowly before they came up

again. The face had no fool's look, not now. "Trouble, huh?"

"Lot trouble."

"You come."

"Come where?"

"Come with. We talk these hani."

"No."

Jik stood up. "I go. Sure thing we talk. Want share?"

"Gods rot -- Gods rot it, I've got enough trouble! Leave my name out of it!"

"They got jealous, huh?"

"Look, look, you earless lunatic, there's laws, there's regulations I already

break-- The han's after my hide, you understand me? Chanur's got troubles! You

want to hand them proof, huh? It's illegal for me to work for foreign

government, understand? Against the conventions!"

"You carry cargo government give."

"That's legal. Gods rot it, you know the distinction. You trade, what time

you're not up to no good--"

"So you carry cargo." He lifted the packet. "Same legal."

"Look, look, Jik -- old friend. They're looking for an excuse. They want find

trouble, understand? You'll get us skinned, all of us."

"What choice got? Pyanfar, good friend, got no choice. Packet got go."

"Send it with the tc'a!"

Ears flicked. "No." Short and sharp, a small flicker in the eyes that rang

alarms. "Not number one good idea, Pyanfar."

More alarms. Methane-breathers, with their own interests. Tt'om'm'mu rearing up

behind his glass, violet and murky phosphorescences.

"You come," Jik said. "Maybe better you be there, huh, stop stupid mahe say

wrong thing these honest hani?"

"No! Absolutely no!" She got up, flung off across the bridge, waving her arms

and dislodging Khym from her path. She looked back again. Jik still stood there

with the packet in his hands and that Tully-look on his too-narrow mahen face.

"Pyanfar." He held up the envelope.

"No," she said.

"Chanur," the Ehrran said, Rhif, rising from a much-scarred and grimy chair.

KSHSHTI PORT AUTHORITY the office said on the outer door, in four different

alphabets with letters missing. CONFERENCE in three: the hani line had fallen

off altogether and left only brighter paint behind, misspelled.

"Ehrran," Pyanfar said. And with a glance at the other hani captain in the

narrow room: "Ayhar." Jik closed the door behind them both and they were all

alone with each other.

"You?" Ehrran asked of Jik. "The Personage send you here?"

"No," Jik said quietly, with unflappable good nature. "I ask Personage send

you."

It shot straight through Ehrran's guard and Pyanfar got a quick furtive breath

and swallowed it quick, straight-faced, watching the Ehrran's face.

Quick re-thinking, by the gods. Rhif Ehrran drew herself up, mouth not quite

closed, and then it did close, and the Ehrran stared closely at this

raffish-dressed mahe.

"Sit," Jik said, "captains, I ask you."

Pyanfar pursed her mouth and sat, watched first Banny Ayhar lower her portly

self into a grimy seat and then fastidious Ehrran, who looked as if she had a

mouthful of salt and no idea where to spit.

"What I got ask," Jik said, taking his own seat at the battered table, in this

despicable little office, "what I got ask-" He laid the rumpled envelope on the

table. "Need courier."

"Who needs?" The question got out past Ehrran's well-groomed mustaches. "I'd

like to see some Signature, if you don't mind."

"A." Jik bent a lank wrist toward his kilt belt, deftly whipped up a small

folder, spun it across the table. "That good?"

The Ehrran picked it up as if it had been charged, extruded claws to pull the

two leaves apart, and read something there that brought her head up and her ears

to level. She mutely flipped the holder closed and spun it back again. Jik

replaced it.

"Know you," he said. "Rhif Ehrran. Where you course?"

"Han business."

"A. Maybe got same business lot trouble kif. Maybe got invoke treaty."

"Maybe you can get Chanur to do your work."

"Maybe invoke treaty. Need you, Ehrran."

Ehrran's eyes smoldered. One claw came out, traced a pattern on the tabletop, a

clean green line amid the grime. "I've got business, mahe."

"So. Maybe got. I got. Got hani citizen with kif. Got hani shot up, a? No, I

tell you, ker Ehrran. You in mahen space, inside mahen agreement--" Jik held up

one blunt-clawed finger, forestalling a word from the Ehrran. "You here, a? I

call other side treaty, got number-one emergency, got need ship run courier--"

"You want to buy other hani?"

"Gods rot--!" Pyanfar straightened and a dark-furred mahen arm landed slam! on

the table between her and the Ehrran.

"I make request," Jik said. "Of-fi-cial, a? Treaty stuff. Now, we got

cooperative agreement, agreement like I tell you, Ehrran. You got say yes, say

no. You honor treaty?"

The ears were flat already, the fine fair nose rumpled, the eyes ruddy amber.

"What do you want?"

"You on hunt. Tell you this hunt go Mkks."

"Mkks!"

"Mkks, hani. Got other thing Ayhar do." He shoved the packet skidding at Ayhar's

startled grasp. "You got priority undock, captain. You got. You run damn fast.

Know you. Know you, Banny Ayhar. You got lot year, lot smart. I know, huh?"

Ayhar's ears sank. Her eyes showed white rims. "Where?" Ayhar asked.

"Maing Tol."

Banny Ayhar drew the packet up in her hands, drew her mouth down taut, not

without a shift of her eyes Ehrran's way. But Ehrran never looked. "No trouble,"

Ayhar said, all quiet.

"Good," Jik said. "You go. Go fast, ker Ayhar. You not talk, you not wait. Got

six rny crew see you get car, see you car get ship. Dock crew already work get

you out."

Ayhar stood up, the envelope still in her hands.

"You not open," Jik said.

"Gods be feathered if I want to," Ayhar muttered, and looked this way and that .

. . delayed then, with a look back. "Ker Pyanfar. You want that crewwoman

ferried out?"

"No," said Jik ahead of anything. "You run. Run hard. Not ask why. You not got

safety. Not got choice."

"See here--" But it faded. Whatever Ayhar had meant to say faded out. She looked

a moment at Jik and turned then, the envelope in her hands, and vanished out the

door.

Ehrran had gained her feet, ears flat. "Chanur," she said, "out."

Pyanfar leaned back and fixed Ehrran with a cold stare. "I'll stay, thanks. I

can sit proxy to Chanur's interests. Or is the mahen captain more privy to han

business than a member is? I'm here to witness. Formally."

Ehrran drew a long, long breath, and her eyes were dark-centered. Perhaps she

considered the recorders. "Kshshti's already had one security breach. . . ."

"My crew, my niece, my passenger, Ehrran. You want to talk to me about security

breach--"

"We'll settle that. Elsewhere. This action of yours-" Ehrran looked at Jik, with

no more pleasant face. "My course is Kefk."

Jik waved a loose, limp hand. "Now Mkks." The hand returned to his hip above the

gun and rested there. "Ten, maybe twelve hour. You think got business Kefk. No.

Lousy place, Kefk. You no go."

"To do what? To do what at Mkks?"

"You stay my tail, a? You dock left. Dock right, Chanur. Three number one

bastard go take walk Mkks docks, a?"

There was a long, long silence. Ehrran stood staring, hunter-fix. "Right,"

Ehrran said. "Ten hours. I'll trust this gets authorized higher up, na Jik."

She walked out, flat. The door whisked shut. "Pyanfar," Jik said, and gestured

that way, in Ehrran's wake.

"Huh." Pyanfar got up with a grimace, collected herself and followed Jik

outside, where three of his crew waited, all of them gaudy as Jik himself, even

toward raffish; guns carried openly. An abundance of gold chains and armlets,

and one had a knife.

"All done," Jik said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "got fix good, a?"

"Sure. Sure, fix." She looked round at him with her ears back. "Expensive fix,

friend. She won't forget."

"Got soul like kif, that hani."

"Number one right. What business? What's she after?"

The hand squeezed, a pressure of blunt claws. The mahe's dark eyes wrinkled

round their edges and looked only tired. "This Ehrran hunt hani ship. Not you,

no, she got rumor got hani work many side this thing. han lot upset. This Rhif

Ehrran, she want this renegade real bad. Think maybe you, a? han lot crazy. They

don't like the stsho make sudden clear paper, bring you to Meetpoint. Got lot

suspicion, the han. I tell you, Pyanfar, you got go home talk sense these hani."

"Who cleared those papers up?"

Jik pushed her doorward. She braced her feet.

"Who, gods rot it?"

"Goldtooth talk good stsho, got same treaty, a?"

"Stle stles stlen."

Jik rubbed the bridge of his nose, where an old scar showed gray. "Same got

Ayhar."

"What 'same got Ayhar'?"

"Stle stles stlen. Got somehow station damage charge, a? Got big bill, Ayhar.

Stsho seize Ayhar cargo."

"O gods."

"Lot scared, Banny Ayhar. Stsho send here, direct route, run courier old bastard

Stle sties stlen. Same come Vigilance. Same Stle stles stlen got long talk Rhif

Ehrran after you leave Meetpoint, a?"

"That eggsucker!"

"One scared hani, Ayhar."

"Gods rot. What's gtst after?" But ideas occurred to her. A certain bill. A

detailed report to the han sent by way of Vigilance.

And another thought muddled past, about timing, information and mahen interests.

"You came from Kura, huh? Sure, you did." Jik held up both hands. "Maybe come

Meetpoint. Forget these detail."

"Gods rot it, can't somebody tell the truth?"

"Lot truth."

"Sure." She jerked her arm as he laid a hand on it to move her on, and he gave

her all her reach for distance between them. "Sure," she said. "Maybe

fifty-fifty, huh? What happens now when I get outbound? Maybe have an accident?

-- Sorry, old friend? Repair crew made a mistake? Hope you enjoy the trip? Gods

rot--"

"No. Swear to you." Jik held up his hands again and dropped them. "Say message

come to Kshshti. I get same here."

"Who sent you here?"

"Mahen agent, a? Got here, there agent, same hani, same kif. I not say more,

Pyanfar. See? I one time try tell truth, got big trouble."

Ayhar? she wondered. Gods, no. Not Banny, not that lot. They loved their

liberties too well.

Methane-breather? T'T'Tmmmi had come in from Meetpoint. She had seen it on the

list. It was still in port.

Tt'om'm'mu's spy, reporting to methane-side of Kshshti? Circles upon circles. It

sent a cold, cold feeling to the stomach.

Knnn. But no one talked to knnn. No one could -- excepting tc'a.

"You come," Jik said, mistaking overload for acquiescence, taking her by the

unresisting arm, flinging his over her shoulders. "Get you safe back ship,

Pyanfar. Got time maybe catch sleep. Tell you truth . . . I come Kura way, lousy

long run. Sleep make you better, a?" He squeezed hard, dropped the arm again as

they came out into the general offices and walked through. Mahen crew hastened

to open the outside door. Station guards stood with rifles beside the waiting

car.

Kura. Kura was in hani territory. And Ehrran had folded fast when she had a look

at the authority in that small wallet Jik had at his belt. Ayhar-Ayhar had been

folded before she got there, ears down.

Scared. Plenty scared.

She got into the car at Jik's side in back, surrounded by mahe whose musky

flavor got past the perfumes. A guard caught her eye, one curly-furred and

smallish, and alarms rang.

"That one," she said to Jik, digging claws into his knee, "outside--"

"Name her Tginiso," Jik said, ducking his head to look past her out that window.

"Eseteno aide."

"She was with the car when Hilfy went. Her fur's not singed." For a moment the

air seemed very close, the scent of mahendo'sat all-enveloping, and she knew who

she was talking to, hunter-captain, mahe with mahen interests very much at

stake. She felt Jik's arm shift across the seatback.

"Move," he said to the driver in the mahen tongue. The car leapt forward with a

burr of the motor, wheels bumping on the plates like a panicked heartbeat.

Not a word from Jik, only a shifting of his eyes from one side to the other,