Chanur's Homecoming

“Yes, captain. You want anything-”

“You want to turn that monitor there on, on your way?”

“Aye, captain.” Fiar hugged her tray under her arm, flipped the switch on the wall monitor mounted next the bath and dived out again. The door shut.

“Uhhhn,” Khym moaned around a swallow of soup.

The system schema on the monitor showed what the young spacer had said: a lot of hani ships within spit of Gaohn station and a lot of kif and hani and a scatter of mahendo’sat staring at each other farther out on the fringes. All at relative stop.

No Jik. Not showing himself. He wouldn’t.

Not dead, not dead, gods rot it. He jumped and got himself after those bastards or he’s out there calling the moves and waiting for Sikkukkut. Has to be. We got too many mahendo’sat in this system just sitting there cooperating. He’s going to use my whole by the gods solar system for a mahen battlezone.

She reached to the console and punched the com. The tick and chatter of bridge operations invaded the cabin. Quiet talk. Reassuring in its monotony. Llun clan was in charge of the station, fair and sane: trouble in the corridors, but Llun had central, and sanity was making progress out there. Against Ehrran’s best efforts.

“We’re all right,” she said.

All right. My gods, Pyanfar. Where’s Kohan? What’s happening out on dock, onworld, what are we going to do?

“Uhhn,” Khym said again. Drinking soup in constant little sips as if it was going straight to the veins, direct transfusion. They had both shed all over the sheets. Fright. Exhaustion. Depletion.

“Bath,” she said. It was the thing she wanted most, more than food, more than sleep. She set the cup down on the table console, crawled out of bed and left her breeches on the floor on her way.

Straight into the shower cabinet and on with the water and the soap. Lots of soap. A deluge of soap and hot water.

A shadow showed up against the transparent door, tall and wide and hani. She opened the door and let him in.

Both of them then, soaked, soaped, and by the gods clean, just standing propped against each other under the warm water jets until she found her eyes shut. Falling asleep again. “Gods. We got to go, husband.”

“Uhhhn.” Like mornings downworld. Incoherent for half an hour at best.

She got out, cleaned her teeth, dodging sore spots, dried halfheartedly with a towel and hunted up the last pair of clean breeches in the drawer.

And the pocket pistol. Gods, yes, that.

Out into the chill of the corridor still tying the cords, the deck cold under her feet.

“Captain,” she said.

Sirany was still at her post, on a mostly deserted bridge, just herself and her First. The place smelled of unwashed hani. And Sirany’s face as she swung the chair about, was marked with fatigue and strain. “Ker Pyanfar.” The voice was hoarse. “We’re doing all right, but we have a lot of questions backed up. Whole lot of people want to talk to you. / want to talk to you. What do we expect?”

“We expect another wave of kif in here. Meanwhile I’m wondering where in a mahen hell a certain pair of mahen hunter ships have got to and where we misplaced about half a hundred human ships that are doubtless armed and meaning things we don’t want to think about.”

It was maybe more than Sirany wanted to think about. Her face had that kind of look.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been wondering these things. Maybe I’ve been hoping you didn’t. But in a way I wish you did.”

“Different truth once we got to dock, once we threw Akkhtimakt on to the mahen side of the line?”

“I don’t mean I thought you were lying.” Ears lowered in apology and rolled flatter as the jaw took on a harder line. “That’s a lie. I still don’t know. But I don’t think so. I’m betting everything on it. But what choice have I got? There

aren’t any sure things out here. I tell you something, ker Pyanfar. They tell all kinds of stories about you. Since Gaohn. Since you took out the way you did and kept-” Ear-twitch. "-kept na Khym and all. And wouldn’t lickfoot to the han. I heard a lot more stories on Meetpoint, while we were stuck there. Stsho are scared of you. They call you changeable, the stsho do.”

“They’ll call me worse than that. I figured a crew that had the nerve to come aboard this ship had the nerve to handle the boards under fire. Way we’ll have to yet, maybe. Even against hani, if you had to. I’m telling you the truth now. I’m working only our side. The mahendo’sat have doublecrossed us so many times you need a chart to track it. But they’re the best allies we’ve got all the same, and I’m hoping that conniving friend of mine is still alive out there beyond system edge.”

“Waiting for the rest of the kif?”