They were clean, proud folk, and they kept their ship well ordered; human or not, they were a better crew than some lots of homo sapiens he had managed.
Fed and beginning to be warmed by the daylight, Kurt had only begun to achieve a certain calm in his situation when the young officer approached him and had the chain removed. Kurt rose carefully, avoiding any appearance of hostility, and the man nodded toward the low cabin aft.
He let himself be directed below, where the officer opened a door for him and gestured him through.
Another young man was seated at a low writing table, on a chair so low he must cross his ankles on the floor. He spoke and Kurt’s escort left him and closed the door; then he gestured, beckoning Kurt to sit too. There was no chair, only the woven reed mat on which Kurt stood. With ill grace Kurt settled cross-legged on the mat.
“I am captain of this ship,” said the man, and Kurt’s heart froze within him, for the language was Hanan. “I am Kta t’Elas u Nym. The person who brought you in is my second, Bel t’Osanef.” The accent was heavy, the forms archaic; as Endymion’s communications officer, Kurt knew enough to make sense of it, although he could not identify the dialect.
“What is your name, please?” asked Kta.
“Kurt. Kurt Morgan. What are you?” he asked quickly, before Kta could lead the questions where he would. “What do you want?”
“I am nemet,” said Kta, who sat with hands folded in his lap. He had a habit of glancing down when beginning to speak; his eyes met Kurt’s only on the emphasis of questions. “Did you want that we find you? Was the fire a signal asking help?”
Kurt remembered, and cursed himself.
“No,” he said.
“Tamurlin are human like you. You camp in their land like a man in his own house, careless.”
“I know nothing of that.” Hope surged wildly in him. Kta’s command of human speech found explanation: a Hanan base onworld, but something in the way Kta spoke the word Tamurlin did not indicate friendship between that base and the nemet.
“Where are your friends?” Kta asked, taking him by surprise.
“Dead… dead. I came alone.”
“From what place?”
Kurt feared to answer and did not know how to lie. Kta shrugged, and from a decanter on a table beside his desk he poured drink into two tiny porcelain cups.
Kurt was not anxious to drink, for he did not trust the sudden hospitality; but Kta sipped at his delicately and Kurt followed his example. It was thin and fruit-tasting, and settled in the head like fire.
“It is telise,” said Kta. “I offer to you tea, but telise is more warming.”
“Thank you,” said Kurt. “Would you mind telling me where we’re going?” But Kta only lifted his small cup slightly as if to say they would talk when they were finished, and Kta took his patient time finishing.
“Where are we going?” Kurt repeated the instant Kta set his cup aside. The nemet’s short brows contracted slightly.
“My port. But you mean what is there for you in my port? We nemet are civilized. You are civilized too, not like the Tamurlin. I see this. Please do not have fear. But I ask: why came you?”
“My ship… was destroyed. I found safety on that shore.”
“From the sky, this ship. I am aware of such things. We have all seen human things.”
“Do you fight the Tamurlin?”
“Always. It is an old war, this. They came, long ago. We drove them from their machines and they became like beasts.”
“Long ago.”
“Three hundreds of years.”
Kurt kept his joy from his face. “I assure you,” he said, “I didn’t come here to harm anyone.”
“Then we will not harm you,” said Kta.
“Am I free, then?”
“In day, yes. But at night… I am sorry. My men need secure rest. Please accept this necessity.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Kurt. “I understand.”
“Hei yth,” said Kta, and joined his fingertips together before him in what seemed a gesture of gratitude. “It makes me to think well of you, Kurt Morgan.”