The arm went stiff in mid-motion, eyes fixed on hers. “Knnn.”
“Out of Meetpoint. Maybe to here. I don’t know. Kshshti stationmasters are
nervous as stsho. What’s going on?”
“Got kif take human ship. Human lot upset.”
“Knnn take human ship, gods rot you, tell it straight! And I’ve got other news.
Ship named Ijir. The other courier with other humans. Kif got it.”
“God.” He leaned back against the leather seat, arms on either rest, and looked
at her. “How you know?”
“Message from Sikkukkut an’nikktukktin. Same as got Tully and Hilfy.”
“He got Ijir?”
“Don’t know.”
Jik let go a deep long breath. His reddened eyes traveled up again as Khym
padded in with a tray. Khym offered him the first, stiffly courteous, and Jik
took it without a flinch. “We not meet. Both Gaohn station.”
“Huh,” Khym breathed, a grinding in his throat. But his ears came up with
interest. He passed cups around, kept one for himself and settled, silent —
gods, decorous — on the arm of the com-station seat, empty tray aside on the
counter, quiet as Haral, as Tirun.
“Hunter ship,” Pyanfar said for Khym’s benefit, while Jik drank gfi and wrinkled
his nose, shuddering as he drank. Gfi was not a mahen favorite, but it was
substance and Jik seemed to need that. The strength looked to have drained out
of him as if he had run a long, long time. “Best pilot in mahen space,” Pyanfar
said, not lying. “You talk to the stationmaster, Jik?”
Weary eyes lifted, guileless. “Go station center, talk.” Another sip of gfi,
another small shudder and grimace at the taste. “Got ask you — Pyanfar. Where
packet?”
She drew in a long, long sip of her own cup. “What packet?”
Jik swallowed hard. The gfi was hot and tears sprang to his eyes, which acquired
a heat of their own and a hard glitter of thought. “Bastard,” he said. “No
game.”
“It isn’t. When they get my tail back working, huh? You know, it occurs to me
with Aia Jin in port they might take me off priority. They got hunter ship, huh?
Not need hani now.”
“Fix.”
“Sure, they will.”
He sat there a moment, breathing in and out and a good deal more rapid going on
behind his eyes. “You got packet, huh? Kif got Tully, you got packet and you go
Mkks. What want? Give both to kif?”
“Maybe trade.”
The least uncertainty crept into his expression. “No. You no do.” It became
fear. “You got too much smart, Pyanfar.”
“No,” she said, gazing deep into his eyes. “I got friends. Don’t I, Jik?”
He drew a breath, “You give packet. Damn, hani! You try hold this thing, Kshshti
authority board and take!”
“Stationmaster doesn’t know it exists. Does he? Not Eseteno, not Tt’om’m’mu, not
our pink-slippered cutthroat Stle stles stlen. But you know. And the fewer know
it exists, the better. Don’t you think?” She jabbed a claw at him, “How’d the
kif know to move that quick, to set up an ambush on the docks? How’d we get set
up, huh?”
“You say Stationmaster?”
“You say kif make lucky guess?”
“I know this Eseteno. No. No, Pyanfar. Not. He honest, long time got post. Trust
him.”
“All right. That’s one. But how far down the line does honest go? How much does
it take? Kif got some security agent’s relatives, make deal, huh?”
Jik’s dark face was very sober, ears down. “All time possible.”
“Maybe same got agent repair crew, huh?”
“Kif want you go Mkks. Want blow ship there got lot chance. Not need sabotage.”
It made sense. It was the cheerfullest reassurance she had had since the docks
blew up. She drew her mustache down, thinking on the odds.
“Give packet,” Jik said. “Got go Maing Tol, this packet. I ask. Number one
important.”
“Goldtooth’s observations, is it? His report — what’s going on out there in kif
space. Knnn stuff too.”
Jik’s small ears went back. “You got no profit make guess, Pyanfar.”
“I make deal. I trust my honest mahe friend.
That repair crew stays on the job and my engineer gets specs on those parts
number one quick.”