“Pyanfar-”
A hard grip settled onto her right shoulder. Claws bit. She stared into lambent, hani eyes. “I let Jik go,” she mumbled, knowing she was rambling, but suddenly it seemed to matter, it seemed something that Tauran had to know, part of the puzzle, the jagged pieces that resulted when someone dropped the universe and it shattered, scattered, made new patterns that a ship had to navigate. “It’s important.” But that was not enough to say. “The mahendo’sat are the key. Neither predator nor prey. They’re important. Always prying into things. Like Tully. The humans are like them. Both predator and prey. Be careful. The mahendo’sat didn’t know that. Humans are trouble. They’ll confound us like the mahendo’sat. Like the methane-breathers. The kif know that. Even the han had instinct on their side in that one. We were right.”
“Captain,” Haral said. Haral’s face this time, displacing the other. “Captain, here’s here. Watch the time, cap’n.”
She blinked. Jolted back to physical motion again instead of all-movement, particle-dance and star motions. Blinked again. “Yeah,” she said. Blinked a third time and things hurt again. Her legs felt unsteady. “I’m going.”
(“Is she all right?” someone asked, not a Chanur voice. Young voice. Fiar.)
Pyanfar turned around, flattened her ears, fixed the young tech with a stare. “She’s fine, youngster.” She drew a larger breath, continued the sweep of her eyes on back to Sirany. “I’ve preset us to drop close in. May have been a mistake. We do the best we can.”
Doubt. Plain and clear on Sirany’s face. This is what we’ve got to rely on, is it? Woman’s been through too much. Too long, too far. We’re bound to sit duty on this leg and we have to hand off the ship at Anuurn to a lunatic. With all that may be at stake.
“Sirany, if you think I’m not tracking right, you’re mistaken.”
“Didn’t say that.” Not a bristle at the familiarity of first names. Not a twitch of irritation. It was pity. The ship crossed planetary diameters at a breath or two, and a fool wanted long arguments on the bridge, distracting the crew from their business.
“Get to work,” Pyanfar said. “Eyes on those boards!” Ordering the wrong crew. “Somebody get their eyes on those boards. I don’t care which.” So much for inattention, Sirany Tauran. Which of us is wit-wandering? “I’m telling you,” she said, trying to dredge gnosis up from the free-association where it was wandering. Dark territory. Nowhere. Numbers and lines spread wide through the Compact. “Jik is the best we’ve got. Rely on him and his First. And I want com through to allship this time. The kif too. We can’t afford to come out the other side wondering where we are.”
No, Pyanfar Chanur, we certainly can’t afford that. Still the doubt. Below the surface now, like a fish gone into deep waters. Surface smooth, a relief to have the proprieties back again. But the doubt was still cruising along down there, all sleek and dark and quiet.
To flare up at the wrong moment, and turn and bite you, yes, Pyanfar Chanur.
“We’re still on auto?” Sirany asked. “Still?”
“Good computer,” Pyanfar said. “Good crew. I told you those nav figures are right. I’m not a liar, ker Sirany.”
“No,” Sirany said, quiet against her heat, “I really don’t think you are.”
“What I was talking about. Think on it, you said. Think on it.” See, I remember. Do you, Tauran? Your mind that clear? Or do you still think I’m crazy? “I’m asking again. Here and now. Before we get make drop at Anuurn.”
“Join you?”
“That’s what I’m asking. You’re supposed to give the rest of the captains out there some kind of report before then, aren’t you? Sure you are. But you haven’t, yet. Jik would have reported it to us. Unless you coded it real clever.” She leaned hard on the chair back, eased the weight on her legs. “What are you going to tell them?”
Long hesitation. “That you’re no pirate. That we’re convinced of that.”
She stood there a moment. Blinked, trying to run it through .her brain. “But not that we’re right.”