This during two hours of timelagged exchange. And after a longer than usual pause, in which she had thought Tahar might have quit talking: “Chanur, if you ever trusted that kif, you got something yet to learn. He made you too powerful, haven’t you got it yet? So did the mahendo’sat. Do I have to tell you?”
She had sat there then, after Dur Tahar had in fact quit talking, a decisive signoff. She sat there receiving the information from Gaohn that a half dozen little light-armed freighters had scattered down the Ajir route with a precious cargo of hani lives, the men and children of the Syrsyn clans.
Seeds on a stellar wind.
And she looked Khym’s way, her husband sitting backup duty at a quieter time on the bridge, taking his time at scan while exhausted senior crew took theirs at washup and rest. He did not notice that glance: his face, dyed with the light from the scope, was intent on business.
Whatever we lose here, she had thought then. For all we failed in, one thing we did.
There was one other man there on the bridge. And he did look her way. She thought she had seen every expression Tully’s alien face had to offer. But this, that all the life seemed to have left him, no more of fight, as if something in him had broken and died. Except that the eyes lighted a moment, glistened that way they did in profoundest sorrow; and looked-O gods-straight at her. While Hilfy, leaving the bridge, paused to put her hand on his shoulder. For comfort. For-
”Come on,” Hilfy had said. ”Tully.”
You know, don’t you? Pyanfar had thought then. You know she’ll leave you now. Her own kind, Tully. She’s Chanur now. The Chanur. And you’re ours; even when you go back, your people won’t forget that, will they? Ever.
Gods help you, Tully. Whatever your name really is. Whatever you think you are and wherever you go now.
Like Tahar. They don’t ever quite forget.
I’m no fool, that look of his said back to her. Neither of us are. We’re friends.
And perhaps some other human, unfathomably complicated strangeness she could not puzzle out.
Tully came with them onto the docks this time. It was the second time for him onto Gaohn station, among staring and mistrustful hani, in a confrontation where he was a showpiece, an exhibit, a pawn. They gave him weapons. The same as themselves. So he would know another important thing in a way the sputtering translator could not relay.
Last of all she had caught hold of him in the airlock, taken him by the arm and made sure he was listening: “Tully. You can go with the human ships. You’re free, you understand that. You know free?”
“I know free,” he had said. And just looked at her with that gentle, too-wise expression of his.
Down the docks where a line of grim-looking Llun had set the perimeters of this meeting, the towering section seals in place on either end of this dock. There were stationer clanswomen, spacer clans. And a delegation from the han had come thundering up from the world, only just arrived. There were weapons enough. And Llun guards enough to discourage anything some hani lunatic might try.
The Llun marshals were no protection against the hunter-ships which had come in, snugged their deadly sleek noses up into Gaohn’s vulnerable docking facilities, and disgorged their own guards and their own very different personnel. Three mahendo’sat, a human ship, and a trio of kif: besides The Pride and Harun’s Industry: that was the final agreement. Aja Jin, Mahijiru, then one other mahen ship named Pasarimu, that had come in after Jik; Nekkekt, Chakkuf, Maktakkt, and finally something unpronounceable that Tully said for them three times and they still could not manage. The Human Ship, they called it by default.
The gathering on the dock was very quiet, and all too careful. Even Jik, who had on a dark cloak and kilt so unlike
his usual gaud it took a second look to know it was Jik. Only a single collar, a solitary bracelet. An AP on his hip and a knife beside it. That was usual. Soje Kesurinan was there, brighter-dressed and no less armed. And with them some Personage walked with the captain of Pasarimi, complete with Voice, with all the appropriate badges. Official, yes. Indisputably.