They’re frozen. No one’s not moving. It’s the kif they distrust.
“Skkukuk,” she guessed, taking the risk. And the foremost kif lifted his face the least degree, then lowered it, belligerence and manners in two breaths. Even amiability. For a kif.
“Mekt-hakkikt,” that one said. So she knew it was Skkukuk. But he took it for a summons, and a panic seized on her, instinctive aversion as that band of kif crossed the deck plating and got between her and the mahendo’sat and the humans. And swung their weapons into line as they went.
”Weapons down, for godssake.” The panic made her voice sharp. Skkukuk instantly hissed and clicked an order to his company. Weapons lowered. She grabbed the chance two-handed. “There’s not going to be any shooting. On any side.” One of the Llun came too close and she flattened her ears and rumpled her nose. “Get back, gods rot it.” But the mahendo’sat had come closer too. Suddenly there were a great many guns, her own crew with their own rifles slung conspicuously toward level. “Back off!” Haral snapped at a gray nosed hani who moved in with foolhardy authority. And shoved with the gunbutt.
“Chanur!” that hani shouted.
And faced three kifish rifles.
“Hold it! Sgokkun!” Her heart all but stopped. She physically struck a kifish rifle up, out of line; and that kif got back and stood clicking and gnashing its inner teeth, its fellows likewise confused.
“Mekt-hakkiktu sotoghotk kefikkun nakt!” Skkukuk snapped; there was quick silence.
Quiet then. Even the downworld hani had it figured how precarious it was.
“We don’t need any shooting,” Pyanfar said, her own heart lurching and thumping and her knees shaking. Her
voice gathered itself somewhere at the bottom of her gut. Khym was by her, close by her; between her and the hani, thank gods for his wits and his instincts. She waved a hand to clear the kif back and get a view of where the humans were, where the various mahendo’sat had gotten to; and the humans had stayed where they were, a good distance back. Goldtooth and his armed group had followed up all too close and Jik maneuvered to the side, both of them between the kif and the Personage. “Use your gods-be heads! Skkukuk, just stand there. Just stand. Goldtooth. Ana. We’re all right here. You’re not going to be using those guns; let’s just all calm down, can we?”
“We come here talk. Same settle this mess;.” Goldtooth’s dark brow was knit. He waved a hand indicating the perimeters. “We got knnn out there all upset. You got lousy mess, Pyanfar. Now I talk with you, you make big mistake.”
“Yeah. I found out about that. Nice of you to tell me what you were doing. Nice of you to tell Jik, too.”,
“Jik got no choice. Got important hani, got human, all same mess at Kefk. Try to pull you out. You got go pull Tahar out, we don’t ‘spect same. Bad surprise, Pyanfar. Bad surprise. All same come out. We got Sikkukkut, got Akkhtimakt, both. We got no more worry with kif, a? So you let these fine kif go back to ship. They want go home, we let go. Best deal they got.”
“Have no dealings with this person,” Skkukuk said, beside her. “Our ships are the defense of this system. We are faithful, mekt-hakkikt.”
No threats, no untoward move. The hair prickled down her back. It was not subservience in this kif. Just quiet. The intimation of power, but not quite enough power: the kif was here, talking. It was a move Sikkukkut excelled at, but this kif was smoother, and Goldtooth was giving good advice, O gods, if there were a power that could shove the kif back to their borders and keep them there.
That power was standing right in front of her. A mahen-human association.
If she did not know what she knew, from Tully, about what humans stood to gain. About human powers currently at each others’ throats, and spread over an area that would,
could! (a single look at the starcharts told that) dwarf the Compact.
“I have to know,” she said, quietly, reasonably, to Goldtooth, “what happened to the stsho.” Like it was gentle concern. It was desperation. It was suddenly their bulwark on that side, their trading-point. Without them-