Chanur’s Homecoming by CJ Cherryh

“What should I care,” Pyanfar said, “if I were dead? But never doubt that my crew is prepared to do that.”

“Martyr,” Jik said in his hoarse voice, and hauled himself by his arms on the chair to face Sikkukkut: he rested there leaning on the upraised arch of the chair legs, head on forearms and a grin on his face. “She hani. She tell crew blow us all to hell, they do it. You deal with damn fine hani crew. Same be lot brave for you. You got use right.”

More profound silence. Then Sikkukkut lifted his cup and lapped at it delicately. “Bravery. This is another of those words which sounds kifish until one looks more deeply at the mindset. I distrust it. I distrust it profoundly.”

“Just consider it,” said Pyanfar, “a longrange survival plan. But don’t consider it.” She waved her hand. “What I’m truly interested in, what I’m sure we’re all interested in, is what we do about Meetpoint, hakkikt. You want Jik’s cooperation: I can get it for you.”

“I remind you that you failed miserably with Goldtooth. We assume that you failed there. In certain moments I wonder.”

“In certain moments / wonder, hakkikt; and I still don’t know what he’s up to. I’m more concerned what the humans are up to; and I can tell you plainly-” she held up a forefinger, claw extended,-“Tully doesn’t know. I’ve questioned him closely on it, and I know when that son is lying and when he isn’t. He was a courier who didn’t know his own message; Goldtooth used him and dumped him, which is a little habit of Goldtooth’s that I want to talk to him about. Goldtooth doublecrossed Tully, doublecrossed Jik. Double-crossed me. And to confuse it all he gave me help, in the form of medical supplies we needed. / don’t know how to read his signals. I’m being perfectly frank with you. I can tell you that Ehrran and I aren’t friendly; and she’s dealing with the stsho, which I trust even less. That’s where I stand. I want Jik back. Under my command, hakkikt.'”

“Damn,” Jik said. “Hani-”

“He’s honest,” Pyanfar said. “If you do that favor to him, at my request, he’ll be caught in a moral tangle his government won’t like at all. But we don’t need to tell them that, do we? And we don’t need to leave Goldtooth alone to represent the mahendo’sat. Jik supports your side. And if you lose him, hakkikt, you’ll have no chance in a mahen hell of getting the mahendo’sat to make any treaty. Give him to me. I can handle him.”

“Prove it now. Get the truth from him. Have him say where the humans are going, what Ismehanan-min said to him before he left, and what agreements he knows of with the methane-folk.”

Pyanfar let go her breath slowly. Her laboring heart found a new level of panic.

Fool. Now you get what you bargained for. Don’t you, Pyanfar?

But what else is there to do? How do we win anything without this kif?

She looked toward Jik as he shifted his hold on the chair to face her direction. A fine dew of perspiration had broken out around his eyes, running down into his black fur; his eyes glittered in the orange light and the darkness, and there were lines about them she was not accustomed to see there. “Jik,” she said. “You heard him. You know what he wants.”

“I know,” Jik said, with no intimation he was going to say a thing.

“Listen.” She reached out and took hold of his arm where it rested on the chair; she smelled the sweat and there was the stink of drugs in it; drugs and raw terror. “Jik. I need you. Hear? Hear me?”

Jik’s face twisted, showed teeth, settled again in exhaustion. His eyes shut and he got them open again. “Get hell out. Hear?” And he meant more than get out of Harukk: she read that plainly.

“If the hakkikt fails,” she said, “what does that leave us with? Jik. Jik-” There’s a reason I can’t tell you. She tried to send that with her eyes, with the sudden force of her hand; and with her thumb-claw, dug in so hard he winced.

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