Chanur’s Legacy by C.J. Cherryh

“This Vikktakkht wishes to talk to this same individual. I disapprove. I am insulted. However I will not permit this strategem to distract me from the fulfillment of the contract. I shall go. I shall prompt this young male person in his answers to this outrageous provocation. I shall learn by that means and determine my course of action.”

“Most resolute! Most deserved on his part! Let him speak to the juvenile carrier of refuse!”

Not exactly the impression she’d wanted to convey of na Hallan; but argument with two sheet-wrapped stsho seemed precarious. “The object, however, is the presence of Atli-lyen-tlas, safely on this deck, which I shall attempt, against all obfuscation and misdirection. I should, however, caution your excellency that every other ship in this port is kif, they are not honest trading vessels who are here, and there is the remote but not disregardable possibility of a precipitous and scarcely warned undocking and high velocity departure which would render, for instance, that most exquisite tea set a cluster of projectiles of great hazard. An alarm will sound in the event of emergency. It will be a very loud and unmistakable siren. In that eventuality, abandon all decorum, cast any loose objects into the nearest locker, preferring your own safety above all. I shall provide an abundance of unfortunately inelegant cushions, which you may pack within your bowl-chair while fastening safety belts.”

“These are frightening precautions!”

“Far less so than a departure inadequately protected. If there is time, a member of my crew will assist you. But if your excellency will excuse my forwardness, which is motivated only by our deepest regard for your safety, J wish to have conveyed these cushions into this cabin immediately. I wish to take no chances.”

Tlisi-tlas-tin waved an urgent hand. “At once, at once! Dlimas-lyi, assist the honorable crewmember!”

“ Mostgracious!”

“How like your thoughtful and hospitable self to take extravagant precaution!”

Interesting sight. She had never seen a stsho without a stitch of clothing. Dlimas-lyi scrambled out and hurried, bowing often. One tried not to show startlement, except to return the bow.

Every pillow on the ship, as happened. Hers. The crew’s. Every pillow out of storage, including those from the dismantled passenger cabins, and mahendo’sat slept in nests of pillows, so there were no few in reserve. Plus a couple of inflatable air bags for emergency use.

“In the lift,” she said, and did not say, Would your honor care to dress, we are not in that great a hurry. But she was unsure of the proprieties, and only put the door at Open-Hold.

“I remind your excellency that a face-upward reclination on any safety cushion is safest during any sustained engine use, to keep breathing passages unobstructed.”

“This is a dire contemplation!” “Think of it as a hopeful one, as in the worst and most violent eventuality your excellency and gtst companion will rest in a serene and safe nest.”

“Your concern and foresight on behalf of your passengers is most greatly appreciated! You are white to my eyes!”

“I am deeply touched.” Actually, she was. It was a far step for Tlisi-tlas-tin. “I have profound regard for your excellency’s opinion.”

As pillows and airbags arrived in great abundance, hasty waddling bundles of them, on two different-hued sets of legs.

The filters were all right, except one: Hallan pulled that one to wash it in the galley, which had to serve, since the downside was proscribed stsho territory. He rinsed it clean and looked around in startlement as someone strolled into the galley.

Oh, gods. Chihin. He didn’t want to be here. He even considered flight. Locking himself in the crew quarters. But dignity kept him set on his job, and he only hoped she’d come after a sandwich or something and wouldn’t say anything.

He kept working at the sink, drying things off. Chihin leaned past him after a bag of chips from the cabinet over his head, bodily leaning on him, resting her hand on his shoulder. And he didn’t believe then it was chips she was after—but he didn’t know whether it was affection, a joke at his expense, or whether she was asking him to reciprocate or what. She got the chips. She opened them and she left, and he didn’t yet know what to do or what he should have done. His stomach was upset. He wanted to make sense of things and not to make matters worse, and now he didn’t know at all what was going on, except just having her near him was enough to send his temperature up a point and make him short of breath, forget any clear sense, and she might have wanted him, and she might have thought he was trying to ignore her.

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