Kif Strike Back by C. J. Cherryh Read Free Book Online Page B

there."
     
    "Right," Haral said, and reached and keyed mode and number without a beat missed, while the numbers ticked by on comp's other sections.
     
    "Got a confirmation on that final dump," Tirun said, holding the complug to her ear. "Captain, just got the confirm from Aja Jin. Captain's compliments and he'll see you here soon as he gets in."
     
    Pyanfar looked at the chronometer. They were down to two minutes Light on response-time between themselves and the incoming ships. "Understood," she said.. Two minutes as light moved. A good deal longer for a ship that had blown off its C- fractional energy to move into station's slow-going frame of reference, and longer still to dock. "I'm going for that bath."
     
    Mayhem and chaos might erupt. There might be attack. There were wobbles in her knees, deprivations coming due. There was still time for a bath, a cup to drink; in the meanwhile it was The Pride's seniormost crew at controls. No flap, no emotional decisions, no foulups. Thank the gods.
     
    She dumped it all into their laps and headed down the corridor untying belt-cords as she went.
     
    Hilfy had gone below, to the empty crewquarters. Alone. She would not have had that. But there was nothing else to do, nothing else to offer.
     
    So we throw the party later, kid. When it's due.
     
    Gods help us all.
     
    She thumbed the door open and headed straight for the bath, shed trousers into the bin, hung the com on the bathroom wall within reach of the shower cabinet and turned on the warm mist with a melting sigh.
     
    Fur by the fistful swirled into the drain at her feet-gods, only half of it was left from jump: the kif business had scared the rest off. And the while she lathered and rinsed under the warm flood she tried to collect her jump-scattered wits, plotting and replotting how to bet the next dice-throw. The kif would have a trick or two. She knew.
     
    And the com beeper went off as she reached to cut in the drying-cycle.
     
    "Gods, what?" she asked, snatching the com, shedding water on the floor. Her heart thudded. Showers-any offduty indulgence-had begun to make her paranoid. They knew; somehow the whole universe knew the moment her guard went down.
     
    "Got a kif outside in the access way," Haral's voice came back. "Captain, it swears it's yours."
     
     
     
     
     
    III
     
    "You. Kif." Pyanfar leaned above the com console, and saw the intruder on the camera they had rigged back at Kefk, a huddled black-robed silhouette in the yellow glare of their access tube. It was cold out there, no place for standing. The kif's breath frosted against its own darkness. "Kif, this is Pyanfar Chanur. You can talk back from there. You got some news for me?"
     
    "Skkukuk is my name. Let me in, Chanur. The hakkikt an'nikktukktin has sent me."
     
    "In a mahen hell."
     
    "I must freeze then."
     
    "Get your freezing carcass out of my accessway!"
     
    The kif stood still. Lifted its arms. The sleeves of the black robes fell back, disclosing black, hairless arms and long, retractable-clawed hands. "Chanur's safety is mine. I offer it my weapons."
     
    "Library," she muttered to Haral; and Haral dived for the comp, looking to see what Linguistics made of that as a formula. Meanwhile she stalled; and the hair on her backbone stood up. "Kif. Skkukuk. What do you expect from me?"
     
    "I wait to discover."
     
    -"Captain," Haral muttered, "library's blank on that idiom."
     
    -"Fine. Gods rot.-Kif you take my orders, do you?"
     
    "I am Chanur's."
     
    She killed the sound. Straightened. "Gods know what that means either. We've got a Situation," she said; and as the number four screen carrying the routine output from station central and traffic control suddenly went all to kifish letters, her jaw dropped. "Gods fry them-"
     
    Tirun snatched at controls. Nothing better happened. "That's the station nav output," Tirun said, hitting keys as fast as her fingers could move. Translation came up: Transmission difficulty. Lights