Free Chanur's Venture by C. J. Cherryh Page B

keep him out
    of his father's sight. Makes him potent, doesn't it? And gods, never let him
    trust another male. Rely on your sister, huh?"
    "Leave my family out of this."
    "Your sister hasn't done one gods-rotted thing to back you. And your worthless
    daughters-"
    "My sister did back me."
    "Till you lost."
    "What's she supposed to do? Gods, what's it like for her, living in Kara's house
    with me running about as if I were still--"
    "So she's uncomfortable. Isn't that too bad? Spoiled, I say. Both of you, in
    separate ways."
    His ears were back, all the way. He looked younger that way, the scars less
    obvious.
    "You want," she said, "the advantages I have and the privileges you used to
    have. Well, they don't go together, Khym. And I'm offering you what I've got.
    Isn't it enough? Or do you want some special category?"
    "Py, for the gods' sake I can't work on the docks!"
    "Meaning in public."
    "I'll work aboard." A great, gusting sigh. "Show me what to do."
    "All right. You clean up. You get yourself to the bridge and Haral'll show you
    how to read scan. It's going to take more than five minutes." She sucked at her
    cheeks. She had not meant to make that gibe. "You can sit monitor on that. Our
    lives may depend on it. Keep thinking of that."
    "Don't give me--"
    "--responsibility? -- Nice, boring, long-attention-span jobs?"
    "Gods rot it, Py!"
    "You'll do fine." She turned and punched the door button with a thumb claw. "I
    know you will."
    "It's revenge, that's what it is. For the bar."
    "No. It's paying your gods-rotted bar bill same as any of us would."
    She stalked out. The door hissed shut like a comment at her back.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Tully was at least on his feet -- seemed to be feeling like Tully, which meant
    insisting on cleaning himself up if he wobbled doing it, crashing about the
    lowerdecks washroom talking to himself (or thinking that he was being
    understood) and generally insisting on his privacy from females even if they
    were of different species. Hilfy dithered between communications from Haral
    topside via the hallway com panel, frantic requests from Chur in the op room
    down the corridor (Tirun and Geran were busy down in cargo offloading canisters,
    with attendant booms and thumps up through the deck plates), and the barricaded
    washroom into which disappeared a pair of Haral's blue trousers and out of which
    issued steam and the indescribable mingle of human-smell, fruit, fish and
    disinfectant soap.
    "You all right?" Hilfy asked, when a hairless arm snaked the offered trousers
    from around the corner of the door. "Tully, hurry it up. We've got other
    problems. Fast? Understand?"
    A mumbled answer came back and the door went shut as if he had leaned on the
    control as soon as she had gotten her arm out. Hilfy looked round in desperation
    as Chur came trotting back from ops waving a pair of pocket corns and with a
    third clipped to her drawstring waist. "Got it," Chur said. "Translator's up and
    running."
    "Thank the gods." She pounded on the door again, whisked it open as Chur thrust
    a pocket com and earplug around the corner to their passenger and drew her arm
    back. "Tully--" she said to the unit Chur gave her. She put the earplug in with
    a grimace. "Tully? You hear me now?"
    "Yes," the sound came back, mechanical, from the com loop to the translating
    computer. "Who talk?" The translator's syntax was far from perfect.
    "Tully," Chur said, "it's Chur talking. Hilfy and I got other work, understand?
    Got to go. You hurry it up; we take you to quarters, get you settled in."
    "Got talk to Pyanfar."
    "Captain's busy, Tully."
    "Got talk." The door opened. He leaned in the doorframe, wearing blue hani
    trousers, which fit, but barely; and shirtless like themselves. His all but
    hairless skin was flushed from the heat inside and his mane and beard were
    dripping wet. "Got talk, come # # talk to Pyanfar."
    "Tully, we've got troubles," Hilfy said. "Big emergency." She took him