A Few Loose Ends

18

A Few Loose Ends

    The white lifter landed neatly. At the far side of the paddock the pink lifter with the gash in its side fin and the gaping hole where the forward port had been wobbled almost indiscernibly, then settled. The pale green PlayWay Reonia parked close beside it. Drouwh could feel that Dh’aaych was badly hurt, and out of it. And— He could hardly feel Rh’aiiy’hn at all!

    He rushed outside. As he did so the hatch of the pale green lifter opened and the Captain jumped out. She ran to the pink lifter and leapt onto its crushed and blackened nose.

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s golden-tan skin had faded out to a sickly yellow shade. His lips moved in the sketch of a smile and he sent: Can’t reach. His eye.

    Rh’aiiy’hn himself was nearer death than Dh’aaych. But he’d object if she tended to him first: she slapped a plasmo-blob on Dh’aaych’s eye and removed the used one from his arm, replacing it with a fresh one. They got going at once. Plasmo-blobs couldn’t do much for Rh’aiiy’hn, but she replaced the spent one on his chest with three fresh ones.

    “Can I help?” said Drouwh hoarsely.

    Hold him, replied Jhl, jumping down.

    Drouwh was blank for an instant: then he realised she hadn’t meant to hold his brother physically. Nevertheless he scrambled up onto the lifter, reaching with his mind for Rh’aiiy’hn as he did so. He was almost gone: Drouwh held on fiercely.

    He couldn’t have said how long it was before she came forward into the cabin, panting. “Here,” she said, leaning over Rh’aiiy’hn.

    Drouwh paled. “That’s not from the drive?”

    “Yes. They know him now.”

    Drouwh M’A’ail Mk-L’ster had seen many wounds, on the hunting field and in hand-to-hand combat, and many rough and ready means of first aid; but as the grimy, sweaty young woman readied the blob from the drive he looked away.

    Hold him or we’ll lose him.

    Yes. Drouwh closed his eyes, screwing up his face.

    He was aware of the stronger, cooler mind beside his for an instant: then she applied the blob and all three of them screamed.

    In the glow of late afternoon the vehicle paddock shimmered with silence.

    “Good, wasn’t it?” said Jhl with a shaky grin.

    Drouwh was white and trembling. “Have you done that before?”

    “Once. Not with a humanoid. You can let go: the blob’s taken over.”

    Drouwh fell off the lifter and was very sick on the grass.

    “I think,” said Sh’n M’Klui’shke’aigh shakily: “we might go to them now, M’ri.” Gulping, M’ri nodded. Sh’n took her hand and they ventured out across the lawn.

    On the back verandah T’m was looking hopefully up at R’rt. The groom sniffed slightly and readied his blaster. “Aye, you can come, but keep by me: them Palace lot aren’t out of that white thing, yet. –Though by the looks of her,” he muttered, “she can deal with anything. –That was a tasty show, Captain,” he said as they came up to the pink lifter and she jumped out of the hatch, breathing heavily.

    Jhl grinned. “Yeah.”

    “Never heard tell drive-blobs could fix wounds,” the man said on a hopeful note.

    “Blobs can do anything you ask them to. But they’re generally cultured to perform a specific task.”

    “And when they have to do something they’re not ‘cultured’ for,” noted Drouwh, pulling himself up slowly with a hand on the lifter: “they bite like a snr-cat.”

    “I noticed that, Mk-L’ster,” said the stolid groom.

    “Who did you do it to the other time?” he said to Jhl, rubbing his chest.

    Jhl was rubbing her chest. “Mm? Oh: BrTl. Lost a leg from a blaster shot. We stuck it back on with one of the ship’s blobs.”

    “Ooh: you and Trff?” squeaked T’m.

    “Mm? No—bones of Brqa! This hurts,” she muttered, rubbing. “No, me and BrTl.”

    There was an awed silence.

    “Don’t touch the wound, Sh’n,” said Jhl to the Representative, not looking round.

    Sh’n had climbed up onto the pink lifter with the first-aid box. “I wouldn’t dare,” he replied. “It’s fascinating, Captain: the blob seems to be... rejecting dead tissue?”

    “Throwing out muck, yeah; they do that. You can fix his face: those scratches are only superficial, we don’t want to waste plasmo-blobs on them.”

    “How’s Dh’aaych?” asked Drouwh.

    “Not too bad. He’s lost that eye, though. They can give him a new one on Mullgon’ya: I imagine his father can afford to send him there?”

    He smiled wryly. “Mm, but knowing Dh’aaych, he’ll prefer to sport the honourable scar!”

    R’rt grinned. “Aye, my Lord: or an eye-patch, like old All’yhaiyn Mk’Lh’m U-Fl’aiir’th!”

    “Aye!” he choked. “The Red U-Fl’aiir’th! He was a great sight around the Court when I was a boy. The eye-patch, the skirt, and the shin-knives!”

    “I’ll be bound. But he were a grand shot, sir, for all his one eye. –Well now, how about them lot in the white lead lifter, Captain?” he said hopefully.

    “They’re all right,” said Jhl mildly. “Their weapons are de-activated. –Mk-L’ster, I think it might be a good idea to take Dh’aaych inside and get him to bed before he comes round.”

    “Right. Round up a couple of cavalrymen and a stretcher, will you, R’rt?”

    “Right you are, Mk-L’ster. –About all they’re good for,” he muttered, stumping off to the house.

    “What about Rh’aiiy’hn?” said Drouwh tightly. “Is it safe to move him?”

    Jhl grimaced. “I’d give the blob a good fifteen IG minutes to do its stuff.”

    He swallowed. “I see.”

    “The Palace men in those other white lifters are sort of asleep,” squeaked T’m.

    Jhl nodded. “Sure. They’re okay—Vvlvanian curses!” she gasped. “The other one!”

    “The one that floated away?”

    “Yes: the blobs were quite happy to maintain the ship at drift, so I let them, but with the Stun effect,” she said, gulping a bit: “they’ll gradually get tired and— I’d better go and scoop it up!” she finished, clambering aboard the PlayWay Reonia.

    “Wai-eet!” cried T’m shrilly. “Can I come?”

    She looked down at him uncertainly.

    “T’m’s Kitten says it’s all right!”

    She could feel it saying so. Presumably The Old Woman was still in the offing, then. She didn’t pause to wonder why she hadn’t helped with Rh’aiiy’hn’s wound: the ways of The Old Woman of Slrw were, it was beginning to dawn on a mere Jhl Smt Wong, trader captain from Bluellia, Vvlvanian-cursed unknowable and then some. “Oh, all right. Hop in.”

    T’m’s freckles stood out starkly and she thought for a instant the kid was going to pass out. “Two galaxies! Thanks, Jhl!”

    Jhl hoiked him aboard with a palsied hand. “What did you call me?” she croaked.

    His thin freckled face fell ten IG fluh. “Forgot!” he gulped.

    “Forgot? You shouldn’t plasmo-blasted well have been able to remember!” she said, fastening her straps. “–Oy, don’t put those round T’m’s Kitten: if the forward port goes like Dh’aaych’s did, he’ll be squashed.”

    T’m’s hand hovered over his straps. “Oh.”

    Groaning, Jhl said: “Shove him in here with the senso-tissues.”

    “Yeah, but—”

    “He’ll be safe. This is a lordship-type PlayWay Reonia, it has got a bit of sense.” She watched while he laid Tim’s Kitten in a nest of senso-tissues. They immediately started cleaning its fur, and the kitten immediately started purring, so it couldn’t have been the wrong move after all. “Strapped in? Good,” she said, sending Go.

    “Where did you get the ‘Jhl’ bit from?” she said, as he got over the gasping and squeaking and they circled the forest.

    “Um—it’s in your head all the time!” he gulped.

    “Great steaming piles of mok droppings,” she said conversationally.

    T’m gave a guilty giggle. He looked at her timidly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

    No, well, he hadn’t so far, true. “You’re getting too plasmo-blasted good, young T’m Mk-L’ster.” She shot him a hard look. “Or did T’m’s Kitten help?”

    “No, he doesn’t see names,” he said simply.

    Jhl had thought that was the case. She nodded.

    “K’t-Ln says I can’t be a Pilot unless everyone votes for that five-four thing!” he burst out.

    “Mok shit. Anyone with mind-powers that can pass the examinations can be a Pilot. –Well, go to Space Fleet Academy as a Cadet. Then if you’re good enough you won’t even have to apply for Pilot Training: they’ll be begging you to do it.”

    “Yes, but K’t-Ln says if they vote for the wrong thing I won’t be able to go to school!”

    “Don’t bawl. –Oy!” she shouted irritably. A couple of senso-tissues hurriedly left T’m’s Kitten and floated over to T’m. They began drying his cheeks. “Grab one, if you want to blow your nose.”

    “Two galaxies,” said T’m numbly, grabbing a senso-tissue. “Are they blob-driven?”

    Jhl groaned. “I’m not an engineer. Look it up on the Vvlvanian-cursed Encyclopaedia.”

    “All right, I will,” he said with determination, blowing his nose. “Anyway, will I?”

    Jhl was looking round for the lost lifter. “Mm? Oh: be able to pass the entrance examination for the Academy? Yes, once Old Rthfrdia’s in the Federation you’ll have to go to school: it’s IG law.”

    “Is it all maths and stuff?”

    “Not all. Mind you, they’ve got no objection to a candidate’s being able to do the odd quadratic equation without looking over his sister’s shoulder.”

    T’m had visibly cheered up. He grinned. “That was a hard one.”

    “No, it wasn’t. The principle is always the same.”

    “Well, it was a long one!”

    “Mm.” She peered. “Is that it?”

    “Nah! That’s a bird!” he said in scornful astonishment.

    “Right. –That’s not it, is it?”

    T’m barely glanced at it. “Nah: the mail lifter to L’pgow.”

    “Not here,” she decided, turning westwards. On Old Rthfrdia the sun set in the west: as it was late afternoon they were now flying straight into it. T’m winced and screwed up his eyes. Jhl had lowered her shades. She sighed. “Think Shade at the forward port.”

    “Two galaxies!” he gasped, as the port darkened. “This is better than a bubble, eh? Me and M’ri were gonna go in a bubble once,” he reported. “In M’nfr North. They got lots of them there. Her friend Gl’nndha Roz Mk-H’aiy’h, she said we could go in her brother-in-law’s—”

    “T’m, could you stop gabbing and concentrate? I can hear something.”

    T’m concentrated. “It’s K’t-Ln!” he cried.

    “So it is. Thataway.” Jhl steered thataway. Hullo! she sent, laughing. All over, you can go home now!

    K’t-Ln sent back a frenzied message to the effect that R’rt Fh’laiin and A’ailh’sa had hypered off into the stratosphere.

    “Ghrr-brain A’ailh’sa went off to fight?” she croaked.

    “T’m’s Kitten said we hadda let her go,” reported T’m.

    Uh-huh. Goddit. So what unpleasant and no doubt painful fate had befallen poor R’rt Fh’laiin? “Well, with a World Shield and a x’nb-web up there, they won’t get far. We’ll go and scoop up that Palace lifter and then we’ll go and fetch them, okay?”

    “Yeah! Galaxious!”

    Highly IG-illegal, of course. Oh, well. She sent a message to Shn’aillaigh; not entirely to her surprise the Lady of U’Rhy’iior’thn replied with a laugh: Can we come, too?

    “Ooh, she can’t send, can she?” gasped T’m.

    “No, it’s the ships,” said Jhl vaguely, peering out to the south-west. “Is that—?”

    “Nah, it’s a flock of birds.”

    “I’ve never been on an o-breather with so many vacuum-frozen birds! What are they all doing up here?”

    T’m replied literally: “Going home to roost,” and Jhl was momentarily silenced. “Can they come?” he said.

    “No, that thing hasn’t got any hyperblobs.” She sent a message to Shn’aillaigh to this effect.

    Tow us! came the laughing reply.

    Jhl could feel K’t-Ln’s eagerness. But she’d have the white lifter in tow, she couldn’t tow two ships at once, not with a PlayWay Reonia. Now, an Addra— Or a Moodra Dyhillia!

    “Ooh, what’s—”

    “Shut up, T’m. I’m gonna show Shn’aillaigh and K’t-Ln how to hitch a ride, and then the lot of you are gonna forget how to do it: okay?”

    “Yeah.” He looked at her warily.

    “It will always be in my mind, of course,” said Jhl with immense geniality, “but since it’s hardly the sort of thing that’ll be anywhere near the surface of my memory store, you and that tiny bright head in that nest of senso-tissues as we speak will not be able to spot it at will. Get it?”

    “Yeah,” he said on a regretful note.

    Jhl showed them how to hitch a ride. When I say NOW, she added hastily.

    Yes, sir, Captain! replied Shn’aillaigh, laughing again

    “They shot a lifter down,” said T’m thoughtfully as they proceeded on their way, the black Cavalry vehicle tucked neatly in behind.

    “Look again,” she said drily.

    “Two galaxies, they shot two down!” he cried. “That’s not fair!”

    “Not to the beings that were in them: no. Not precisely.”

    T’m’s freckled face went very red. “You’ve shot lots of beings down!”

    “Mm. Which would you rather do, blast unfortunate sentient beings to the Third Galaxy, or learn how to do the sort of things that blob was doing to Lord Rh’aiiy’hn’s chest?”

    He thought it over, scowling. “I’d rather be a Pilot and fly a real ship. Only do ya always have to shoot people? –I mean beings.”

    “You do in Space Fleet, yeah.”

    “Um… If I did Pilot Training, then I could be a trader captain, like you!”

    But for the small point of the plasmo-blasted pwld from vacuum-frozen FW Old Rthfrdia: yeah. So he could.

    “Oh, kna shit! I’d forgotten about the pwld!” he wailed.

    “Good. Forget about it again until well after F-Day.”

    T’m glared out into the sky. “Well, what are you gonna do?” he said at last.

    “Dunno.”

    “Well, I dunno either!”

    “I suppose you could join the Space Fleet Exploration Corps,” she said dubiously.

    “Is that exciting?”

    “Not when last heard of, no,” admitted Jhl honestly. “All they seem to do is look for non-Fed worlds with plenty of mineral deposits on them, and then the IG Minerals Commission comes along and takes them over. Though of course,” she said snidely, “if you got to be the Admiral in charge of the Exploration Corps, possibly you could change all that!”

    “Hey, yeah!”

    Yeah, Flppus might fly, too.

    “Is that it?”

    T’m peered. “Yeah!” he cried.

    “Listen: you know when you catch gybbies in the stream?”

    “Ye-ah...”

    “Scooping up another ship with stunned blobs is a bit like that. This’ll be like catching gybbies in a bowl, those blobs are in drift mode. You wanna do it?"

    “By myself?”

    “Why not?” Jhl explained further. He nodded earnestly. “There it is: we’re in range: scoop,” she said.

    First his cheeks, then his ears turned very red. She was thinking she might have to help when all at once the Palace Guards’ white lifter turned and ranged neatly alongside. “Well done!” she said with a laugh.

    T’m opened his eyes cautiously. “Ooh!” he said. “I knew it was there,” he added quickly.

    “Mm. You can let go, T’m, our blobs have got it now.”

    “Ya mean our blobs were listening to me?”

    “Something like that,” she said vaguely.

    “Ya mean they know I’m here?” he cried, all lit up.

    Jhl goggled at him. “Yeah,” she said limply. “Listen, when we go hyper in atmosphere, the straps’ll press us back into our seats like an IG ton of mok shit landing on us.”

    “I don’t care!”

    “No, but I was thinking of T’m’s Kitten.”

    “I’ll tell him!”

    Jhl watched cautiously. T’m’s garbled version of her garbled version apparently made some impression, because the senso-tissues wadded themselves around the little cat, welding its nest to the ship. The same thing, more or less, happened when a Ju’ukrterian was in its nest when you went hyper in atmosphere, but— Oh, well. Stranger things happened in the Known Universe. Possibly.

    NOW! she sent to Shn’aillaigh and K’t-Ln, and the three ships went hyper.

    T’m was too thrilled even to say “Two galaxies!” Added to which, the breath was squeezed out of the poor little being.

    “Piece of space junk!” cried Jhl angrily, slapping a plasmo-blob on his poor little chest and, for good luck, an o-breather atmo-blob on his poor little nose.

    Sorry, Captain, the ship replied glumly.

    After quite some time of merely goggling through the forward port, T’m removed the atmo-blob. “It says it can come off, now.”

    “Uh-huh. How’s T’m’s Kitten?”

    “Good!” he reported happily.

    Great. Next time we’ll wrap all kittens and all small mammalian humanoids weighing less than six S/IG llans in senso-tissue!

    Sorry, Captain, repeated the ship glumly.

    Jhl sighed. “Are you hungry, T’m?”

    “Ye-ah! –Ooh, it’s got super-deluxe maxi-galaxy shakes with ooff-puffs: are they good?”

    Jhl laughed suddenly. “Never been refused by a mammalian humanoid weighing less than six IG llans in the history of the Known Universe!”

    “Who’s Sth?” he said immediately.

    She sighed. “One of my nephews. And you’ve never heard of him. –Or you don’t get the maxi-galaxy shake.”

    T’m grinned, but looked at her hopefully.

    “Right, he’ll have one of those, and... If you’re really a Lordship-type ship, I’ll have a pwoggy-klingle and Phang-Phang lady-finger whip with an S/IG shot of nnru juice in it to hyper it up.”

    The ship produced them immediately.

    “Ooh!” gasped Tim.

    “Uh—the ooff-puffs always do that,” said Jhl feebly. She showed him how to manage them. And the phthyffia straw. Take it for all in all the scene was just so plasmo-blasted reminiscent of that time back on Bluellia in midwinter with Shan, that she could only be thankful when the black lifter hove in sight. Even though she could feel that the Lady A’ailh’sa had lost her nerve and was sitting there bawling her ghrr-brained head off.

    They ranged alongside. HC02 was travelling quietly along in hyperdrive, describing a neat circle. Some being had done a really nice job on those blobs.

    A’AILH’SA! A’AILH’SA! IT’S ROZ! LISTEN TO ME!

    After a certain period the sobs abated and she wailed: ROZ! ROZ! HELP ME! R’BBIE’S HURT AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!

    “Federation,” muttered Jhl through her teeth. Calm down, she sent, as coolly as possible.

    HELP ME, ROZ! she wailed.

    After a certain period of gritted-teeth repetition of Calm down and listen, the ghrr-brain actually did stop screeching sufficiently to get the message: There are some plasmo-blobs in front of you: see?

    No: I can’t see...  WHERE? WHERE? she wailed.

    They were too close for that sort of thing. Jhl winced and held her head. A’ailh’sa, just put your hand out and think “Plasmo-blobs.” She only had to repeat the message three times before the asteroid-head got it.

    Ooh! she squeaked.

    How many have you got? asked Jhl heavily.

    Um… six.

    Ouch. Poor R’rt Fh’laiin. Though HC02 wasn’t a bad little vehicle: perhaps it had assumed the ghrr-brain would drop ’em. A’ailh’sa: can you reach his left side?

    No, she gulped. He’s bleeding, Roz, what’ll I do?

·   Asteroid-head. Undo your straps and get up.

    I can’t! We’re in hyperspace!

    Huh? Not asking, Jhl replied firmly: You’re not in hyperspace, A’ailh’sa, you’re in hyperdrive just under the x’nb-web. Home’s just down there. Now GET UP!

    After a certain period she sent sulkily: I’ve done it.

    Where did you put them? asked Jhl without hope.

    Asteroids of Hhum: ghrr-brain had actually had the guts to do the right thing, she’d put one on his head because he was unconscious, and the others on his leg where it was “all blood.” Fair enough. Good. Very good, A’ailh’sa.

    Is he going to die?

    “No,” said T’m through his teeth with his eyes shut.

    No, agreed Jhl briskly. Are you strapped in again, A’ailh’sa? She was, so Jhl sent: Just sit back and don’t try to drive. Let me take— She gasped. Ghrr-brain had dumped control in her lap without further ado, or, as it were, before you could say: “Refit shops of Sfthnyxer.” Or even think of thinking of saying it. She’d cursed nearly lost the thing!

    All done, Captain? asked Shn’aillaigh cheerfully.

    Yes. We’ll go, now.

    She took them straight back, hoping that whoever monitored the World Shields on sleepy little primmos like old Rthfrdia less than an IG month before F-Day hadn’t been awake enough to register just who it was, fooling about down there under the x’nb-web. Or that one of who it was, was a Federation merchant trader captain that had no right to be anywhere near the FW dump in question.

    It wasn’t until they were homing in on the Mk-L’ster forests that she realised she’d done it all in hyperdrive and poor little T’m had turned blue and wheezy again as the straps jammed him into his seat in the atmosphere. OFF!

    Gee, the vacuum-frozen hunk of space junk didn’t have the brass cheek to reply. Not even with a “Yes, Captain.” Added to which it had an atmo-blob at the ready. Jhl slapped it on his poor little nose.

    “I didn’t lose him,” he muttered, blinking.

    “No. Keep hanging on, T’m, we’re nearly there.” She could feel the kitten was still hanging on to The Mk-D’rm’d: so was The Old Woman. Jhl had no notion at what point in the commonly perceived space-time continuum she’d got in on the act again and, had she been suspended tail up over a Vvlvanian magma pit with a brace of rr’trrs readied for said tail, would probably have had to admit that she sincerely doubted that anything The Old Woman said, did, or thought had anything much to do with the commonly perceived you-know-what in any case.

    They had stretcher-parties at the ready when the three lifters landed.

    “That was quick,” said The Mk-L’ster as she jumped out.

    Yeah. Something like that. She hurried over to HC02. Open. And well done.

    Thank you, Captain. It wasn’t sophisticated enough to express the notion but she got a suggestion of: Couldn’t you be my captain permanently? Flattering. She went forward. “It’s all right, A’ailh’sa. You’re home, now. You did well.” –For an asteroid-head with as much brain as a snu-fly.

    A’ailh’sa was tearfully struggling with her straps. “Is he going to be all right?”

    Jhl stuck a few more plasmo-blobs on the torn leg. “He’ll live.”

 

    “What about his leg?” she whispered. “Is it going to be all right?”

    It was pretty well mangled. Jhl rubbed her nose. “Any Full Surgeons on Old Rthfrdia?”

    “No!” she gasped.

    “No. Well, in that case, A’ailh’sa, you go on into the house and, um, don’t try to listen to R’bbie, okay?”

   A’ailh’sa went very white. “Are you going to amputate it?”

    WHAT? Bones of Brqa and all fourteen of its moons: it was a primmo, all right! “No, I’m going to fix it. But I’m not a Full Surgeon, I can’t do it without hurting him.”

    “I’ll stay,” she said grimly.

    Jhl didn’t waste time in arguing. “In that case, do up your straps again. –There you are,” she said as Drouwh and Shn’aillaigh appeared behind her.

    “How’s R’bbie?” asked Shn’aillaigh. She peered, and made a face. “Not good.”

    Drouwh had already sensed that. “Will you have to use a blob, Captain?”

    “Yes. Start hanging on to him.” Jhl went off to the drive.

    “I’ll help,” said Shn’aillaigh when she returned. “If you can use me?”

    Jhl nodded.

    The Lady of U’Rhy’iior’thn’s lips tightened. “Do it, then.”

    Jhl did it. This time they were all very much aware of the presence of The Old Woman there with them. Which didn’t mean that it was any the less painful.

    Sorry, Captain, HC02 apologised.

    “Not your fault!” gasped Jhl, panting.

    “A’ailh’sa’s passed out,” said her brother detachedly.

    “Yes, well, her choice. You two all right?”

    “Mm,” he said, chewing on his lip.

    “Yes,” said Shn’aillaigh faintly. “Thundering herds of grpplybeasts, I’d sooner be clawed by a snr-cat!”

    Jhl looked dubiously at her, but unlike Drouwh his first time, she didn’t appear to be about to chuck up. “You should have been a Pilot, Lady of U’Rhy’iior’thn.”

    “Was that the accolade?” said Shn’aillaigh weakly to her childhood’s friend, as the Captain headed for the hatch, shouting for stretcher-bearers.

    “Mm,” he said with a wry twist of the lips.

    “Do you think R’bbie will be all right?”

    He shrugged. “One can only presume she knows what she’s doing. I rather think that the purpose of our participation was to take part of the pain.”

    “I got that! Oh, I see: so as it wasn’t too much for his system to bear?”

    He nodded. “I think so.”

    “Have I got it wrong, or have you done it before?”

    “Mm. Rh’aiiy’hn was almost out of it. Chest wound.”

     She pulled a face.

    Drouwh sighed. “You’ve come through it better than I did. Possibly The Old Woman’s right about the essential uselessness of us mere males. I nearly passed out; then I chucked up like a raw kid at his first sight of blood.”

    “It was you and the Captain, right? This time round there were more of us. Possibly it wasn’t as bad.”

    Drouwh grimaced, rubbing his leg. “Maybe.”

    “Come on, we’re in the way,” she said, touching his shoulder lightly as the stretcher-bearers came in. They made their way to the hatch. Drouwh was just about capable of controlling his legs sufficiently to jump out without making a cursed fool of himself. He landed with a wobble and turned to help Shn’aillaigh, but she leapt down easily. He swallowed a sigh.

    “We got two of the blighters!” she said, grinning.

    “Uh—yes, I read it. Well done, Shn’aillaigh,” he said with an effort.

    Sh’n came up quietly and put his arm round Shn’aillaigh’s waist, waiting while the stretcher party took both R’rt Fh’laiin and A’ailh’sa into the house. “Miss K’t-Ln seems in fine fettle. She and M’ri have put the little boy to bed. And Dh’aaych and His Royal Highness are stabilised.”

    “Good. Come on: uissh,” said Shn’aillaigh with a sudden yawn.

    Jhl looked at them drily. “Aren’t you forgetting one or two odd loose ends that ought to be tied up before we get down to the serious drinking?”

    “Uh—oh! Bears’ claws!” said Sh’n with a laugh, looking at the white lead lifter, with the stolid R’rt Mk-D’rm’d now stationed outside its hatch, blaster at the ready,

    Drouwh passed a hand through his curls. “Thundering herds of grpplybeasts, I’d forgotten all about them!”

    “The old man with the woffly white piece of face-hair’s got a long blade in his hand,” warned Jhl. “So does the boy; the others have shorter blades.”

    “Longswords and shin-knives!” said Shn’aillaigh with a sudden laugh. “By the bears! This is my sort of fight!”

    “No! For pity’s sake, Shn’aillaigh!” said Sh’n as she threw her blaster onto the grass and drew her shin-knife.

    Drouwh’s red-gold brows drew together in a ferocious scowl. "Much as I’d like to spit the stupid old bull kna where he stands, this is neither the time nor the place. We don’t want to endanger the boy. And they are Rh’aiiy’hn’s men, and he did say he didn’t want bloodshed.”

    There was a guilty silence as certain persons remembered the gravely wounded man in the house.

    “I can disarm them, if you like, Mk-L’ster,” offered Jhl.

    “No,” he said tightly. “Just open the Federation-cursed hatch.”

    “You’d better call R’rt off, first,” she said calmly.

    Frowning, Drouwh called the man to his side. He came reluctantly. “You’d best go to R’bbie, R’rt.”

    “Aye, but he’d say I’m needed here, Mk-L’ster.”

    “No: the Captain has disabled their blasters.”

    “Mk-L’ster, you can see for yourself through that there window that the old Lord’s got his sword in his hand!”

    “Very well, stay, but stand back, and don’t fire unless I give the order.”

    Looking relieved, R’rt nodded, and stood back.

    “Shall I?” said Jhl in a bored voice.

    “Yes,” said Drouwh through his pearly teeth.

     She shrugged, and sent Open.

    Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd leapt out with his sword in his hand.

    Drouwh strolled forward slowly. “Drop it.”

    “Stand and fight, you traitorous kna-worm!” he snarled.

    “I said, drop it, you old fool: you haven’t the faintest notion what you’re doing or why. Prince Rh’aiiy’hn is in no danger from me.”

    From the hatch Allie said anxiously: “Sir, I told you The Mk-L’ster wasn’t a traitor!”

    “Get back!” he snarled.

    Quickly the Leader pulled the boy back.

    “Will you DRAW, sir!” the old man shouted.

    “No,” said Drouwh. “The Regent is not in danger. I can see you think I kidnapped him and used his ring. Why you think I wanted a squadron of the Household Cavalry here in that case, I’ve no idea and nor, I see, do you.”

    –Behind him, Shn’aillaigh gave a smothered snort of laughter, and Sh’n bit his lip hard, shoulders shaking.

    “I told you Uncle Rh’aiiy’hn was all right!” cried Allie loudly.

    “Keep BACK!” He brandished his sword fiercely at Drouwh. “Fight, curse you!”

    “Lord Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd, unless you accept my formal assurance that Prince Rh’aiiy’hn is not in danger on my land, I shall be obliged to disarm you,” said Drouwh calmly.

    The old man made a furious growly noise, and rushed at him.

    Drouwh side-stepped neatly, and grabbed the wrist of his sword arm. The long, glittering blade flew into the air, flashing in the setting rays of the sun, and dropped. There was a very brief struggle for possession of the shin-knife in the old man’s other hand and then that dropped, too. Drouwh stepped back, scarcely breathing harder.

    The old man panted and glared.

    “Lord Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd, you are my prisoner,” said Drouwh formally. “I call upon you to surrender your troops to me.”

    “NEVER!” he roared, springing at him.

    This time Drouwh simply put an arm-lock on him. “Get out, All’yhaiyn, you’re quite safe here,” he said. “Thanks to this old kna-brain, Rh’aiiy’hn’s been wounded by one of your cursed Palace lifters, but he’ll live. He’s upstairs: R’rt M’W’llaigh Mk-D’rm’d, here, will show you the way. –Holster that blaster, man!” he added in an irritable aside.

    R’rt looked warily at the lifter, but holstered the weapon, bowed briefly to the Ruler, and said: “Aye. Follow me, sir.” And they went off to the house, the boy having difficulty in sheathing his longsword and the grizzled groom having to help him.

    “You’re right: this is a very stubborn old being,” said Jhl, coming up to Drouwh’s side.

    “Stubborn as a bull kna—yes,” he agreed sourly.

    “We could argue with him all day and not convince him: he doesn’t reason, as such,” she added.

    “I know that,” he grunted, twisting the arm a bit. The old Lord’s face turned purple, but he made no noise.

    “Shall I put him to sleep?” offered Jhl.

    “In a moment. Leader!” he shouted. “Get out: you’ve seen there’s no danger here!"

    Leader Rh’n’lhd descended warily.

    “Take his cursed knife,” said Drouwh tiredly to Shn’aillaigh.

    The Leader reddened, but said formally: “Please accept my surrender, Lady.”

    “Kna-brain,” replied Shn’aillaigh conversationally, accepting his shin-knife. “What in the name of the old gods did you imagine you were doing, taking orders from Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd? The Regent’ll have something to say to you, my lad!” she predicted jovially.

    Leader Rh’n’lhd looked at her miserably. “Yes, Lady.”

    “Shut up, Shn’aillaigh,” said Drouwh with a sigh. “You and Sh’n can take these ghrr-brains inside and give them tea with a shot of uissh in it. But for the old gods’ sake, keep ’em out of my sight!”

    “Shall I?” said Jhl as Shn’aillaigh and Sh’n herded the ghrr-brains off to the house.

    “Let’s see,” he said. “Lord Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd, please accompany me to the house.”

    Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd merely glared.

    “Don’t twist his arm again, Mk-L’ster, the poor old being’s got some sort of disease in that shoulder.”

    Drouwh reddened. He hadn’t consciously meant to twist the arm at all. He slackened his hold and said heavily: “If you don’t accompany me willingly, the Captain, here, will be forced to put you to sleep.”

    “Filthy Federation kna shit!” he snarled through his teeth.

    “Not with my blaster, Lord Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd,” said Jhl kindly. “You won’t feel anything.”

    He turned puce and gave her a furious look.

    “You’d better get on with it,” said Drouwh grimly.

    Stand ready to grab the poor old being, she sent. Drouwh nodded, and the old man slumped into his arms.

    “I think that Rh’aiiy’hn could learn to heal the disease in his shoulder,” said Jhl.

    “Arthritis,” grunted Drouwh. The old Lord was a dead weight. “He’s got it in his hips and ankles, too.”

    “Oh, yes. –Can you see that?”

    “Not the disease itself, no. I’ve read it in his head often enough.” He got the old man over his shoulder as he might a nyr buck. “That’s better. –I can’t read bodies in the way you and Rh’aiiy’hn can.”

    “I think you could learn to, but it’s not your particular skill. Do you think Rh’aiiy’hn might like to become a Full Surgeon, after F-Day?”

    “I thought you had him lined up to lead a Bluellian-type political party?” he said acidly.

    Jhl smiled a little. “That was K’t-Ln’s idea. I think he’d hate it. He’d do it dutifully, but he’d hate it. I think he might enjoy being a Full Surgeon: they’re typically more interested in the subject of their specialty than in the beings they treat.”

    “In that case, the profession would probably suit him down to the ground,” admitted Drouwh, heading slowly for the house. “But let’s get him through this present crisis before we start deciding on his future,” he added drily.

    He was thinking of his brother’s state of health, not the political crisis. She smiled. “Yes.”

    In the kitchen Sh’n said dubiously, looking at the limp heap over Drouwh’s shoulder: "We’re running short of beds.”

    “Allie can bunk in with T’m and T’m’s Kitten, it’ll do him good. M’ri had better go in with her sister, and Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd can have her room. Leader Kh’ain-Rh’uissh can sleep on a stretcher as his guard. –I grant you the old bull kna would expect the cellar, but—”

    “Not with his arthritis,” murmured Sh’n.

    “No, quite. –Where’ s Shn’aillaigh?”

    Sh’n sighed a little. “Sitting with Dh’aaych. She downed a glass of uissh and appeared fresh as a khyai’llh flower in spring.”

    “I don’t know how you cope, Sh’n,” returned Drouwh on a dry note, heading for the passage door with his limp burden.

    Sh’n gave him an ironic look. “I’m no mind-reader, Mk-L’ster, but I’m aware that you don’t know that.”

    Drouwh went very red and strode out without responding.

    Sh’n’s face was expressionless. He poured a hefty shot of uissh for Jhl. “Here, Captain.”

    “Thanks.” She downed it in one swallow. “Ever tried qwlot, Mr M’Klui’shke’aigh?”

    Sh’n smiled at her. “Please just call me Sh’n. I have had qwlot, yes. Kicks like a bull kna, just when you’re thinking: ‘That went down smoothly’.”

    “Yeah.” She held out her glass. “Tried nnru juice?” she said, grinning at him, as the second glassful went the way of the other.

    Sh’n gulped. “Two galaxies, no!”

    “It’s not bad. What about laa?”

    “Er—no. Is it an intoxicant?”

    Jhl grinned. “I meant fermented laa.”

    “No,” he said weakly. “Can the human system even digest it?”

    “Of course! Uh, with a bit of guidance,” she amended feebly.

    Sh’n grinned, and poured her another shot of uissh. “I see.”

    She sat down heavily in the rocker, sighing. “That’s better! Any food on offer, Sh’n?”

    He went over to the stove and inspected pots and pans. “There’s some stew in this pot. Only half cooked, though, I’m afraid. The fire must have gone out while we were all watching the battle. I’m sorry, Captain, but the cavalrymen got down on all the biscuits.”

    “Have to starve, then, won’t I?” she said cheerfully.

    Sh’n was lighting the stove. “No, I’ll make you a bowl of yi’ish.”

    “Can you? I thought males didn’t make food on Old Rthfrdia?” she said, yawning.

    “Helpless males don’t, true. –I had iirouelli’i juice once,” he said tranquilly.

    Jhl goggled at him.

    “The Friyrian who offered it to me assured me that I’d like it,” he said tranquilly.

    Jhl goggled at him.

    “Scented, isn’t it?” he admitted, grinning.

    She sagged weakly in the rocker. “You could say that, yeah!”

    “I couldn’t taste anything else for two days,” he said reminiscently.

    “Friyrian days?” she replied cautiously.

    “No, not that bad! It was on New Rthfrdia. Their day’s about the same as ours.” He waited for her to ask him what he’d been doing on New Rthfrdia, but she didn’t. He wondered if she was reading him. Well, if she was, too bad.

    Jhl wasn’t reading him: she already had a fair idea of the multiplicity of commercial schemes with which Sh’n was involved, and she wasn’t all that interested in the specifics. She said with a yawn: “Don’t worry about your people being at the mercy of all the mind-readers in the Federation after F-Day. Most of them won’t be interested.”

    “Uh—no,” he said weakly, spooning out yi’ish.

    “Sh’n, I know that it’s occurred to you that the people may vote for some choice that those asteroid-brains upstairs have never thought of.”

    Sh’n put honey on her yi’ish. “Mm. Or they may vote to continue the status quo—which seems likelier to me, our people aren’t politically aware.”

    Jhl rubbed her nose. “Yeah. So what then?”

    He shrugged a little. “All’yhaiyn will be of age in less than three of our years. What becomes of the monarchy will be largely up to him. I dare say he may wish Prince Rh’aiiy’hn to stay on as adviser, but that’s forbidden by our traditional law.” He handed her the yi’ish. “The clanspeople would still be largely oppressed and dispossessed. I think we may see a pattern of rural emigration: it’s already far advanced in the Eastern sector, where we have a lot of industry. But I doubt if the younger Representatives will be content to leave it at that. And once the notion of the clanspeople having a right to clan land has been raised, it may not die out so easily.”

    Jhl ate hungrily. “Yeah. –This is good: thanks.”

    Sh’n sat down slowly. “My pleasure.”

    “What does an ex-regent do?” she asked abruptly.

    He rubbed his chin. “Well, now... The last one—this was a fair way back—he took up art collecting and built himself a large palace in the tropical belt to house his art in. And before him... Oh, yes. There were two. Twin brothers. This would have been at the beginning of the last century. One went off-world, and acquired a nirvana garden on Playfair Two. His brother—uh—went the other way. He became the Hermit of W’dll Reach. The people still tell tales of him, in the high reaches. He went back to the old religion.”

    “Those are going to be very helpful rôle-models for Rhan, then!”

    “Mm. Well, traditionally, any but a political rôle is open to him.”

    Jhl yawned. “Yeah. How long will that stew be?”

    “At least another two hours, I’m afraid.”

    “Zap it?” she suggested, grinning.

    Sh’n got a vivid mental image of a small black-haired figure in spacer’s coveralls, another, taller figure that looked humanoid but wasn’t, it had a crest where the first had hair, and a spheroid creature about their height but as wide as it was high, all bending over a fallen nyr-like creature under a pale green sky with two silvery suns in it. The spheroid being was zapping the corpse.

    Jhl yawned again. “That was Pluf Drx-Pluf Pluf Jaxquil Pluf—he’s a Njneeainwearian, they get like that on a high-protein diet—and hshawendarblaibnD il frteL: she’s pretty, isn’t she?”

    “Er—yes. A Nblyterian?” he asked.

    “Uh-huh. In her/s female stage: frteL’s a female name.”

    “I see. You said the other one was a he?”

    “Yeah. It’s actually an offence under Njneeainwearian law to get that fat, because when they do they can’t reproduce, but we were stuck on Nooser III, with nothing to eat but those nyr-like things. We couldn’t digest the vegetation: the nyr-things have five stomachs to deal with it.”

    He nodded. “Rather like hggls or grpplybeasts.”

    “Nothing new in the Known Universe, eh?”

    Sh’n thought that there were perhaps one or two things, but didn’t say so. “Well, zapping those creatures may have worked as an emergency measure, but I don’t advise you to zap M’ri’s stew!”

    “No,” she said, grinning through a yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap. The Palace Guards seem quite happy with their surrender.”

    “Y—Oh, old gods! What about the ones still in their lifters?”

    “Stunned. Out of it.”

    “Well, quite, Captain!”

    “So what about them?” she said sleepily.

    “You can’t just leave them like that, it—it wouldn’t be humane!” he said in a shaken voice.

    “Humane?” She shook the wrist that bore the up-market translator of a type Sh’n had never seen before. “Oh: humane,” she said, nodding. “Tough.” She closed her eyes and was apparently instantly asleep.

    Sh’n passed a hand over his face. No, well, if Drouwh Mk-L’ster was incapable of understanding how he, Sh’n, “coped” with Shn’aillaigh of U’Rhy’iior’thn, he’d certainly be incapable of coping with that! –Let alone, thought Sh’n drily, getting up to retrieve the yi’ish bowl that had dropped out of the Captain’s slack hand onto the worn old rug, of understanding that the word “cope” was a highly undesirable one where a relationship between two adult beings was in question.