Pride of Chanur by C. J. Cherryh Page B

corridor to one of   the three rooms they kept for The Pride's occasional paying passengers, up the curve into the area of the crew's private quarters. They were nicely appointed cabins. The one Chur and Geran had selected was in fresh greens with woven grass for the walls and with the bed and chairs in pale lime complement. Pyanfar counted the damage possible and winced, but they had suffered far worse in the cause than torn upholstery.
    And the Outsider seemed to recognize a major change in its fortunes. It stood in the center of the room clutching its book and its blanket and staring about with a less sullen expression than before . . . seemed rather dazed by it all, if its narrow features were at all readable. "Better show it the sanitary facilities first," Pyanfar said. "I hope it understands."
    Chur took it by the arm and drew it into the bath, carefully. Hilfy brought the screen in and Pyanfar added the module as she set it on the counter and plugged it into the auxiliary com/ comp receptacle. From the bath there came briefly the sound of the shower working, then the toilet cycling. Chur brought the Outsider back into the main room, both looking embarrassed. Then the Outsider saw the translator hookup sitting on the counter, and its eyes flickered with interest.
    Not joy. There was never that.
    It said something. Two distinct words. For a moment it sounded as if it were speaking its own language. And then it sounded vaguely kif. Pyanfar's ears pricked up ad she drew in a breath. "Say again," she urged it in kif, and made an encouraging motion toward her ear, standard dockside handsign.
    "Kif. . . companion?"
    "No." She drew a deeper breath. "Bastard! You do understand." And again in kif: "Who are you? What kind are you?"
    It shook its head, seeming helpless. Evidently who was not part of its repertoire. Pyanfar considered the anxious Outsider thoughtfully, reached and set her hand on Chur's convenient shoulder. "This is Chur," she said in kif. And in hani: "You do me a great favor, cousin: you sit with this Outsider on your watch. You keep him going on those identifications, change modules the minute you've got one fully identified, the audio track filled. Keep him at it while he will but don't force him. You know how to work it?"
    "Yes," Chur said.
    "You be careful. No knowing what it's thinking, what it's been through, and I don't put deviousness beyond its reach either. I want it communicative; don't be rough with it, don't frighten it. But don't put yourself in danger either.-Geran, you stay outside, do your operations monitor by pager so long as Chur's inside, hear?"
    Geran's ears-the right one was notched, marring what was otherwise a considerable beauty-flicked in distress, a winking of gold rings on the left. "Clearly understood," she said.
    "Hilfy." Pyanfar motioned to her niece and started out the door. The Outsider started toward them, but Chur's outflung arm prevented it and it stopped, not willing to quarrel. Chur spoke to it quickly, gingerly touched its bare shoulder. It looked frightened, for the first time outright frightened.
    "I think it wants you, aunt," Hilfy observed.
    Pyanfar laid her ears back, abhorring the thought of fending off a grab at her person, walked out with Hilfy unhurried all the same. She looked back from the doorway. "Be careful of it," she told Chur and Geran again. "Ten times it may be gentle and agreeable . . . and go for your throat on the eleventh."
    She walked off, the skin of her shoulders twitching with distaste. Hilfy trailed her, but Pyanfar jammed her hands into the back of her waistband and took no notice of her niece until they had gotten to the lift. Hilfy pressed the button to open the door and they got in. Pressed central; it brought them up and still without a word Pyanfar walked out into the bridgeward corridor.
    "Aunt," Hilfy said.
    Pyanfar looked back.
    "What shall we do with it?"
    "I'm sure I don't know," Pyanfar said tartly. Her ears were still back. She