Thunderstorm bowed his head. "I deserve that," he said. "But we may rebuild, and beginning now, with the help of legitimate representatives of humanity, we shall."
"And how do we know that Keff and the unseen Carialle are truly from the See-Double-Yew?" another Ro-sayo demanded.
"Does it matter?" Noonday asked. "I saw the Melange show hostility to a stranger human, telling him to leave Thelerie, and never return. That isn't the act of a being who believes we are all one."
Thunderstorm smiled. "I assure you, I know real See-Double-Yew. I spent many years robbing their bases and stations. Also of these, the Cridi. A number of the parts of the ships that stand on our own landing pad come from their ships."
Midnight stood, and solemnly bowed to the Cridi. "We owe you reparation." He held out a claw hand. Narrow Leg and Tall Eyebrow exchanged small, subtle signs that Keff had to squint to see. Together, the Cridi opened their globes and rose to their full, though inconsiderable, heights. Exposing their delicate skins and lungs to the sharp air was a stunning display of trust that moved Keff deeply. The two leaders stepped forward to take the Thelerie's narrow talon, one at a time. The other Ro-sayo grudgingly, fearfully, stepped forward to clasp hands with the shining, water-clad amphibioids.
"We will take aid and assistance instead," Narrow Leg said. "The parts are obsoleted with the new design, the one that is," he added with regret, "lying dismembered on the field."
"What can we do to assist?" the other Ro-sayo asked.
"Be prepared," Keff said, speaking through an audio receiver on Gaptooth's globe. "Our intention is to obtain recorded confessions from the Melange as to their activities in this sector for use by our judicial arm. I'm concerned that if the Melange becomes suspicious that we are from the CW, your well-being could be at stake."
"A certain amount of fallout is inevitable," Thunderstorm said, with a shrug of his magnificent wings. "We have contributed to the galaxy's ills by consorting with criminals. Although I absorb all guilt, my people may suffer. I owe all many lives."
"We will not claim them," Big Voice said, rolling forward and puffing himself up majestically. "The thing we must do is get the information needed by Keff and Carialle."
"It is possible that our military is nearby," Carialle added, amused by Big Voice's self-importance. "They must have received our message by now about the Thelerie we left behind on the Cridi system's fifth planet. They could be here soon to take Bisman and his crew into custody."
"If they leave, what of it?" Noonday said, spreading her upper lip. "My child says that the Melange come here often. They have a friendly bond with our people, whatever they have done to others. A capture will occur, now or in the future. We offer the aid of our guardians, if you need them. At present, we will cooperate to get what it is you seek now."
"I hope so," Carialle said. Keff thought he could detect wistfulness in her tone. He smiled at her pillar.
"With such friends, Lady Fair, how can we fail?"
Chapter Eighteen
A few days passed after the Cridi returned safely from the capital city. Keff continued to pretend doing business on the high plain near Thunderstorm's enclave.
The longer the Cridi's ship parts were on display, the more interested the pirates became in buying them. Keff was now in possession of a handful of credit chits whose legitimacy and provenance he very much doubted. Narrow Leg, on duty as Keff's guardian in the Medical Waste box, was less of a success than Tall Eyebrow, because he kept a closer eye on his inventions than he did on the human whose life he was supposed to be protecting.
"I do not like these disappearing," he protested into his radio over and over again during the long, hot day. "They go into the pirates' hold, and they go away toward the city-but they are not here."
"Relax, Tad Pole," Keff said, out of the corner of his mouth. "We'll get everything back just as soon as we're finished here. Thunderstorm promised me that the parts are being well looked after."
"It must be soon," Narrow Leg said. "All this dust, getting into the components! Impair efficiency!"
"Shh! You're exaggerating, I'm sure," Keff hissed, seeing Bisman coming down the ramp of the raider ship. He hoped the Cridi shriek hadn't been audible. The leader was stalking toward him with purpose. Keff stopped pretending to tidy his wares, and waited.
"What have you heard?" Bisman asked, without other preamble.
"Nothing yet," Keff said. "I sent the request for a meeting, as you asked me to. It'll take time for the message to meet her. I had to assure her you're not a small-timer, that it would be worth her while doing business with you. I told her you had sixty ships under your command, is that right?"
Bisman spat into the dust next to Keff's feet. "At least sixty. And I've got other resources. Connections."
Keff raised his eyebrows, but the older man was far too canny to take the questioning look as an opening. He shook his head, and Keff grinned, pretending to look sheepish. "Can't blame a fellow for trying."
"You just tell me when she gets here," Bisman said, poking him in the chest again. "I'll talk a lot more when I hear her bona fides."
"All right," Keff said, but to Bisman's back. As soon as he'd had his say, he'd swung around and stalked off in the direction of Thunderstorm's pavilion.
"I do feel sorry for that griffin," he said into his sublingual pickup. "He's taking all the brunt for us."
"You play the part of the up-and-coming flunky to perfection," Carialle said acidly.
"I've always said I should start at the top and work downward," Keff said, forcing a note of cheer into his voice. "Is there any word today?"
"Not a thing," Carialle's voice said, sounding a little strained. "There has been plenty of time for my first transmissions to have reached the nearest space station. I could have flown up and back in the time it's taken them to respond."
A couple of the raiders on the edge of Keff's "bazaar" reached for the same book-chip library at the same time, and started to bicker over it. Keff turned his back on them.
"There's always the question, if there was an armed ship in the vicinity, and whether they could send it," he said.
"They might already have sent it," Carialle pointed out. "If it's behind the anomaly, the ship won't receive any more transmissions from us until it clears Cridi system. By then, the Melange, or at least Bisman, could be long gone. Noonday's guards won't be worth a darn against energy weapons. I wish you could have gotten even one base location out of Bisman. Any starting point so I don't have to unravel ion threads again."
"He doesn't like me," Keff said, thoughtfully. "More fool he. But he's starting to lose patience. How long can we stall him before he finally loses his temper?"
"If that happens, he'll attack, in which case our cover, and the Cridi's, is blown; or he'll leave. We'd have to give chase, and I don't fancy our chances. That third Core may still be out there somewhere."
Keff rocked back on his heels and looked up at the sky. He stared at a bank of clouds gathering in the northwest, then realized the novelty of atmospheric condensation in such a dry climate. Looked like a head of stratocumulus building. Did it ever rain here? He must ask Thunderstorm.
"We're not policemen," Keff said, "but we can't just let these people go."
"Not until I get what I want," Carialle said. "Once the CW forces land here, that possibility is gone, and we're stewed, too. I'll be in a home for the perpetually bewildered, and you'll be flying a troop carrier."
"We're not making much progress," Keff admitted. "I haven't managed to elicit a single confidence out of those people, not in six days. Not a single detail of where they've been in the past, a single event. You'd think they'd be bursting to brag about their successes, but no!"