The Icarus Hunt

Timothy Zahn

The Icarus Hunt

CHAPTER 1

THEY WERE WAITING as I stepped through the door into the taverno: three ofthem, preadult Yava

From all indications, it looked like that something was going to be me.

I stopped short just inside the door, and as it swung closed against my back Icaught a faint whiff of turpentine from the direction of my would-beassailants.

Which meant that along with being young and brash, they were also tanked tothe briskets. I was still outside the invisible boundary of the personalterritories they'd staked out for themselves in the entryway; and if I had any brains, I'dkeep it that way. Yava

I looked past the Yava

I looked back at the Yava

I wasn't armed, at least not seriously. Even if I had been, blasting away fromclose range at three full-size Yava

Three jaws dropped in unison. "It's late," I continued before they couldrespond. "You should be home. Go home. Now."

They looked at each other, their earlier anticipation floundering inconfusion.

Talking like a Yava

The one on the left apparently had faster molasses than the other two. "Youare not Yava

A fresh wave of turpentine smell accompanied the words. "You will not speak tous that way." Paws flexing, he took a step toward me—

And I opened my mouth and let out a warbling, blood-freezing howl.

He froze in place, his alien face abruptly stricken as his glacial braincaughtup with his fatal error. I was stationary and he was moving, which meant hehad now violated my territory. I was the injured party, I had given out with theproper Yava

By and by, of course, he would remember that I wasn't a Yava

He gave a forlorn sort of squeak—a startling sound from a creature his size—

and went down with a highly satisfying thud that must have shaken the wholetaverno.

Curled around himself, he lay still.

The other two were still standing there, staring at me with their jaws hangingloosely. I wasn't fooled—flabbergasted or not, they were still in territorialmode, and the minute I stepped onto either's chosen section of floor I wouldgetmauled. Fortunately, that was no longer a problem. The left side of theentrywaywas now free territory; stepping over the downed Yava

There was a small ripple of almost-applause, which quickly evaporated as thoseinvolved belatedly remembered that there were still two Yava

"Buy you a drink, sir?"

I turned my head. A medium-sized man with dark skin stood in the dim light tothe right of my table, a half-full mug in his hand, a thick thatch of whitehair shimmering in the firelight. "I'm not interested in company right now," Isaid, punching up a small vodkaline on the table's menu selector. I wasn'tinterested in drinking, either, but that little fracas with the Yava

"I appreciate what you did over there," the man commented, pulling out thechair opposite me and sitting down as if he'd been invited to do so. "I've beenstuck here half an hour waiting for them to go away. Bit of a risky move, though, wasn't it? At the very least, you could have broken a couple of knuckles."

For a moment I gazed across the table at him, at that dark face beneath thatshock of white hair. From the age lines in his skin he clearly had spent a lotof his life out in the sun; from the shape of the musculature beneath hisjackethe hadn't spent that time lounging around in beach chairs. "Not all thatrisky,"

I told him. "Yava

Kids that age are still pretty soft in spots. You just have to know wherethose spots are."

He nodded, eyes dropping momentarily to the ship patch with its stylized "SB" on the shoulder of my faded black-leather jacket. "You deal a lot with aliens?"

"A fair amount," I said. "My partner's one, if that helps any."

"What do you mean, if it helps any?"

The center of the table opened up and my vodkaline appeared. "If it helps youmake up your mind," I amplified, taking the glass off the tray. "Aboutofferingme a cargo."