"Damn it, it's possible we don't have anything on board they could want. This was never intended to be a trade expedition." Blueshell and Greenstalk had scavenged "product samples" from the ship's supplies, things that the OOB could survive without. These included sensoria and some Low Beyond computer gear. Some of that would be a serious loss. But one way or another, we need those repairs.
Pham chuckled. "No. There's something there Saint Rihndell wants. Otherwise he wouldn't still be jawing… And see how he keeps needling us about his 'other customers' needs'? Saint Rihndell is a human kind of a guy."
Something like human song came over the link to the Riders. Ravna phased Greenstalk's cameras toward the sound. From the forest "floor" on the far side of Blueshell, three new creatures had appeared.
"Why… they're beautiful. Butterflies," said Ravna.
"Huh?"
"I mean they look like butterflies. You know? Um. Insects with large colored wings."
Giant butterflies, actually. The newcomers had a generally humanoid body plan. They were about 150 centimeters tall and covered with soft-looking brown fur. Their wings sprouted from behind their shoulder blades. At full spread they were almost two meters across, soft blues and yellows, some more intricately patterned than others. Surely they were artificial, or a gengineered affectation; they would have been useless for flying about in any reasonable gravity. But here in zero-gee… The three floated at the entrance for just a moment, their huge, soft eyes looking up at the Riders. Then they swept their wings in measured sweeps, and drifted gracefully into the air above the forest. The entire effect was like something out of a children's video. They had pert, button noses, like pet jorakorns, and eyes as wide and bashful as any human animator ever drew. Their voices sounded like youngsters singing.
Saint Rihndell and his buddies sidled around their tree tops. The tallest visitor sang on, its wings gently flexing. After a moment, Ravna realized it was speaking fluent Trisk with a front end adapted to the creature's natural speech:
"Saint Rihndell, greetings! Our ships are ready for your repairs. We have made fair payment, and we are in a great hurry. Your work must begin at once!" Saint Rihndell's Trisk specialist translated the speech for his boss.
Ravna leaned across Pham's back. "So maybe our friendly repairman really is overbooked," she said.
"… Yeah."
Saint Rihndell came back around his treetop. His little arms picked at the green needles as he made a reply. "Honored Customers. You made offer of payment, not fully accepted. What you ask is in short supply, difficult to
… do."
The cuddly butterfly made a squeaking noise that might have passed for joyous laughter in a human child. The sense behind its singing was different: "Times are changing, Rihndell creature! Your people must learn: We will not be stymied. You know my fleet's sacred mission. We count every passing hour against you. Think on the fleet you will face if your lack of cooperation is ever known — is ever even suspected." There was a sweep of blue and yellow wings, and the butterfly turned. Its dark, bashful eyes rested on the Riders. "And these potted plants, they are customers? Dismiss them. Till we are gone, you have no other customers."
Ravna sucked in a breath. The three had no visible weapons, but she was suddenly afraid for Blueshell and Greenstalk.
"Well, what do you know," Pham said. "Butterflies in jackboots."
— =*=
According to the clock, it took less than half an hour for the Skroderiders to make it back. It seemed a lot longer to Pham Nuwen, even though he tried to keep up a casual front with Ravna. Maybe they were both keeping up a front; he knew she still considered him a fragile case.
But the Riders' cameras showed no more signs of the killer butterflies. Finally the cargo lock cracked open and Blueshell and Greenstalk were back.
"I was sure the wily tusk-legs was just pretending there was strong demand," said Blueshell. He seemed as eager to rehash the story as Pham was.
"Yeah, I thought so too. In fact, I still think those butterflies might just be part of an act. It's all too melodramatic."
Blueshell's fronds rattled in a way that Pham recognized as a kind of shiver. "I wager not, Sir Pham. Those were Aprahanti. Just the look of them fills you with dread, does it not? They're rare these days, but a star trader knows the stories. Still… this is a little much even for Aprahanti. Their Hegemony has been on the wane for several centuries." He rattled something at the ship, and the windows were filled with views of nearby berths in the repair harbor. There was more Rider rattling, this time between Greenstalk and Blueshell. "Those other ships are a uniform type, you know. A High Beyond design like ours, but more, um,… militant."
