He had nightmares about that. He had nightmares about the tc'a showing up and demanding he come methane-side and parent its offspring. And of strangling in the atmosphere. But there were probably laws to protect him from that.
There were none to protect the ship from the fines it had suffered because of him, because of having to close the section doors, and scaring all those people…
He didn't think he could ever live that down. Sometimes he thought he would be better off to go home and live in the outback and do things the way they had always been done and not be a problem to anyone. He was not really a fighter, he never had been, he was just clumsy, which he daily proved, and his elbows continually found something to bash, or his head to knock into, but there was just no use for being his size on board a ship.
He heard someone come up near him. He did everything as precisely and efficiently as he could.
Whoever it was stood there watching. And he finished the job before he looked to see. "ker Fala?" "I was just watching."
That made him nervous. He put the tools away and got up, intending to take them to the storage. He supposed he should go to the crew lounge then, because he hadn't any other instructions.
She was still staring at him when he walked away. It made him feel — highly uncomfortable.
The crew aboard the Sun had behaved like that too. And he didn't feel the same as he did with Sahern clan, he felt confused, but it wasn't a confusion he wanted to think about. It scared him. He was afraid she was going to be waiting in the lounge when he got back, but she wasn't, she was in the galley making lunch. And maybe he should go help her, and not sit in the lounge as if there were nothing on the ship his intelligence could discover to do, but he didn't want to be alone with her, so he started aft. But Fala said, to his back, "Want to help?"
And there went his available excuse. "All right," he said, not cheerfully, and came back to the very small galley.
"I think the captain's getting softer," Fala said, with a wink. "If she let you sit on the bridge, she's giving some. You want to get the cghos out of the refrigerator?"
He looked. He found it and put it on the counter, and she said, "You can turn on the steamer, it's the red button." She was busy and in a hurry, whacking slices off the lunchmeat with a knife, and piling them onto a plate with the cheese. "You can roll those if you want to, it's just sandwiches. I figure everybody's going to be eating with one hand and working with the other."
"Have we found the stsho we're looking for?" he asked, and Fala gave him a glance.
"Somebody who finds out less than I do," she said with a flick of her ears and a frown. "No. Gtst skipped out ahead of us. We don't know why."
He wondered if she expected him to know. For that moment she sounded friendly and not threatening, and he suffered a moment of panic, reminding himself he shouldn't slip into that kind of thinking, he shouldn't be here.
"Probably Kshshti," she said. "That's what I hear."
Kshshti was a border port. A dangerous place.
"Are we going there?"
A nod. A flick and settling of her couple of experience-rings, that said she was a real spacer. "I think so," she said soberly. "You ever seen it?"
"No. No, I never was at the far stations. Except Meetpoint. And Maing Tol."
"I've been there," she said. "You really feel foreign there."
He had slid into a personal conversation. He didn't do that with spacers. He tried to stay businesslike.
He lowered his ears, looked away and found occupation rolling up the sandwiches and skewering them together.
"Something bothering you?" Fala Anify asked. "You worried about something?" "No," he said.
"Scared of Kshshti?" she asked. That was next to insulting. He wasn't scared of Kshshti, he hadn't been brought up to run in panic. But he supposed it looked that way to her, and he wasn't willing to explain, he just didn't want to look her in the face and talk to her, because she could really mess things up for him.
He had wondered if there was a way he could possibly mess up in this port, and he had found one, that was certain. Because he didn't think Hilfy Chanur was going to tolerate him getting involved with the crew, especially the youngest of the crew. Chihin was safer. At least she was less complicated.
"We'll be all right," Fala said, as if Kshshti were the center of his problems. "The captain knows what she's doing. On The Pride, she was in and out of all kinds of situations. And we're armed, the Legacy is, if we ever run into anything that needs it, we've got it. The captain knew when she set out that a lot of people could think of getting at ker Pyanfar through us… so we're outfitted for most anything. We're not a ship anybody should mess with."
"That's good to know," he said, and flinched when Tarras put her head in and asked,
"What have we got here, a romance or a lunch?" He could have died. On the spot. Fala's ears went down, flat, in complete embarrassment.
Chapter Eleven
There was tea, while the loaders clanked away. The galley annex that had somehow gotten established in the lowerdeck laundry had found another use, now that gtst excellency Tlisi-tlas-tin had acquired a… staff… fit for gtst station in life.
Meaning the nameless servant had acquired an interim name: gtstisi was Dlima, which meant something like Scant Necessity: not a flattering designation, in Hilfy's estimation, but one could have settled any indignity on Dlima in the present state of affairs, and gtstisi could not on the one hand protest it, or, on the other (by all she had read on the matter, written of course by non-stsho) could not integrate it into a meaningful reality. In gtstisi condition, experiences fell randomly, and had no order. Gtstisi would follow orders, to be sure — mahen scientists suggested (and stsho were tastefully silent on the matter) that gtstisi actually required orders, so that gtstisi had a hope of discovering structure in the events that tumbled in apparent chaos.
So, distressful as it might be to outsiders, outsiders were advised to ignore their personal scruples and to be as arbitrary, as harsh, as demanding as a stsho of rank might be, because, contrary to mahen expectation, and, as it happened, contrary to hani attitudes, the stsho in question would not hold a grudge, would scarcely remember, and would probably benefit by the experience. So they said.
So she settled into the cushions, accepted the tea, ceremoniously served, at the foot of the pedestal on which the Preciousness rested, while the loaders worked and the cargo left their hold.
While Haisi was doubtless scouring the station for answers he might suspect she had. And while Tlisi-tlas-tin was discussing the poor but essentially necessary service gtst had acquired, "by the good offices of the esteemed hani captain."
"Has this individual discussed… hem… any smallest detail of gtstisi former life?"
A distressed waggle of fingers. "I should never accuse the esteemed hani captain of a lapse in taste, but I really cannot discuss these distressing matters. Obviously this life contained affairs which gtstisi could not organize in any tasteful or useful fashion. These are… iiii… biological matters. Is enough understood?"
Hilfy thought; and thought; and thought in widening circles… with the confusions that came of studying alien language and custom much of her life, and not least among them the stsho. When everything else failed, the maxim ran… ask the alien how to ask the question.
"Then," she said carefully, and paused while Dlima poured; and paused further while Dlima served Tlisi-tlas-tin. "Then how shall I ask what information you might have gained in this port?''
"Nothing is easier."
"How shall I ask? I wish to benefit from your unquestionable good taste and elegant gracefulness. You have shown most extraordinary virtues…" Never attribute exact words like frankness to a species which might not value it."… in dealing with the stresses of this voyage. And I am moved to wonder if your resourcefulness and intelligence might have gained information which would make your person far safer if the captain of this ship should learn it."
Moonstone eyes b
linked several times, and the tiny mouth sipped at the delicate cup. "You have discovered a graciousness uncommon in your species."
And other species could be, by other species' standards, great boors. But she smiled and kept hani opinions behind her teeth, as invalid in this venue, even on her ship. "I thank your honor."
"As to the answer to your question, I think it very clear that the nameless person of no distinction was at one time a close associate of a person who has behaved tastelessly. Whether this abandonment was intentional or not, it is equally clear that this movement is not coincidence. The designated recipient of the Precious-ness has gone to Kshshti."
"Could your excellency possibly enlighten me further as to the doubtless impeccable reasoning that has led your excellency to that conclusion?"
"Kif are involved. They would not readily convey this person closer to mahen centers of power. They had rather seek areas where circumstances are more favorable to them."
Meaning the border, the Disputed Territories that were still, despite aunt Pyanfar's good offices, a matter of disagreement between kif and mahendo'sat. She had no quarrel with that reasoning. She was only glad to hear it confirmed.
"But, enlighten me again, excellency: how has this individual known we were coming? How has gtst managed to evade us not once but consecutively? Or is this gtst doing?"
Tlisi-tlas-tin carefully set down gtst cup, with that twist of the wrist that signaled an end of tea, and a seriousness approaching severe.
"I cannot say."
"I have trespassed. But may I ask: do you advise us to continue as we are, and pursue this individual to Kshshti? And is there reasonable likelihood that there we may discharge our responsibilities and increase our respectability?''
"We must continue. We must go to Kshshti. There is no question."
"I thank your excellency for your most extreme good will. I am always enlightened and invigorated by your discourse. As your excellency knows, there is a mahe pressing us closely, who has offered us bribes and threats in his insistence to view the Preciousness…"
"Unthinkable!"
"I take it our refusals of this individual are wise."
"Villainy, utter villainy. Avoid this person!"
"He thought he could lay hands on your excellency's servant and extract information. The foresight of my crewwoman prevented him doing this. I therefore suspect he does not have the full cooperation of the directors of this station, or he could have laid hands on gtstisi. I think that he knew of gtstisi existence here, but not the exact whereabouts, nor could he discover it before we did… quite unexpectedly and by the forwardness of this juvenile person, and thanks in no part to the mahe in question."
"Most impressive." Tlisi-tlas-tin gave a slight glance aside to the servant. "Most desperate."
"I understand from this mahe that stsho were murdered here, most recently. He implied this was connected to the disappearance of Atli-lyen-tlas.”
"Distressing. Most distressing. Is there other information which may be tastefully asked?"
"He implied that the sight or even information about the nature of the Preciousness might enable him to make a critical judgment of its meaning."
Gtstcrest fluttered, lifted and lowered. "Unmitigated and unjustified arrogance!"
"I take it your excellency does not approve of his proposal."
"I perform indignities upon his graceless proposal."
"Is he possibly telling a falsehood?"
"In a most shameless fashion. This is a trading style well-known among mahendo'sat, this obtaining piece after piece of what one wants."
"A mahe could not possibly understand the meaning hi the sending of the Preciousness."
"You are far more tasteful than he and you do not comprehend."
"Most certainly so, excellency."
White fingers reached for the cup again, and turned it. The conversation was ended. "A symmetry of information has been reached," gtst said. "Do you agree?"
There were a handful of questions she would ask that would not get answers — questions like: what part are the kif playing? Are they working for anyone but themselves?
The stsho might think they were. That was the trouble. Everything was the stsho's estimate of what was going on… and the stsho had had their fingers burned before. The stsho might be the last to know what was going on. The stsho might be the last to know that they were understood by the mahen scientists who wrote treatises on their psyche.
Gtstexcellency said that no mahe could comprehend the nature of the Preciousness — but Haisi chased them from star to star trying to learn what it was?
One could conclude that a mahen Personage might not be the only player in this contest… that the information Haisi wanted might be going to someone who could interpret it.
"I have a thought, excellency."
One did not break the symmetry of a conversation. Tlisi-tlas-tin's brow knit and gtst mouth drew thin in displeasure.
"Would a stsho hire a mahe to ask us about the Preciousness?"
The frown deepened and lifted.
"Or enter into collusion with some mahe for that purpose?" Another frown settled on Tlisi-tlas-tin's brow.
"These are disturbing questions," gtst said.
"Are they wise questions, excellency?"
There was no immediate answer.
She cleared her throat. "Graceless as it might be, I might purvey him false information, and I would for your excellency's protection do so, if it would not offend you. But I would not know what falsehood might be believed by whoever hired him."
Tlisi-tlas-tin's respiration increased markedly. "These are most distressing ideas. I must consider them."
That the stsho would deceive… was well-established. But lying was not a word one tossed about carelessly, dealing with other species. Some species did. Some didn't. Some would, individually. Some would, collectively. And what some called lying others called an answer for indecent curiosity. Meddling with reality or its perception was, at least among oxy-breathers thus far studied, what intercultural scientists called a potential flashpoint — a ticking bomb in any interspecies dealings: the more alien, the worse in potential.
"I take my leave of your excellency. I entrust matters to your wisdom and discretion. Should I fail in elegance, I trust that your grace and most excellent sense will advise me to a more proper course."
"Most gracious."
"Most excellent and enlightening."
She hated bowing and backing. It wasn't hani. And she didn't do it all the way to the door, not quite.
Being hani.
No question then where they were going — and since they had missed that wretch Atli-lyen-tlas twice due to gtst damnable haste in going wherever gtst was going (one suspected now, away from them) speed might be of the essence. Which meant no delay in loading cargo, no great mass to what they could take, and no time to fuss about the niceties of what they took.
"Got a few possibilities, captain," Tarras said. ‘'Kshshti not being an unusual destination out of here.''
Meaning that they couldn't be too picky on that account either.
Hilfy read the list. It was a matter of figuring what they could load quickly, and one of the best answers was something light and valuable and easily disposed of in a port that bordered kif territory (she shuddered to think, and refused to carry small edible animals) and likewise lay on the receiving end of two lanes coming out of mahen territory, and one port away from stsho space and tc'a.
Methane load, maybe, which she hated almost as much as the small edible animals.
Or pharmaceuticals. She read the latest market reports from a ship inbound from Kshshti, ran it through the computer program that could spot the relative bad deals and bargains compared to markets elsewhere, factored with points of origin for the goods in question, plus a set of keywords like shortage and various diseases and rise and fall of prices in the business news. It advised, at least, it read news faster than a mortal eye could scan it, and it liked the
pharmaceuticals possibility, the radioactives (another load she was not fond of, since one was at the mercy of the company in question's packaging practices, inspection was not easy, and some of them were appallingly naive about what a loader did to cans.) But Kita was an importer of such materials, while Kefk, one step further on from Kshshti, was a moderate exporter of said materials and reasonably would be shipping them to Kshshti… figuring trade possibilities was a headache on a border, because you couldn’t 't get thoroughly accurate information across said border: traders lied, governments lied, and the black market flourished, but a well-known ship was ill-advised to play that game.
You wanted something… something that you knew about that the rest of the universe didn't. And the only thing they knew about that the rest of the universe didn't was the exact nature of the Preciousness, and (at least as regarded the average trader) that they carried some sort of stsho psychological…
...event.
She punched in data with sudden energy and factored in political uncertainty and instability: stsho…
and even, thinking about Tahaisimandi Ana-kehnandian and his meddling personage…
instability: mahendo 'sat.
The computer silently worked and worked, and came up with a whole new set of projections. Under those conditions, a person wanted essentials in store and a government or a station wanted information and strategic necessities in greater abundance than ordinary. And it projected price rises and scarcities in different patterns.
The only difficulty with that scenario, the glaringly clear difficulty, was that inside information didn't do you a bit of good if the people making the decisions to buy weren't also privy to it. It was good for playing the futures game. But perfectly smart investments could bankrupt you if the secret stayed secret.
As, contractually, it was supposed to.
Strategic metals, strategic materials, and out of a place like Kita, which was a quasi-star of so new a generation it hadn't heavy elements and wouldn't exist except that it provided services and repairs, and that those services and repairs had employed people who wanted first food and then luxuries to ameliorate their barren lives, and then employees who served up the luxuries, and then food to feed the purveyors of the unnecessary, an ecosystem of elegant simplicity beginning to run to the baroqueries common to civilization.
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