"You carry cargo government give."
"That's legal. Gods rot it, you know the distinction. You trade, what time you're not up to no good-"
"So you carry cargo." He lifted the packet. "Same legal."
"Look, look, Jik — old friend. They're looking for an excuse. They want find trouble, understand? You'll get us skinned, all of us."
"What choice got? Pyanfar, good friend, goes h choice. Packet got go."
"Send it with the tc'a!"
Ears flicked. "No." Short and sharp, a small flicker in the eyes that rang alarms. "Not number one good idea, Pyanfar."
More alarms. Methane-breathers, with their own interests. Tt'om'm'mu rearing up behind his glass, violet and murky phosphorescences.
"You come," Jik said. "Maybe better you be there, huh, stop stupid mahe say wrong thing these honest hani?"
"No! Absolutely no!" She got up, flung off across the bridge, waving her arms and dislodging Khym from her path. She looked back again. Jik still stood there with the packet in his hands and that Tully-look on his too-narrow mahen face.
"Pyanfar." He held up the envelope.
"No," she said.
"Chanur," the Ehrran said, Rhif, rising from a much-scarred and grimy chair.
KSHSHTI PORT AUTHORITY the office said on the outer door, in four different alphabets with letters missing.
CONFERENCE in three: the hani line had fallen off altogether and left only brighter paint behind, misspelled.
"Ehrran," Pyanfar said. And with a glance at the other hani captain in the narrow room:
"Ayhar." Jik closed the door behind them both and they were all alone with each other.
"You?" Ehrran asked of Jik. "The Personage send you here?"
"No," Jik said quietly, with unflappable good nature. "I ask Personage send you."
It shot straight through Ehrran's guard and Pyanfar got a quick furtive breath and swallowed it quick, straight-faced, watching the Ehrran's face.
Quick re-thinking, by the gods. Rhif Ehrran drew herself up, mouth not quite closed, and then it did close, and the Ehrran stared closely at this raffish-dressed mahe.
"Sit," Jik said, "captains, I ask you."
Pyanfar pursed her mouth and sat, watched first Banny Ayhar lower her portly self into a grimy seat and then fastidious Ehrran, who looked as if she had a mouthful of salt and no idea where to spit.
"What I got ask," Jik said, taking his own seat at the battered table, in this despicable little office, "what I got ask-" He laid the rumpled envelope on the table. "Need courier."
"Who needs?" The question got out past Ehrran's well-groomed mustaches. "I'd like to see some Signature, if you don't mind."
"A." Jik bent a lank wrist toward his kilt belt, deftly whipped up a small folder, spun it across the table. "That good?"
The Ehrran picked it up as if it had been charged, extruded claws to pull the two leaves apart, and read something there that brought her head up and her ears to level. She mutely flipped the holder closed and spun it back again. Jik replaced it.
"Know you," he said. "Rhif Ehrran. Where you course?"
"Han business."
"A. Maybe got same business lot trouble kif. Maybe got invoke treaty."
"Maybe you can get Chanur to do your work."
"Maybe invoke treaty. Need you, Ehrran."
Ehrran's eyes smoldered. One claw came out, traced a pattern on the tabletop, a clean green line amid the grime. "I've got business, mahe."
"So. Maybe got. I got. Got hani citizen with kif. Got hani shot up, a? No, I tell you, ker Ehrran. You in mahen space, inside mahen agreement-" Jik held up one blunt-clawed finger, forestalling a word from the Ehrran. "You here, a? I call other side treaty, got number-one emergency, got need ship run courier-"
"You want to buy other hani?"
"Gods rot-!" Pyanfar straightened and a dark-furred mahen arm landed slam! on the table between her and the Ehrran.
"I make request," Jik said. "Of-fi-cial, a? Treaty stuff. Now, we got cooperative agreement, agreement like I tell you, Ehrran. You got say yes, say no. You honor treaty?"
The ears were flat already, the fine fair nose rumpled, the eyes ruddy amber. "What do you want?"
"You on hunt. Tell you this hunt go Mkks."
"Mkks!"
"Mkks, hani. Got other thing Ayhar do." He shoved the packet skidding at Ayhar's startled grasp. "You got priority undock, captain. You got. You run damn fast. Know you. Know you, Banny Ayhar. You got lot year, lot smart. I know, huh?"
Ayhar's ears sank. Her eyes showed white rims. "Where?" Ayhar asked.
"Maing Tol."
Banny Ayhar drew the packet up in her hands, drew her mouth down taut, not without a shift of her eyes Ehrran's way. But Ehrran never looked. "No trouble," Ayhar said, all quiet.
"Good," Jik said. "You go. Go fast, ker Ayhar. You not talk, you not wait. Got six rny crew see you get car, see you car get ship. Dock crew already work get you out."
Ayhar stood up, the envelope still in her hands.
"You not open," Jik said.
"Gods be feathered if I want to," Ayhar muttered, and looked this way and that. . delayed then, with a look back. "Ker Pyanfar. You want that crewwoman ferried out?"
"No," said Jik ahead of anything. "You run. Run hard. Not ask why. You not got safety.
Not got choice."
"See here-" But it faded. Whatever Ayhar had meant to say faded out. She looked a moment at Jik and turned then, the envelope in her hands, and vanished out the door.
Ehrran had gained her feet, ears flat. "Chanur," she said, "out."
Pyanfar leaned back and fixed Ehrran with a cold stare. "I'll stay, thanks. I can sit proxy to Chanur's interests. Or is the mahen captain more privy to han business than a member is? I'm here to witness. Formally."
Ehrran drew a long, long breath, and her eyes were dark-centered. Perhaps she considered the recorders. "Kshshti's already had one security breach. . "
"My crew, my niece, my passenger, Ehrran. You want to talk to me about security breach-"
"We'll settle that. Elsewhere. This action of yours-" Ehrran looked at Jik, with no more pleasant face. "My course is Kefk."
Jik waved a loose, limp hand. "Now Mkks." The hand returned to his hip above the gun and rested there. "Ten, maybe twelve hour. You think got business Kefk. No. Lousy place, Kefk. You no go."
"To do what? To do what at Mkks?"
"You stay my tail, a? You dock left. Dock right, Chanur. Three number one bastard go take walk Mkks docks, a?"
There was a long, long silence. Ehrran stood staring, hunter-fix. "Right," Ehrran said. "Ten hours. I'll trust this gets authorized higher up, na Jik."
She walked out, flat. The door whisked shut. "Pyanfar," Jik said, and gestured that way, in Ehrran's wake.
"Huh." Pyanfar got up with a grimace, collected herself and followed Jik outside, where three of his crew waited, all of them gaudy as Jik himself, even toward raffish; guns carried openly. An abundance of gold chains and armlets, and one had a knife.
"All done," Jik said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "got fix good, a?"
"Sure. Sure, fix." She looked round at him with her ears back. "Expensive fix, friend. She won't forget."
"Got soul like kif, that hani."
"Number one right. What business? What's she after?"
The hand squeezed, a pressure of blunt claws. The mahe's dark eyes wrinkled round their edges and looked only tired. "This Ehrran hunt hani ship. Not you, no, she got rumor got hani work many side this thing. han lot upset. This Rhif Ehrran, she want this renegade real bad. Think maybe you, a?
Han lot crazy. They don't like the stsho make sudden clear paper, bring you to Meetpoint. Got lot suspicion, the han. I tell you, Pyanfar, you got go home talk sense these hani."
"Who cleared those papers up?"
Jik pushed her doorward. She braced her feet.
"Who, gods rot it?"
"Goldtooth talk good stsho, got same treaty, a?"
&
nbsp; "Stle stles stlen."
Jik rubbed the bridge of his nose, where an old scar showed gray. "Same got Ayhar."
"What 'same got Ayhar'?"
"Stle stles stlen. Got somehow station damage charge, a? Got big bill, Ayhar. Stsho seize Ayhar cargo."
"O gods."
"Lot scared, Banny Ayhar. Stsho send here, direct route, run courier old bastard Stle sties stlen. Same come Vigilance. Same Stle stles stlen got long talk Rhif Ehrran after you leave Meetpoint, a?"
"That eggsucker!"
"One scared hani, Ayhar."
"Gods rot. What's gtst after?" But ideas occurred to her. A certain bill. A detailed report to the han sent by way of Vigilance.
And another thought muddled past, about timing, information and mahen interests. "You came from Kura, huh? Sure, you did." Jik held up both hands. "Maybe come Meetpoint. Forget these detail."
"Gods rot it, can't somebody tell the truth?"
"Lot truth."
"Sure." She jerked her arm as he laid a hand on it to move her on, and he gave her all her reach for distance between them. "Sure," she said. "Maybe fifty-fifty, huh? What happens now when I get outbound? Maybe have an accident? — Sorry, old friend? Repair crew made a mistake? Hope you enjoy the trip? Gods rot-"
"No. Swear to you." Jik held up his hands again and dropped them. "Say message come to Kshshti. I get same here."
"Who sent you here?"
"Mahen agent, a? Got here, there agent, same hani, same kif. I not say more, Pyanfar. See? I one time try tell truth, got big trouble."
Ayhar? she wondered. Gods, no. Not Banny, not that lot. They loved their liberties too well.
Methane-breather? T'T'Tmmmi had come in from Meetpoint. She had seen it on the list. It was still in port.
Tt'om'm'mu's spy, reporting to methane-side of Kshshti? Circles upon circles. It sent a cold, cold feeling to the stomach.
Knnn. But no one talked to knnn. No one could — excepting tc'a.
"You come," Jik said, mistaking overload for acquiescence, taking her by the unresisting arm, flinging his over her shoulders. "Get you safe back ship, Pyanfar. Got time maybe catch sleep. Tell you truth. . I come Kura way, lousy long run. Sleep make you better, a?" He squeezed hard, dropped the arm again as they came out into the general offices and walked through. Mahen crew hastened to open the outside door. Station guards stood with rifles beside the waiting car.
Kura. Kura was in hani territory. And Ehrran had folded fast when she had a look at the authority in that small wallet Jik had at his belt. Ayhar-Ayhar had been folded before she got there, ears down.
Scared. Plenty scared.
She got into the car at Jik's side in back, surrounded by mahe whose musky flavor got past the perfumes. A guard caught her eye, one curly-furred and smallish, and alarms rang.
"That one," she said to Jik, digging claws into his knee, "outside-"
"Name her Tginiso," Jik said, ducking his head to look past her out that window. "Eseteno aide."
"She was with the car when Hilfy went. Her fur's not singed." For a moment the air seemed very close, the scent of mahendo'sat all-enveloping, and she knew who she was talking to, hunter-captain, mahe with mahen interests very much at stake. She felt Jik's arm shift across the seatback.
"Move," he said to the driver in the mahen tongue. The car leapt forward with a burr of the motor, wheels bumping on the plates like a panicked heartbeat.
Not a word from Jik, only a shifting of his eyes from one side to the other, watching everything along the sides.
Pyanfar watched him, among the rest. Friend. Companion. Along with Rhif Ehrran.
The car thumped along, dodged pedestrians.
Jik took out his pistol and thoughtfully took the safety off in his lap, no small piece like her pocket gun, no, nearly as long as his forearm, with a black, wicked sheen. The mahe on the other side drew hers and kept scanning the surrounds, the whisk of gantries past, of lines, machinery, canisters, all places for ambushes.
Berth five passed. Jik spoke to the driver in something mahen and obscure. "We go close," Jik said. "Want you go fast up ramp."
"Gods rot it, my whole lower deck's occupied."
He pressed her knee. "Same good get you safe in ship." The car veered: a ship access and guards loomed into the way and the car veered again, bringing the door even with the access. The door flew up and Pyanfar scrambled out with Jik and the crewwoman close behind.
Up the ramp then, a slower pace, the long, chill walk through that yellow gullet with the L bend to the lock. Pyanfar looked back, looked round again as they reached the lock and Jik laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Safe. Safe here."
"Sure. The stationmaster's handpicked aides-"
"Listen. I know you safe."
"You know. What's in that ID, Jik? Who are you? Who are you working for?"
Both hands settled on her shoulders. There was nowhere to look but dark mahen eyes, a plain mahen face. "You got watch on you deck, understand, got number one good watch."
"Who? What are you talking about?"
Jik's lips went tight. "Mahe take orders somewhere else. Same good tech, a? Not make mistake."
"Like that aide? Safe like that?"
"I fix."
That left cold after it. Jik lifted his hands from her shoulders, held one finger up.
"Then," Jik said, "get good sleep."
"Ayhar's jumped," Khym said, who sat monitor on com, and the board checks paused for the moment. He scribbled furiously on the lightpad and his florid scrawl came up on screen three as Haral punched it through, a string of numbers meaningless to him, but he got them down with speed.
Heading, velocity, strength of field.
"It's on its way," Tirun muttered, and Pyanfar felt a twinge of relief as the full scan input went to the number two: no pursuit.
There was a tc'a out. T'T'Tmmmi. Outbound on the same heading, none too quietly.
TC'A TC'A TC'A TC'A TC'A TC'A TC'A - transmission said, with ship-function babble in all its harmonics, a tc'a ship fully occupied with tc'a business and the speaker thinking only of its/their jobs. Tc'a did not lie, so the story ran, could not.
Once a tc'a began to output, the underminds had to be there or the harmonics failed and the whole matrix fell into gibberish.
So someone non-tc'a had reckoned, from what gtst thought tc'a had claimed, a hundred years ago.
She went back to work, running checks through the systems, resetting failsafes and running them again and again, putting comp through one and the other simulation as it re-programmed itself.
"Pride." Khym's low voice, answering some call, in the profound silence, the click of keys, the sometime shift of a body in a leather seat. "First is busy. Can you-" The shift of a heavier body.
"Ker Tirun. It's Vigilance. They want a crew member."
Tirun muttered something and took it. "Gods rot," she said. "You don't need to go up the line for that, Ehrran. . That was a crew member."
Pyanfar turned around.
"Fine," Tirun said, and punched the contact out. "That's a confirm on the Ayhar jump."
Pyanfar said nothing. There was nothing to say. Tell Khym to stand his ground and ignore a request for higher authority? But next time it might be something that truly had to get someone more knowledgeable. Log the discourtesy? Who would read it but the han?
Khym was busy already, a look of concentration on his broad, scarred face the while he listened to station chatter that flowed past him like so much babble, sorting for anything of interest, anything of tc'a or knnn, anything of kif or mahendo'sat. Doing the best he could.
In Hilfy's vacant post.
Pyanfar turned back again, twisted in her seat a third time as she heard the lift work down the corridor.
"Captain!" Tirun spun her chair as she did, as she came out of her chair reaching for her pocket and Khym was out of his place.
"Identify." Haral had usurped com function to her panel and keys clicked to freeze locks, but the lift d
oor opened all the same.
Hani. Hani and smallish and one of their own.
"Geran," Pyanfar muttered, and the gun went back. No rejoicing, not from any of them. It was not that kind of time, an hour to go and Geran out of place.
"Something wrong?" Pyanfar asked as Geran walked onto the bridge. "Chur all right, Geran?"
"Left her below, snugged in."
"Gods and thunders!"
Geran shrugged, padded over to main scan, rested a hand on her seatback and looked round again, ears at half, and obduracy in the stare she gave back. "Don't like to cross those docks, captain.
Scary place out there."
It took a good long moment of even breathing to cope with that.
"Geran-" in a tone quiet enough to warn a chi. "We've got one hour, one gods-rotted hour to get things sorted out. You two-"
"Captain, please." Geran's voice sank to the same level, but all wobbly. "Chur'd kill me for saying it, but she's scared. Gut-scared. Being left here — the ship and all — where'd she be? What good's two of us — here? By ourselves? Where's home, but The Pride?"
Something superstitious settled into her own gut, nothing reasonable. "Look. We're not after suicide, hear me? Jik's in port. He's got Vigilance on our side for what she's worth. We're going to Mkks to do some good. Hear me? Now get Chur back where she belongs."
"She is. Same as me." Geran's claws sank into the chairback, tendons stark on the backs of her hands. "What's all this new stuff worth with half a crew, huh? Chur can walk — walked across that dock out there from the lift, she did, just fine."
"Good gods."
"The plasm took; the wound won't tear. Got her packed in real good and the time-stretch' give her a good few days to heal. Might be on her feet by the time we get to Mkks-"
"The gravity-drop'll kill her."
"No. Not Chur."
She folded her ears down and Geran stood her ground, meant to stand it, gods knew. And they needed that pair of hands. Needed hands that could fit hani-specific controls, fit a hani crewwoman's space. "Gods rot,",she muttered and walked off the other way with a wave of her hand. "Bring her topside. Put her in my cabin. Put her close to us. Pack a med kit in there."
"My cabin," Khym said. "She can have mine."
"Do it."
"Thanks," Geran said, all heartfelt. "Thanks, captain."
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