your kind here. I hesitate to breach this delicacy, but it is well known that
this gender of your species is unstable. This surely contributed–”
“This is a hani affair.”
“–Other hani find the state of affairs on your ship disturbing and improper.”
“A hani matter.”
“–A deputy of the han has shown concern. The deputy has assured me that this is
not new policy, that the han deplores this action–”
“It’s none of the deputy’s gods-rotted business. Or anyone else’s. Let’s stay to
the issue of safety on the docks.”
“–Hani have not found it wise to bring their males into foreign contacts, for
which they are naturally unsuited and unprepared. Other hani are shocked at your
provocation.”
“The docks, esteemed director. And public safety.”
“–You have violated law. You have brought this person–”
“A member of my crew.”
“–This person has a license?”
“He’s got a temporary. All in order. Ask your own security.”
“–A permit granted at Gaohn station. By a Chanur ally, doubtless under
pressure. He is here without permissions–”
“Since when does Compact law require permissions for listed crew?”
“–Since when does listed crew take liberty during unloading and visit bars?”
“This is my ship and my affair!”
“–It became a stsho affair.”
“Indeed it did! And any other question is utter persiflage. Let us stay to the
issue: a kif attack on personnel of my ship; on personnel of my ship, who relied
on the security assured by stsho law and custom. We have suffered outrage; I
have suffered personal outrage in being detained for hours while kif assassins
doubtless do as they please on the docks, to the hazard of life and property,
some of which is mine — and who guarantees the safety of my goods waiting
loading, when we are the victims of this outrage? I hold the station
responsible. Where are my crew, esteemed Director? And who pays the indemnities
we’re due?”
This was perhaps too much. The translator wrung gist hands and stammered on the
words, bowed like a reed in the wind on receiving the reply.
“–Why not ask the mahendo’sat you conferred with?”
Pyanfar’s ears went tight against her skull. She brought them up with utmost
effort, smoothed her nose and assumed a bland expression. “Would the director
mean perhaps the mahendo’sat whose registry board malfunctioned in this
well-ordered station?”
Another exchange. The translator’s skin lost its pearly sheen and went dead
white. “–The director says gtst knows about this board. A subordinate has been
disapproved in this malfunction.”
“It would be impolite to suggest higher connections. It would be stupid to doubt
them.”
The translator made several gasps for air and performed, with further
hand-wringing. “–The subordinate in question had no inkling of higher
complicities, such as you and your co-conspirators arranged. This mahen ship has
elected departure during the disturbance. The disturbance reached also to the
methane-breathers. The director asks — are you aware of this? Are you aware of
hazards with tc’a and chi?”
“Not my affair. Absolutely not my affair.”
“–The director asks — do you want the merchandise this person left?”
Pyanfar took in her breath, feeling an impact in the gut.
“–It is,” the translator rendered the next remark, “perishable.”
“I take it then station will deliver this merchandise . . . recognizing its
obligation.”
“–There are entanglements. There is, for instance, the question of our damages.
This shipment is impounded.”
“I refuse to be held to account for thieving krf! Take it up with the
mahendo’sat you dealt with!”
“I cannot translate this,” the translator said. Gtst eyes were round. “I beg the
esteemed hani captain–”
“Tell gtst if I behaved as the kif did gtst would not be speaking to me about
damages.”
“Ashosh!” the Director said: the translator turned and folded gtst hands on gtst
breast, lisped in softest tones, turned with moonlike eyes at widest.
“–We will speak of damages later. Now this merchandise, this — perishabie
merchandise.”
Pyanfar set her hands within her belt, stood with feet set. “In the estimable
Director’s personal keeping, I trust.”
“–Four canisters. Am I a menial, to keep such goods personally?”
“Gods rot it-” She amended that, flicking up her ears, trying for a quieter