impudence, she thought, and turned on it with her mouth open and the beginnings
of an oath.
Another captain stood there, her red-gold mane and beard in curling wisps of
elegance; gold arm-band; gold belt; breeches of black silk unrelieved by any
banding. Immune Clan color. Official of the han. “Rhif Ehrran,” that one named
herself, “captain, Ehrran’s Vigilance. What’s the trouble, Chanur?”
Her heart began slow, painful beats. Blood climbed to her ears and sank toward
her heart. “Private,” she said in a quiet, controlled tone. “You’ll excuse me,
captain. I have an internal emergency.”
“I’m in port on other business,” the han agent said. “But you’ve almost topped
it, ker Chanur. You mind telling me what’s going on?”
She could hand it all to the Ehrran, shove the whole thing over onto the han’s
representative in port.
Give Tully to her. To this. Young, by the gods young, ears un-nicked, bestowed
with half a dozen rings. And cold as they came. Gods-rotted walking recorder
from one of the public service clans, immune to challenging and theoretically
nonpartisan.
“I’m on my way home,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Ehrran’s nostrils widened and narrowed. “What did the kif give you, Chanur?”
A cold wind went down her back. Distantly she heard the crane whining away,
lifting a can into place. “Dropped a ring,” she said, “in the riot. Kif returned
it.” The lie disgusted her. So did the fear the Ehrran roused, and knew she
roused. “This what the han’s got to? Inquisitions? Gathering bad eggs?”
It scored. Ehrran’s ears turned back, forward again. “You’ve about exited
private territory, Chanur. You settle this mess. If there are repercussions with
the stsho, I’ll become involved. Hear me?”
“Clear.” Breath was difficult. “Now you mind if I see to my business, captain?”
“You know,” Ehrran said, “you’re in deep. Take my advice. Drop off your
passenger when you get back to Anuurn.”
Her heart nearly stopped while Ehrran turned and walked away; but it was Khym
Ehrran had meant. She realized that in half a breath more, and outrage nearly
choked her. She glared at Banny Ayhar, just glared, with the reproach due
someone who dragged the like of Ehrran in on a private quarrel.
“Not my doing,” Ayhar said.
“In a mahen hell.”
“I can’t reason with you,” Ayhar said, flung up her hands and stalked off.
Stopped again, to cast a look and a word back. “Time you got out of it, Pyanfar
Chanur. Time to pass it on before you ruin that brother of yours for good.”
Pyanfar’s mouth dropped. Distracted as she was she simply stared as Ayhar spun
on her heel a second time and stalked off along the dock with her two crewwomen;
and then it was too late to have said anything without yelling it impotently at
a retreating Ayhar back.
The first can boomed up the cargo ramp into the cradle; Tirun and Geran kicked
their own balky Loader around with expert swiftness, raised the slot’s holding
sling and snagged it into the moving ratchets that vanished into The Pride’s
actinic-lighted hold. The can ascended the ramp, while Chur, beside the crane
operator on the loader, shouted at the aggrieved mahe, urging her to speed.
“Chur!” Pyanfar yelled, headed for the ramp-way and the tube beyond. Chur left
off and scrambled after, leaving the docksiders to their jobs. Pyanfar jogged
the length of The Pride’s ramp and felt a stitch in her side as Chur came up
beside her in the accessway.
A han agent on their case.
A chance to get rid of Tully into the keeping of that same agent and she had
turned it down.
Gods. O gods.
They scrambled through the lock, headed down the short corridor to the lift,
inside. The door hissed shut as Pyanfar hit the controls to start the car down,
rim-outward of The Pride’s passenger-ring.
“Got it?” Haral’s voice came to them by com.
“Gods know,” she said to the featureless com panel, forcing calm. “Keep an eye
on those kif back there — hear me?”
“Looks as if the party’s broken up for good out there.”
“Huh.” It was a small favor. She did not believe it.