business at the moment, but which were capable of catching small furtive moves
— like a Chanur captain paying calls on mahen ships.
There were a dozen other mahen vessels in port: Tigimiransi, Catimin-shai,
Hamarandar were some she had known for years. And familiar stsho names, like
Assustsi, E Mnestsist, Heshtmit and Tstaarsem Nai. Round the wheel of Meetpoint,
beyond the great lock that separated oxy- from methane-breathers, ships went by
stranger titles: tc’a and knnn and chi names, if knnn had names at all. Tho’o’oo
and T’T’Tmmmi were tc’a/chi ships she had seen on docking lists before.
And kif. Of course there were kif. She had made a particular point to know those
names before she put The Pride in dock . .. names like Kekt and Harukk,
Tikkukkar, Pakakkt, Maktikkh, Nankktsikkt, Ikhoikttr. Kif names, she memorized
wherever she found them, a matter of policy — to recall their routes, their
dockings, where they went and trading what.
The kif watched her routes with as much interest this last year. She was very
sure of that.
She did not loiter on the docks, but she made no particular haste which might
attract attention on its own. She stared at this and that with normal curiosity,
and at the same general pace she strolled up to the nearest com booth along the
row of dockside offices, keyed up Chanur credit and punched in the code for the
station comlink to The Pride’s bridge. She waited. The com whistled and clicked
through nine cycles unanswered.
There was a kif on the docks. She spied the tall, black-robed form standing over
shipside in conversation with a stsho, whose pale arms waved emphatically. She
stood with her back to the plastic wall and watched this exchange past the veil
of other traffic, the passing of service vehicles, of pedestrians, mostly stsho,
pale-robed and elegant; here and there mahen-do’sat, dark and sleek. Something
winged whipped past, small and upward bound for the heights of the tall, cold
dock.
Gods only knew what that was.
Click. “Pride of Chanur,” the voice finally answered. “Deck officer speaking.”
“Haral, gods rot you, how long does it take?”
“Captain?”
“Who’s out?”
“Outside?”
“I want that cargo inventoried. Hear? I want all of you on it, right now. No
liberties. If anyone’s out, get her back. Right now.”
“Aye,” the voice came back, diffident. “Aye, Captain.” There was question in the
voice.
“Just do it!”
“Aye. But — Captain?”
“What?”
“Na Khym’s out.”
“Gods and thunders!” Her heart fell through her feet. “Where’d he go?”
“Don’t know. To the free market, I think — There some kind of trouble?”
“I’m coming back. Get him, Haral. I want him found.”
“Aye, Captain.”
She slammed the receiver down and headed back toward the ship in haste.
Khym, for the gods’ sake. Her mate, gone strolling out in fullest confidence
that papers in order meant safety … on a stsho trading station, where weapons
were banned, as he had gone out of ship at Urtur and Hoas among mahendo’sat; as
he had gone wandering wherever he liked through the last two markets — male,
and duty-less and bored. Gods. O gods.
She remembered the kif then, looked back, one injudicious glance over her
shoulder, breaking the rest of her precautions.
The kif was still there, looking her way beyond the gesticulating stsho, looking
black and grim and interested.
She flung around again and moved as fast as a walk could carry her, past
Mahijiru behind its darkened (malfunctioning?) registry board, past one berth
and the other in the chill, stsho-made air.
She was panting in earnest when she came within sight of The Pride’s berth.
Everything was stopped there. The machinery that ought to be offloading stood
still with cans still on the ramp. Haral was outside waiting for her, red-gold
figure in blue breeches; and spying her, came her way with scurrying haste.
“Captain–” Haral skidded up and braked, claws raking on the plates. “We’re
looking.”
“Kif are out,” Pyanfar said. That was enough. Haral’s ears went flat and her
eyes went wide. “With Ehrran clan in port. I want him back, Haral. Where’d he
talk about going? Doing what?”
“Didn’t talk, Captain. We were all busy. He was there by us at the ramp. When we