beginnings of negation.
“Meanwhile,” the Voice said, “you stall this fool deputy.”
“No. Not possible.”
“You want help, got.”
“You bet I got. Got authorization.” She retrieved the paper from the Voice’s
hand and waved it under the Voice’s nose. “Un-con-di-tional. Code Hasano-ma!
That mean anything to you?”
“We not permit this transfer.”
“Well, take it up with the deputy. I can’t stop it. It’s my license. You
understand that?”
The Voice came close, tapped her on the chest with a dull-clawed forefinger.
“Hani. You we know longtime. This other fool we got no confidence.”
“I can’t do anything.”
White rimmed the dark eyes. “You get number-one repair job, make quick. Want you
back in action, Pyanfar Chanur. You listen. We got right now no ship here stop
this bastard. Got delicate situation, got stsho upset — you know stsho bastard,
know hani got young fool, old bastard stsho lot smart, lot timid, got own
interest. Not say not-friend. Got own interest. Our interest got you fix up. You
fix han.”
Her jaw dropped. “Good gods! what do you think I am?”
“Maybe we talk, huh?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She waved a hand aft. “That’s the Y unit out.
The Y unit took the main column linkage. When the linkage failed–”
The mahe waved her own lank black-furred hand. “Get you fix, you take this
cargo.”
“I’m telling you you can’t get that vane fixed fast enough. Two hundred, three
hundred work hour fix that vane. We sit here we got kif positioned all round
this system. Plenty time for that. Mahe, we’ve got knnn loose!”
“God–!”
“Not our fault. Mahendo’sat set this up, all the way. Your own precious
Personage at Maing Tol. We got routed here. Number one usual mahen foulup, like
Meetpoint, like got Kita blocked, like desert me with no support–”
“Ship come. Meanwhile get you fix. Lousy hani engineering, huh?”
“Gods rot, you route a ship through Urtur and throw a course change at it and
see how it holds!”
Minuscule mahen ears twitched. The nose wrinkled and the Voice lifted a
deprecating hand. “Technical not my business. Personage say: Find damage, fix,
send this fool away quick before got kif organize. We fix. You hold this cargo.”
“Can’t do!”
“Want repair?”
The breath strangled her. “I’m due repair, you bastard. I’ve got the paper says
so. I can’t stall the deputy. . . .”
The Voice frowned. Her small ears folded, twitched as she looked up and jabbed
again with the finger. “We take care this cargo. We take him station center, big
inquiry, lot fluff. Get you fix, bring back cargo — twenty hour.”
“Can’t be done in twenty hours.”
The mahe lifted one finger. “Bet?”
She stared at the mahe, thinking treachery,
thinking double-cross; and all the same her pulse raced. She threw a look at
Tirun, saw her cargo chief/engineer with that same wary, heart-thumping thought.
“They’d have to replace the whole gods-rotted tail to make that schedule,” Tirun
muttered. “No patch job.”
“Got good system,” the Voice said. “Better. Mahen make. Match up you systems no
trouble. Twenty hour, you run. We fix han deputy. We confiscate this cargo. Let
deputy go Maing Tol make complaint.”
“Gods, you know what you let me in for?”
“How much already, hani? You think. How much you got?”
“We’d still have kif.” She gnawed a hangnail and stared at the Voice.
“Always got kif.”
“You know a ship named Harukk?”
“Know. One bastard.”
“He’s been with us since Meetpoint. He knows what we’ve got. Ship named Ijir.
Our backup. It’s gone. Kif have got it.”
“Damn, hani!”
“Kif got whatever it had. They know whatever it knew.”
The mane’s mouth made a hard line as she looked down and up again. “You run
fast, hani. We get you fix, you burn tail get hell out Kshshti. Maybe arrange
small accident this Harukk. Maybe skimmer bump vane, huh? Maybe multiple
collision.”
“All three? You want kif feud?”
“Raindrop in ocean, hani. You make deal?”
She gnawed her mustaches, looked at the deck plates, looked up at the mahe.
“Deal. You handle the deputy. You stop her. Caught between local government and
a han order-I can’t very well contest a confiscation, can I — if it gets here