She thought about it. Gave it up. There was no need starting off hot. “No. Let
her in. Due courtesy. You and Chur and Khym stay on the bridge and keep your eye
on things. Hilfy: galley. Geran and Tully, half an hour to clean up and trade
watch with first shift. Move it.” Crew was tired. Exhausted. Gods knew how much
rest they would get. Or when.
“Aye,” Haral said. “They’re about to hook up the accessway.”
“At your discretion.”
She took the lift down, the while the ship-to-station connections whined and
clanked away against the outer hull, the thunk! of lines socketing home, the
portside contact of the access tube snugging into its housing on the hull.
Tirun joined her, swung along with a visible weight in her right-hand pocket and
not a word of expectations.
Kshshti, after all.
“Ehrran’s out there,” Pyanfar said.
“Heard that.” Cheerlessly. “Figured black-breeches would be quick about it.”
There was the final thump, that was the seal in place.
“Stand by,” Haral said.
“Ker Rhif,” Pyanfar said-took up a pose facing the han deputy and her
black-breeched crewwoman; not insolent, no. Just solid enough to invite no
farther progress down the corridor.
“Ker Pyanfar.” Rhif Ehrran took up a like pose, arms folded. Armed, by the gods:
a massive pistol hung at the side of those black silk trousers. The crewwoman
carried the same. “Sorry to trouble you this early. I’m sure you’ve got other
things on your mind.”
Pyanfar blew softly through her nostrils, comment enough.
“What caused the damage?” Ehrran asked in that friendly, official way.
She pursed her lips into a pleasant expression and glared. “Well, now, that’s
something we’re still looking into, captain. Likely it was dust.”
“You want to explain that last message at Meetpoint?”
“I think it’s self-explanatory. I meant it. It would be a lot better if you
avoided us right now. We’ve got a problem. I don’t pretend we don’t. I don’t
think it ought to involve the han.”
“You feel qualified to decide that?”
“Someone has to. Or the han’s in it. I hadn’t wanted that.”
“You hadn’t wanted that.”
She refrained from retort. It was what Ehrran wanted. It was all she needed —
if anything lacked at all.
“Where do you plan to go?” Rhif Ehrran asked.
“Nowhere, till I get that vane fixed.”
“Then?”
“Maing Tol. Points beyond.”
A silence then. “You know,” Rhif Ehrran said, “you’ve had a lot of experience
out here, a lot of experience. Do I have to tell you the convention regarding
hiring a ship out?”
“You don’t. We’re not.”
“You’re sitting in a border port with your tail in a vise, Chanur. Are you still
going to brazen it out? I’m giving you a chance, one chance before I suspend
your license on the spot. You get that two-legged cargo of yours down here and
turn him over.”
“You’re not referring to my husband.”
Ehrran’s ears went flat and her mouth opened.
“I didn’t think so,” Pyanfar said. “Who sent you? Stle stles stlen?”
“See here, Chanur. You don’t negotiate with me. I’ve got a han ship eight
light-years into the Disputed Territories because I figured you’d foul it up,
I’m likely to get my tail shot up getting out of here, and I’m not in the mood
to trade pleasantries. I want the alien down here. I want him wrapped up and
ready to go, and be glad I don’t pull your license.”
“We aren’t carrying any alien. You’re talking about a citizen of the Compact.”
“I’m aware of the fiction the mahendo’sat arranged. Let’s not argue
technicalities. Get him down here.”
“He’s a passenger on my ship. He has some say where he goes.”
“He’ll have no say if this ship has no license.”
She drew a long, slow breath. The world had gone dark all round, excepting Rhif
Ehrran’s elegant person. “There’s Compact Law, Ehrran. I trust you’ll remember
that.”
“You’re on the edge. Believe me that you are.”
She stood there with her heart slamming against her ribs and the light refusing
to come back. She was aware of Tirun there, at her side. She could not see her.
“Where will you take him? To the han?”