one-zone. I didn’t think it was worth waking you, but I queried station. They
identified it as Eishait, said it came in during the Harukk business and
security had it scan-blocked. I queried Prosperity. They had their scan shut
down. They’re too far round the curve for the cameras to help. I put in a call
to Vigilance, begging your pardon–”
“They get it?”
Haral dipped her ears. “They said, quote, they had no authority to release
information. I suggested they wake their captain. They suggested I wake you.”
She drew a tight slow breath and leaned against the counteredge nearest the
doorway.
“At that point,” Haral said, “it was committed to dock and I figured there
wasn’t all that much to do about it that fast. Stationmaster’s office stuck by
the Eishait story. I called Prosperity back and suggested one of them take a
walk down that way.” “Should have waked me, gods rot it.” “Prosperity agreed.
They say it’s all security down there. Can’t get past. Our work crew never
stopped back there, no sign of any concern while that ship was inbound.
Meanwhile there’s nothing kifish on com. I think it’s a mahen hunter.”
“Not friendly of station not to say. Wouldn’t you think?”
“Worries me,” Haral said. “Whole gods-forsaken place worries me.” Her eyes
shifted minutely aft, by implication including the repair work. Back again. “You
still want that mahen security on our access?”
The breakfast lay uneasy at her stomach. “Put them on it. They’re all we’ve got.
And log those exchanges.”
“They’re logged.” Haral powered her chair about and punched into the station
comlink. “Kshshti central, this is the watch officer, from the bridge, The Pride
of Chanur. . . . Get me dock security.”
Pyanfar stood away from the counter and looked left as Tirun came shambling in
half asleep and nodded a courtesy.
“Morning,” she said to Tirun. “Chur’s doing fine. Get some breakfast.”
“Huh,” Tirun said, and went, blindly trustful. Down on lowerdeck they had a lock
about to open.
Pyanfar sat down in Tirun’s place at bridge ops, conscious of the pistol she
kept in her pocket, its weight swinging against her leg. She started locking
doors, putting the lift on key/bridge operation only, sealing every hold access
but the necessary one that would get work crews to The Pride’s vitals.
“Security’s coming,” Haral said.
* * *
Mahen workers came and went, an occasiona splatter of bare running feet, a rush
of blacl and brown mahen bodies in the lower corri dors carrying this and that
item the tech: wanted — honest mahendo’sat, Pyanfar con vinced herself. She
came down to see the faces, to judge reactions, and the earnest look of the
workers reassured her. Their speed reassurec her, and the surprised reflexes of
respect. Some recognized her, blue breeches and all as she took the tour through
ops, where mahen techs ran checks. Above, aft, the first new vane pane was
moving up in the careful grasp of a pusher-ship, and suited mahendo’sat prepared
the column to receive it.
It was a hundred ten panels wide to the old ninety and looked monstrous large.
The olc drive could not have pushed it. The old drive The Pride’s old heart, had
gone off in the clutches of a mahen pusher and a new, mahen-made unit was
coupled to the ship’s alloy spine, struts recoupled — as good amputate a part
of her, and put back some fancy foreign part. She watched the floods sparkle
bright off the panel rim and glisten off the black panel surfaces as the pusher
turned. A shiver prickled up her back, worry about telemetry complications,
systems that might not mesh and set them, further back, despite the Voice’s
assurances. Topside, Tirun ran calculations and more calculations, had the
third, this time sulphurous request in for raw specifications on the individual
units. . . . “Make soon,” the reply had come back from the supervisor, “give
composite.” And when Tirun objected that: “Got get security dear give that
information.”
“Good gods!” Tirun had screamed into com. “It’s part of our ship, you
gods-rotted lunatic!”
“I make request,” the supervisor said.
Meanwhile the panel was moving in, and mahendo’sat ran their own checks in ops;