Now the resident hani had a further insanity to contemplate: kif in control of the station; and with those kif a mahen hunter-ship, and with them, Tahar and Chanur, who were blood enemies to each other.
But if these ships had been stuck at Meetpoint through all the troubles, they must be used to lunacies.
“Pride of Chanur,” com said, “this is Faha’s Starwind. Request explanation at your leisure. Standby signal for tight-beam.”
Cagy old spacer, playing it very careful. Lifetime of experience with the kif. And taking a bigger risk than she knew.
“Starwind, this is The Pride, stand by your query.” The board signaled acquisition of the impulse against The Pride’s receptor-dish, and confirmed their own pulse sent back; all discreet and hope to the gods the kif did not pick up that furtive exchange. “Haral, we got a ship-to-ship-”
“Break it,” Haral said, and Hilfy shut down at once, thwarting the contact. Then over a station-system relay Haral appropriated: “This is Haral Araun, duty officer, The Pride of Chanur: all com will go on station relay. The mekt-hakkikt Sikkukkut an’nikktukktin is an ally, and beyond that we aren’t authorized to say anything-is that Junury I’m talking to?”
”Gods-be right it is. Haral, what in a mahen hell is going on between you and Ehrran? Can you at least answer me that one?”
“Bloodfeud, that’s what’s going on. Which is no part of anything going on in this system, excepting some deals with the stsho. Excepting deals in the han. I’ll fill you in on it later. Junury, anyone else who’s listening: we’ve been doubledealt in the han, every spacer clan’s been done up inside and out by a few gods-be graynosed groundling bastards with full pockets. We had bloodfeud with Tahar; we paid that out; gods know Tahar’s paid in blood. Right now I got a cousin lying gut-shot from back at Kshshti thanks to Ehrran and thanks to that bastard Akkhtimakt, and we got trouble loose that we got to settle-we got hani interests at stake, like we never had. And thank the gods you stayed, Junury. Thank the gods, is what I say: we can use the help, and I don’t know if you’d have gotten through the way you were headed. Hear me?”
A long pause. / hear. I hear you, Haral Araun.”
For Haral it was outright eloquence. Hilfy drew a long breath when Haral did; and tried to think whether Haral had shot any messages into it between the lines-nothing but caution, caution, caution, we’re being monitored, was what she heard.
“Starwind,” Transmission came from another source, “this is Moon Rising. Our captain’s gone same as yours. We’re under parole to Chanur. We’ll stand trial. Araun’s too polite. We’re coming in for that. We haven’t got a choice. So we surrendered. We’re still armed and we’re under Chanur’s direction .End statement.”
Transmissions ceased. Discreetly.
Hilfy switched back in on the intercom channel Khym was on, leaned back in her chair and tried not to think at all. She worked her hand and extended claws and tried to keep her ears up and her expression matter-of-fact as Tirun’s down the row, while Khym nef Mahn sat there beside her with a new-won ring in his ear-a man, with a spacer’s ring; with his scarred face grim and glowering at the trouble belowdecks, and the certainty Pyanfar was bound for the kif.
What kept him in that chair and what kept the pressure-seal on that temper of his gods alone knew; Hilfy felt his presence at her right like boding storm, like something ready to erupt, but which never did.
“Fry Ehrran,” Khym muttered to himself. “Gods-be Immune. I want a few of them.”
Khym nef Mahn was not a swearing man. Hilfy turned a second misgiving look his way and saw the set of his face and his ears, which was a male on the edge. With not an enemy in reach.
“Health,” Pyanfar murmured-other salutations had loaded connotations in main-kifish. As more of the captains walked in on The Pride’s lower deck and joined the conference. With one of Sikkukkut’s kif to witness. Her own kif took up a wary stance with rifle in hands. Prudent; and ignorant and naive in his own kifish way, gods knew. “It’s all right,” she said in pidgin, and in hani: “Kerin, hau mauru.” Clanswomen, there’s no worry. “Haaru sasfynurhy aur?” Everyone understand the pidgin? She gave a meaningful glance up and about the edges of the ceiling. We’re being monitored. So you know. “This is Tully. And na Jik. Nomesteturjai. And his first officer Kesurinan.” No need for more than that. Since Gaohn, Aja Jin was famous among hani. Ears were up in respect, among these armed and vari-shaded hani, who came from every continent of Anuurn, mostly graynoses like Kaurufy Harun with younger escorts; Munur Faha being the exception, a red-gold smallish young woman with a graynosed and scarred old cargo officer beside her: that was Sura Faha, and a good and a steady old hand she was.