Gods rot the bastard! They weren’t prepared for this. It was an ultimatum. They could refuse it. But you measured every such action and bet everything you had on it. She had made a play, coming in here. The hakkikt was making his throw, now, and it was a test or it was an outright kidnapping.
The hani ship, at dock at Kefk, captain Hilfy Chanur, head of Chanur clan, her hand, to the hakkikt Vikktakkht an Nikkatu, the kif hunter Tiraskhti, at dock at Kefk: I look forward to the meeting.
Let him wonder if she was going to shoot him on sight—because he would have to raise the level of threat to tell her she wasn’t going in there armed.
She was in formal dress now. There was the mini-pistol in her belt. There was the gun on the counter, its holster in the wall-clip, and she punched in all-ship while she was getting out of the chair. “Hallan Meras, Fala Anify, report to lower main now, formal dress, code red, Fala. Hallan, just wash off, clean clothes, and get yourself down here.”
“I’m going,”Fala said from somewhere.
“Hallan, answer the gods-be com!”
“Yes, captain! I’m on my way!”
Tarras arrived, full of protests. “The kif? You’re going out there? With those two kids?”
“The Rules, Tarras. The Rules. I want the gunner, the pilot, the scan officer on the bridge. You don’t deal with the kif solo, I’ve got to have somebody, he wants to talk through Meras: Fala’s the only expendable, that’s the way it is, Tarras. I’m sorry, cousin. It’s the way it adds.”
Tarras stood there in silence, hard-breathing. Then: “Tell them the gunner’s unstable and gods-be upset about this.”
“I’m telling them we want Atli-lyen-tlas. Or a good excuse. Keep Chihin on the ship. Read the Rules at her till she hears you.”
“Aye,” Tarras said. Thank the gods for Tarras’ basic intelligence. Tarras left, grim and upset; and collided with Tiar inbound.
“Captain,—“
“Won’t work this time, Tiar. Crew to stations, by the Book. Trust me I know what I’m doing.”
“Risking your gods-be neck, captain!”
“That’s fine. Neither Fala nor I navigate. Your course is Meetpoint by Lukkur or Tt’a’va’o, if that’s the only route open—if I get into trouble, run for it and let somebody know besides the kif, does this make sense to you?”
Tiar didn’t like it. Not in the least, but she went with Tarras, and both of them were going to have their hands full with Chihin, bet on it. For the first time this crew was going to make the hard choice and do what they were told, by the ever-living gods. And she was deeply sorry to be taking two kids into this mess, but it was exactly as she’d told them: no choice.
She heard the lift descending. That was either Tarras and Tiar on their way up—or …
She heard the shouting. That was Chihin. Protesting, she could figure, that she’d calc’ed all the possible courses already, and she was going. Hilfy couldn’t hear the words, but she could pick the argument out of the rhythm. The voices went quiet then—muted by the doors, perhaps; the lift ascended. But someone was coming down the corridor, she heard the hurrying approach.
“Captain,” Fala panted, still damp from the shower. Scared, no question of it.
“This is where we see if you can keep your head, ker Anify. Sorry I can’t take senior crew, you’re it. Remember everything— everythingyou read in the manual, and if you’re scared out of your wits you don’t let them know it. There’s another gun in the locker there. Put it on.”
“Aye, captain.” Fala got into the locker, got the gun and holster out, and put it on. Her hands were shaking: neo nerves, the unknown, the never-experienced. That was all right. She had a few flutters herself.
“They’re going to try to spook you. You put your hands on your gun, they’ll do the same, just don’t for godssake escalate a gesture into a firefight, do you follow that?”
The lift had come down again. Another runner came down the corridor, heavier—out of breath when he got to the door.