Gods, she did hate politics. And hated worse being suckered.
But if Haisi tossed off a kifish strike force of twenty hunter ships as a “we fix,” Haisi had a lot of fire-power out there hidden in the system—
“So?” Haisi asked her. “You want be logical? No good, the oji, got no value ‘cept to stsho. Chanur don’t want lose face. We don’t want lose face. ‘Specially Vikktakkht don’t want lose face: what you got do is make him look good, make him go ‘way,”
So maybe there wasn’t such a large mahen force. And Haisi was one good negotiator.
“You want me to tell him to go away, huh? You worried?”
A quick frown. Haisi snatched the smoke-stick from his mouth to jab it in her direction. “You want peace? You not want? That are whole question. You not just stupid hani captain, you Chanur. You got youself in politic, all right, you play smart. You only damn one can get that kif go ‘way now. You only one can save Vikktakkht sfik so he don’t get throat cut by own follower. Kif damn fragile, all time damn fragile. You got save him, or we got fight. I rather not fight. I rather not have this kif sit point gun at Meetpoint. Lot nervous people here.”
Maybe Haisi was saying the same about himself— he was in a bind, a serious one. He wanted a way out.
So she’d done him damage. She had that.
“I have to give him something,” she said. “I have to bring him in on the negotiations. 1 have to be there. This has to save face for everybody. You understand me?”
Haisi looked relieved. “Number one fine. You got million credit deal. You walk away clear. What more want?”
“No, no, no, it doesn’t work that way. We’ve got to talk to the stsho. We’ve got to have a slice of this, so does Vikktakkht.”
“What you want? You dumb hani captain, no make gov’ment.”
“I’m Chanur, mahe. You’ve been using that, that’s the game you’ve been playing, and I demand to have something out of this that’s going to satisfy that kif out there, that’s going to satisfy our honor, and not have any trouble with our papers, our cargoes, or the Personage’s affairs. I have an obligation to her friends. I have a contractual obligation to No’shto-shti-stlen. That’s gtst property. I can’t just hand it over. I’ve got, for that matter, an obligation to that kif out there, who’s played tolerably fair with me. So you’ve got what you want here, you haven’t got what I have, you’re not secure until you’ve got it, and you’d better damn well settle with our honor, and our claims, and our—pardon me—finance, because anything else is going to be expensive to the stsho and to this station, which isn’t going to make the stsho damn happy with you, a?”
“So what you got have?”
“In trade? First off, not to have that stsho contract hanging over my head. I’ve got to have trade agreements with the new government, including trade agreements for Vikktakkht’s interests. I’ve got to have Chanur’s friends out of here: we’re not leaving any hostages in anybody’s hands.”
“What friend you talk about?”
“No’shto-shti-stlen.”
“No, no, no good deal.”
“What no good deal? What threat is gtst to anybody if he’s not the governor?”
A few rapid puffs of smoke. The whole dockside was unnaturally silent. “You give oji, I present deal to stsho.”
“No. You give me No’shto-shti-stlen, or no oji.’”
“You no damn position to bluff, hani. You want see Chanur take bad damage, you go ahead. Meetpoint dock get blow to hell, all you fault, you bring kif in. Look damn bad. We throw out kif guard for stsho, you bring back, blow up dock. …”
“I could destroy the oji. So nobody gets it.”
Brows went up. “Not good. Holy antiquity. Belong big stsho fam’ly.”
“So somebody gets badly upset if anything happens to this oji, huh?”
“Stop play game! We talk about you trade agreement. We get damn kif leave this system!”
“Agreements with the kif too.”
“We talk.”
“You want him out of here, right you talk. You talk damn serious. No doublecross.”