Chanur’s Legacy by C.J. Cherryh

“Where would gtst go? Where would gtst be?”

“Whowould gtst be? That’s the question! Haisi says Kita. But that won’t be gtst stopping-place—it hasn’t got amenities for them. And the mahendo’sat are all stirred up, or Haisi’s personage has got a lot of pull here, a lot of pull.”

“You don’t think it’s Pyanfar behind his personage.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know not! That’s the trouble getting involved in politics, nobody wears a name badge!”

“So what are we going to do, captain?”

Run for it? Haul their load clear to Kita, with no guarantee there was a profit there?

Hope the mahen stationmaster had traded heavily into the futures market here, and took a soaking when they yanked their cargo off the market and ran for it? Break a few regulations that made the speeding violation look like a mahen commendation?

Good way to make lasting enemies, in either case.

But deal with Haisi? He might be Pyanfar’s bosom friend. He might be working for her overthrow and with a mahen sense of humor, using her help to do it.

Get the truth out of Tlisi-tlas-tin? Not outstanding likely. And there was no way to consult No’shto-shti-stlen.

Continuing silence at the table. It was the crew’s moral refuge and her moral dilemma: the captain was thinking. The captain was going to get them out of what the captain, who was young enough to be Tiar’s daughter, had gotten them collectively into.

“We can pull out. We can stay. We’ve got two other hani in port with us. That’s Padur’s Victory and a Narn hauler, both slated for Hoas. But they’re marginal ships, they’re not up to this. If we involve them, they could be in big trouble, so that’s no help.”

“No threat to them.”

“None so far. We could get the kid aboard—“

“The kid’s in potential trouble.”

“The kid’s ship is at Hoas.”

“The kid’s ship is probably on its way here right now, if we put him on one of them, he’ll miss his ship.”

It was true. And beyond Hoas, either ship might be on to Meetpoint, where he wasn’t welcome—and consequently they might not be.

“Tell you something else,” Tiar said. “Captain. That kid’s been on this ship.”

She understood what Tiar was getting at. She didn’t particularly want to listen to it.

“If you turn him out on the docks,” Tiar said, “the mahendo’sat are going to pick him up. There’s no question. They’ll assume he knows what they want to know.”

“He’s also not Chanur, not involved with us, he’s Sahern crew, they’re coming here, and if we’re holding him …”

“He doesn’t want to go to them. He wants to stay with Chanur.”

“He’s in love with my gods-forsaken aunt! He’s a fool kid, light-years from home on a notion—“

“A gods-forsaken ticking bomb,” Chihin said. “We have a stsho aboard this ship, a stsho that we daren’t upset. We have a kid with healthy hormones right around the corner from gtst honor and the Preciousness we’re now supposed to get to Kita—beyond which, there’s precious few choices where we’re going, captain.”

“If they’re Pyanfar’s, she’ll sort it out. If they’re not—and we help them, they’ll cut our throats.”

“What happens if our stsho fragments and decides gtst is the queen of the gods?”

“We have a problem,” Tarras said, which brought them back to point one.

“Honorable,” Hilfy said, not cheerfully. “I have news.”

A languid wave. Gtst was restoring gtst body-paint, carefully brushing a pattern down a white forearm. Gtst completed it with a flourish.

In strictest courtesy, Hilfy invited herself into the bowl-chair and sat down.

“There has been a complication,” she began.

“Then your honor can surely solve it. Are you not hired to do so?”

“Would your honor care for tea?” She made a slight wave of the hand toward the door, and Fala, with tea-service in hand.

“If your honor sees fit.” Gtst looked anxious, waving the newly painted arm, arranging gtst draperies.

With a species that tended to dissociate psychologically at grievous upsets—five rounds of tranquilizing tea seemed perhaps a good idea. Especially since it was their stsho and their contract, with the Precious-ness enthroned in its case above their heads.

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