Another puff of smoke, green in the neon. “You want make contact local stsho?”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll use the station com, like any civilized individual.”
Haisi grinned. “Maybe you don’t get answer. Damn scare’ this stsho.”
“Who is this?”
“Name not matter. Same aide to Atli-lyen-tlas, got real scare’, not go with kif. I got contact. You got oji. And No’shto-shti-stlen messenger.”
“So?”
“So you stsho make this stsho talk damn fast.”
Tempting. “I’m under contract. I can’t say what I can agree to. Interesting idea. I’ll say that. But I have to go back and take a look at the document I’ve signed.”
“Not safe place, Kita. Mahendo’sat upset, stsho upset … kif upset. You want talk new governor at Meetpoint, lot change. Change make money, change lose money. Lot people got lot stress. Bad for health.”
It didn’t make one feel confident, sitting in a mahen bar, with a mahe with unknown interests bankrolling his ship and making deals through him with unknown parties with unknown intentions.
“I’ll get back to you,” she said, and got up and left him the bill.
2980-89 was a phone number. And an address, that being the system on Kita Point Station. Which made it just about as easy to take a walk to the lift and a ride up to the residential levels, up to Deck 2, Section 80.
Not a bad neighborhood, Tiar said to herself, seeing the immaculate paneling and the neat plastic address plates, and the plastic signs that said, in the universal alphabet, Silimaji nan nil Ja’hai-wa.
Meaning, for a mahen maintenance worker who might not speak the pidgin, Through traffic prohibited.
No clutter, no smudges, none of the graffiti endemic on the dockside. Pricey.
She rang at no. 89, and waited, while optics in the wall doubtless advised the occupants of a hani in spacer blues in the spotless corridor.
“Who? Identify!”
“KerTiar Chanur, of the merchant freighter . I had a notice to call.” Electronic and manual locks clicked. The door shot wide. A stsho was standing there, taller than most, painted in curlicues of palest lime and mauve, about gtst plumy crest and moonstone eyes. “Chanur, honorable Chanur. Protect us! You must protect us!”
It was hardly a conversation for a hallway. But she had no desire to let a door close her in some stranger’s apartment, either. “In what way? From what?”
Hands waved, trying to beckon her inside. “In, in, the danger, the danger, honorable hani.”
“Danger of what?” She backed up, evading the white, beseeching fingers. “I don’t know you. If you want help … come to the ship.”
“Most excellent hani! I have little baggage, very little, please, please, you will bring me safely aboard your ship …”
“I didn’t say that! The captain has to clear any passengers!”
“But if the distinguished captain admits this honest person, where will my baggage be? How shall I live? What should I do? I must have certain things necessary for my existence! All is ready, all is gathered, I need only gather it up, oh, please, please, estimable hani, most honorable …”
“Get the gods-be bags! Hurry, if there’s danger!”
Gtstwailed, gtst dashed back as fast as a stsho could move, and, indeed, gtst dragged out bags and bundles in feverish haste, from lockers, from cabinets, from various quarters of the pastel room, until it made a sizable pile.
“You can’t carry all that.”
“This honest person had hoped, had most earnestly hoped that a strong, a most excellent and trustworthy hani would be kindly disposed to …”
“Gods rot it.” She went in, not without a wary glance about, grabbed up the heaviest bundles by their strings and handles and left the stsho to manage the rest, on her way out the door while gtst was still filling gtst arms.
“I’ll take this lot,” Tiar said over her shoulder, “you take the rest and don’t look like you’re with me, if you don’t want publicity. And if the captain doesn’t like the look of you, you and this whole pile are out on the dock, hear me?”
“Oh, most clever, most wise hani, most excellent…”
“Stow it! Close the gods-be door!” The creature had no concept of intrigue. Gtst shoved a note in an alien stranger’s trousers and never thought an open door might raise questions.