Which meant not getting caught with Fala Anify in the crew lounge. The door opened. Fala put her head in. “You have the prettiest eyes,” she said. And ducked out.
He dropped his head into his hands. His career in space hung by a thread, he had nothing to think about but stupid tape dramas and the aux boards manuals he was trying to din into his reflexes so he wouldn’t foul up the next chance the captain gave him, and he had a junior and Chanur relative trying to get his attention.
Gods, please let the captain keep her busy.
Chapter Twelve
“Well, there’s Ha’domaren.”
That from Chihin, at scan. Four hours out from Kita docks and they were approaching jump.
“I don’t think I’m surprised,” Hilfy said, pursing her mouth. “I wonder what he made of the rocks.”
“One real happy mane,” Tarras said. “Karpygijenon, I mean. Not our Haisi-lad.”
Laughter on the bridge. It was a good sound. Except it was a slightly off-color joke, involving Haisi’s morals, and na Hallan was probably mortified.
Well, let him be. He could adjust. He would have to.
“You know,” Tiar said, “whoever’s backing him has got to wish he’d carry cargo.”
“I wouldn’t bet where his mass is. He’s shorting his jumps. He probably could do Urtur-Kshshti direct.”
“Unless he’s carrying a mortal lot of armament,” Tarras said—their own gunner … if, the gods forbid, they ever had to use what they carried.
Propulsion stuff, Tarras was implying. And that jogged a very bad thought. “Heavy stuff is all government issue.”
“So they’ve got a permit?” Fala asked.
“If they’re running with a heavy missile load.”
“I wish,” Hilfy said, “that we had a source for this Paehisna-ma-to that son claims he’s with. I’d like to know if she’s in the government.”
“If she is,” said Chihin, “she’s a whole different kind of bad news.”
“Probably he’s just shorting the jumps,” Hilfy said. “Doesn’t want to show off to the locals.”
“They’ve got to ask,” Tiar said, “the local officials, that is … why this ship doesn’t offload or on-load.”
“Gods, no, they’re not going to ask,” Chihin said. “That son reeks of influence. That ship’s probably real well known here and there.”
“Suppose ker Pyanfar knows him?” Fala asked.
“Wish ker Pyanfar would come get him,” Tarras said.
“I don’t like the idea he’s got government ties,” Chihin said. “If the mahendo’sat go unstable … and the stsho already are … that’s not good.”
“We’re out and away,” Hilfy said, “and I’ll tell you how I’m betting. We’re bought into staples and strategics, and as soon as sell it, I’d rather warehouse it on Kshshti for a sale when the stsho do go crazed … or find some reseller I can talk into taking the whole lot at enough profit.”
“Rocks and all?”
“Are we serious about the rocks?” Fala asked plaintively. People put jokes over on Fala. Long, elaborate and sober-faced ones. And Fala wasn’t willing to fall for another one.
“They’re tc’a eggs,” Chihin said. “That’s what they really are.”
Wicked dig at na Hallan, that was. Hilfy looked in the reflection on a dark screen, and saw Hallan Meras trying to look as if he were utterly absorbed in the boards.
“No tc’a jokes!” Fala said.
“Was that a tc’a joke?” Chihin asked.
“KerChihin,” Fala said sternly.
Getting serious, it was. And Fala hadn’t the rank. “Chihin,” Hilfy said.
“Aye, captain. No tc’a.”
“NaHallan?”
“Aye, captain?”
Kept his temper, he had. She saw his reflection looking at her, ears at half mast, then pricked up respectfully as she delayed answering.
“You may hear about tc’a from time to time. Do you take jokes, na Hallan?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Can you make them?”
“I—don’t think of one, off-hand, captain, I’m sorry.”
“Tc’a,” Chihin said.
“Chihin!” Fala said.
“I was just suggesting.”
“Chihin,” Hilfy said, and saw Chihin dip her ears and lift them again. No gods-be way to stop her but an AP at point blank range. Or losing her temper, which didn’t work with Chihin Anify, no more than it had with her cousins.
“Tc’a,” Hallan said gravely, and Tarras sneezed, or laughed. Chihin scowled, and Fala grinned at her boards.