The intercom blurted out: “Security is here, captain.”
“Get outside,” she said to Tarras. “Get a check on those papers. Tiar knows what I mean.”
“Security?” Tarras asked, ears up again.
“Delay the offloading for an hour. You’re going to query station on this one.”
“What’s security got to do with it?”
She was trying to read stsho script. On this screen it was a challenge to the eyesight. “I committed an act of mercy. The gods’ penance for fools.” The translator was already querying for conflict resolution. And she had to do it. Tiar knew enough stsho to handle customs. Tiar didn’t read the classical mode. Which this was.
And when you had a contract, you by the gods read it. Demand it in hani? Better to pin down the contract-giver in native expression—or gtst could claim deception on your part. Better to be able to claim deception by them against you. The courts did give points for that.
Was there a non-performance clause? And on which side was the penalty?
Was there a contingency for breakage? For war and solar events and piracy?
Did it cover personality alteration?
And gender switching? Stsho did that, under stress, and in trauma.
Did it cover death or change of the designated recipient before accepting the object?
Did it provide a sure identification for the object?
The translator kept interrupting, begging resolution. She foresaw a sleepless watch, and irritably split-screened the display, stsho and hani versions.
One did not translate a formal stsho contract into Trade tongue: it only developed ambiguities. One did not tell the translator to solve its own conflicts. The first wrong logic branch could start it down the road to raving lunacy.
“Captain. Sorry to interrupt you. They say we can’t access the legal bank without an authorization from admin—“
“Get it. Call the governor’s aide. Tell them the difficulty. Tell them I’ve just spoken to gtst excellency and been assured this would not happen.”
“Aye,”Tiar said cheerfully, and the com went out.
Did it stipulate a deadline for delivery?
Did it set damages and arbitration?
“Captain.”
Gods. “Tiar?”
“The station office won’t put the call through without an authorization from you.”
An addendum to the contract. Access. For every last member of the crew.
“I’m going to shoot the kif. Tell them that. Tell them …”No, she was not going to invoke aunt Py’s name or her perks or her reputation. “Tell them I’m putting the call through. Personally.”
“Aye, captain.”
She did it. Very patiently. She resolved a conflict for the translation program, then punched through to station com, and drawled, “This is captain Hilfy Chanur ,to No’shto-shti-stlen, governor of Meetpoint, and so on—fill in the formalities. Excellency: some individual in lower offices is obstructing your orders. —Relay it! Now!”
“Chanur captain.”
“Yes?”
“Chanur captain, let us not be hasty. Can this person assist?”
“Possibly.” She took on far sweeter tones. “If you can get a copy of that entire dossier my crewwoman just requested, and relay us an affidavit that the case in question is settled as of this date … in case something proliferates through files at some other station. Should we be inconvenienced by this, in doing a favor for the governor? I think we should not.”
“Notable captain. —A matter of moments. A formality only. Every paper you want.”
“In the meanwhile—hold that message ready to send. One quarter hour, to have those papers on the dock, at our berth. This should have been done, do you understand that? This was No’shto-shti-stlen’s own order!”
“Esteemed, a quarter hour. Less than that!”
“The quarter hour is running now, station com. Good luck to you.”
There was the clause regarding payment. 1,000,000 haulage and oversight. And there was the clause regarding delivery of the cargo, to a stsho in the representative office on Urtur Station.
So far so good. She read through the succeeding paragraphs.
“Captain. We got it.”
“Good. Thank station com.”
“Captain. His clan is Meras. But he’s off a Sahern ship.”
Her head came up. The translator was stuck again. She ignored it. She had ignored the situation with the boy—not wanting to walk out that hatch and deal with a party of kif and a hostage. It wanted a cooler disposition than she could manage at the moment.