Not even the bother to code it. And left here, at Kefk, across a border only fools crossed?
What in a mahen hell was this she’d let herself be maneuvered into? Aunt Py’s private mailbox? A place … if one thought about it … where a ship like Aja Jin could kite in on the sudden, drop a message in plain mahen Trade, not even troubling to code it, beyond the necessity to know who A.J. was … because kif had no motive to go to anybody but another kif with the news: kif high up enough to use it were either loyal to aunt Py or outright plotting against her, but in no case would they deliver what they knew to empower any random outsider. It was just not in their interest to do so.
And make a move against the mekt-hakkikt, where she picked up her mail? Consider all those messages of hopeful underlings, desperate for some credit with the highest authority in kifish space.
But Vikktakkht wanted Hilfy Chanur here?
Necessary to tread very, very carefully. You flatter me, Vikktakkht had said when she addressed him as hakkikt at Kshshti—but here his message before docking had used the title: The hakkikt Vikktakkht an Nikkatu, no quibble about it.
The hakkikt said here they would find Atli-lyen-tlas, and here he would assist them, and here was where everything had to be, in what if an absolutely wild guess was right, was a place Pyanfar came, and a place presently/w// of hunter ships, and nothing else; and a place it was going to be very difficult for the Legacy to leave against this hakkikt’s will.
On the one hand, it was possible a mahen lunatic with domestic problems had left Pyanfar an inane appeal for assistance.
But there were 248 messages already in Pyanfar’s message stack, and more were backed up waiting for the computer’s version of bomb detection. This was not a place that had low expectations of seeing Pyanfar Chanur. No few of said messages had points of origin like Mkks, and Akkti, and distant Mimakkt, all in kifish space—messages sent to Kefk.
On the one hand this could be Pyanfar’s kifish base of operations.
On the other hand—it might not be. And that ‘might not be’ held the most dire possibilities.
The screen flashed blue: the computer spat up a message with a keyword.
Thehakkikt Vikktakkht to captain Hilfy Chanur, at dock at Kefk: Contact me.
The message before dock was halfway cordial. This, after dock, was terse, guarded against insult, a simple and moderate demand which a mere captain would be extremely ambitious to refuse.
On kifish terms, a very clear and entirely reasonable warning: fueling was nearly complete. The hakkikt gave her a way to both comply and save her own sfik, having held off a superior force this long.
Definitely time to comply, if one didn’t wish to challenge him outright.
Step by step down the kif agenda. And no question but that the kif wanted her, in person.
She didn’t let her mind dwell on that scenario. It would come. It wasn’t on her to-do list at the moment. She swung the chair around and keyed in the com function.
The hani ship, at dock at Kefk, captain Hilfy Chanur, head of Chanur clan, her hand, to the hakkikt Vikktakkht an Nikkatu, the kif hunter Tiraskhti, at dock at Kefk: We are pleased to open communication.
A moment, then:
Thehakkikt Vikktakkht to captain Hilfy Chanur, at dock at Kefk: I have the person you seek. Bring Meras.
She did not like that juxtaposition. And every second of delay was a possibility of a blow-up, a loss of sfik, an unwanted challenge of the kif s intentions … the ramifications were wide and rapid.
The hani ship, at dock at Kefk, captain Hilfy Chanur, head of Chanur clan, her hand, to the hakkikt Vikktakkht an Nikkatu, the kif hunter Tiraskhti, at dock at Kefk: When?
Her hand was shaking as she keyed it out. Thank the gods the kif couldn’t see that. She couldn’t flinch aboard Tiraskhti. Not if she wanted to get out alive.
Thehakkikt Vikktakkht to captain Hilfy Chanur, at dock at Kefk: An escort is on the way to your lock now.