"Go get hani fight these kif," Tully said.
"Good gods," Hilfy said.
"Friend," he said again, the hani word, that sent garble through the translator, less forgiving of his mangled pronunciation. His strange blue eyes were aflicker with fear and secrets. "Friend."
"Sure," Hilfy said. She felt a cold lump at the pit of her stomach, hearing the clank and whine of cargo at work below. Things clicked into place of a sudden, that her aunt had committed them to something more than running an illegal passenger — being desperate, with Chanur's financial back to the wall.
It was more than human trade Tully brought. Trade might save their hides.
But entanglements with kif, deals with a mahendo'sat who was not the trader he gave out to be-
And the likes of Rhif Ehrran breathing down their backs all the while — she had heard it all from Chur.
The han would have their ears.
Pyanfar took the com to the shower with her, hung it on the wall outside. On the day's record so far, she expected calamities.
The first call brought her dripping from shower to the mat outside undried, mane and beard and hide cascading suds.
"Captain." Haral's voice.
"Trouble?"
"Na Khym's here. Says you said he should sit scan monitor."
"Show him what he needs."
Dead silence from the other end. Then: "Aye, captain. Sorry to bother you."
Back to the shower then, to wash the suds off. She slicked the mane back, flattened her ears and squinched her eyes and nostrils shut, face-on to the water-jet for one precious self-indulgent second.
She sneezed the water clear and cycled from water to drier, fluffing out her mane and beard, enjoying the warmth.
The com beeper went off again.
"Gods rot." She left the heat and stood damp and shivering by the hook, fumbling the answer slot. "Pyanfar."
"Captain." Haral again. "Got a kifish message couriered in. From one Sikkukkut. Says it's for you personally."
"Open it."
A long silence. "He's offering partnership."
"Good gods." She forgot the physical cold for a deeper shock.
"Says he wants to talk with you face to face. Says — gods — he's talking specifics here. He names ships he says are after us. Says we have mutual enemies. He gets into kifish stuff here — pukkukkta."
"Gods-rotted pukkukkta changes meaning in every context — get linguistic comp on that.
Get it on the whole thing — Keep alert up there."
"Aye, captain. Sorry."
"All right." She sneezed and cut the com off, returned to the shower and recycled the dryer.
"Captain. Captain."
She left the staff and snatched up com. "For the gods' sake, Haral-"
"— Captain, sorry. That request for scheduling — It seems we're being sued. Got six lawsuits against us and station says it can't give clearance without-"
She shut her eyes a moment, composed her voice and kept it very calm. "Get the station-master online. Tell gtst to issue orders."
"By your leave, I've tried, captain. Call won't go through. The stationmaster's office says gtst is indisposed. The word was gstisi."
Personality crisis.
"That gods-rotted white-skinned flutterbrain isn't going to Phase on us! Countersue the bastards and start prep for manual undock as soon as they get that cargo clear. Get everyone on it down there. And send a message to the director and say if gtst doesn't get this straightened out I'll give gtst new personality more damages to worry about, some of them to gtst person."
"Aye," Haral said.
She threw clothes on, her third-best trousers, green silk with moire orange stripes in the weave; a belt with bronze bangles; the pearl for her ear. Her best armlet, the heavy one. The alien ring was on the counter, from the pocket of the red breeches. She considered, dropped it indecisively into her pocket, pocketed the gun again, clipped on the com and pattered out into the hall in haste, claws clenched, headed for the bridge.
"Captain." The pocket com again, this time from her belt. "Captain, I got the stationmaster on."
"I'm coming," she said, and hastened, down the corridor into the open door. Haral looked about; Khym sat at the righthand station, intent on the scan, the light flickering off his dutiful, martyred scowl.
Haral handed her the transcription. "Gtst is out. A new individual is in power. I think it's still the last one, in a personality shift. The new Director wants payment in full. Says we got the better of the last director, drove gtst into a crisis that wasn't due for twenty years, and this one's determined to get gtst money up front. Intends to impound all offloaded cargo."
"Gods rot-" She swallowed it, seeing the movement of Khym's all-too-hearing ears backward at her voice. She read the demand for payment. "Four hundred million-"
"Nine hundred with the lawsuits. I think that's the problem. Someone important has sued and gtst has to do something."
"I could guess who."
"Gods. Kif. Possible." Haral rubbed her scarred nose, looked up from under her brow. "You thinking of breaking port?"
"Maybe."
"If we do it they'll blackball us. Every stsho port. Every stsho facility. They'll never lift the ban."
"Same if we don't pay."
"Aye, captain," Haral said morosely. And lifting her ears: "Captain, we could offer them the profit. Earnest money, like. Offer to give them more'on next trip. Gods know how we'll pay off the shippers — but that's tomorrow. And it'll be tied up in litigation anyway, soon as it hits Site's warehouse."
"Maybe." Pyanfar combed her beard with her claws, looked distractedly toward Khym's broad back. Shook her head as at some heavy blow.
"How's that unloading going?" She missed the sound of the conveyors of a sudden. "Finished down there?"
"Sounds like."
"Rot their eyes." Meaning stsho. She sucked in her mustache ends and gnawed at them.
"Pukkukkta."
"Captain?"
"Pukkukkta. What did comp say it meant?"
"Like trade of services." Haral snatched up a printout and offered it to her hand. "Like revenge. This is the item. Over regular channels, it was."
Greeting, the message said, Chanur hunter. Beware Parukt; Skikkt; Luskut; Nifakkiti.
Most of all beware Akkhtimakt of Kahakt. These aspire; that one aspires most. I Sikkukkut am with you in pukkukkta for this cause and speak to you in words which precisely describe kif, therefore ambiguity of translation lies at your feet.
I Sikkukkut know about your passenger and likewise say this: wisest to give this passenger to me. You would then be rich. But I Sikkukkut know the sfik of hunter Pyanfar that this passenger has sfik-value and will be defended. Therefore I Sikkukkut say to the sfik of Pyanfar Chanur that she must give this word to this passenger: I Sikkukkut will speak with him at an appropriate time.
Shelter by my side, hunter Pyanfar. Together we might make a fine pukkukkta, and the cost is less today than tomorrow.
Signal me and I Sikkukkut shall come to the dock where we shall find a quiet place to talk.
"Kif bastard," Pyanfar said, and crumpled the paper. "He wants Tully. That's what he wants.
That's what would buy him status."
She looked at Khym, who sat listening to it all, saying nothing; but his ears were back.