"Aye."
"Get one of the docking crew to shoot that through the pneumat. Fast."
Chur took it, whirled and headed out of the bridge with a scrape of claws. So that was seen to. If Stle sties stlen did not have all their messages intercepted, rot his pearly hide.
"Crew to stations. - Khym-" She stood up and in the general mill of crew taking seats she took Khym's arm and took him into the small nook of quiet in the corridor outside.
"For this one I recommend the tranquilizer," she said. "Tully takes it. Topside med kit still has it."
"I don't need it," he muttered, his ears gone down. "I don't need-"
"Listen to me. Old hands lose their stomachs in this kind of thing. G like planetary lift; we'll be cycling the vanes-"
"I'm not going to my cabin. Look, you wanted me on the bridge, work, you said-"
"You're not staying on the bridge."
"There's the observers' seats."
"No."
"Please, Py." His voice sank to its lowest pitch. His amber eyes were quick and large.
"Captain. Win a ring, you said. In front of them, for the gods' sake, Py. I won't make trouble. Won't."
Her ears fell; her heart went over. "Gods rot it, this isn't a simple hop from port to port."
"Part of the crew. Isn't that what you meant?"
"This isn't a question-"
"Pride's pride, Py. You put me there; you by the gods leave me there. Or do you think the crew won't have it?"
Soft-headed, that was what.
"You take number one observer," she said. "You watch Geran watch scan and if you get sick in the cycles you by the gods reach the bags undercabinet, I don't care what else is going on. If you haven't ridden through a high-v vector change with someone heaving up you haven't seen a mess. Got it?"
She jabbed him with one sharp claw, saw him go tight around the nose. "Besides, it fogs the screens."
Without a word he ducked back into the bridge.
She went back behind him, while he set himself into the first of the three observer posts, at Geran's elbow: Geran gave him a look, betraying no dismay, but a look all the same. He fumbled after belts and began fastening them-not nervous, no. He only missed the insert twice.
She slipped into her own place, snapped the restraint one-handed and powered the chair about all in one smooth sequence, because she could, and failed to realize why she did it until she had.
She argued him onto the bridge for one reason and turned surly when he put himself there.
And knew it. Gods.
"Ready to disengage the probe," Haral said. "Chur's still down there. Hilfy, advise Vigilance they've got a message coming."
"Aye." A small delay. "They acknowledge. That's all."
She gave Rhif Ehrran that, she was not prone to destructive chatter.
Advise you, that couriered message said, kif on our trail. Stop at nothing, even attack on han deputy. Do not attract interest. Station at hazard. Ours more. We take evasive measures, best possible. No explanation possible.
Well to be out of port when that hit Ehrran's lap.
A series of thumps rang up from the bow, The Pride's own language of clangs and bumps, reliable as her telltales: docking probes had retracted; vents were sealed. Outside the station hull, the grapples disengaged.
"Gantry's clear," Haral said, busy with the prep sequences.
"Where's Chur? She make it?"
Com relayed. "She's coming," Tirun said. "All clear."
"Give me out-schedule."
"Up," Tirun said, and: "Huh."
Banny Ayhar's Prosperity was on the list, outbound for Urtur via Hoas Point. So was Marrar's Golden Sun.
There went gossip on its way to Anuurn, fast as a loaded merchant ship could travel and carry an Ehrran message.
Likewise a stsho ship had gone outbound half an hour ago, one E Mnestsist, Rhus flisth' ess commanding. Hoas-bound for Urtur.
So every ship bound from Meetpoint to mahen-hani space had to go to Urtur via Hoas.
Unless they were doing it cargo-stripped, to make Urtur in a single jump. The Pride's own course showed Urtur-via-Hoas, which was a lie.
There were other possibilities from Meetpoint: Nsthen in stsho space, where only stsho and methane-breathers were allowed. The tc'a border-port of V'n'n'u; the tc'a port of Tt'a'va'o: methane-breather/stsho again. The kif port of Kefk, the one kifish corridor to Meetpoint; Kshshti in the Disputed Territories. Messages could go a great many ways from Meetpoint, that being the nature of Meetpoint in its conception.
And a tight-beamed lightspeed message could get to an outbound ship like E Mnestsist before it had time to jump. It could still do a vector change… if one Stle sties stlen had something gtst wanted relayed.
Conniving bastard.
The Pride of Chanur was listed departure —, without a time. They had been bumped up ahead of Prosperity and Golden Sun.
That would not sweeten Barmy Ayhar's mood, no question at all.
And there was not a single kif listed.
"No telling what's been delayed off that list," she muttered. "Could have a raft of kif leaving ten minutes behind us. Station that can't keep its registry boards running dockside, gods know what it does with out-schedules when money changes hands- Power up, Haraclass="underline" keep us null for outbound."
"Up," Haral said; she heard the distant sound of the pumps delivering their load; the electric whump! of startup normally followed by the louder crash of cylinder-lock going off; but it stayed locked.
They would have no G but after-thrust on this system transit. Safer that way. It made sudden moves safer.
She heard the sound of running feet scramble into the bridge at her back; heard a body hit a seat.
"Chur's in."
"Message went," Chur said over the com, above the noise. "Saw it go into the slot."
"Helm to one." Helm to her own board. She pushed buttons, let the auto-interlock stay in during the undock, the computer reckoning their mass and how hard to push to stay inside legal parameters. The holds were empty. The thrust-indicator was way down. The ordinary mark would have hit The Pride like a hard kick at an empty can.
"Aunt." That was Hilfy at com one. "Question."
"Ask it."
"That bill-"
"What about that bill?"
"Mahendo'sat paying that?"
"Huh. Yes."
"They know it?"
"Tell you something, imp. There's two strong reasons for one-jumping this. One of them's the kif."
"Gods, aunt-"
"Tirun, you teaching the kid to swear?"
"How do we pay it?"
"It's paid. Goldtooth paid it. He just doesn't know it yet. Stand by the vector shift. We're not going out of here like last time. By the book, at least till we get running room."
They reached the l-zone limit, two-vectored as they were with station's spin and their own bow-thrust, headed tailfirst across the invisible mark. She gave the port thrust a ten-second burn that slewed the bow about in the same line as spin and gave comp its heading.
"But, aunt-"
The comp did the next burn, trueing up. "Put it this way. All of you listening? There's a little matter with the mahendo'sat. They're paying the bar bill. Hear? — Put her zero two on mark, Haral. Get the cameras working port-side."
"Want a look at that kif?"
"Number one right, cousin. Geran, handle that."
"Got it. Image to your four."
The image came to fourth screen on her board, clear, fine color, the outside of Meetpoint Station, a portion of its torus shape, the huge painted dock numbers obscured here and there by ships nose-on to station. "Main that," she said. The drifting image went to all stations, the strange shape of a stsho trader, the sleek, wicked silhouette of kif, leaner than they had to be; and one, one with uncommonly large vanes and a series of tanks about the waist.