He said nothing, neither he nor Khym.
"Gods rot," she muttered, and got up. "Take her in, Haral." She stalked off aft, caught the safety grip and looked back. "I'm going to clean up. Tirun, you wash up; I want you with me. I want that courier, niece."
It was not an easy thing to manage, a cleanup during dock approach. She had inhaled a bit of water and stung her nose, but that meeting was its own kind of emergency — to be presentable as possible, formidable; and there was not, here, the time to spend on it.
She overdid it, if possible — wore her finest red breeches, her most resplendent rings. She reeked of perfume. That was interspecies courtesy; and it was strategy, to drown subtle cues to sensitive alien noses.
Face the bastards down, by the gods.
It was The Pride at stake. And with it-
The Pride nudged her way into dock, smooth, smooth glide now; a last warning from Haral and another shift of G as all ship rotation ceased, only spin-match carrying them now. The sensation of fifty pounds extra weight eased off. She held on to the recessed grip by the cabin door, trusting Haral's skill, and dock came softly, a thump against the bow, a clang of grapples going on, the steadying of G force at a mahen-normal. 992 as they became part of Kshshti's wheel.
She gave her mane and beard a final combing, twitched the left ear's rings into order. The sudden silence of the ship at rest gave an illusion of deafness: the constant white noise had ceased.
"Aunt." That was Hilfy from the bridge. "I made that contact. We've got a customs official on the way."
"Good." She clipped a pocket com to her waist, tucked a pistol into her pocket-gods, no way for an honest hani to do business. But Kshshti, as she had said to Khym, was not Anuurn, and the universe was a lonely walk among species that had been at this hunt long before hani came.
Fix the rotted vane at Urtur; crawl up the column, indeed. Hilfy Chanur would have. Would do, when she inherited The Pride. Hilfy would make high and wide decisions, take the straight course, not the devious.
Perhaps she had done that herself once. She tried to remember. Perhaps age dimmed the recall.
She thought not. No, by the gods.
Young fool, in charge of her ship. Not for by-the-gods years yet. But the thought appalled her. . to go back to Chanur, sit in the sun and waste away. Haral, Tirun, no youngsters themselves, to give up their posts to bright-eyed youngsters who thought everything was simple-
Gods.
She latched the drawer tight, and walked out, a little rubber-kneed in Kshshti's heavier G.
"Captain." From the pocket com, Haral's voice. "Message from Vigilance. Rhif Ehrran's at our dock."
"Oh, good gods."
"They want the lock open."
She put a claw in the pocket com. "Where's that customs officer?"
"On the way. That's all we know. Stall?"
She thought about it. Gave it up. There was no need starting off hot. "No. Let her in. Due courtesy. You and Chur and Khym stay on the bridge and keep your eye on things. Hilfy: galley. Geran and Tully, half an hour to clean up and trade watch with first shift. Move it." Crew was tired. Exhausted.
Gods knew how much rest they would get. Or when.
"Aye," Haral said. "They're about to hook up the accessway."
"At your discretion."
She took the lift down, the while the ship-to-station connections whined and clanked away against the outer hull, the thunk! of lines socketing home, the portside contact of the access tube snugging into its housing on the hull.
Tirun joined her, swung along with a visible weight in her right-hand pocket and not a word of expectations.
Kshshti, after all.
"Ehrran's out there," Pyanfar said.
"Heard that." Cheerlessly. "Figured black-breeches would be quick about it."
There was the final thump, that was the seal in place.
"Stand by," Haral said.
"Ker Rhif," Pyanfar said-took up a pose facing the han deputy and her black-breeched crew-woman; not insolent, no. Just solid enough to invite no farther progress down the corridor.
"Ker Pyanfar." Rhif Ehrran took up a like pose, arms folded. Armed, by the gods: a massive pistol hung at the side of those black silk trousers. The crewwoman carried the same. "Sorry to trouble you this early. I'm sure you've got other things on your mind."
Pyanfar blew softly through her nostrils, comment enough.
"What caused the damage?" Ehrran asked in that friendly, official way.
She pursed her lips into a pleasant expression and glared. "Well, now, that's something we're still looking into, captain. Likely it was dust."
"You want to explain that last message at Meetpoint?"
"I think it's self-explanatory. I meant it. It would be a lot better if you avoided us right now.
We've got a problem. I don't pretend we don't. I don't think it ought to involve the han."
"You feel qualified to decide that?"
"Someone has to. Or the han's in it. I hadn't wanted that."
"You hadn't wanted that."
She refrained from retort. It was what Ehrran wanted. It was all she needed — if anything lacked at all.
"Where do you plan to go?" Rhif Ehrran asked.
"Nowhere, till I get that vane fixed."
"Then?"
"Maing Tol. Points beyond."
A silence then. "You know," Rhif Ehrran said, "you've had a lot of experience out here, a lot of experience. Do I have to tell you the convention regarding hiring a ship out?"
"You don't. We're not."
"You're sitting in a border port with your tail in a vise, Chanur. Are you still going to brazen it out? I'm giving you a chance, one chance before I suspend your license on the spot. You get that two-legged cargo of yours down here and turn him over."
"You're not referring to my husband."
Ehrran's ears went flat and her mouth opened.
"I didn't think so," Pyanfar said. "Who sent you? Stle stles stlen?"
"See here, Chanur. You don't negotiate with me. I've got a han ship eight light-years into the Disputed Territories because I figured you'd foul it up, I'm likely to get my tail shot up getting out of here, and I'm not in the mood to trade pleasantries. I want the alien down here. I want him wrapped up and ready to go, and be glad I don't pull your license."
"We aren't carrying any alien. You're talking about a citizen of the Compact."
"I'm aware of the fiction the mahendo'sat arranged. Let's not argue technicalities. Get him down here."
"He's a passenger on my ship. He has some say where he goes."
"He'll have no say if this ship has no license."
She drew a long, slow breath. The world had gone dark all round, excepting Rhif Ehrran's elegant person. "There's Compact Law, Ehrran. I trust you'll remember that."
"You're on the edge. Believe me that you are."
She stood there with her heart slamming against her ribs and the light refusing to come back.
She was aware of Tirun there, at her side. She could not see her. "Where will you take him? To the han?"
"Just leave that to us."
"No. You're talking about a friend of mine. I can be real difficult, ker Rhif. And we're not in hani space."
There was long, frozen silence. Rhif Ehrran's ears flicked then, breaking the moment. "You're a fool, Chanur. I can't say I don't respect your position."
"Where's he going?"
"Trust me, Chanur, that things go on in this universe somewhat remote from your interests.
Suffice it to say that this is not a unilateral action."
"Gods rot it, he's not a load of fish!"