"If you have such concern for his safety, captain, I'd suggest you distance you from him and him from you — considering the condition of your ship — and let me get him out of here."
She looked away, found no solace elsewhere. Glanced back again. "We'll bring him."
"I'll send a car."
"Someone of my crew will take the ride with him," she said quietly. "By your leave. He's not going to like this."
"I assure you-"
A dark figure appeared in the corridor, at the accessway: Ehrran's ears twitched round and body followed as Pyanfar reached for her pocket, but it was mahendo'sat, not kif.
"Customs officer," Pyanfar said.
"Advice," Rhif Ehrran said. "This is Kshshti. Not Meetpoint. If you can get this ship running, get back to Urtur and get on to Kura. Fast. If she won't stand it, sit tight"
"Same advice you give Prosperity?"
"Prosperity's on han business, Leave it at that. Stay out of things that don't concern you, Chanur."
"I hear you. I hear you very well."
"The car will be here in an hour. I don't want any foulups."
"Understood, captain."
Ehrran inclined her head in scant courtesy, collected her crewwoman and departed the corridor, past the mahendo'sat who turned and stared.
It was a small, worried-looking mahen official who slouched past the departing Ehrran with a backward look. Mahen female, this, a clerical with the usual clutter of clipboard and signatures and seals and notebooks hung about her chest; but the belt which held up the kilt about her rather pot-bellied person had the badges of middling authority.
Then the gut came moderately in and the head came up — no miraculous transformation, only the suddenly sharper look of this disreputable individual.
"Voice, I," she said.
"Huh," said Pyanfar, laying back her ears. She set her hands on hips, drew a neat quick breath, tried to reset her wits for another frame of reference. Gods. A Voice, yet. No dockside official.
"Ehrran know you? Whose voice?"
A second look back, this one taller and disdainful. The Voice — if voice it was — have no name, no particular identity, and yet a considerable one, being alter-ego to some Personage, speaker of the unspeakable, direct negotiator. She straightened round again. "Voice stationmaster Kshshti.
Stationmaster send say you number one fool come in like that."
"No choice."
"More fool deal with fool." The Voice gestured over her shoulder, where the Ehrran had vanished. "Where cargo?"
Pyanfar made a deprecating gesture toward the self-claimed Voice. "Where authorization?"
The mahe drew out one small object from her belts, a badge inlaid with gold and the Kshshti port emblem. "You keep this cargo aboard."
She laid her ears down, pricked them up again. "Look-"
"Keep. Not permit this transfer."
Pyanfar tucked her hands in her belt, turned a frown Tirun's way and looked back again. No time to start shouting. Not yet. She gestured toward lower-deck ops. "Look, you want go sit down, Voice? Get drink, talk?"
"What talk? Like got big cargo, got damage, got make foulup whole business?"
"Look Honorable." Now it was time to shout. "The Pride's no gods-blasted warship, got no weapons, hear? I risk my ship twice, got damage, and I got the promise of your government to make it good." She pulled the authorization from her pocket and handed it to the Voice. "We got downtime, got cargo lost-"
"We fix."
It was like leaning on a wall and feeling it go down. She was off her balance an instant, staring into those dark, earnest eyes.
Then it made sense. She drew in a breath and twitched her ears back in the beginnings of negation.
"Meanwhile," the Voice said, "you stall this fool deputy."
"No. Not possible."
"You want help, got."
"You bet I got. Got authorization." She retrieved the paper from the Voice's hand and waved it under the Voice's nose. "Un-con-di-tional. Code Hasano-ma! That mean anything to you?"
"We not permit this transfer."
"Well, take it up with the deputy. I can't stop it. It's my license. You understand that?"
The Voice came close, tapped her on the chest with a dull-clawed forefinger. "Hani. You we know longtime. This other fool we got no confidence."
"I can't do anything."
White rimmed the dark eyes. "You get number-one repair job, make quick. Want you back in action, Pyanfar Chanur. You listen. We got right now no ship here stop this bastard. Got delicate situation, got stsho upset — you know stsho bastard, know hani got young fool, old bastard stsho lot smart, lot timid, got own interest. Not say not-friend. Got own interest. Our interest got you fix up. You fix han."
Her jaw dropped. "Good gods! what do you think I am?"
"Maybe we talk, huh?"
"There's nothing to talk about." She waved a hand aft. "That's the Y unit out. The Y unit took the main column linkage. When the linkage failed-"
The mahe waved her own lank black-furred hand. "Get you fix, you take this cargo."
"I'm telling you you can't get that vane fixed fast enough. Two hundred, three hundred work hour fix that vane. We sit here we got kif positioned all round this system. Plenty time for that. Mahe, we've got knnn loose!"
"God-!"
"Not our fault. Mahendo'sat set this up, all the way. Your own precious Personage at Maing Tol. We got routed here. Number one usual mahen foulup, like Meetpoint, like got Kita blocked, like desert me with no support-"
"Ship come. Meanwhile get you fix. Lousy hani engineering, huh?"
"Gods rot, you route a ship through Urtur and throw a course change at it and see how it holds!"
Minuscule mahen ears twitched. The nose wrinkled and the Voice lifted a deprecating hand.
"Technical not my business. Personage say: Find damage, fix, send this fool away quick before got kif organize. We fix. You hold this cargo."
"Can't do!"
"Want repair?"
The breath strangled her. "I'm due repair, you bastard. I've got the paper says so. I can't stall the deputy. . "
The Voice frowned. Her small ears folded, twitched as she looked up and jabbed again with the finger. "We take care this cargo. We take him station center, big inquiry, lot fluff. Get you fix, bring back cargo — twenty hour."
"Can't be done in twenty hours."
The mahe lifted one finger. "Bet?"
She stared at the mahe, thinking treachery,
thinking double-cross; and all the same her pulse raced. She threw a look at Tirun, saw her cargo chief/engineer with that same wary, heart-thumping thought.
"They'd have to replace the whole gods-rotted tail to make that schedule," Tirun muttered.
"No patch job."
"Got good system," the Voice said. "Better. Mahen make. Match up you systems no trouble. Twenty hour, you run. We fix han deputy. We confiscate this cargo. Let deputy go Maing Tol make complaint."
"Gods, you know what you let me in for?"
"How much already, hani? You think. How much you got?"
"We'd still have kif." She gnawed a hangnail and stared at the Voice.
"Always got kif."
"You know a ship named Harukk?"
"Know. One bastard."
"He's been with us since Meetpoint. He knows what we've got. Ship named Ijir. Our backup. It's gone. Kif have got it."
"Damn, hani!"
"Kif got whatever it had. They know whatever it knew."
The mane's mouth made a hard line as she looked down and up again. "You run fast, hani. We get you fix, you burn tail get hell out Kshshti. Maybe arrange small accident this Harukk. Maybe skimmer bump vane, huh? Maybe multiple collision."