Chanur's Legacy

Chapter Seven

You didn't run on the rampway link, you respected that perilous connection, that icy cold passage that gave a ship pressured access to station.

But Hallan walked it very fast, and, via the pocket com, called Tarras to report in: he figured that was the first test, whether he could use it and whether he knew what to do next.

"What areyou doing out there?" Tarras snapped at him, probably cold, certainly surprised.

"The captain said I should, she said you could use some help."

"Gods-rotted right I could use some help, but don't scare the dockers! Are you on pocket com?"

"Aye."

"You keep near the access ramp. And don't be sightseeing!"

"I'm at the bottom now. Have you got a cam-link?" That, he figured, would tell Tarras he had some notion what his job was. "We've got space for one more can on the transport, we've got a 14 canner moving up. Have we got a destination list?"

"Your display, code 2, check it out. Docker chief's a curly coated fellow, and just hold it, I'll call him and tell him who you are. For godssake, bow, be polite, you 'II scare him into a heart seizure. ''

"Aye, I do understand. Tell me when it's clear." He used his time taking stock of the surroundings, feeling the cold near the access and wishing that he could move away from the draft. The pocket com had a display: keyed, it scrolled the offload, 142 of the giant containers gone to their various buyers, the loader with, one reckoned, 10 more in its grip, outbound, and the transport sitting there with 15, which meant that particular hold was probably approaching empty, and Tarras was going to have to initiate the number two hold, which—

"You're clear, "Tarras said. "His name is Pokajinai, Nandijigan Pokajinai, he speaks the trade, mind your manners.''

"Got it." He spotted the mahe docker chief, flipped the com to standby and strolled over. He saw the apprehensive expression, too, and made his most courteous bow. "Sir." In case they thought hani males went homicidally for anything of like gender. "Hallan Meras. Na Pokajinai?"

A nervous laughter from the rest of the dockers.

"Name Nandijigan, call Nandi. You Meras."

"Meras is fine." His father would have his ears. "Ker Tarras is working inside, I'm her eyes out here."

"Not hear Chanur ship got male," somebody muttered. He was undecided whether to hear it or not. He decided not. He simply flipped the com to active and advised Tarras he'd made peaceful contact.

It was wonderful. It was the best thing in all the universe, being out here, trusted, with the smells and even the cold, and the noise of foreign voices — the clangs and bangs of machinery, and the romance of the labels that the docker chief had to give mahen customs stamps to, and write on, and sign for.

They were a lot less likely to have a miscount with one of the Legacy crew out here. It was a real position of trust the captain had given him — she had listened to the other crew on his case, so there was still hope of pleasing her and becoming indispensable and permanent.

"How's it going?" Tarras asked, breathless, teeth chattering, he could hear the rattle over the com.

"Everything's clear," he said. "Ker Tarras, are you all right?"

"Cold. Just cold.''

There were transports coming, a lot of them, and there was nobody else loading at this section of the docks. The I6-carrier moved out with a whine of its motor, and the 14 moved in. Another 16-carrier moved into the waiting line and the automated handlers moved can after can out, instantly frosting on the surfaces, internally heated, but the insulation was so efficient they could sit in a cold-hold and keep their necessary conditions within parameters. Tarras had been scrambling about the latticework of walkways in the hold unhooking the connections and the hoses from the temperature-controlled cans. Alone, the captain said. No wonder she was out of breath.

Where had everybody else gone? He had no idea what time it was. He didn't think it was a good idea to ask questions, especially on the comlink, outside-just do his job.

MaybeTarras would get some relief in there.

Meanwhile he consulted with the mahendo'sat and relayed Tarras' suggestions about sequencing the offload, to minimize shifting the cans about from loader arm to loader arm. He was cold. He didn't want to think how it was for Tarras.

Cl-ank. Cl-l-l-l-

Tarras said a word over com you weren't supposed to say on com.

The loader chain had stopped. The loader arm was half extended.

"Can you back it up?" he asked Tarras. "If you can sort of rock it—"

"I know that!"

"It's those 14-can transports."

"What? "Tarras snapped.

"The 14-can—"

"What's that to do with the gods-forsaken chain?"

"The loader arm. When it extends full out."

"What's that to do with anything?''

"It has to. The 14-can jobs, the old ones are a little low. The loader arm has to extend out, it cramps the leads, and it just — ties up. You back the loader arm up."

"Are you serious?"

"Itworks with the Sun's loader, ker Tarras. The loader arm tells the driver the chain's hung. But it isn't.

The loader just thinks it is. Back the arm up and set it down about a hand short. — Wait a minute. You're going to—"

Bang.

Into the carrier cab.

"Not that far," he said.

"That's where it goes!"

The mahen driver was getting out, yelling in his own language, and when people did that it scared him, like at Meetpoint, like when the fight started, and he didn't want to fight anybody. He made a fast approach to the docker chief, but all the mahendo'sat were yelling, and the docker chief screamed,

"Move damn cart! How for park there?"

He thought the chief meant him. He was by the single-can cart, it was no more than a lift vehicle they had to hoist the inbound cans, but they didn't need it yet. He just stepped aboard and backed up out of the can-transport's way so it could adjust position with the arm.

"Move damn thing!" the transport driver yelled at him. "Damn stupid park there!"

He didn't know who had. He wanted to save his ship fault in the matter. He whipped it smartly around; and bang! —

Brought up short, with a transport there filling his view that just hadn't been there before, a transport that was flashing yellow lights and shrieking alarm, with a writhing shape inside the purple-lit glass.

Methanetransport…. Explosive as hell.

He tried to go forward. The bumpers were hooked.

He cut the motor. He had that much presence of mind. Lights were flashing everywhere. Sirens were shrieking. The ten-story-tall section doors were moving shut, walling off their whole area of dock.

"Ker Tarras?" he said into the com. "Help."

"Captain?" came the call on all-ship.

"Lower main," Hilfy said, got the message, and something like three seconds later was on the downward access.

Colored lights were everywhere, sirens were blowing, there was a tc'a vehicle and a cargo lifter clearly in mortal embrace, with rescue techs swarming over the scene, and a knot of Urtur station police clustered about Hallan Meras, who was out of his vehicle and answering questions with the gods only knew what legally complicating admissions.

She drew a breath and strode down into the mess, answered the inevitable, "You captain this ship?" with the lamentable truth, and fixed Hallan with a flat-eared look. His ears twitched downward, and he winced, but he did not look down.

"Is the methane truck leaking?" she asked. If the tc'a vehicle was leaking its atmosphere into flammable oxygen, this was a bad place to be standing. Procedure was to evacuate the passenger into a rescue pod, pump the methane atmosphere into a sound container, and get the victim methane-side for medical treatment, rather than to pry the wreckage apart — but nobody had told the docker who was bouncing on the oxy-vehicle bumper trying to disengage it. "Stop that!" she shouted. "Fool!"

The police and the rescue workers started yelling, and maybe the tc'a in the cab was distraught too: it started writhing about, its serpentine body bashing the windows of the cab with powerful blows, and wailing — wailing in a tc'a's multipartite voice its distress. Its companion chi was racing about — a wonder that the convulsions didn't smash the sticklike creature to paste, and the whole cab was rocking, rescue workers were shouting at the tow-truck, something about come on, hurry up.

Then the thrashing grew quiet. The rescue workers climbed up on the cab and peered inside, and Hilfy held her breath. There was a lot of dialectic chatter, a lot of muttering and one of the workers got down off the cab and began motioning the tow-track to move in.

The police yelled at the rescue workers, the rescue workers yelled at the police, Hallan said, "I'm sorry, captain."

"What," she said in a low voice, "happened?"

"The loader jammed. I backed the truck. It just-turned up in back of me."

Tc'a didn't exactly drive a straight line. It was the nature of their nervous systems. "Do you have a license to drive on dockside?"

"No, captain."

"Do you suppose there's a reason why you don't have a license to drive on dockside?"

"I think so, captain."

The police were coming back. They had the tow truck hitched. "Watch your mouth," she said. "Let me do the talking." Out of the tail of her eye she saw Tiar and Tarras on the ramp, and Fala behind them.

And the police were on their way back to them, with their slates and their recorders. Lawyers would be next — if it was an oxy-sider Meras had backed into. One could only wish it was lawyers.

"It reproduce," their chief said, with an expansive gesture involving his slate. "You responsible. Urtur station not."

She drew a long careful breath. "You write your report. I write mine."

"We got take him."

Tempting thought. "No."

"He not list with you crew."

"He's on loan. He's a licensed spacer. I put him on the dockside. I take responsibility for accidents."

"Captain," Hallan objected, brim full of noble and foolish objections — her claws twitched out and her vision shadowed around the edges.

"Shut up, Meras. — I'll need a copy of your report, officer, and I'll pay charges on the alarm."

Don't even ask if anybody was injured when the section doors moved shut. Disruption of business, inconvenience to traffic, time and services of rescue workers and police…

Say about 200,000 in damages… give or take.

She signed the report as Reserving the right to amend or correct, and so on, due to language barrier and lack of legal counsel, etc., and so on. She thanked the officers, thanked the rescue workers, gave the eye to her crew lurking up in the ramp access, and smiled sweetly at Meras.

"He try fix loader," the docker chief said.

Grant the fellow a fair mind and an inclination to speak out. She delayed for a look up at the mahe, and gave a bow of the head, and put the name in memory, Nandi, in the not unlikely event they needed a witness. "He thanks you for your support," she said, in her best mahendi, and gave a second bow, before she took Meras by the arm and headed him up the ramp.

"I feel awful it was pregnant," he said on the way up, and she threw him a disbelieving glance.

"They reproduce under stress," she said. "You're a father, gods rot you, to a tc'a! What's lord Meras going to say to that?"

He looked horrified. Appropriately. About the time they reached Tiar and Fala and Chihin.

"It spawned," she said, shortly. "Probably so did the chi. — Tiar, get up to the bridge. See to gtst honor!''

"Aye, captain."

Tiar went, at top speed. That left two. "Fala, down there and take over for Meras. — Chihin, you're on your own with the guest quarters. Get!"

The com was trying to get her attention with periodic, when-you-have-time beeps. She waited until she had gotten Meras into the airlock, and keyed into the ship's internal system. "Tarras. You all right?"

"Aye, captain."Chattering teeth. "Captain, the kid was giving me a fix on the loader. "

"Fix on the loader," Two and two weren't making four. "You get that gods-forsaken cargo out of there.

I'll hear it later." She grabbed Meras by the elbow and steered him through the lock and down the corridor toward her office.

"Captain, I'm really sorry. I'm really — really sorry you had to take responsibility…"

"We are in one gods-rotted mess, you understand that? You understand me?"

"Captain.”From the com again. Tarras. "I'd really like to talk to you about what happened…"

"Later!"

They reached her office and Meras followed her in. She sat, he sat, disconsolately, his big frame somewhat overflowing the chair that was designed to accommodate even mahendo'sat. She stared, he looked at the front panel of her desk, or somewhere in that vicinity. The loader had started again.

Presumably they had the go-ahead from the port authority. Clank-clank. Clank-thump.

"Meras."

"Yes, captain."

"Do you know what you've cost us in fines?"

"If there were any way I could take responsibility—"

"Would Meras like a 200,000 credit bill?"

"I don't think so."

"I thought your captain was reprehensible for leaving you at Meetpoint. I begin to feel a certain sympathy for her, you know that?"

"Yes, captain."

"I don't have a license to drive that cart. Tiar's been out here for forty years and she doesn't have a license to back that cart up. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, captain."

"I want you to understand something. We have a stsho passenger who's already in delicate health. They are not a robust species. This stsho is occupying the cabin around the corner from here. If gtst saw you, it could tip matters right over the edge. Do you understand that fact?"

"Yes, captain." A visible wince. " — Captain,—"

" Yes, Meras?"

"I really — really want to do right. I can do a good job-"

"Two hundred thousand worth. That's a gods-rotted steep hourly wage!"

I didn't know about the license! The loader was jammed, and they couldn't move the truck till somebody moved the cart—" "Until a licensed driver moved the cart!" "I didn't know that!"

"Well, there's a gods-be lot you didn't learn in your apprenticeship, Hal I an Meras, and you're not doing it at our expense. We've got to go on out of here to Kita, from Kita the gods only know where the gods-forsaken addressee has gone to, but gtst is on a mahen ship, and from Kita our choices are Not Good. Do you follow my logic? This is no trip and no place for any gods-rotted apprentice!"

"I'm not an apprentice — I've got my license—"

"Got your license — I'd like to know how in a mahen hell you got your license, I'd like to know doing what you got your license, because it sure as taxes wasn't on any dockside ops board, and it gods-rotted sure didn't entitle you to back a cart the length of this office! You're a papa, Hal I an Meras, you're a papa to a methane-breathing five-brained colony entity and probably to another chi who's crazier than it is — and mama or whatever you call it when you reproduce when startled is just capable of asking his, her, or its matrix what gods-be ship its offspring's papa is working on! Methane folk have this way of turning up in the deep dark empty and saying hello when you don't want to see them. Methane folk have this way of navigating that doesn't respect lanes in space any more than they respect lines on a dock! I've had them come near my ship when they weren't after anything, thank you, Hallan Meras, and I don't want to deal with them when they are! I by the gods sure don't want to meet that mama or its offspring in deep space! Do you remotely understand why I'm upset?"

"I could — I could try to have station get a message to them, station can talk with them…"

"That's a myth. That's a thorough-going myth. Station can approximate things like 'Open the hatch,' and

'That's a fire hazard!' It doesn't do gods-be well with, 'Hello, I'm Hallan Meras, I'm responsible for your offspring.' They've been in space long before we were, and we still don't know how to say 'Stop it you're in my lane,' and: 'My ship can't perform that maneuver.' You want to see a matrix brain communication? I can show you one…" She got into comp with two jabs of a key and voiced it:

"Matrix-corn!"

Matrix-corn came up, with the typical grid. Five rows across, output of each of five voices of its multiple brains. She hit vocal and knnn-voice wailed over the speaker, like a wind-organ, like pipes, and deep, deep bass vibrations.

Hallan winced, ears twitching with the assault, nostrils working. He shivered visibly. Then she remembered she was dealing with adolescent male hormones, which ought to give a sane woman pause — but gods rot it, he insisted he was one of the girls, that he was cool-headed, he wanted to play the game on their terms; and she slammed her hand down on the desk, bang!

"Off-comp!"

Sound stopped. And Meras was still twitching, but be hadn't left his chair, his eyes were dilated, but the ears were trying to come upright — he was paying attention, he was listening, he wasn't crazy.

"Captain.”Tiar — on the bridge. Magnificent timing.

"I'm hi my office, Tiar. What's the problem?"

"Just got a blip on station feed.Sun Ascendant's just entered system.''

The answer to prayers, it might be.

Hallan looked upset. Shook his head and shaped No with his mouth. Said something else.

"Thanks, cousin. Glad to hear that.'’

"I don't want to go, captain. I don't want them—"

"You signed with them. You sat at their table, you slept in their shelter, they got you your license, and I don't know what made diem leave you at Meetpoint, Meras, but so far as what I've seen they may have run for their lives."

Made him mad, that did. Good.

"If you want to go back to the laundry, you stay there. If you want to go back to the passenger cabins and help Chihin paint and patch, feel free. I'm not turning you over to station police, and being the righteous fool I am, I'm not identifying Sun Ascendant to the tc'a. We'll handle it. But I've done everything I'm obliged to do for somebody I gathered out of a jail he by the gods got himself into. I've got 41 messages in ship's files for my aunt at this station; I've got 156 for me, most of them from people trying to use me to get to my aunt for favors they want; and here comes one of my aunt's devoted admirers who just really badly wants into my crew, because he just really badly wants it, that's why.

— Well, so does half the universe, Meras. And I'd suggest you give up and go home if meeting my aunt is what you want; or if being a spacer is what you want, focus down and use your head on problems before you kill somebody. I'd suggest you give up on the Manual of Trade and start reading the licensing and operations manual. It may keep you out of the next hot spot you land in. — And give my regards to Tellun Sahern. Minute your ship makes port you're going over there."

Ears were flat. Really mad. Better. Maybe he'd survive in Sahern, in far space.

"Go on," she said. And he got up and bowed and left.

Which didn't make her happy. Nobody could be happy, who had a 200,000 credit charge pending against her ship, a cargo half unloaded, a distraught stsho dignitary in the crew lounge, and a course change pending to Kita Point, a gods-forsaken dot in the great empty, after which, as she had said to Meras — limited options.

"Ker Chihin," Hallan said, hesitating in the open doorway. "The captain suggested I help."

"I don't need anything backed into," Chihin said shortly, and Hallan winced. The room was all white.

The furniture was gone. You walked up steps to the floor and there was a depression full of white cushions. Besides there was a pedestal with braces going out to it, but nothing on it.

"You can vacuum," Chihin said. "Floor, walls, everything. Steam vac. All the dust. Height could help.

Are your feet clean?''

He looked. They weren't, exactly. "I'll go wash," he said meekly.

"Packaged wet towel, right there by the steps." Chihin frowned at him as he sat down on the steps and reached for it. He tried not to look at her face. He felt sick, he had felt sick ever since he had backed into the tc'a, but he couldn't go back to that closed room, he couldn't stand it. So he washed his feet off so no one could complain of a smudge and he looked for a place to dispose of the towel.

"Over there," Chihin said, indicating a plastic bucket. He went and dropped it in. "You know how to use the steam vac?''

"Yes, ma'am." He was too well acquainted with it. It was all Sahern had let him do for his first weeks aboard the Sun. He went and checked the prime, checked the water and pulled the filter screen, which he figured he ought to clean before someone else found fault with him. "Is there a sink, ma'am, or should I—"

"Bath's in there. Sink works just like ours — it's the fixture on the left."

He went and washed the filter. It was different plumbing. Ordinarily he would have been intrigued, but the lump in his throat would not go away and he just tried to go moment by moment and not to think about what the captain had said, one way or the other. The captain had a right to be mad, gods, he couldn't pay back the damage he'd cost — probably nobody in Meras clan history had ever fouled up so egregiously, so consistently.

But the docking chief had said to move the cart.

He put the vacuum back together. He took it to a corner and started there, with a racket that made conversation impossible. But he was aware of Chihin staring at him from time to time: maybe she expected the vac to explode or something; or him to do something she could fault. Of all the crew, Chihin was not in any way friendly, and he supposed by now the rest of the crew was ready to kill him. Except maybe… at least Tarras had tried to speak for him. Fala and Tiar had looked upset, as well they might, but they hadn't hated him. Chihin — didn't want him here. Which was why the captain had sent him to work with her, he supposed. But it was still better than sitting alone in the laundry and remembering backing into that truck, and that thing snaking back and forth in pain and battering itself against the windows, leaving bits of skin and fluid on the glass…

At least it hadn't exploded. Nobody had gotten killed- Quite the opposite. Somebody had gotten created. He wondered how the tc'a felt.”

"The kid was trying to straighten out the loader," Tarras said. There was still ice in her beard, melting and glistening in the heat of the downside office — Hilfy had called her up, ordered her to trade places with Fala, and the way to the dock lay through the lower main corridor and past her office. So she had both of them, Tarras and Fala, arguing with her, the loader was in temporary shut-down, pending the switch, and no cargo was moving. But she figured she might as well listen and be done with it.

"All right," she said. "Voices on Meras' behalf… while we're at it." She pushed the call button.

"Cousin. Listen in."

"Aye,"Tiar answered from the bridge. "What's up?"

"The loader jammed," Tarras said, and sat down, while Fala edged a half a step further into the office, in the doorway. "The kid knew the equipment— Sun Ascendant must use the same model. Anyway, it pulled its usual stunt, and the kid said it was the 14-can truck, when the arm positions itself: he says it's a false signal, there's nothing to do with the chain, it's the arm overextending. This one model of truck has a slightly lower bed. It reaches down to get it, the arm jams, jams the chain, you back the chain — it fixes it.

So if you move the truck a little farther—"

"The docker chief said he's heard of it," Fala said. "It's something they say on the docks but the companies won't investigate. Doesn't happen until the equipment gets a little wear on it, and then it'll happen if the play that gets into the joint works far enough to the right where the sensor bundle runs through, and that bias only happens when you get a whole lot of fifteen-year-old Daisaiji 14-canners in a row. Which you get on Urtur, they got more of them than anywhere, because they made them here. And it only happens if some driver parks short. That's why it comes and it goes." She couldn't help but be interested in the purported olution to the loader glitch, if it was the answer — it sounded iffy to her; but most of all she didn't want to hear it was Meras who had the information. She'd worked up a perfectly good, justified fit of temper, from which Meras could learn something that might keep him alive, and she didn't want any extenuating circumstances.

"So the thing jammed," Tarras said, "and the docker crew wanted to move the truck, and somebody'd parked a can-hoist in the way—" "Probably why the truck parked short," Fala said. "And the kid said it was the truck, so the chief started yelling about moving the truck," Tarras said.

"He was pretty hot, so the kid — just got in and backed it up."

"Without a license."

"Captain," Tarras said, "the length of the truck, it had to move. Isn't a spacer working freight hasn't stepped aboard and moved a hoist a few—"

"I haven't. I don't want my crew doing it. You let the dockers do their job, you don't lay a hand on their equipment, we got a special handicap, f godssake, Chanur's got too many enemies who'd like to sue the hide off us, you understand?"

"Understood," Tarras said sullenly. "But," Fala said, "it was only cosmic bad luck the tc'a was back there—"

"Luck! Methane loads come in on oxy side all the time at Urtur, and we got tc'a going back and forth on business oxy side, and it had business which is now complicated by an offspring! We can only hope we don't get company our next trip out. Luck be damned!"

"Aye, captain."

"Captain,"Tiar said, "begging your pardon, but he's young. Haven't any of us made mistakes? ''

“He can make them on Sahern 's deck, and welcome to him. Enthusiasm is one thing. We can't afford his enthusiasm. Besides, his ship is here—"

"They didn't do him any favors, cap'n. That's their teaching? They take a kid on for an apprentice, and he's got a little of this, a little of that? I asked him stuff on ops. He knows this board real well, doesn’t 't know how it relates to the main board. That's 'Sit here and watch the colored lights, kid,' that's what they gave him "

"It's not our problem! He's not signed with us, he signed with them."

Silence from Tarras and Fala. Glum stares.

"Aye,"Tiar conceded from the bridge, not happy.

So no one was. She wasn't. Meras wasn't. But neither, one could suppose, was the tc'a.

Meanwhile Sun Ascendant was inbound, in contact with Urtur control. "To work," she said, and, in peace, composed a polite message for merchant captain Tellun Sahern, to rest in her message file.

From to Sahern's Sun Ascendant, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Tellun Sahern, her attention: We are pleased to report that—

No, scratch that. Sahern would find a way to take it wrong.

Meetpoint authorities, having dropped all charges against Hallan Meras, requested us to ferry him as far as Urtur where he might rejoin his ship. We will be glad to escort him to your dockside at your earliest convenience or to turn him over to your escort here if that is your wish.

FromSahern's Sun Ascendant to, the hand of Tellun Sahern, to Hilfy Chanur, her attention: We trade for a living, we don't take secret money or run without cargo. It's clear you had a motive in buying him free of the stsho. As you've surely learned by now, he has no data on our ship to give you. I doubt he could even falsify credible numbers. Chanur has made its bargains. We will not rescue you from your folly.

The message slipped into the tray in printout. It burned on the screen. Hilfy pushed the button to capture to log, took the printout and slipped it into physical file.

The message she thought of sending was: Earless bastard, I thought your reputation had hit bottom.

The message she sent was:

From to Sahern's Sun Ascendant, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Tellun Sahern, her attention: We require a release from apprenticeship signed by you, under Sahern seal, and we will seek passage or assignment for him elsewhere.

FromSahern's Sun Ascendant to, the hand of Tellun Sahern, to Hilfy Chanur, her attention: Too late, Chanur. We've been following the news since we entered system. We accept no legal liability for the actions of a fool we left in stsho custody and you conveyed here and let loose on Urtur docks.

You bought him. He's yours.

Although I thought your personal preferences lay outside your species.

From to Sahern's Sun Ascendant, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Tellun Sahern, her attention: Daughter of a nameless father, if this young man wishes to file a complaint against you for desertion in a foreign port, I will swear to particulars.

As to my personal tastes, at least I have preferences.

Possibly she had made a mistake. Temper had gotten the better of her. She should not have offered legal backing. She sat contemplating the screen, and thinking black and blacker and blackest thoughts.

"Captain?" Tiar asked from the bridge. "We got all that on log.''

"Good."

"Kid never got a fair break, captain."

"The universe doesn't guarantee fair breaks, and I don't want any apprentice under any circumstances!

Something's gone wrong with this whole business, we've got a nervous stsho on our hands and Kita is no place to take a novice. I want you to contact Narn and Padur — no, never mind. / will."

"Captain. Can I say a word?''

"I know what you're going to say, and I'm not listening."

"Captain, on behalf of the crew…"

"We're not taking any apprentice! His apprentice papers are over on a Sahern ship, they're not going to give them to Chanur, they're out to cause us whatever trouble they can, the whole radical right is looking for a Cause against Chanur, and I was a fool ever to agree to take him aboard — I thought Sahern would be reasonable, but clearly not."

She beeped off the contact, and composed another message — thought about couriering this one over to avoid public commotion and public pressure, and thought about the hazards of sending Legacy personnel alone and within reach of station police, angry merchants — or Ana-kehnandian.

No. No such chances.

From to Padur's Victory, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Tauhen Padur, her attention: We have advised Sahern of the presence of their apprentice crewman, Hallan Meras, on our ship. They have refused responsibility for this young man, who has been cleared of all charges which caused him to be detained by stsho authorities, and further, they have refused him access to their ship in harsh terms, preferring to recall an ancient feud with Chanur, no fault of this young man of Meras clan, a licensed spacer, who has traveled under our protection.

While Padur has no obligation, Chanur would be obliged if Padur could take this young man under its protection and possibly find a berth for him.

FromPadur's Victory to, the hand of Tauhen Padur, to Hilfy Chanur, her attention: Padur while friendly to Chanur and altogether desirous of maintaining Chanur's good will, under the circumstances of the recent accident on Chanur dock-side must regretfully decline to incur the possibility of legal liabilities under mahen law.

From to Narn's Dawnmaker, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Kaury Narn, her attention: We have advised Sahern of the presence of their apprentice crewman, Hallan Meras, on our ship. They have refused responsibility for this young man, who has been cleared of all charges which caused him to be detained by stsho authorities, and further, they have refused him access in harsh terms, preferring to recall an ancient feud with Chanur, no fault of this young man of Meras clan, who has traveled under our protection.

While Padur has declined our solicitation, we hope and Chanur would be obliged if Narn could take this young man, a licensed spacer, under its protection in any sense whatsoever.

FromNarn's Dawnmaker to, the hand of Kaury Narn, to Hilfy Chanur, her attention: I have my sister's young daughter aboard: I could not in good conscience expose her or Meras clan to the consequences of taking on this young man. Nor do we have passenger facilities. However, Narn is willing, under appropriate safeguards, and at Chanur's request and assumption of all consequent responsibility to Meras, to convey the young gentleman under close supervision as far as Hoas, where he may await a ship with familial connections.

Read that: lock him in the laundry and turn him over to Hoas authorities. At least no worse accommodation than he had, and a station where (gods hope!) he had no legal problems. But going to Hoas took him back toward Meetpoint, and he would have to come back through Urtur again.

Where that ship might find legal problems waiting for them, unless they could get a release, and she knew the mahen politics waiting for them.

Hilfy sat and contemplated the screen; and sent back:

From to Narn's Dawnmaker, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Kaury Narn, her attention: Thank you for your offer. We fully understand. We will hold your proposal in reserve while we seek other safe disposition for—

— him.

The pronoun itself was unaccustomed out here. Ten, fifteen years ago, you didn't by the gods use the male pronoun in a message between clans. It still felt queasy and indecent. It felt indecent to have one's decades-senior aunt ahead of one's self in pushing the conservative limits. When had she become the defender of hani propriety?

— the gentleman, she finished. If we don't get back to you, we wish you a safe voyage.

And to Padur:

From to Padur's Victory, the hand of Hilfy Chanur, to Tauhen Padur, her attention: We are seeking other solutions. Please bear witness that we have attempted the honorable discharge of our reasonable obligations to Sahern and to Meras. Safe voyage.

She sat. And sat.

She wished she had not used the com in the approach to Sahern. Aunt never used com for clan to clan business if she could help it. Good, on the one hand, that the initial business with Sahern was on public record and overheard by two other clans. She did not regret that. But… mahendo'sat who did not speak hani certainly had translators. So did the kif, of whom there were fifteen in system.

She had a prickly feeling all down her back, the same feeling the whole atmosphere at Urtur gave her—

since the dust-up in customs, and the Personage's too-easy dismissal of Ana-kehnandian, and every gods-be stsho on the station running for elsewhere when she had the Preciousness just itching to be delivered to somebody.

It had the feeling of powers at war, somewhere. And powers at war always went for the soft spots, the joinings between uneasy allies, the bribes, the coercions— the cooperations.

The feuds.