Chanur's Venture (10 page)

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. "Consign a can at random to Harukk. Tell them and then tell the

stsho."

"To the kif?" Haral gasped, and Khym turned round at his post with the whites of

his eyes showing.

"As a gift. To one Sikkukkut, captain of Harukk. Let the stsho sue him."

A thoughtful, wicked look came into Haral's eyes, bewilderment to Khym's.

"No one sues the kif," Khym said.

"No," Pyanfar said, "they won't. And let Sikkukkut and the station worry what's

in that can, whether it's valuable or not. If he won't take it he'll have to

wonder. If he does and finds nothing but trade goods -- kif have remarkably

little sense of humor, where face is involved. Sfik. And gods know if he has one

of his cronies pick it up he'll have to wonder whether he got all that was in

it. Kif don't trust each other. They can't."

"But--" Khym said.

"No time. Do it, Haral."

"Aye." Haral sat down at com, stuck the receiver in her ear and punched out a

blinking light. "Captain, that's Tully again. He's called up here a dozen times.

Keeps asking something about a packet of papers. He wants to come up here and

discuss it with you."

"Gods." She raked at her beard distractedly and stared round her at the bridge,

at Khym's broad back as he kept dutifully to the board, proving -- proving

things to her. Deliberately. Stubbornly.

Then she realized what she was thinking and thrust the thought away. Male and

male, same space. Old ways of thinking died hard. He's not hani, for the gods'

sakes. And they're on the same ship.

"Tell him come up," she said. "Tell everyone get up here soon as they secure the

hold. Prep ops for undock. And send that message."

"Aye." Haral's voice droned the communications in sequence. She punched from one

to the other channels without amenities. Then in snarling stsho: "Meetpoint

Central Control, this is the hani ship The Pride of Chanur, berth 6, responding

to your notification regarding cargo: must inform you can 23500 has already been

consigned to berth 29, Harukk--"

"Get through to Sikkukkut," Pyanfar said to her back. "Tell him there's a

shipment for him in the hands of the stsho."

"You can't afford to lose that cargo," Khym said, swinging round. "To stsho or

to kif. Pyanfar--"

"Captain," she said, folding her arms. His eyes burned. She stood her ground.

"You're on the bridge. It's captain. Eyes to that board."

He visibly trembled. The sigh gusted through his nostrils like the breath of a

furnace. And he turned back to the board.

"Huh," she said, her worst anticipations overturned.

"The stationmaster wants to talk to you," Haral said. "I think it's gtst

interpreter."

"I'll take it." She sat down in her place at controls and stuck a com plug in

her ear, leaned toward the board pickup and punched the blinking light. "This is

Pyanfar Chanur. Have you a question, esteemed director?"

"The director informs you--" the reply came back "--this high-handed threat will

not suffice. We have your signed acknowledgment of responsibility, but this does

not cover lawsuits and our liabilities. We wish payment now."

"Is that so?" Her lips drew back as if she had the director in sight. "Tell the

director gtst new Phase is a scoundrel, a liar and a pirate."

A pause. "--Our demand is just. The damages of four hundred million must be paid

and the lawsuits must be settled--"

"Collect it from the kif."

"--If The Pride of Chanur undocks without payment it will violate treaty and

application for reparations will go to the hem. Now this message would be more

convenient than usual to deliver."

She sucked in her breath. Gods. For a stsho, the old bastard had a certain

flair.

"--Your response."

"Bargain. On the one hand we will countersue. If we lose we will appeal to the

court at Llhie nan Tie, to Tpehi, to Llyene, and the case will go on for years

-- while gtst remain legally responsible for holding our goods in warehouse

while litigation proceeds."

"--This might be acceptable."

"On the other hand-on the other hand, esteemed director--"

"--Get quickly to this other hand."

"If the request for payment were otherwise phrased, and if Meetpoint makes

itself responsible for all present and future lawsuits out of the settlement,

money might be forthcoming."

"--Please restate. Was this an offer of payment?"

"The station assumes full financial responsibility for present and future suits

and reparations arising from the riot, releases all cargo claims, trades with

our factors at listed station exchange rates, and provides us one unified bill

for The Pride's damage repair."

"Please restate, Chanur captain. This translator understood 'ship damage

repair.'"

"You have it right."

A delay. "--This smacks of illegality."

"Absolutely not. We will swear to damages suffered by The Pride during the

disturbances. Never mind what kind. I'm sure you have the talent to word it so

we can both sign it."

"Please; please, this translator must be correct"

"You've got it. You clear our record, expedite us out, and pad that gods-rotted

bill as much as you want. I'll meet you on the dock with the credit

authorization in a quarter hour."

"--This is subterfuge. Chanur is known destitute."

"Revise your information, esteemed director. Chanur just called in a debt."

Prolonged silence.

"Well?"

"Excuse, esteemed Chanur captain. This will take consideration."

"You by the gods get me out of here."

More silence. "Please be discreet."

"Would the esteemed director contact me on an unsecure channel? The esteemed

director is no fool. It would not be profitable for gtst to appeal to the han,

in whatever form. This would surely tie up the funds in litigation." She turned

and motioned furiously at Haral. "Legal release," she said into the pickup; and

to Haral, and her eyes fell on Khym once-lord-Mahn, on a tense expression turned

her way. She motioned at him, listening with one ear to stsho dithering. Do it,

she mouthed. "--Listen, I told you, pad the bill all you want. I'm not coming to

the office again. You're coming to the docks and you're going to sign a release

for all damages, hear that?"

There was frantic activity to her right. Haral had comp reeling up legal forms

and Khym was leaning over her shoulder muttering corrections and wordings.

By the gods, Mahn's ex-lord, ex-legal counsel. In his element.

She grinned at the mike and listened to more blather. "Simply put," she said to

the director, once Stle stles stlen, "you sign ours, we sign yours, we get our

papers clear and our cargo sold for top going rate, and you can show the High

Director at Nsthen you got full compensation, right? Otherwise you report unpaid

damages. Which do you want?"

"The director relays to you gtst profound distress that Chanur should have been

slandered by fools. Gtst is sending you the papers at once and further sends you

a gift to make amends for this misunderstanding."

"Chanur will reciprocate in acknowledgment of the director's wisdom in detecting

these slanders." She searched rapidly through the data bin for the appropriate

forms, copied those, snagged the one that Harai thrust into her hand, fully

printed, bilingual in stshoshi and ham and ready for signature. "Profound

gratitude, yes." She broke the contact and flipped the documents looking for key

clauses. "Watertight?"

"Full release," Khym said.

"It had better be." She gathered up all the papers, spun the chair on its

mechanism. "Eyes back to that scan, hear?"

"You need escort, captain?" Haral asked.

"You stay here. Tell Hilfy meet me at the lock. I gods-rotted don't need

protection from the stsho and I want you at controls. In case." She flung

herself out of the chair and headed for the door.

Tully was inbound, in great haste. "Pyan-far!" he cried.

"Sorry, Tully, no time." She brushed past, or tried. He caught her arm.

"Got talk! Pyanfar!"

"No time, Tully. Haral -- see to him."

"No # listen I # go #!" He snatched again when she broke the grip and tried to

overtake her in the hall. "Pyanfar!"

As she left him behind.

"Pyanfar-- "

She made it into the lift and shut the door between. She punched com. "Haral.

Get Tully under wraps. Get him his drugs for jump. And stay by those controls!"

Not the most logical series of orders. Gods, Tully and Khym loose on the same

level of the ship, Haral busy--

The lift stopped on lower deck. The door opened, on Tirun, Chur and Geran,

standing at the lift. Haral's voice rang through the lower corridor -- "Who's

free down there?"

"Get topside," Pyanfar said, coming through them, papers in hand. "Move it,

hear?" Their fur was draggled, dark-tipped with sweat. They smelled of it. "Get

Tully put somewhere."

"Aye."

The door closed and they went up. She headed down the corridor at a long stride,

where Hilfy waited at the lock, slant-eared and with the whites showing round

her eyes.

"Calm down, imp," she said, meeting that look. "It's just the stsho this time."

But she still had the gun in her pocket. It lately seemed a good idea.