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.
Chapter Eight
Ker Chihin passed finger-pads over the panel surface, stooped and passed the same inspection over the floor, and evidently she found no fault with the job. Hallan put the vac away; and ker Chihin inspected that, too, then told him to take it to the laundry and stow it in the number 3 locker.
Then Chihin said, "Good job, kid."
He looked back from the doorway, and bowed, hands full and all. He didn't think he was called on to say anything, just to keep quiet and do what he was told; so he went and stowed the vac.
But ker Chihin hadn't said about whether to come back or not. He thought he should; and came quietly back and stopped in the doorway, because Chihin was fixing a case back in the traveling brace, on the pedestal, and it might be fragile.
He waited until she had tightened the bolts and slid the cover off the box, which proved to hold a simple vase. Then he cleared his throat.
"Gods rot you!" Chihin cried, with a start, and knocked back into a bucket of construction trash and another of panel clips.
"I'm sorry, ker Chihin."
"You didn't see this thing."
"Yes, ker Chihin." He honestly wished he hadn't. He thought maybe he was meant to get out, immediately, but Chihin started picking up loose bits and pieces of the scattered debris. He went to help, tentatively, and grabbed up loose panel clips as fast as he could find them, until he had a double handful.
"You be careful you don't miss any of those. If one of those goes whizzing around here under v, you don't want to know what it'd do to a body's head."
"I know, ker Chihin. I'm sorry."
"It was my foot," Chihin muttered, which was fairer than most ever were to him. He went back after more clips, and searched all around the edges of the cabin, and around the cushions and down in them, no matter how remote the chance.
No more of them. He came back and dumped what he had.
"Boy, — what got into you, wanting to come out here?"
"Captain said I could help…"
"I mean here. I mean going to space."
Thatquestion. It always came up. "I wanted to."
"I know that. But what's a nice kid want to come out here and run over tc'a and get arrested for?"
KerChihin didn't think he belonged here. He was used to that. And you couldn't argue with it. He shut up and kept his head down, already knowing the captain was going to throw him off the ship, so there was no use in arguing.
"Kid?"
"I wanted to go to space, that's all."
"Think you couldn't have found yourself a spot on Anuurn? Don't think there's some niche you could have carved out? You're a good-looking kid. You'd have gotten somebody's attention."
"I guess. Maybe. I don't know." He'd been through this too many times, with every ship he applied to, with the one that had taken him, with every member of the Sun's crew, in one form or another.
Sometimes he'd given answers to make them happy. He'd caught himself lying and sworn off it. But he didn't want to argue with Chihin either. The day had already gone wrong enough.
"So what d' you think?" Chihin asked. "Is space what you expected?"
"I don't know." Same stupid answer. He found a piece of debris and brought it back, thinking, and he said it: his back was to the wall and he couldn't lose any more than he had. "But I don't want to go back.
And I'm getting better."
"At what? Parking?" Chihin said, straight to the sore spot. He kept his head down and picked up the container of debris. "You know where to take that?"
"To 'cycling. I guess it's out by the lifts."
"You guess right." Which let him go, so he went out down the corridors and sorted the trash into the right chutes, plastics and metal bits apart, then wiped the bucket down and took it back to the only place he knew to take it.
"Goes in the maintenance locker/’ Chihin said. "That's-"