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had been on the docks. "Maximum confusion. Goldtooth kited out. Under
    what circumstances- gods know. Messages were going up and down that dock like
    chi in a fire drill. Maybe it was a kifish smash-and-grab. Maybe not. Likely it
    was targeted at the stsho. They've sure got the pressure on."
    "The kif know about that can?" Tirun asked.
    "Gods-rotted mahe shoved a shipment out in the middle of bolting dock like their
    tail was afire -- what else could they guess? Gods know who's been bribed. Gods
    know how long the bribes will hold. --Khym all right, is he?"
    Silence for a moment. Haral shrugged uncomfortably. "Guess he is," Haral said.
    "He have anything to say?"
    "Not much."
    "Huh."
    "Said he'd be in his quarters."
    "Fine." She bit it off. They were blood kin, she and the crew. All Chanur. All
    with the same at stake, excepting Khym, Mahn-clan, male, past his prime and his
    reason for living and belonging anywhere. Her brother Kohan Chanur relied on
    her, back home. Meetpoint in ruins. Kif on the loose. Stsho facing her down. The
    Pride nose-deep in it again. She had gone softheaded as well as softhearted.
    Hani everywhere muttered to that effect. Only her long-suffering crew would not
    say it, even yet. And Hilfy, of course Hilfy. Worship shone undimmed in those
    young eyes.
    Fool kid, she thought. And to the crew at large: "What happened with our cargo
    out there?"
    "Cans on the dock were gone when we got back," Tirun said. "We filed a theft
    report with station. Cans still inside are safe."
    "Kif are fast. Power her up. We go on using station's hookups, but we keep our
    own online. Look sharp, hear? Don't ask me how long this goes on. I don't know.
    Contact customs. I want to know where that incoming shipment is."
    No one mentioned costs or what the stsho might do. No one mentioned licenses,
    and the docking rights and routes it had cost too much to regain. No one
    mentioned Khym, a private folly that had long since become a public one. Not a
    backward look. No protests. Just a quiet moving toward stations, the whine of
    chairs receiving bodies all about her as she powered her own chair about and
    keyed in the old com messages.
    From a mahendo'sat, unidentified: "I leave paperwork, leave cans same station
    office. Good voyage. Got go quick. Same you."
    She drew one long, quivering breath.
    From Ayhar's Prosperity: "Banafy Ayhar to Pyanfar Chanur: We have a matter
    between us. I suggest we keep it private. I suggest you bring your witnesses to
    my deck. Expecting immediate reply."
    "In a mahen hell."
    "Captain?"
    She restrained herself from violence to the board. "Reply to Ayhar: Tell it to
    the kif."
    "Captain--"
    "Send it."
    Geran ducked her head and bent to the keys. Other messages crawled past, mostly
    stsho: a dozen threats of lawsuit from irate bazaar merchants; two scurrilous
    letters from stsho vessels in port, impugning Chanur sanity; others were
    rambling. Four were anonymous congratulations in mahen pidgin, some sounding
    inebriate, one babbling obscure mahen religious slogans and offering support.
    From Vigilance, not a word.
    "Tirun," said Chur behind her. "Got that customs contact." And a moment later:
    "Captain," Tirun said. "Got the customs chief on. Claims the papers aren't in
    order on that shipment."
    She spun the chair about. "The Director cleared that! Tell gtst so."
    "The customs chief says you have to come and sign."
    "I signed that god-rotted thing!"
    Tirun relayed as much, politely phrased. Amber eyes lifted. Ears flicked. "Gtst
    says that was the customs release. Now they want a waiver against claims by the
    consignor--"
    She punched it in on her own com. "This is Pyanfar Chanur. If I come over there
    I bring my whole ship's company. Hear? And you can explain that to the Director,
    you flat-bottomed bureaucrat!"
    Silence from the other end.
    She broke the contact. "Tirun: you and Geran get across that dock to that office
    and watch those cans all the way."
    "Kif," Tirun said.
    "Gods-rotted right