They hit the access tube running and came round the bend headon into hani coming up the accessway, a broad, scarred hani captain flanked by two senior crew.

Pyanfar evaded collision.

"Gods rot you -" Banny Ayhar yelled, and Chur cursed; there was the thump of impact.

"Gods rot you!" Pyanfar yelled, whirling about, outraged, as Chur recovered from her stagger and spun about at her side.  "I told you clear my dock!"

"What's it take to bring Chanur to its senses?" Barmy Ayhar yelled.  "When's it stop, hey? - You listen to me, ker Pyanfar!  I've had enough being put off -"

"We've got kif after my crew, blast your eyes."

"Chanur!"

She spun and gathered Chur and ran, with the thump of running Ayhar at their heels at least as far as the passageway's exit onto the downward ramp.

"Cha-nur!" Banny Ayhar roared at her back, waking echoes off the docks; but Pyanfar never stopped, down the rampway and past the frozen cargo ramp and the gantry that held The Pride's skein of station-links.

"Chanur!"  Far behind them.

There was a curious absence of traffic on the chill, echoing docks, and that silence itself was a warning.  Trouble was in sight even from here, around a big can-loader grinding its slow way beside the ship accesses four berths distant.

An odd crowd accompanied it - a half dozen mahendo'sat in station-guard black strode along beside.  Two red-pelted hani in faded blue breeches rode the flatbed with the tall white cans, while a dozen black-robed kif stalked along in a tight knot; and if any stsho customs officer was involved at all gtst was either barriered inside the cab or fled for safety.