“Entering count,” Haral’s voice said over the intercom. “That’s five minutes.”
Pyanfar went to her chair and settled into it. The food and the water was in the appropriate clip. She powered the frame into position, adjusted the restraints, swung the arm-brace up and locked it.
“Four,” Haral said, flicking switches. They were by the hook on this one: too many strangers aboard. “You want it, captain?”
“You got it, do it.” She was checking displays. Tirun was switching at the moment, Haral having her hands full with the count and the last-minute power-ups. The Pride upped her rotations a bit, a little more G dragging them into the seats, for comfort’s sake when they made drop at Urtur.
“We got our escort,” Haral said. “That’s Chakkuf, Nekekkt, Sukk. None I know.”
“Me neither.”
Message sent,” Hilfy said. “They’re on final to jump, on schedule.”
“My captain’s secure,” said a strange voice from across the bridge.
“Clear to go,” Tirun said.
“Mark,” Geran said. “We got everyone on the mark back there.”
They were moving, a field of blips going with them, while another field, stationary, shifted color downward. They were leaving Sikkukkut and company behind. Gods help the station and the stsho.
“Steady on,” Haral said. “How’re you doing, captain?”
“You going to take it amiss if I ask what in a mahen hell we got set up?”
A dip of Haral’s ears. “Same as you planned, captain. I got a checklist, your four.” Haral pushed a button and two screens flashed and changed displays. “Tauran asked questions, I answered as I could, no apparent problems. We’re shift on and off with Tauran down in crew quarters; sent Tully down to ride it out in ops. Tauran was going to get upset about him. He said it was all right. And na Khym, by your leave. I figured we needed senior crew up here on this one-”
Haral let her voice trail off. And men and aliens were an issue, was the unspoken part.
“Did right,” Pyanfar said. Gods rot them, Tully all by himself down there, contrary to her orders, because a priggish lot of hani balked at having him in crew quarters even with opposite shifts. Same sheets and blankets. Gods rot them all.
Couldn’t put him with Khym. Or in Skkukuk’s stinking quarters. Sirany Tauran got Jik’s, captain’s privilege, private cabin.
No room with Chur. Except in the same bed. Gods, and the protection might be worth it. Chur-.
Gods, let her make it. This is the hard one, gods. Get her through it.
Let me get her home. She’s so small a matter in the balance. One hani. While You’re doing all the rest, gods of my mothers-can’t you just keep her with us?
You want my cooperation, gods?
No, no, not the way to go about it. The gods traded too sharp.
She scanned the list, flicked a glance over at number three monitor on her board, where augmented scan showed nine ships moving with them. Five hani, Aja Jin, and three kifish ships. The list showed tests run, checkout made, Tauran’s agreement to crew assignment and quarters, status on Chur, and the fact that ops-com was open all over the ship for anyone who wanted to access it.
Course plot: affirm.
She affirmed. Plotting came up, splitscreen with data.
It was an illegal course, skipping to Urtur’s zenith, braking hard, and jumping again from the incoming range. No passage through the dust-and-gas soup of the accretion disc at the ecliptic. No high-V passage through that.
It was also where trouble would be waiting. Best of all if they could have skipped directly nadir; but few stars had such a relative axial tilt that made that maneuver possible. The Meetpoint Mass and Urtur were not two of them; and trying it would probably pull them at high-V right into the worst of the disc.
If it did not drop them instead right into the heart of the well, into the bosom of Urtur’s sullen yellow sun.
“We running calc on our collective?” she asked, while the chronometer ticked down. “Where is it?”
“We got it,” Haral said. “It’s going. We’re sequenced two minutes apart, you want it closer?”