Then:
“Transmission from Vigilance,” Sif murmured. Data flowed onto her number one screen. Wordage abundant.
It was what she expected. Selected log entries. Two ships firing log segments back and forth like beamfire. Truth and counter-truth. “Gods-be fool,” she murmured. Some of it was potentially explosive with the kif.
“We got that interview with Sikkukkut,” Haral said.
“Save it,” she said. “We got kifish ears out there. If Sikkukkut loses face here, we may have troubles we can’t handle.”
“Sfik,” Khym said. “It’s Chakkuf we have to worry about, isn’t it? That’s the leader.”
“You got it.” A chill and a warmth went through her. Her husband, on target and calm and having picked up more on the way than she gave him credit for, the way he always did. On the bridge, in a seat beside Tauran crew, and no Tauran twitching an ear at it. Do you know what you’re hearing. Tauran? It’s change. It’s power tilting and sliding. And there’s one way in all the universe I can out-do that bastard over there commanding Chakkuf. Take and hold. Grab with both hands.
A kif well understands this exchange of messages.
A kif understands what I’m asking the spacer clans to do, and he understands Ehrran’s position, that it’s eroding, fast. The kif aren’t meddling in this, thank the gods, they know this is a situation they can foul up if they lay a hand on it and they don’t want to do anything. They’re waiting for me. Of course they’re waiting for me. Thanks, husband.
“Message: priority.” Data leapt from Sif’s monitoring to monitor one, a flood of mahen log output, off a ship named Hasene.
Mahendo’sat. My gods. They’re affirming Ayhar’s story.
“Priority, priority.”
Color-shift had begun on certain ships on far-scan, positions relayed and matrixed via continuous dopplered interlink from ships in position to pick them up. Certain ships were disentangling themselves from that welter of dots out there where the kif-kif-hani battle had wound down to stasis.
Stasis no longer.
“Priority.”
Six of the spacing clans were moving. Coming in behind Chanur’s Fortune and Chanur’s Light. Faha kin and Harun clan were among them.
“Inbound,” Haral murmured. “Gods hope they’re on our side.”
“Stand by armaments. We don’t know what that lunatic Ehrran’s going to do.”
“That’s spacers at Ehrran’s back,” Haral muttered. “Those five ships out from station behind her. I’d worry, in Ehrran’s place. I’d worry right fast.”
“Priority! That’s a burn, Ehrran’s maneuvering-”
Unmistakable on the passive-scan, the little flicker of the directionals; then mains cutting in, a deluge of energy from Vigilance, while the ships behind her stayed still.
Ehrran kept on with the burn, accelerating on an insystem vector, while information continued to shoot this way and that through the system. Then Ehrran shut down to inertial: they were leaving, but not at any great pace. Vigilance still had plenty of option to turn around. Or roll and fire.
“Bastard,” Geran hissed. Still dangerous. Very.
Sudden, heart-stopping flares showed from one of Ehrran’s backers. But that was rollover, turning nose toward Gaohn and home, the same direction as the incoming ships.
“That’s Raurn’s Ascendant,” the Tauran First said.
Flares from the others, one and the other, and the next and the next. Rollover in each case.
Pyanfar clenched her hands and flexed the claws and gnawed her mustaches. / haven’t got the strength to stay on the bridge. I can’t do this. I can’t last it. My gods, what am I going to do?
When it was most critical. When hani existence rode on it.
“Medkit,” she said, fighting down a wave of nausea. “Fiar. Get me the medkit. Stimulant. I’d better have it.”
“Captain,” Haral said hoarsely, in hardly better shape.
“Don’t. Don’t. Get me the stuff, get me a sandwich. I got to, Hal.”
“You got it,” Haral said. While Fiar was off at the cabinet getting the kit.
“I’ll get the sandwich,” Khym said, “Gfi. Whatever you want.”
His cooking. Gods. Not the tofi. She turned a dull and helpless glance his way. “Thanks. Hold the gods-be sweet stuff, huh? Just make it fast and simple.”
“Fast and simple.” He got out of his seat, grabbed the seat back for balance and headed up toward the galley, about the time Fiar came back with the kit, laid it out on the counter and pulled a syringe out.