“Cease fire, cease fire.”
While the mains slammed away at them. Then it was a matter of finding their bearings, getting the skewed V shaved down. She got a screenful of garble out of Tracking, reoriented to bring the dishes and receptors to optimum-no matter which direction The Pride was physically headed: coherent data started coming up.
And camera image, an area of flares in the battle zone as The Pride began rollover to brake.
She looked round at her own bridge, still swallowing blood, saw all the stations still working. Wiped her mouth and glanced back again at the images Haral sent her way.
It was still happening out there. But more slowly. There were ships in wreckage out there, blown in those flares. She earnestly hoped one of them was Harukk.
She remembered Stle sties stlen. And felt a chill as she hit the com-button, the contact still live. “This is the mekt-hakkikt Pyanfar Chanur. Report.”
“Praise to the hakkikt,” a kifish voice came back eventually. “We give you your enemies.”
And others began, a flood of ship names, Nekkekt. Chakkuf. Ikkhoitr itself, declaring fervent loyalty.
Not a hani voice. Not a one.
Or a mahendo’sat.
“This is The Pride of Chanur to all hani ships: acknowledge status; hold other transmissions pending. Thank you.”
She sat there staring after. And shaking, little tremors which had nothing to do with the stench of dead air in the ship and the ozone and the fact that the bridge fans had stopped working. Or that there was a periodic and rhythmic shock against the hull which was some piece of debris trailing and still in motion while the mains hammered away at their drift.
Just the bridge sounds and the distant thunder of the mains. And a great loneliness.
“Everyone all right? Is everyone all right?”
“I got a patch on it.” Khym’s voice. “It’s all right.”
“Galley.” Sirany’s voice on general com. “You all right in there?”
“I think I got a broken rib,” the answer came back. “But we’re all right, how’s it going, captain?”
“Going to go stable in a while, hold on.” Stable. My gods, they’re killing each other up there. Kif are butchering each other in the corridors of those ships out there, kif are doing what kif do when they win and others lose, and how many ships have we lost out here? What do we do, hit the kif now while they’re confused?
The kif would. If they had our options. Poor naive sons. They don’t understand what’s all round* them. They don’t understand what hani are capable of. Fire on them-and change us forever. Do that-and be sure there is a forever. “You want me to trim us up?” Haral asked, while several channels of com talked away, getting damage reports out of other ships, ascertaining casualties. Fortune reported minimal damage. Light was going to have to limp into dock. There were others. The information came up on the screens.
Ayhar’s Prosperity: damage: no casualties.
Harun’s Industry: heavy damage: braking and maneuvering positive. Casualties: four.
Faha’s Starwind: heavy damage: casualties: two.
Pauran’s Lightweaver: vane gone: casualties: minor.
Ehrran’s Vigilance: no damage: no casualties.
Nirasun’s Melody: minor damage: no casualties.
Shaurnurn’s Hope: lost.
Tahar’s Moon Rising: out of contact.
Suranun’s Fairwind: out of contact.
The list went on. More and more names. They blurred in her sight. As The Pride braked, and the stress hammered away at them.
Then: “Priority, priority,” Geran exclaimed. As scan started blinking furiously. “Breakout zenith.”
Ships were coming in. A lot of them. One; and three more. And five.
“O my gods,” Sirany breathed.
“If it’s Akkhtimakt-”
Then the ID started flashing. Mahendo’sat.
Mahijiru.
“Goldtooth,” Pyanfar muttered, and slammed her fist down on the console rim. “Goldtooth, gods rot him-Now he shows up. Now, by the gods, now he comes chasing in here, comes in here with by the gods bastard frigging mahen interests, to sweep up the poor godsforsaken hani they’ve done it to again, b’gods greater and lesser, one more frigging time we bleed for them, their godscursed meddling selfish gods-be-feathered interests! Tully!”
“Aye, cap’n!”
“Get on that com, hear, com! Fast. Tell the humans no shooting, understand, don’t shoot!”