Two hours by plane from the shuttleport to the airport that served Chanur and Faha and the lesser holdings of the valley: with the Rau’s proposal they saved that much time: and on that too she relied.
And on a pair of mahe.
And gods grant Akukkakk saw some hope for himself. If one of those kif ships got a strike signal off, if the kif was bent on suicide — he might accomplish it, if there were more kif ships lying off out of scan range. Maybe five, six hours lag time for message and strike. With luck, the kif did not know that the hani ships gathered in system were on skeleton crew; with luck the kif would regard them as a threat… if no one had talked.
“That ship of yours,” Pyanfar said to the Rau. “Armed?”
“Got a few rifles aboard,” the Rau said.
XII
There was no access ramp for an insystem workhorse, only a dark tube into a chill and dimly lit interior directly off the dock. The Rau dived in first and shouted to her crew, a thundering and booming of feet on the uncushioned plates. The air was foul, stinging to the nose. Pyanfar came aboard seconds after the captain of the Luck, put a hand on the hatchway as she stooped to enter and drew the hand back damp with condensation — seals leaked somewhere in the recycling systems. Gods knew what the margin was on lifesupport. She worked her way past lockers to the control pit of the probe, trusting Haral and Chur to get everyone else aboard and settled.
“Name,” she asked of the Rau captain, dropping down into the three-cushion pit, waist-high, and ducking under the overhead screens. “Nerafy,” the captain said, nodded back toward her presumed co-pilot and navigator who were dropping into the pit on the other aide. “Tamy; Kihany.”
“Got us an escort,” Pyanfar said. “Mahe’s going to see we get there and back; move it. No groundlings in this lot. Will you give me com?”
“We’re going,” Nerafy said, sinking into her cushion. The hatch boomed shut, deafening. “Kihany: it’s Anuurn we’re headed for; get the captain that link.”
Repulse cut in. Pyanfar hand-over-handed her way around the back of the cushions to the com/navigation board and braced herself with feet and a hand on the rim to lean over the board. “I want,” she said, ignoring the contrary slams of g against which she shifted without thinking, “relay to Aja Jin. Mahe. Get that ship first.”
It took a moment. A mahe voice came crackling through. They lost g as Rau’s Luck executed a wallowing maneuver, acquired it again. “Aja Jin. Have you got us in watch? Track this signal.”
“Got,” the comforting answer returned. “Got. We watch.”
“Out,” Pyanfar said. She broke it off, not anxious to have long conversations with kif to pick them up. The mike in hand, she tapped the harried navigator on the shoulder. “Next calclass="underline" satellite to ground station Enafy region, area 34, local number 2-576-98; speak to anyone who answers.”
The navigator threw her a desperate glance, shunted her functions to the copilot and started working, no questions, no objections: “What landing?” the copilot was asking; “First we get there,” Narafy said. “Got ourselves a rescue run. Speed counts.”
“Map Coordinates 54.32/23.12,” Pyanfar said, listening to the one-sided com. They were in contact with Enafy. In a moment more the navigator held up a finger and she tucked the plug into her ear and applied herself to the mike. “Chanur,” she said, shaking; but that was from the cold. “Is Chanur answering?”
“Here,” said a voice from the world, distant and obscure by a bad pickup. “This is Chanur Holding.”
“This is Pyanfar. We’re on our way in. Who’s speaking?”
There was a moment’s silence in which she thought the contact was lost. “It’s aunt Pyanfar,” that voice on the other end hissed within the mike’s pickup. “For the gods’ sake, tell Jofan and hurry!”
“Never mind Jofan, whelp! Get Kohan on and hurry up, you hear me?”
“Aunt Pyanfar, it’s Nifas. I think ker Jofan’s coming… The Tahar are here; the Mahn have challenged; Kara Mahn has; and Faha’s gone neutral except Huran’s still here; and Araun and Pyruun have called that they’re coming. Everyone’s gathered here. They knew — Aunt Jofan, it’s—”
“Pyanfar.” Another voice assumed the mike. “Thank the gods. Get here.”
“Get Kohan on. Get him. I want to talk to him.”
“He’s—” Jofan’s voice trailed off or static obscured it. “I’ll try. Hold on.”
“Holding.” Pyanfar rested the back of the hand which held the mike against her mouth, shifted her body in pain: they were under acceleration now. The rim of the pit was cutting into her back. She achieved a little relief, found all her limbs shaking against the strain, the physical effort of the position she maintained. She watched the screens, seeing something else moving on scan. Aja Jin, she hoped. It had better be.
“Pyanfar.” The deep voice, static-ridden, exploded in her ear. Kohan, beyond mistake. “Pyanfar.”
“Kohan. I’m in transit. I’m coming. How much time, Kohan?”
A long silence.
“Kohan.”
“I’ll wait till you get here. I think I can stall it that long?”
“I’m coming in on a direct landing. I want you to stay inside and hear nothing and see nothing. I have something with me. Something you’ll find of interest.”.
“This Outsider.”
“News has got there.”
“Tahar — make charges against you.”
“Already settled. Settled. You understand?”
There was another prolonged silence. “I have my wits about me. I knew you were on your way. Had to be here if this crowd showed up in such graceless haste.”
She let go a long breath. “Good. Good for you. You keep at it.”
“Where’s Hilfy?”
“Fine. Fine and safe. I’m on my way. Now. No more talking. We’ve got business. Hear?”
A breath crackled through the static. “I’ll work that Mahn whelp into a fit of his own.” It began to sound like a reassuring chuckle. “I’ll sit inside sipping gfi and enjoying the shade. — Move, Pyanfar. I want you here.”
“Out,” she said. She handed the mike back, a strain of her arm against acceleration, let the arm fall back and shivered as it sank in how long that conversation had been, how clear it was who was speaking from this shell of a ship. They were on directional to the satellite: perhaps no one had picked it up.
“Got it set up,” Narafy said.
“I’m going back to my crew,” Pyanfar said. She edged her way out of the pit, one foot against the bulkhead. “Safety line,” the captain advised her; she saw it, and tucked down, gained the braking clip on the line and wrapped her hand into it. Launched herself down the long pit of the central corridor, past moisture-dewed metal and aged plastic lighting panels, her own weight and a half on her arm. She reached the barriered recess of cushions where the others had snugged in and Haral snagged her, hauled her with difficulty over the padded safety arm which closed off the compartment, and in several hands, one pair alien, she let herself collapse into the cushions with the rest of them. “Got contact with Kohan,” she breathed, sorting her limbs out from among the rest of them. “He’s going to stall.”
Hilfy’s face. She saw that tight-lipped relief and felt a little dismay for the girl who had come onto The Pride a voyage ago j and the woman who stared back at her, self-controlled and reckoning the odds.