This while The Pride belched out all the missiles and all the fire it had; while a deluge of fire converged from the ships in formation. Something came over com, overhead, general address: a hani voice, a familiar voice:
"Here's from us, you godsforsaken motherless son of a nightwalker! Hearth and blood! from me and my crew!"
"Tahar!" Pyanfar cried. "Gods rot you, I forgive you!"
A timelag off in messages. The kif had only limited fire-sweep aft, because of its own vanes, and it had to track a ship whose missiles were only scantly lagged behind its com-wave, the difference between realspace V and lightspeed. Tahar's missiles hit: others were still incoming from all points of the sphere.
"Chanur, mekt-hakkikt/" another voice came blasting into her ear. "/ am here, behind you, praise your foresight! Our ships are coming!''
"Whose in a mahen hell is that? Is that Skkukuk?"
"It's coming from Nekekkt," Hilfy said.
"Time to get out of here," Pyanfar cried, "transmit, hani ships: Scatter, scatter." She reached and rang the collision warning for the Tauran crew off in the galley, kicked The Pride bow-nadir and threw in the mains with all they had.
It was all they could do to evade return fire, some ships rising, some going wide, some diving systemwise, like the blooming of some vast flower, each as they finished their load of missiles and got down to the beam guns. Tirun kept the guns tracking as they dived, firing for all they were worth.
It was still forward motion they made; but it was angular, kiting along skewed and hurling all the energy the mains had to give to that slew toward nadir.
Gods grant-
"Hai!" The whole ship banged and slewed violently, so that the course was different than it had been- "What'd we lose?" she yelled. "Gods rot it, what blew?"
"Vanes-" Tirun started to say.
Second impact, like the loudest thunder that ever cracked: the ship jumped sideways and a whole panel started flashing red. A small black body went hurtling and hit the wall, a black blur til it hit: it scrabbled right across the top of the control panel and Pyanfar swallowed and spat a red spatter that shocked her as much as the sound, only then feeling what her teeth had done to the inside of her mouth. "Gods fry that kif bastard-you all right?" The cursed black thing was as terrified as the rest of them, fellow in misfortune. It ran and screamed in rage: she did not even hit at it when she had the chance. There were too many switches for two hands, too many systems over to backup and third backup and past. ‘'Damage report, gods rot it!''
"Chur," Tully's anxious voice came. "Chur!"
"We lost the whole vane, I think it slewed down into the mains." Tirun's voice, hoarse and breathless. And the firing of the guns resumed, re-aligned to the new track, while gods knew where they were going.
"Priority," Geran said, "we got fire over us-our kif are moving, the mahendo'sat are moving-we're clear of it-"
"Industry's bad hit," Hilfy reported. "Khym-Chur-"
"I'm with you." Chur's own voice, weak as it was.
"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: heavydamage: 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-"