Chanur's Homecoming

She gave Haral a bleak stare. It was an honest threat, meant to save her life. The stimulant hit with a wave of giddiness, sending her heart thudding. For a moment her own pulse was all she could hear, and if she moved she would drift free off the floor, disoriented.

Harder and harder pulse. She drew a great breath. A second. “I’m all right,” she said. And knew she had better not get up. The bridge spun and swung as if ship rotation had gone totally erratic.

Food arrived. Sandwich first. Cup of water. Fiar ran courier. The water went down best. She forced a single bite of the sandwich.

“Worse shape than Chur,” Haral muttered at her side. “Gods, go off, we got running time, take it.”

“Get some food yourselves. You. Geran. Get. We got everything covered. Get, hear. Want a tour with the kif?”

Haral’s ears flattened. Old threat. Old joke. Not a joke, nowadays. She cleared the chair and took hold of Geran’s arm when Geran got up and staggered. Both of them were out on their feet.

And leagues and leagues to go for Anuurn’s sake.

It was a knifing pain when she let her mind shift to home, and Kohan, and a refuge which did not exist any longer. The bright blue world was there. Chanur was not. Dissolved. The estate legally in the hands of her son Kara Mahn.

And her son firmly under the influence of her daughter Tahy, who was groundling to the depths of her short-sighted, narrow heart.

/ never knew you! Tahy’s voice, Tahy’s face, nose wrinkled in anger. That ship, always that ship—

And Kara, big lad, inheriting height from both Khym and herself.

And brains from neither.

The gfi arrived, in Fiar’s careful hand. She sipped it. It was overstrong. It hit her stomach like acid. But the warmth comforted. That much.

“Send to Gaohn,” she said. “Pyanfar Chanur to the Llun. We call on Gaohn station to release the Ayhar ship and crew. The ships out here constitute sufficient of the han to make a temporary quorum. You have that authority. Officers of the han will respect this order or deliver themselves to the protection of Llun Immunity. We take possession of the station in the name of the han. End message. List the clans out here. Put all of them signatory to it.”

It was a drunken, arrogant move. It was also fast, and it gave the down world han no time to organize or decree.

“Good bet the han’s in session,” Sirany said. “Down there.”

“They would be. Yes. Let ’em debate what to do. Let ’em debate till the sun freezes. Dither and stew and argue. We’ve got an emergency out here. Send my apologies to the other ships for using them on signature, we got no time for transmission lag. We’re operating under stress out here. Ask them to send a confirm and back me. Tell them we’ve got to get into Gaohn and get Banny Ayhar out of there.

“We’re already getting confirms on that quorum call,” Sif said.

It hit slowly. Like a wave of cold and heat. My gods, it’s going to work. What do I do?

Jik! gods rot you, Jik, what do I do?

“Call the clans in front of us. Ask them would they return to Gaohn and secure Ayhar’s safe release.”

“Aye,” Sif said. “Sending.” And a moment later: “Llun responds. Ayhar crew is in process of release already. Prosperity is being serviced. Llun sends its compliments, ker Pyanfar, and asks what about the kif, quote, What are we facing? End quote.”

The relief was giddy. She probed it a moment, replayed the statement that echoed in her skull, whether it was real or stim-induced hallucination. Good news, my gods, it’s still working.”

“We’re coming in. Tell them that. Tell them I’m coming in for conference and if any of the han downworld want to get themselves up on the next shuttle, they’re welcome. Tell them no danger from forces with me, repeat, with me. End message. Just that way, ker Sifeny.”

“Understood. Re-request on order to the ships in front of us?”

“Tell them stand by. Does Llun need help onstation? Query them that while you’re at it.” I’m muddling. Not thinking of things. I’m dangerous up here. “Ker Sirany. I’m resigning operationals. Policy I’ll handle. Refer to yourself and the other captains- all other-” She gave a desperate wave of her hand. "-stuff.” And fumbled after the belt and tried to stand up.

“Help, cap’n?” Sif reached and grabbed her arm. “Ker Haral!”

I’m doing quite all right, thank you.

And the whole bridge went gray and dark.

Operations chatter. Quiet stuff. She got to her feet hanging onto the chair and held to the back of it.

All in gray. Dark a moment. And the blood rushing in her cars.

Someone got to her. Someone held onto her. “You want to walk,” Haral said.

“I’m walking.” Legs insensate as dead meat. Equilibrium gone. Haral had one side, Khym had the other.

It was a long, long walk to her quarters. The corridor lights writhed like the spine of a glowing snake.

“Just gone too far,” Haral said. “Knew her like this once at Ajir.”

Liar. I was drunk then. I’m scared, Hal. I haven’t got anything left and they need me.