The Rifter's Covenant by Sherwood Smith, Dave Trowbridge

toward Elena Agenes. “But you
have another question?”
    She had the grace
to look abashed. “You have always been carefully neutral in our affairs. Why
change now?”
    “We forbore to
interfere because we dared not give offense to any group of humans, lest they,
gaining power in your polity so strange to us, should turn against us. Your
history shows that humans have often exterminated other humans who differed
slightly from them. How much more had we to fear, being so very alien? Had it
not been for the Blessed Three, First Contact might have meant the end of
Anamnesis. But now we see a human ungoverned by morality, grasping power; we
have heard him speak of us as ‘beasts;’ we have seen the fate intended for us.
From the Panarchy we might have fled. From the power of the Suneater there is
no refuge.”
    The Kelly trinity
moaned again, a heart-rending sound. “We have no choice.”
    Bonxer’s head came
up: the others clearly comprehended the emotion, but only he understood that
simple we , unlike the wethree that Kelly for individual trinities,
as representing the entire Kelly race. “And nothing will ever be the same
again.”
    “True.” Cameron lifted
his voice, drawing everyone’s attention. “And right now, we have to decide how
we’re going to collect the bonus chips on Hreem the Faithless and Neyvla-khan,
which is why my cousin and her mates are here.”
    He tabbed his
console and lit up the plot-pane with a view of the Barca system, zooming in on
the planet and its two moons, Shimosa and Avasta. “Cousin,” he said, stressing
the word, “we’ve just gotten Siglnt back from Barca. Tell us what you know and
how we can exploit it.”
    She stood. “One
thing first.”
    Cameron suppressed
a smile. Lochiel might be nearing fifty, but she still had the habit of
sticking out her lower lip, a habit from their childhood that signaled the
stubbornness that had caused her so much trouble.
    She looked around
the room. “We’re Rifters. That’s not going to change, even after this is all
over. We don’t fit into your neat, ordered world, and don’t want to. But we
played fair, and you left room for us. Dol’jhar doesn’t and won’t. If the Lord
of Vengeance wins, there will be no Rift Sodality, for he recognizes no limits
on his power.” She stepped up to the plot-pane. “That’s why we’re doing this.
It’s not a betrayal—it’s simply the only way we can remain loyal to who we are.
Are we understood?”
    The officers—not a
few stealing glances at the Kelly—signified agreement.
    “Then here’s what
we know.”
FLOWER OF LITH: BARCA
SYSTEM
    “Shuttle away,
Cap’n,” announced a voice from the portside lock.
    Norio observed from
the aft hatch, unnoticed as yet by anyone on the bridge, as Hreem acknowledged
the report with a grunt and slapped the comm off. A shiver of anticipation
wormed deep inside Norio.
    Dyasil scratched
his raspy chin. “You figure that little trog’s really got a chance down there?”
    “If he doesn’t
we’re no worse off, and we get to watch him bloat,” Metije said, the deathsnake
tattoo on her neck rippling as she grinned.
    Hreem grunted
again, flexing one foot to extend the heel-claws of his boot. That silenced the
crew. Norio breathed in Hreem’s irritation and the corresponding anxiety of the
crew and stepped onto the bridge, relishing the unease and even fear his
presence engendered in everyone except Hreem. Power was the best aphrodisiac of
all.
    Hreem looked his
way, briefly distracted, then returned to brooding. His mood had been grim ever
since the destruction of the unfinished battlecruiser in the Malachronte Ways. The
Barcan Riolo had promised to convince the Matria to give Hreem Ogres, the
battle androids used with such fearsome effect against the Shiidra, but he was
beginning to doubt that promise.
    If the little
Barcan with his absurd codpiece didn’t deliver, the poison collar would finish
him off, and furnish a bit of amusement into the