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Fifty-nine of the Traiti warcraft were in positions that englobed a point in space a quarter-million n'liu from a blue-and-white oxygen planet over forty diameters out, nearly in the orbit of the planet's moon. The Hermnaen was still at the center of the twenty-n'liu-diameter sphere of ships, its Ship-Captain and crew waiting for Arjen's orders.
It nagged at him, but even after a full tenth-day of pondering while he walked, he still had no idea. By that time he was a good five n'liu from the crash site, a respectable half-morning's walk. He was also approaching a low hill, the legendary place known as Godhome. That was the reason he'd had to plan an indirect route to St'nar.
Twenty n'liu from the clanhome, slightly over fifty kilometers, Hovan set the null-grav car down in a clearing, reached into a storage compartment in the control panel, and handed Steve the locator beacon. Tarlac clipped it to the waistband of his shorts. "Twenty days, right?" he said as he climbed out of the car. "Five or ten," Hovan said with a smile. "May Lord Sepol guard and guide you, ruhar."
Given what we know of Rangers, he will have his own ship respond, and given the skill of those who pilot Rangers' vessels, it will out-transition from hyperspace within ten n'liu of the beacon." "Ten n'liu!" a newly-assigned Ship-Captain exclaimed. "They are quite competent," Arjen said drily, "and they will take time to be accurate. I think that estimate, if anything, is conservative.
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