Reclamation (52 page)

“No, Mother.” Arla stood up and climbed down the ladder. “Your daughter does not doubt.”

“My daughter should get some rest for herself,” said Mother. “She is weary from her service, and more will be required of her.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Arla turned away and shouldered her way through the bamboo, so lost in thought, she didn’t even see the form that blocked her path.

“Stone in the Wall.”

She looked up automatically. Branch in the River stood foursquare on the path in front of her, folding her skinny arms across her bosom and glowering.

“Good greeting, Cousin,” said Arla wearily.
Please get out of my way, woman. I don’t have any patience left.

“I have no greeting for you,” Branch said darkly. “How dare you try to claim my children? And in front of the clan? I should have your namestones and your head for this insult!”

Arla turned her face away. “I have tried to claim nothing. Ask anyone.”

“Then why do my children cry that their real mother has returned?” Branch shouted. “You are not their mother! You are childless and without husband! You are nothing! I am the wife of Nail in the Beam and the mother of four living children! You would be thief of mine! You will give me apology! You will do it now, in daylight!”

Arla’s hand cracked across Branch’s cheek before she could even think to stop it.

“You dare call me thief!” Arla cried. “You are the one who stole from me! Stole my husband, stole my children! You barren, useless, bloodless …” She couldn’t see. She couldn’t think. Anger roared through her mind blocking out everything else. Let the whole clan hear, she didn’t care. “You are unfit to have even a Notouch’s scars on your cold hands!”

Arla marched past Branch, blundering through the Crookers, blind as her mother. She fell against the corner of a house and slid into the mud.

A man’s hands caught her. She still couldn’t see, but with a shock, she recognized the touch. Eric Born raised her to her feet. “Come on, Arla,” he said in the Skymen’s own language. “You’ve gone too far today.”

No,
her mind whispered.
I haven’t gone anywhere near far enough.

Branch watched the Skyman and Iron Shaper lead Stone in the Wall away. Her cheek stung painfully from the blow.

There was no end to the woman’s heresy. Her family held a set of shiny baubles to which they had no right, and so all the clan bowed and scraped to them as if they were Kings. Branch had married Nail in the Beam in front of the Teachers and the Nameless, and all four of the children had become her own blood, but still people whispered behind her back and gave ground grudgingly when she spoke. She was the mother of four children! Four healthy children! But because she didn’t hold those pretty stones, because she was not Arla Born of the Black Wall with her heresies and her idiocies, she was not heeded.

Now the Skymen had taken over Narroways and the Nameless only knew what they would do next. Surely they’d come to claim their own. Who knew what damage this woman, this heretic, could do if she were allowed to remain here, ruling over her bamboo and clay city? Who knew what it would mean to the children?

But if she were returned to her masters, they might be grateful. They might even be lenient. They were the power now, until the Nameless came. Branch touched the backs of her hands. There was less risk with Stone in the Wall in their hands than there was with her among the clan. Less risk to the children, certainly.

Branch drew the laces on her poncho closed and sighted along the Walls toward Narroways.

The Skymen will take Stone in the Wall away again, and this time they will not give her back. This time my children will remain my children.

“It may be that we do not live to see the end of this, and it may be we should pity our children who do.”

Fragment from “The Beginning of the Flight,” from the Rhudolant Vitae private history Archives

“C
OMING UP ON DIVISION ONE
,” said Security Chief Panair from his station at the transport’s controls.

Avir felt an unexpected surge of relief at the announcement. They could not be more than twenty minutes from the base. When they arrived, she would be able to report what they had found under the Unifier dome to the Assembly and get orders on what to do with their prisoner. She’d also be able to get out of her pressure suit. Her helmet and gloves lay on the seat beside her, but the suit itself had been designed more for protection and efficiency than comfort. She had to remind herself that she could not squirm in front of even Ivale, let alone the Unifier. The Security Beholden all remained sealed and helmeted. She had no idea how they stood it. Probably professional discipline combined with the fact that Chief Panair was there to watch them. She could imagine the three Beholden left behind to guard the Unifier base stripping off their helmets and rubbing their necks vigorously.

Bio-tech Nal did not show any sign of having heard Panair. Avir suspected that, like her, he was fighting unaccustomed fatigue. It had been fifteen hours since either of them had slept, but Nal would not leave the artifact in the transport’s emergency support capsule without his trained supervision. Avir herself would not be seen to have less diligence or endurance than one of her Beholden.

“Act at all times as if there were a Witness with you,” her Assembly representative had told her. “There are not enough to cover all the landing sites, but new ones are being assigned as we speak.”

So Avir sat bolt upright in the rear set of seats watching Nal transfer the readings from the artifact’s capsule into a portable terminal. Broken Trail struggled randomly against the restraints. Nal had decided against sedating it. Its delusional state was obviously so deep, he said, that it could not be further panicked by confinement to the capsule. He appeared to be correct. Every few minutes its head would twitch to one side, as if it had just seen a glimpse of something, and sometimes its hand would strain to reach out, but it made no concentrated effort to remove the oxygen mask or to dislodge the needles pressing into its arms. Consequently, the Bio-tech spent the journey gathering valuable baseline data on the artifact’s physiological attributes.

CRASH!

The noise hit the roof and the transport swayed. Avir’s shoulder banged against a locker and she clutched the seat’s arms with both hands.

“Attack readiness!” called Panair.

The front window showed the passage between the major buildings blocked by a pile of stones and broken beams. The Security Beholden pulled back their seating restraints and opened the lockers in the transport.

Artifacts surmounted the pile of debris, whirling slings over their heads. A dozen stones hit the transport window and didn’t even crack the silicate.

CRASH!

The transport rocked again. Avir realized that the artifacts must have managed to rig some sort of catapult on one of the roofs.

The Unifier grinned. “Well, somebody’s not happy with you,” he said to no one in particular.

The engine’s hum deepened its pitch and Panair plowed it into the debris. The garbage cracked and snapped under the tires and, for a moment, the transport balked.

“Artifacts closing!” called out Panair’s second-in-command.

Avir could hear the artifacts yelling. Muffled thumps from stones or clubs battered the transport’s side. The seat’s arms dug into her palms as she clenched them tight.

Panair set up another drive sequence. The wheels churned for a moment, but something snapped underneath the floor and the transport lurched to the left Nal swore aloud.

“Systems check shows the left rear axle broken,” reported the First Beholden. “Autorepair is not …”

The engine’s hum died.

“Blood of my ancestors,” Nal lifted his head. “They must have a telekinetic out there.”

Avir’s heart jumped up to the base of her throat.

Panair glanced at her. “Contractor, you hold my name, but I need it back to get us to base.”

Avir inclined her head once. Ivale lost his Ambassadorial composure long enough to suck in an audible breath.

“Kul, Marthanat, Janaich, Hanath” said Panair. “Clear the perimeter. Oan, you and I will start repairs.”

The first two Beholden slung tanks about the size of an oxygen pack on their shoulders and checked the nozzled hoses to make sure they were properly attached. The second two unloaded a tripod-mounted laser and its batteries. Avir opened her mouth and closed it again. She hadn’t known that had been issued the team. Unlike the contents of the tanks, it was a lethal weapon and would damage the artifacts, but she had already given Panair back his name and could not rescind the order.

Through the window Avir saw Silver on the Clouds. The King artifact rode her oxen to the rear of the attacking mob. Silver’s mouth opened and closed rapidly, but it was too far away for the intercom to pick up what she said. Evidently she still wielded enough power that the artifacts would follow her lead against their true masters. Avir wondered for a moment what was making her own heart beat so hard. Then she realized it was nothing more nor less than fear.

The artifacts charged the transport. Blows from stones, or clubs, or fists made it shudder on its remaining axles. The shouts grew louder, crowding against each other to get through the intercom.

Panair and his second seemed to ignore them. They left their stations and lifted the rear seats out of their racks. The Beholden in charge of Unifier Lu ushered him to the rear of the transport without a word. Oan opened the repair hatches and stepped back to let Panair plunge both hands up to his elbows into the workings of the undercarriage.

The perimeter team opened the left-side door and charged out in a solid formation. Startled, the artifacts fell back, giving the Beholden enough time to raise their weapons and fire.

Greenish brown foam spewed out, too thick for even the Home Ground’s wind to carry away. It hit a row of artifacts, who reeled backward, clawing frantically at the stuff. Targeted oxen bellowed plaintively and fell to the ground, causing their riders to jump free or be crushed as the beasts rolled onto their backs and sides.

The foam had been developed for riot control for client governments. It would not harm the artifacts, but it itched and stank abominably. The artifacts the foam missed fell back, shouting. The affected ones ran, or stumbled, away, breaking ranks without heeding any cries from their comrades or their King.

CRASH!

A boulder landed in the middle of the security team. The debris collapsed under them and the transport slid down the pile, rolling Avir into Ivale and Nal and pitching them all against the walls. Outside, the Beholden had scattered. One scrambled to his feet, but the other two lay still, bleeding heavily, perhaps dead. A host of artifacts lay with them. The intercom filled with their screaming.

Avir’s throat closed.

“The Aunorante Sangh are not all dead after all,” murmured Ivale in the Proper tongue so the Unifier couldn’t understand.

“Target the catapult,” said Panair into his intercom. “Lethal force.”

New noises crowded through the intercom. Beyond the debris a troop of Ivale’s “security force” clashed with Silver on the Cloud’s followers. The Security Beholden used the transport as cover and aimed the laser at a location Avir couldn’t see. The light was visible as the Beholden fired and the artifacts screamed again. Some tried to run. Some pressed closer to the transport and got caught in a fresh gout of foam. More stones flew from distant slings. The Beholden swung the laser toward a new target and fired again.

The engine’s hum cut through the cabin.

“Recall!” shouted Panair as he dived for the driver’s chair. “Seats!”

Avir realized the order was meant for the passengers. She staggered toward the nearest upright seat and dropped herself into it. The door opened and two of the Beholden all but fell inside. The door closed and the transport righted itself. The tires ground against the debris and the transport lurched forward into the melee. Artifacts scattered left and right to get out of its way. More stones thumped and cracked against its sides. Silver on the Clouds waved her club at them as they barreled past, her face flushed and distorted in anger.

She’d try again, Avir knew it. She was Aunorante Sangh.

How many others like her are mixed among the artifacts?
Weariness pressed against her mind.
There’s no way to tell. Nal can take them all apart gene by gene, and there still probably won’t be any way to tell.

And we’ve based themselves in their midst.
The fear inside Avir redoubled. She tried to be ashamed of it, but she couldn’t. Being afraid made too much sense right now.

“Are we receiving from base?” she asked Panair.

“Still receiving, Contractor,” he replied. “The situation there is secure.”

They approached their half-converted base. It looked calm. The shuttle still hung on the tether, glowing like the captive star it was designed to imitate. Only a few artifacts populated its steps and they scattered into the nearby buildings as the transport drove into the plaza.

As soon as Panair brought them to a halt, Avir jumped to her feet and hit the door control. She remembered her helmet and gloves lay on the floor of the transport somewhere, but did not stop to collect them. She strode down the transport ramp and up the base steps. Ivale followed behind her, collecting more data for his unfavorable report of her activities. She didn’t care. There was no time to waste.

She had believed the artifacts to be merely lost and confused. For some of them that was doubtlessly true, and those, the true work of the Ancestors, had to be preserved. But some of them were the shameful blood, and those had to be eliminated, and all their progeny with them.

Avir headed straight for the comm terminal. Behind her, the remainder of the security team carried the support capsule containing Broken Trail across to Nal’s station and set it beside the empty holding tank. The Unifier was marched in, too, and he gaped at the bustling Vitae and huddled artifacts.