Reclamation(151)

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.