Shadowkill sq-3, page 35
part #3 of Shadith's quest Series
Tsipor crouched silently across from her, holding herself as far from the others as she could in the cramped space.
Ginny sat on an air cushion before a low table, working quickly, neatly, clipping components together, sliding accumulators from their cases and snapping them into the receptors of the shield generator, the EYE controls, the viewscreen, and the rest of the equipment that ran the domes.
##
Half an hour later he grunted and sat on his heels. “That is done.” Over his shoulder, he said, “I must wait for the storm to abate further before I launch the EYEs. Singer, are you able to reach into the Compound?”
Shadith moved onto the air mattress, sat with her legs drawn up, her arms draped over her knees. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea first. I’m still cold to the bone.”
Ginny smiled, startling her with the sly amusement she felt in him. “I live only to serve you, Singer.”
“Yeh, yeh, sure you do.” She spread a blanket over her knees, pulled the towel off, and began to rub at her hair.
##
Shadith set the mug on the floor and stretched out on her stomach, her head resting on crossed forearms. Tsipor knelt beside her, narrow hand cold on the back of her neck.
She reached.
##
Rohant lay awake and tense on something hard and uncomfortable enough to keep him shifting position frequently. He was waiting-she didn’t, couldn’t, know for what.
She left him at it and felt about for the other Dyslaera. Ginny said half of them were dead. She didn’t believe him. He’d say anything to get what he wanted.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
One Omphalite, probably a guard on watch.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Out and out she spiraled the point presence of her reach, a sick cold hollow growing beneath her ribs.
Nothing but Omphalites-except for a few local women clustered in a small tight area near the northern end of the Compound.
It didn’t have to mean the other Dyslaerors were dead; they could have been mindwiped like her, dumped in a Contract labor levy. Could have been. It was only a thread of a hope and it shriveled as she tried to cling to it. Ginny’s report about Omphalos’ intentions was too convincing. They were dead, disposed of, all but Rohant.
She sprang back to Rohant, scanned his body. No real damage. Relief flooded her and she sobbed before she could stop herself.
Tsipor’s hand tightened on her neck.
She steadied and went back to searching the Compound, locating and counting the Omphalites so Ginny could better avoid them when he sent in his EYEs. And she could begin planning to break Rohant free.
##
Shadith opened her eyes, groaned, pushed herself up till she was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, the blanket draped loosely about her. “Stylus,” she said.
Tsipor crawled across the dome to the place where she’d been squatting before, sat there, crimson eyes narrowed to slits, face blank.
Ginny tossed Shadith a clipboard, a stylus held to it with a small magnet.
“Five hundred and nine,” she said. “Five hundred and ten if you count Rohant. No Dyslaera there except him…” She began marking clusters of circles. “These are sleepers, not to scale, though I’m keeping angles and organization as accurate as I can. I didn’t find any of the other prisoners. I suppose they’ve been processed and sent… wherever…” She finished the circles and began laying down x’s, some of them with dotted lines and arrows indicating direction. “This lot are the wakers. The ones without pointers aren’t moving, probably sitting at terminals or watchposts, the others are going here and there, either insomniacs or guards on patrol.” She added a rectangle. “Rohant. He’s not far from the outer wall; it shouldn’t be too hard to pry him loose.”
“The EYEs go in first.”
“Yes. But once you’ve got them in place, I’m going to blow that cage and pull him out.”
“That argument is finished, Singer; you annoy me when you bring it up again and again.”
“All right. I just want things clear.” She stretched out again on the mattress, flipped the blanket over her. “Wake me when you’re ready to go.”
Miralys and Voallts on the hunt-Black House
The three Dyslaer transports plunged into the atmosphere and sped across the night sky sheathed in halos of superheated gases. They dipped low over Haed Ke, released a swarm of Capture Landers and went flaring up and out, settling into synchronous orbit above Tos Tang, a small unimportant seaside town, and Black House, a rambling structure growing like lichen on the stony mountains above Tos Tang.
##
Aboard Anyagyn’s Cillasheg, Miralys prowled restlessly about the bridge, maintaining a precarious control on her temper and her needs.
Huddled in one of the observer seats by the offside wall, Kikun watched her with admiration and apprehension; it was rather like hanging around a volcano about to erupt.
Beside him, Autumn Rose was busy with the totacorder tapped into the ship’s kephalos, recording for Digby the attack and everything that happened aboard the Cillasheg; this was his price for the data he provided, and the contacts.
##
Agile as stingships and almost as lethal (courtesy of Digby’s sources), the Capture Landers swept down on the Black House, blew out the nodes where the defense centers were located, then retreated into a ragged disk hovering over the House.
##
Her face filling the center cell, Tasylyn twitched her scarred ear. “Got ’em all, they couldn’t light a match.”
Anyagan the Szajes showed her teeth. “Good work, cousin.”
“You want us to go in? Wouldn’t take us ten minutes to fetch ours out.”
“Down, kit. We want ours alive, not dead. We’ll take the long road first. Ta.” She blanked the hexa, swung to face Miralys. “You ready, Toerfeles?”
Miralys settled into the co-seat. “Get them.”
##
The sweaty, furious face of a man filled the central hexa. His thick gold hair straggled about his ears; his eye paint was smudged and his lip rouge rolled into crumbs at the corner of his mouth, a mouth working in a futile frenzy, futile because the sound was off.
Anyagyn sniffed, the small sound heavy with distaste. “You want to hear that, Toerfeles?”
“No. Can that hear me?”
“When you want.”
“Do it.”
“Done.”
The man blinked and started yelling more furiously, waving his arms, hands appearing and vanishing as they swung in and out of the viewcone.
Miralys dug her claws into the padding on the chairarms. “Shut your mouth, fool, listen to me.” Her ears twitched, her lips curled up and back in the Dyslaera threat grin.
There was a flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, understanding immediately suppressed. His face smoothed out, acquired a sudden patina of grooming. He smiled, bowed his head, spoke briefly, then waited.
“I am Miralys vey Voallts tol Daravazhalts, Toerfeles of Voallts Korlach. You have blood kin of mine prisoner in that abomination of yours. I want them, without delay and intact.” She turned to Anyagyn. “Let me hear that.”
The man smoothed nervous fingers over his hair, pressing it into a semblance of order. “What are you talking about, Toerfeles?” His voice was pleasantly rough, more interesting and attractive than his surgically enhanced face. “There are no Dyslaera here. Someone’s been lying to you.”
“Who are you? Would you know?”
“I am Pinjaro da Tinggal.” He was almost purring now that he knew what he dealt with, sure of his ability to defuse the situation. “I am Pengurra of this House. I know what happens here.”
Miralys’ ears went back against her skull. “Anyagyn Szajes, do it.”
“Hannys, Sugnam, Tasylyn. Go.”
##
Three Capture Landers left the disk, swooped down and blew away a section of Black House, went spiraling back to their places. A breath and a half and the attack was over.
##
Tinggal yelped and vanished from the screen.
He reappeared a moment later. “There were people in those suites. Important people. You killed them.”
Miralys snorted. “Turn about, worm. How many dead…” She broke off. “That doesn’t matter. You have ten minutes. After that we will remove another sector and another, one every ten minutes.”
He started to speak, then snapped his mouth shut and vanished once again.
Miralys turned to Anyagyn, ears up and quivering. Anyagyn wiggled her nose. “They can’t hear for the moment.”
“Any chance the worm can come up with a defense?”
“If Digby’s right, no.”
“Hmm. Get Hannys.”
“You sure? Her Mum raised crazy kits.”
“We need craziness right now.”
A side hexa pulsed awake. Hannys was a red Dyslaerin with bright yellow eyes and a round face. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were curled in a friendly grin, teeth carefully covered. “Toerfeles,” she said. “Can we bite ’em? Hey-hey, can we do it?”
“Maybe, cousin. I want you ready go in and snatch ours if the worm down there starts trying to argue with me.”
“Forget him. Let’s do it.”
“Cool your blood, cousin, you don’t move till I give the word, you hear?”
“Aaah.”
“Not a whisker, or I’ll snatch you naked and feed you to the nearest Ri-tors.”
##
Tinggal slid back into view. “I must apologize, Toerfeles,” he said easily, with a quick charming smile to underline what he intended to be a rueful sincerity. “We have two young guests who appear to be Dyslaera. It seems one of my subordinates was overzealous in his attempts to please our clients and acted without authorization. Be sure he will be dealt with. This will not occur again.
“Only two?”
“If you doubt my word, Toerfeles, ask them yourself.” He stepped aside.
Azram and Kinefray moved into the viewcone; they were thin and strained, but seemed otherwise unharmed.
Miralys sucked in a breath, then said quietly, “Azoe, Azram, Kinefray.”
Kinefray stared down at his feet; Azram answered her. “Azoisha, Toerfeles.” There was a touch of mischief in his reddened eyes.
“Worm says there’s only the two of you.”
Azram’s ears crinkled forward, his eyes glazed over, spilled tears despite his effort to stay calm. “True,” he managed. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his fist. “Rest ’re dead. ’Cept the Ciocan,” he added hastily. “That other lot kept him.” He looked to one side, nodded, then he and Kinefray shifted out of sight and Tinggal was back.
“As you hear, Toerfeles.”
“As I do see, slime. You’re not thinking nonsense like hostages, are you?”
“Certainly not, Toerfeles. Purely as a matter of curiosity though, say we were?”
“We take our own by force, then Black House and everything in it will be slagged to bedrock.”
“And if there is no further fuss?”
“We collect ours and leave. My word on it.”
“And what is your word worth?”
“More than anything you’ve got within your walls.”
“Very well. We will send the young Dyslaera out immediately. The main entrance. There is sufficient room in the garden there for one of your landers to alight.”
##
Miralys watched tensely as the Hannys’ lander touched down, collected Azram and Kinefray, zipped up, and leapt off for the circling disk of landers.
As soon as Hannys was in place, the landers swirled up in a grand helix, reached the transports, and were swallowed by them.
The transports went arcing onward, going deeper into the dark.
Mimishay
Savant 4: (Answering the com) The Grand Chom is elsewhere at the moment. I speak for the Council. What is the problem?
Tinggal: Problem? I’ll tell you the problem. We’ve got a fleet of Dyslaera hanging over us. Someone talked. They know about the subjects you passed to us.
Savant 4: Fleet?
Tinggal: (speaking with a growing impatience) Three armed transports and I didn’t bother to count the landers. Armed! Better than a lot of governments. Took out our defenses before they bothered to say a word. Knew just where to hit, too. Someone talked. Yes, someone talked. Burned down four suites, killed everyone inside and what we’re going to tell their families I don’t know.
Savant 4: And?
Tinggal: (with obvious satisfaction) Better look to your own defenses. The Toerfeles has given us ten minutes to produce her kin and turn them over. We’ll do that, we’ve got no choice. Which means less than half an hour from now she’s on her way to you.
##
Savant 4: Ward Master, I want that Dyslaera brought to the Question Chamber. (His voice took on a shrill note despite the distorter he was wearing.) I want him there so fast the air smokes around him. You hear?
Ward Master: Yes, Savant. Anything special you want, tools, personnel, whatever?
Savant 4: Prepare for full hostile Probe.
Ward Master: The Chom…
Savant 4: The Chom isn’t here, he’s not going to be here any time soon. This is an emergency, fool, the Dyslaera are on their way here now.
Ward Master: Should I order a full alert? You have to authorize it.
Savant 4: Do it. Don’t just stand around asking stupid questions. Do it.
Rohant
“On your feet!” The wardbrother was rattling the door-grill, shrieking the order; he sounded terrified, as if he were apt to do something terminal if given half an excuse. And he was alone.
Rohant rolled off the cot and stood beside it, hands clasped behind him, head, down. They hadn’t come for him before like this, in the middle of the night, or sent a singleton guard after him; he stared at the floor and wondered what was going on.
After a delay that drove the young ward twitchy, the grill slid open and the watchandroid came in.
Rohant snatched a look at it. Yes… good… not just hesitations, the warning light by its left sound receptor was pulsing red. This wasn’t his usual escort, no scratch; it was older, too. They were scraping bottom with this one. Why? No matter. He pressed his arm against his body, felt the stunrod in the hem of his shirt. Yes. If they took him past the Novice quarters, this was it, good-bye Mimishay.
When the watchandroid was in position behind Rohant, the guard yelped, “Out, blitsor. You know the drill. Move it. Hup hup.
##
Rohant trotted through the corridors, the meat in a loose sandwich between guard and android, the android lagging farther and farther behind. One more turn… if we go to the right… past the Novice quarter. Go right, he thought at the youth ahead of him. Right, not left. He reached under his tunic, began sliding the stunrod from the hem.
The wardbrother turned right, turned again, the watch-android clattered along far behind… out of sight…
Rohant stunned the guard, kicked the door open to the Novice area, and plunged inside. His bare feet padding silently on the thick matting, he ran full out past the closed doors of the sleeping cells, first block, not a sound, not even a snore, second block…
The Novice Master backed from a cell, pulled the door shut, turned…
Claws out, Rohant slammed his hand into the Omphalite’s throat, jerked away before the gush of blood could saturate his fur. He caught the man as he started to fall, threw him across the narrow hallway like a fleshy speed bump, and ran on.
Just before he reached the door at the end of the corridor, he heard a metallic clatter and curled his lips back, baring his long, yellow tearing teeth. Android tripping over the dead man. Good. He slapped his palm on the sensor and pushed out before the door was halfway open.
It was dark out, wind howling round corners, clouds covering the moons. Blinking at the rain that stung his face, he raced along the walkway to the small Pleasure House built into the wall. He kicked the door open, ran inside.
A woman came from one of the bedrooms, bleary eyed and still half asleep. “Wha…”
He ignored her and ran for the back of the House, jerking doors open, cursing the barriers that kept slowing his flight. The android was coming after him, gaining on him…
He reached the postern door, ran through it. It was open as it always was, day and night. The Omphalites hadn’t yet got round to closing the holes in their defenses, God be blessed. And Ossoran and Feyvorn be blessed for killing off half the Council, apparently the smarter half. And a triple blessing for whoever took the Chom out.
Something slammed into his back, sent him tumbling into grass and gravel, rolling toward the stream that slipped past the compound walls and danced into the sea.
He sprang onto his feet, swung round.
The wind-driven rain was hissing and sliding off a dome-shaped shimmer over the Compound-the defense shield. With the android trapped inside. He laughed aloud, a full-throated laugh, his offering to the gods of absurdity.
Deafening squeals, a crash that shook the rock under his feet. What… He squinted through the rain at a swarm of small ships like dots of light moving in and out of the clouds above the dome. Others were swinging back from their first attack.
He saluted them. “The Lady kiss you, whoever you are,” he shouted, then turned and began trotting toward the mountains a few kilometers away.
