Tora saw the woman with many children standing timidly at a shop window. She had left her children all together several meters from the shop, and she herself stood back from the window. She said, "We're not sick. I just want some food for my children. They're hungry. I don't have to come in."
The shopkeeper at the counter held a weapon. Tora didn't recognize it, but it had the simple lines and hollow barrel of a projectile weapon.
The woman held up a note of scrip the enemy soldiers used for money. She said, "I'll put it here on the ground and back away. You can put a bag of flour in its place. You can't get sick that way."
People stopped and watched, but never too close to the woman or the children huddled in a group behind her.
The merchant said, "Get away and take your kids with you. I don't want decent customers getting your diseases."
The oldest child held the baby sagging in his arms. He said anxiously, "Come on, Mumma; we're not hungry."
A man standing nearer to the children than the other bystanders pretended to laugh, "Get this kid. He's not hungry." It was a human joke, but not the kind Maycee made. It made Tora want to fight.
One of the small children looked back at the enemy and said, "I'm hungry," as though he hoped the enemy would forgive his brother.
"I'm hungry," the enemy said in a savage falsetto. More people laughed and became enemies.
The merchant's hand tightened on his projectile weapon at the woman. "Get away from my shop. I swear I'll shoot you if you don't."
The woman set her money on the ground and backed away. "Please, just some flour."
"Just some flour," someone echoed in a shrill voice that stabbed like a weapon.
The shopkeeper closed the shutters over the open front of his shop. The piece of paper scrip lay in the dirt.
The woman was shaking. She went to get her money.
A man stepped out of the crowd and put his foot on it. He stared at the woman.
She was breathing very hard and fast. She backed away and took her baby from the oldest child. She took the next youngest by the hand, and the third smallest took tight hold of his mother's skirt. The other two tried to look brave, but they crowded so close to their mother that they stepped on her heels.
The woman turned toward the circle. "We're going now, all right?" Her voice wavered between defiance and terror.
The man who had started mocking the children sing-songed, "We're going now, all right?"
The crowd tightened in front of the woman.
Tora did not want to fight if she could avoid it. Fighting in the market would spread like mudrimples in a puddle, but she would fight if these enemies tried to hurt the human woman and the child humans. She stepped forward then and set her hand on the woman's shoulder. The woman jumped and stared at Tora. Tora looked at the human enemies in front of her. They fell quiet. She walked toward the perimeter of the circle with her hand on the woman's shoulder so the woman would have to stay close.
The enemies hung together a moment, fell back as the woman approached them, and finally stood aside. They wanted to fight the woman, but they knew Tora, and did not want to fight her.
Tora walked straight into the crowd with the woman a little ahead and to her right and the children at her flank. She felt a hand close on the fabric of her uniform so tight it pinched her. She looked down. The oldest child was pale and trembling, and his heart beat so violently Tora could see it in his neck. He was almost frightened enough to bolt.
Tora did not know much about children. The parent-humans were Command for them, but they were not disciplined like soldiers. Tora said, "No fighting," in a quiet voice to reassure him.
The crowd was thinner outside the circle, and Tora moved the humans along faster.
Someone behind said, "They're getting away."
Another voice hissed, "Dirty breeders."
Mr. Ventnor and Lize came up from Tora's flank. Mr. Ventnor carried his stunner in his hand. "Go on, Colonel, we'll hold them back." He raised his voice. "Everybody clear the market."
Tora let go of the woman's shoulder and picked up the smallest child. She did not know how to carry a child human. She squeezed it under her arm. "Go fast out of the market," she said to the woman. She did not like to run away from enemies, but if this mob was all going to turn into enemies, then she would have to fall back and call for reinforcements. Her six units would not be enough to control it.
Something hit the oldest child from behind. He stumbled and fell onto his knees with his hand still twisted in the fabric of Tora's uniform. He felt behind his head and looked at his hand. It had blood on it. If he were a proper clone soldier, Tora would consider it negligible damage, but humans were fragile, and child-humans were more fragile than other kinds of human.
Tora shifted the young child to her other arm. It was screaming now. She did not know if it was damaged. She supposed she was not holding it right, but she did not know how to fix it. She hauled the oldest boy up by the back of his shirt and set him on his feet.
Something struck Tora hard on her side, under her arm. It hurt. She could not put the child down and fight. The child would be hurt. Tora had no way to form a perimeter around the humans. She must get them all to a safe place.
A rock struck the woman square in the middle of her back. She stumbled and curled her body around the infant-human in her arms. The baby-human squalled.
The humans could go no further. Tora dropped the child under her arm so it would land on its feet and turned to face the mob. She didn't see Mr. Ventnor. The woman and her children had attracted enemies from all over the market.
The enemies recoiled a little when Tora turned, but they were very many, and Tora was only one, and in a moment, they forgot to be afraid of her. Behind Tora, the human woman huddled over her children like a catpil knotted around a wound. An enemy woman about the same age as the human woman picked up a broken pot from a midden heap and threw it at the humans. The oldest child cried like a catpil and hunched his body over one of the smaller children.
She could not see Mr. Ventnor and Lize. She must fight by herself. The enemies were humans and slow, but there were too many for her to fight gently. She struck the woman who had thrown the pot. She saw a brick in a man's hand. She broke his arm and his collarbone.
Then the enemies turned on her. That was good. The humans would have time to get away. It was like a dance, like water flowing over the easiest path. She struck, kicked, twisted away from a blow, ignored the fiery violation of a blade weapon slicing into her back and turned to crush the attacker's jaw with her elbow. She moved faster, much, much faster than humans. Enemies fell, screaming. But more and more of them held onto her uniform from behind and pulled her until their weight dragged Tora to her knees where she could not defend herself so well from sticks and rocks. Her uniform ripped, and Tora struggled up again. She could still fight, but she could not win. Then she felt a shock through her body, and enemies fell against her. She tried to fall over the humans to protect them, then she sank under the weight of her enemies.
Pain and weight stifled her. Tora pushed at the weight. She could not get away from it. Moving hurt, but her soldiers needed her. There had been fighting. There were humans to protect.
She heard Mr. Ventnor say, "Pull that one off her."
There was so much pain in her hands that she couldn't feel what the weight was that held her down. She concentrated on breathing and knew by the smell that there were bodies on her. A pulse she knew was not her own told her the bodies were human and alive. One great weight slid off her chest, and the pain of release was almost as great as the breaking of her ribs when the enemies attacked her.
A warm hand found her face and traced her swollen lips down to her chin. The fingers settled on her throat.
Tora turned her head toward the fingers.
"She's alive," Mr. Ventnor said. "Hang on, Colonel. You went down under the pile when I turned my stunner on the mob."
Tora tried to ask about the human woman
and the child-humans, but her mouth did not work right. Another weight came away from her legs, and she felt light as no-gravity in simulations.
Sudden light made her eyes ache and burn under her lids.
Mr. Ventnor said, "Keep still. Mr. Bracxs, get a litter over here. Colonel's not walking anywhere for a while."
It was hard to hear him. Projectile weapons boomed not very far away, and the concussion made Tora want to fight. She took shallow breaths. "Humans. Protect humans." The words came out quiet, but she knew by Mr. Ventnor's short silence that he had heard her. "Humans?" she demanded.
"Wasn't anything you could do, Colonel."
"Protect humans."
"They'd all have been killed if you hadn't been here."
Tora wanted to kill enemies. She did not care about pain. She had one good arm, and she used it to pull herself up.
"Hold still. They got to the oldest boy and the baby before we caught up. The other three were shielded by the mother's and brother's bodies. We've sent them to your camp for Ms. Annia to look after."
"Half-evolved sons of mudrimples." That was Dess. Mr. Bracxs would be with her. Tora tried to open her eyes, but the light dazzled her, and her eyelids felt thick and tender.
"Be easy," Dess said. Gentle hands moved Tora's body. She felt a rough surface shoved under her back.
This was not time to be angry. Sometimes humans were hurt. That was why clones were made. If she'd had fifty soldiers, real soldiers like Liam, the humans would have been safe, but she had to make do with human soldiers, and they were too few.
The litter swayed and bounced, and she knew by the sounds that her soldiers were carrying her away from the market. It was quieter in the streets. People were running away. She heard some running toward the fighting, but she could do nothing about it. Fall back, wait for reinforcements, get Annia to repair her damage. Then she heard feet marching. Militia didn't march like that. Neither did Solante's soldiers. These were new enemies. She heard stun weapons, and her skin tingled. One corner of her litter sagged.
"Watch where you're pointing that," Mr. Ventnor snarled.
Dess said, "Set her down, quick."
The litter bumped the ground, jolting Tora.
A stranger's voice said, "Murrayville is now under Cyrion authority. You are to return to your homes and stay inside."
Adrenaline forced Tora's swollen eyes open, and she sat up.
Mr. Ventnor said, "Lie down, Colonel. We have it in hand."
She could see the strangers now. They wore black uniforms and stun-resistant armor with the visors down. Her lips pulled back from her teeth. "Murrayville is mine." It was hard to make the sounds with her mouth swollen and her head aching.
The black-uniform enemies raised their weapons—heavy stun rifles with ringed projectors. One of the black-uniforms wore a yellow stripe across his uniform. He said, "Return to your homes, or you will be stunned and incarcerated in a central holding area. Resistance will not be tolerated."
Tora tried to get up, but Mr. Ventnor's hand shoved her back. He said, "Our friend is hurt. We're taking her to the infirmary. Then we'll get under cover ourselves."
The black-uniform lieutenant sounded like he wanted to fight, but Mr. Ventnor had made himself and the lieutenants not-enemies. The black-uniform said, "See that you do. We're going to have these streets cleared by sunset and no excuses."
The litter swayed and rose under Tora. She heard the black-uniforms marching toward the market.
Mr. Ventnor said, "Soon as you're settled, I'll put our people to work getting stun victims off the streets. Maybe we can talk some of the rest of these idiots into getting under cover."
Dess said, "Mr. Bracxs and I can work on that."
Tora did not like to let the black-uniforms capture her streets, but it was good sense. When outnumbered by enemies, fall back and call for reinforcements.
#
Annia knew she was sleeping. She hung in that heavy-limbed state aware she had a thousand things to do, that lives depended on her, and that she was trying to do it all with her eyes closed, and for some reason, she was lying down and could not get up. Finally, shrill sounds and moving feet dragged her all the way up to wakefulness. She kicked against the light blanket over her and struggled upright in her sleep cabinet. It was half-dark outside. Gates slammed. Boards scraped and clattered together. People shouted instructions to each other.
Annia groped for her emergency field kit with one hand and her scanner with the other and stumbled out of the shelter, still heavy-eyed and logy. People lay on improvised cots and litters so close together, she had to edge sideways between them. Running on autopilot as if this were C-med after a battle and she were running triage, she pointed her scanner at every body she passed, automatically scanning injuries—broken bones, internal bruising and bleeding, concussion. She saw a ruptured eye, broken noses, a man struggling to breathe through an improvised tracheotomy. Baldwin's soldiers went back and forth, setting up trestles and pallets on the moss. Dess and Mr. Bracx came through the far gate carrying scraps of lumber. In the distance, people screamed, fires crackled. Smoke burned Annia's throat when she inhaled. Where was Cho'en?
Liam tottered out of the other shelter, wearing only loose pants and still wobbly on his feet but primed to fight something. "Enemies?" he asked.
"Not here." Annia ran her scanner down his torso. Still some muscle twitches, but he was otherwise fit. "Find Tora or one of her soldiers and get orders from them."
Inside the shelter, Cho'en crouched motionless over Maycee who moved her lips as though she were trying to speak.
Elizabeth-Belle leaned on her elbow. Bruises stood out livid on her fair skin. "What's going on?" she demanded.
"They're turning our lot into an infirmary. Can you help Cho'en do whatever it is she does?"
Elizabeth-Belle threw her blanket off her legs and rolled to one side, trying to get up. "I am leaving with Jordan-Kyle."
"He can't walk even if he was conscious, and there's no one to help you carry him."
Annia waved her hand before Cho'en's first eyes and called her name. The gaean did not respond.
Elizabeth-Belle said, "She's been in a trance all day. She won't hear you."
Annia lightly slapped Cho'en's muzzle. "Wake up, Cho, I need your help." She touched Cho'en's hand where it lay on Maycee's forehead.
Information trickled into her like a download into a crystal. In Cho'en's divided mind, Ka, the alien half of her psyche, produced a q-wave of its own and pushed against the wave that triggered the seizures. At the same time, Johanna-Eunice, the human entity that felt like a darker, angrier version of Maycee, found the cluster of misfiring neurons in the anterior reticular formation. She extended her mind-touch and applied pressure. The misfires slowed and shrank. The delta wave keeping Maycee deeply unconscious began to fade as the reticular formation began to resume its normal operation. Then Johanna-Eunice's mind slipped. The neuron cluster fired and broke Ka's control over the carrier wave.
The two minds relaxed like a worker pausing to dry sweaty palms and take a firmer grip on the tool, then Ka, re-exerted itself. Johanna-Eunice located the source of the seizure and applied pressure.
Annia removed her hand from Cho'en's. She scanned Cho'en's head. She identified the q-wave gliding across both linked brains, and a handful of sparks that might have been as destructive as the misfires in Maycee's brain but that Ka seemed to be suppressing them.
She set her shoulder to Cho'en's side and pushed.
Cho'en jerked. She lashed her tail dangerously close to Jordan-Kyle and finally fell over. Her bells clattered. Rage/anger/distress. She swung her head around and hissed.
Annia smacked her muzzle again. "Wake up, Cho. You're not helping her."
Elizabeth-Belle reached for Cho'en's head. She caught the gaean's chin in her right hand. With the other, she rubbed Cho'en's throat near her nostrils.
Cho'en's eyes opened. She raised herself on one hand.
Annia said, "We need
you outside. Can Elizabeth-Belle help you the way Maycee does?"
Cho'en blinked her second and third eyes. She stared at Elizabeth-Belle for a moment, then seemed to get her divided mind together. "She is not a dreamer," she chirped.
"She's got the Q-wave. It's not a thread on Maycee, but there's something there."
"Too weak. Too uncontrolled."
Annia said, "Get out there and try. I'm out of boneseal, and my supply of gel is low. I can set bones, but if you can't fuse them, I'll have to work out some kind of splint system. I have enough surgical adhesive to seal cuts and wounds, but not enough gel to protect against infection."
Cho'en rocked to her feet and glided toward the door. Her bells were muted with weariness, but she said, "We will try." She looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth-Belle. "Come."
Elizabeth-Belle didn't move.
Cho'en went to Elizabeth-Belle, grasped her arm and heaved her to her feet. "You will work," she said. "You will make restitution."
Elizabeth-Belle tried to shake her arm out of Cho'en's grasp, but the alien was bigger and proportionately stronger than the human. She chirped, "I have flutter."
Elizabeth-Belle's jaw sagged. She stared at Cho'en, unable to believe what the alien had said, but Cho'en's bells said, determination/assurance/truth. That, and maybe fragment of the reverence in which the gaeans seemed to be held by the Charmmes family, got Elizabeth-Belle up and stumbling toward the door.
There were burns, bruises, broken bones, crushed limbs and internal injuries. While Annia worked to patch people together, she tried to discover what had happened out in the streets of Murrayville.
She finally met Ms. Stamos, one of Baldwin's lieutenants, who told her, "The streets are full of riot police from Cyrion. They've scared the citizens out of their senses, and the fighting just keeps spreading. They stun a few, and another mob hits them from behind. That's bad enough, but the citizens are fighting among themselves as well. We're trying to calm everybody down without getting stunned ourselves. Colonel Miraz had us fall back here.
Farenough: Strangers Book 2 Page 6