Reclamation

by Sarah Zettel

  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 door 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.

  Avir decided she could ignore him for a moment. She needed direction. She needed reassurance. She needed to tell someone that the Aunorante Sangh were alive and well and that the war that had e
nded in the Ancestors’ Flight had been joined again.

  Beside the primary comm terminal sat the backup unit. It was internally powered and small enough to be carried by one person. Avir picked it up in both hands and headed for the rear of the Temple, trying not to care if anyone’s gaze followed her.

  Beyond the main chamber were the living quarters and the kitchen. They were little more than alcoves blocked from a central foyer by more of the rough-woven blankets. In the middle of the foyer, though, a stone staircase had been built down into the earth. Avir took the stairs carefully. They were unevenly worn from years of feet descending this way.

  The cellars here were not the work of the Ancestors, but they were the result of some astoundingly careful work by the artifacts. The flagstone and plaster were all tightly sealed, creating a row of chambers that were dark and cold, but dry. Each one had a wooden door shut with a surprisingly complex iron lock.

  The chambers were full of books. Some were obscure convoluted texts of what passed for religion or history among the artifacts, but most of them were lists upon lists of genealogies. For all the artifacts had forgotten, they had never lost the fact that they had been bred for their functions. Even the rebellion of the Aunorante Sangh had not been able to wipe out the artifacts’ need to keep their creator’s work as intact as possible.

  Lights had been fastened to the ceiling and their glow thinned the shadows on the reddish stone walls to grey ghosts. The only sound was the soft murmuring of the team’s Historian in one of the rear cellars as he catalogued what he had found.

  Avir picked an empty chamber and shut herself inside with the ancient books. She wedged the comm terminal on a shelf and stood in front of it. For a moment, she just enjoyed the silence and the familiar intimacy of solid walls.

  She could have done this up above, but it was easier to think down here, and she had no idea what the Assembly was going to say to her.

  Avir opened a line to the Assembly’s waiting terminals. Every comm line into the chambers was answered by a Witness now that the Reclamation had begun. No word between the teams on the Home Ground and the Assembly would be lost.

  “Good Morning and also Good Day, Contractor Avir,” said the Witness when the screen cleared. The image was good, if distant. She could see the glint of her own reflection in his camera eye.

  “I have a first level emergency situation,” said Avir. “I must speak to the Assembly immediately.”

  The Witness stiffened and relaxed so fast, that for a moment Avir was certain it was her imagination.

  No, I startled him.

  She had just enough time to see his hand move across his own board before the image shifted.

  The Reclamation Assembly looked small and unreal on the flat screen. She had stood before the Assembly hundreds of times, but she had always been surrounded by accurate projections in the Assembly Chamber of the Hundredth Core. Even the Witnesses with their cameras trained on the screen she spoke through looked ridiculously far away.

  “You have declared an emergency, Contractor Avir,” said the Moderator. “The Assembly is awaiting the details.”

  Avir didn’t even try to compose herself as she gave what could only loosely be called a report. She wanted the assembled representatives up there in the encampment to know about the screams, and the anger of their artifacts, and the Vitae blood that had been spilled. She wanted them to understand the scale of the miracles that they stood on top of.

  When she ran out of words, she received nothing but silence from the Assembly. She was glad of it, because it was a signal that she had gotten through to them.

  Finally, one representative, a Senior Engineer with smooth mahogany skin and long hair that was the same color as her sepia robes, signaled for time. A red light appeared above her as the Moderator granted her request.

  “Does the Contractor have a recommendation for a course of action in the light of these events?” asked the representative.

  “I do, Representative,” said Avir slowly, “but it is not a pleasant one.”

  “What is it?” the Moderator prompted her.

  “Moderator,” said Avir, “we deliberately chose to begin the Reclamation of the human-derived artifacts by mimicking the authority example that their social groupings had created to deal with the lack of the Ancestors’ direction. The authority example they have created, the “Nameless Powers,” is all-encompassing and all-powerful and is recorded in their mutated oral history as forcibly removing sources of rebellion.”

  The attention of the Assembly was so focused that Avir could begin to feel it in her spine. It strengthened her, exhausted as she was, and it reminded her who she was. Her voice fell into properly smooth cadences.

  “It is, therefore, my thought that if we wish to continue to make use of this authority example, we need to remove the rebellion. All of it.

  “We need to remove the city.”

  Now there was noise. Representatives muttered into their own intercoms or shuffled keys on their own boards, trying to call up data to support or strike down what she had just suggested. Avir waited for the flurry to pass, just as she had waited all the other times.

  A Historian signaled for time and was acknowledged by the Moderator.

  “How many artifacts are in the city Narroways?” he asked.

  “Approximately four thousand,” Avir said promptly. Despite her knowledge that this was right and the war had to be waged before the Aunorante Sangh gained real power, a cold wind blew through her mind.

  “Out of a total population of?”

  “Four million.”

  Avir knew she had probably just announced the death of Narroways and of four thousand precious artifacts. Part of her wanted to erase her words. For a split second, she thought about telling the Moderator she had reconsidered. Four thousand pieces of the Ancestors’ work was too high a price to pay just to eliminate what might only be a hundred Aunorante Sangh.

  It was out of proportion and she knew it. The Reclamation had to continue. They had to secure the majority of the human-derived artifacts quickly so that they could be interfaced once more with the living heart of the Home Ground. That was more important than the safety of a few human-derived constructs milling around with their fearful eyes following her every move, with their distorting anger recreating the Aunorante Sangh, who had risen against the Ancestors and stolen the world away, with the blood and the screams and the stones…

  Avir swayed on her feet and felt the blood surging in her veins. In that same moment, years of careful training made her realize she was not done with her report yet.

  “Moderator?” said Avir.

  “Contractor?” The Moderator activated her acknowledgment signal.

  “I would like to put in a request to the Assembly.”

  “So Witnessed.” The signal turned green to mark the recording. “Proceed, Contractor.”

  “I would like to formally request transfer of my duties to the unpopulated portion of the Home Ground. If I could be allowed to choose my assignment, I would like to help coordinate the mapping and analysis of the underground complex. I would further like to suggest…” She paused, searching for words. “I would like to suggest that contact between Vitae and the artifacts be limited as much as possible to the Ambassadors who are accustomed to dealing with Outsiders.”

  Another silence emanated from the Committee.

  “Are you advising us of psychological difficulties with your assignment, Contractor?” asked the Moderator.

  “Yes, Moderator,” Avir said and the confession lifted a weight from her shoulders. “I am.” Fear, hatred, blood, screams. Yes, those are indeed psychological difficulties.

  “Thank you for so doing.” The Moderator made a small obeisance in tribute to a difficult job well done. “You will submit a full report to the Related Stresses subcommittee. You will return to the Hundredth Core while your reassignment request is reviewed. I will say now that your request is reasonable and shall be referred to your immediate repr
esentatives.”

  “Thank you, Moderator.”

  “Orders regarding the transport of the sample artifact you have obtained and the decisions based on your report will be transmitted at the end of this session,” said the Moderator.

  Avir made obeisance to the screen and the line closed down.

  She stared at the blank screen for a moment. She remembered standing in Chapel and picturing the Home Ground and the Reclamation. In her mind’s eye she had seen a green and beautiful world holding its breath for the return of the Lineage. She had seen herself working tirelessly, with the Graces singing in her mind and delight in every task flowing through her heart.

  Maybe it will be more like I imagined when I return, she thought wistfully. Maybe.

  “Mother?”

  Aria stirred on her sleeping mat. “Go back to sleep, Little Eye.”

  “Please, Mother.” A tiny hand shook her shoulder.

  Aria peeled her eyes open to see her daughter crouched over her, anxiety filling her round face. She reached out to rub Little Eye’s cheek, and all the events of her life came flooding back to her.

  Aria sat bolt upright. Daylight streamed through the door blanket. Eric still lay asleep under his own blanket, but the other mats were empty. They’d been left to sleep the day away.

  “Little Eye, what are you doing here!” Aria did not bother to keep her voice down. Eric groaned and rolled over, opening both eyes unhappily.

  “Storm Water’s gone,” sniffled Little Eye. “He didn’t come home last night. Roof Beam swears he doesn’t know where he is and your daughter got scared and…and…” Little Eye burst into tears. “The Skymen got him! Little Eye knows they did!”