Reclamation

"They are raising protests and publicity with a number of the client governments," said Kelat, "but so far, nothing important. The Reclamation Assembly assessment is that they are simply delaying the necessity of removing their people." Kelat's shoulders sagged minutely. "Has any progress been made in locating their base?"

The wind dropped a note in pitch and sent a draft curling around Avir's ankles. "No. They appear to be maintaining a communications silence and with the limited number of satellites currently deployed and the pervasiveness of the cloud cover…" she broke her sentence off. She was repeating what Kelat already knew. They were not currently equipped for a full scan of the habitable section of the Home Ground. The Assembly had moved ahead of several committees' scheduling recommendations but had offered no explanations as to why. But she would not be heard to say that aloud.

"We already have given orders to some of the less confused artifacts to search for 'Skymen' and bring them into appropriate custody," she told Kelat instead. "So far they have had no success, but we will reinforce the orders." Outside, artifacts' voices lifted in a new song. Whatever it was, it must have been ancient. Her disk couldn't make anything out of it. "How soon will you be ready for us to start delivering artifacts to your facilities for classification?" she asked.

Kelat looked over his shoulder at the contending trio of Beholden. "It will be some time," he admitted. "There are many pieces of the Ancestors' puzzles to be sorted out. It is my opinion your efforts are best spent in gaining and centralizing control where you are and performing what classifications you can."

Avir felt a flicker of humor cross her face. "It is glorious work, Kelat, but it is work all the same."

Kelat lowered his voice. "Is there any assistance we can offer you?"

Pride more than confidence stiffened Avir's shoulders. "Not yet, I don't think. At the moment, the Assembly is placing a premium on keeping as many of the artifacts as we can functional, so we can only go slowly in restructuring their social groupings. When control is centralized, then we can coordinate our efforts more closely."

Kelat glanced around himself to make sure no one was listening. "Avir, how does it feel to be a god?"

She pressed her fingertips against the edge of the comm board. "Kelat, I would rather be a Contractor."

"Understood," he said, and she heard genuine sympathy in his voice. "This line is being left open for your reports." Kelat signed off and the terminal went blank.

The sound of voices and shuffling feet made Avir turn around. One of the Bio-tech Beholden led a gaggle of artifacts with scarred hands through the main threshold. They were all female, Avir saw, some of them juveniles, some of them carrying infants in bundles of rags strapped to their chests.

Ivale followed the cluster of artifacts, spreading his hands to help herd them all inside the Temple. Two juveniles took shelter behind the adults as his hands touched their shoulders.

"All is well," said Ivale in the round, almost-musical tones he'd been cultivating since he'd received his contract to the Reclamation. "There is only new work that we ask of you."

Despite Ivale's reassurances, the artifacts all looked at her with identical expressions of fear on their faces.

Avir's anger at the long-dead Aunorante Sangh deepened. How could you condemn your own kind to this? A life without structure or purpose? Where they can't even recognize the ones you were made to serve?

It was totally irrational, and though she knew it, she couldn't help herself.

We will restore them. As soon as we understand how the Ancestors structured this world, we will be able to restore their proper functions to them, and then that fear will vanish.

These, at least, seemed fairly docile. They let Ivale and the Beholden direct them toward the analysis area, where Nal and his other three Beholden were dodging each other as they tried to uncrate and set up the last of their equipment.

A juvenile stumbled on the uneven floor. An adult, old enough to be wrinkled and toothless, stuck out her clawed hand to steady it. Even from where she stood, Avir saw the bones in the adult's wrist.

"Bio-technician," she called, unable to take her eyes off the skinny artifact. The artifact noticed her regard and lowered herself humbly to the floor, holding her hands in front of her eyes.

Bio-tech Nal disentangled himself from a coil of fiber optic and came to stand beside her. "Yes, Contractor?" There was no disguising the impatience in his voice.