Reclamation

"Until we know what we've got and why the Rhudolant Vitae are so interested in them, we've got to say something." Burig stared at the screens. Technically, he knew what most of the symbolism stood for, but the jumble of letters, numbers, and colored lines kept flowing into fresh formations before he could make any real sense out of it. "This is not just another batch of cradlers' descendants who've forgotten how to bang the rocks together. I've got an itch in the back of my head about this. This could be the future of the Human Family we're carrying."

"Or its past." Ovin drew her fingers across the polymer right above the woman's cheekbone. "That place is crashing old."

Burig remembered the ragged canyon wall with the deep grooves wind and rain had gouged into the bare, rust red stone.

"Crashing's the word for it…"

The intercom's chime cut off the rest of his sentence. Burig rounded the thaw-out table and perched on the edge of the chair just as the screen lit up again. This time, it showed the image of Director Dorias Waesc. Burig had never met him in the flesh, but whenever he saw the Director on screen he thought of Dorias as "the Medium Man." Dorias had a medium build, medium brown skin and hair, a face suggesting medium age, and a sense of humor that was moderately acute.

"Good to see you, Subdirector Burig," said Dorias. "How'd things work out?"

"Lu and Jay came through for us, Director," Burig said with more enthusiasm than he felt. "We got what we went after."

"How's he doing?" Dorias's image leaned closer to the screen as he tried to see across the room.

"She"—Burig slid the visual unit out of the wall and swiveled it around so Dorias could have a better view—"is knocked out in a life-support capsule."

Dorias frowned. "Was that necessary?"

Burig shrugged. "It was how we got her from Jay. I thought it'd be easier to leave her in there until we got someplace that might require a little less explanation than an intersystem ship."

Dorias did not look convinced. "She is a volunteer, isn't she?"

"That's what Jay says." Burig tried to read what was going on behind the Director's eyes. "Is there a problem?"

"No," said Dorias. Burig was pretty sure he was lying. "You're what, five hours out, six?"

Burig shook his head. "Eight to ten."

Dorias rolled his eyes. "All right. I've had a request from Madame Chairman to keep you on the line until you get in-system, so I hope you and your relief are feeling talkative."

Burig looked across at Ovin. Her mouth tightened until it was nothing but a thin, straight line.

"Expecting something to go wrong?" Ovin called toward the screen.

"Always," said Dorias. "It's part of my job."

Like anybody on May 16 is going to be able to do anything about it, thought Burig.

Dorias must have read his mind or the set of his jaw. "And if anything does go wrong, maybe we can't help, but we'll need to know about it as soon as it happens. We don't want to risk losing an emergency burst to interception."

"By the Vitae?" Burig asked.

"Who else?" said Dorias calmly.

Burig mouthed "I told you," toward Ovin. The entire project had been padded with excessive caution from the beginning. The Runner had been registered as an independent cargo ship. Except for Ovin and Burig, it was crewed with contract fliers from half a dozen disparate systems, none of which called themselves Family. May 16 had been watching Vitae movements nonstop from the moment they left dock. All normal. There hadn't been even a twitch in the Runner's direction. Despite that, Burig couldn't bring himself to believe they were home and clear yet.

"So," said Dorias, settling back, "what did you think of the Realm?"

"The Realm?" Burig's eyebrows rose.

"MG49 sub 1," said Dorias. "Its people call it the Realm of the Nameless Powers. Didn't Jay give you a history lesson?"

"That's Cor's job," Burig reminded him. "She was out playing native. We didn't get to hang about to say hello." He rubbed the back of his neck as he realized how harsh his words sounded. "We didn't stay grounded very long. That place…it's not exactly easy to get off of, you know. Especially with the number of eyes and ears the Vitae've got in orbit. Has there been any…"

The shrilling of the ship's alarm cut through his sentence. Reflex jerked Burig's head up.

"Blood…" he croaked out the syllable just as the world shuddered.

Bung's shoulder slammed painfully into the wall. He gripped the edge of the seat reflexively to keep from being thrown to the floor. Ovin dropped herself into her security seat, fastening the belts down and locking the struts into place so she'd stay within arm's reach of the capsule.

The ship jerked back and forth for a bad moment before the regulators kicked in again. The racks jingled and rattled and three of them collapsed. A dozen different alarms sounded and the ship's voice came from every direction. Hull breach, hold evacuation, engine shutdown. Bung's head spun.