Reclamation

"I find it quite appropriate," said the android. "My parent informs me that Abassyd Station would be an optimal site for our endeavors. You will be able to open a direct line to a communications terminal that has a hardware connection to a Vitae junction box." Adudorias reached across to the comm board. "Excuse me," it said as it unfastened the cable.

"Nice manners," Eric remarked toward the comm board, feeling a bit strange. Dorias he was used to, but polite phrases coming from Cam were unsettling. "Thank you, Dorias. I'll be back as soon as I can." He reached for the shutoff key.

"Eric?"

"Yes?" Eric pulled his hand back from the board.

Dorias hesitated. "I think it would be better if you did not trust anyone else more than necessary. You are right. A war is brewing."

Eric felt his eyes narrow. "I'll remember that. Good-bye, Dorias." Eric closed the channel down and eyed the android sitting in the pilot's chair. Cam had been the one fixture in Eric's life since Perivar had left. Cam didn't move unless it was ordered to. Cam didn't quest or question. Cam did exactly as it was ordered to and no more.

Adudorias ran Cam's hands across the pilot boards, checking their layout and display sequences. It scanned the bridge, taking it all in with something that appeared to be interest.

"Adu," said Eric. "We need to get going. Can you head us out for Abassyd Station?"

"As soon as we're clear," it answered.

Eric went into the common room and laid himself down in the landfall alcove. He felt a twinge of obscure remorse inside.

How was I to know I'd miss a nonsentient machine? He set his jaw and stared at the wall. Garismit's Eyes. He rubbed his hands together. I will be glad when this is over. Shaking the thoughts away, he fastened the webbing over his torso. He'd left the view wall on and through it he could see the nighttime stealing in its strange, slow way over the City of Alliances. A few stars were visible over the tops of the distant cliffs.

He couldn't stop part of his mind from wondering if one of them belonged to the Realm.

7—The Home Ground, Hour 08: 19: Settlement Time

It does not matter if you know the enemy when you see him, but you must be certain that you will fight the enemy when you know him.

—From "The Words of the Nameless Powers," translated by Hands to the Sky for all who follow.

Contractor Kelat looked down at his hand and flexed the newly grown finger. He smiled and felt his chest swell. He had never really believed he would be able to have it regrown. He had never believed he would really walk on the Home Ground.

He looked about him. And he had certainly never dreamed it would be like this.

They had had to seal the building, if four walls of patched cement with a polymer sheet for a roof could be called a building, and install an atmosphere-processing plant. The Beholden and the Engineers worked with zeal and the whole process took only a few hours. The inside was a wreck. Everything was preserved, certainly, but it was also vacuum welded and corroded by dust and radiation. There had been liquid in a lot of the mechanisms that had evaporated centuries ago, allowing the circuitry to collapse into incomprehensible jumbles.

So much gone. So much stolen.

But so much left, he reminded himself. So much that can be done. Outside, the thin atmosphere just barely carried the rumble of the excavation machinery. The Engineers were carefully digging down around the base of the pillar Baiel had found. The Engineers' scans indicated it was a part of a network that extended…everywhere. Kelat allowed himself a smile at the bewildered look the Engineer gave him.

Kelat glanced toward where he knew the mountain range lay and wished, fervently and irrationally, that Jahidh would signal with more news of the artifact he had found. If the theories were correct, they were holding two halves of the Ancestors' system, the human-derived and the mechanically derived, and until they could bring them together, they would never understand how the Ancestors' world worked.

What bothered Kelat was that there did not seem to be any obvious interface between the two. There were control boards and readouts and other input-output sources that were perfectly comprehensible to the Historians and Engineers, but there was nothing that seemed to justify the enormous effort it would have taken to breed human-derived artifacts. Kelat could not bring himself to believe the Ancestors had created them to no definite purpose, not with the cost their creation had entailed.

"Contractor?" One of the contract apprentices made obeisance. "There is a message for you from the artifact reclamation subcommittee, 196."

Kelat made his way over to the portable board and sat on the stool in front of it. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was looking forward to having a few more trappings of civilization installed.