Be sure what you do, Rakhi advised her, Chimele’s order; but Chimele’s takkhenois lost some of its fierceness and flowed into alignment, feeding her will, supporting her now that her mind was clear.
“Open citywide address channels,” Chaikhe ordered, and received the acknowledgment of the terrified amaut in command of their communications.
“I am the emissary of the Orithain,” Chaikhe began softly, the phrase that had heralded the terror of iduve decrees since the dawn of civilization in the metrosi. “Hail Priamos. We pose you now alternatives. If this rebel iduve is not ours before midday, we shall destroy as much of Weissmouth and of Priamos as is necessary to take or destroy him; if this colony seems to side with him, we shall eliminate it. Evacuation is logistically impossible and the use of this field is extremely hazardous. I counsel you against it. I have said.”
She ceased, and listened in satisfaction as amaut communications went chaotic with incoming and outgoing calls, amaut asking orders, officers reacting in harried outbursts of emotion, sometimes a human’s different voice calling in, incomprehensible and distraught.
The panic had begun. It would run through the city, into the tunnels, and into every command station in the amaut colony. Vaikka, Chaikhe told herself with satisfaction. They are sure we are among them now. And the knowledge that these pathetic beings scattered before her attack filled her with a shuddering desire to pursue the vaikka further; but other duties called. Tejef. Tejef was the objective.
Attack resumed, ineffectual vaikka from Tejef for the damage done him among the amaut who trusted him for protection. Aiela had taken Ashakh beyond the range of weapons fire, and there was the grateful feel of returning consciousness from Ashakh. Her heart swelled with gladness.
No! cried Rakhi. “Chimele will not permit contact, Chaikhe.”
The attack increased. Systems faltered. There was no time to dispute.
The spate of fire was a brief one; the glow about the iduve ships dimmed and the humans dared come from cover again. Aiela saw them moving far across the field and fired his own pistol to put a temporary stop to it. The humans were not yet aware that the weapon could not kill. He feared they would not be long in learning, about as long as it took for the first that he had fired on to recover; and as for the iduve weapon, that black thing like an elongate egg, there was indeed no way to operate it save by mind-touch.
“Let us go back, please, let us go back,” Kleph pleaded. “Let us get off this awful field, into the safe dark, o please, sir.”
A small projectile exploded not far away, and Kleph winced into a tighter crouch, almost a single ball of knees and arms, moaning.
It was indeed too close. Aiela seized Ashakh’s limp arm and snapped at Kleph an order to take the other. It was the first order Kleph had obeyed with any enthusiasm, and they hurried, pulling the iduve back into the cover of the basement from which they had emerged onto the field. There they had only the light of Kleph’s lamp and what came from the open door; and the very foundations shook with the pounding of fire out on the field. The wailing of sirens went on and on.
Ashakh stirred at last. He had been conscious from time to time, but only barely so. The shot that had struck him in the back would have likely been a mortal wound had he been kallia; but Ashakh’s heart, which beat to right center of his chest, had kept a strong rhythm. This time when he opened his eyes they were clear and aware. “A human weapon?” Ashakh asked. “Yes, sir.”
“Niseth,” murmured the proud iduve for the second time. “Au, kameth, Tejefu-prha-idoikkhe—”
“He has not used it.”
That much puzzled Ashakh. Aiela could see the perplexity go through his eyes. Then he struggled to get his hands under him, Aiela’s protests notwithstanding. “Either Tejef is too busy to divert his attention to you or Chaikhe has been taking care of you, kameth. I think the latter. This would be a serious error on his part.”