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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Duncan Solsohn rested the heavy crossbow atop the Crewe’s single tower shield: the only suitable armor they’d found for Yaargraukh. Screening Solsohn—which was to say, blocking him—was the second-in-command, or “first hunter,” of the hovel. His cooperation was almost too energetic and eager, but it was easy to understand why. By allowing the humans to use a tunnel that connected the hovel to the fastness of a Legate vassal, his band leader had not only received a promise of protection from that power, but had been made a vavasor of Kosvak.

Duncan peered around the edge of the entry’s dogleg until he could see a similar but slightly larger hovel just twenty meters away: the one in which Eku was being held. It was actually an amalgam of two hovels: a large round lump from which a smaller one protruded. The two kajh guarding the entrance did not appear to be aware that they were under any unusual scrutiny, and Solsohn doubted that either had any talent for dissembling.

“Looks good,” he muttered into the darkness behind.

“Have them drag me out,” Bannor’s muffled voice ordered. Two of the resident h’achgai muttered assent and set about dragging out the piled travois upon which the vacc-suited Rulaine was concealed.

“Hope you don’t have to scratch an itch,” Solsohn quipped.

“I hate you,” was the dull mutter that answered him from the travois as the two warriors dragged it past his overwatch position.

***

After the two h’achgai perched the travois upon a low pile of bricks, the late-afternoon sunlight sent a few narrow beams through the rents in its covering: the kind of well-worn hide locals used in lieu of tarps. Bannor, who was under a loosely bound heap of rags and hide scraps, leaned his head to peek out the aperture that had been cut specifically for that purpose: he could see almost the entirety of the target hovel.

Rulaine started with the basics: getting precise measurements. He called up the HUD’s 3D laser topography graphing function. The beam’s characteristics required a bit of initial tweaking, though. Based on what he and Duncan had observed during the engagement with the two x’qai, they had guesstimated the UV frequencies that had most attracted the creatures’ attention. So, to minimize the chance that some passing x’qa would detect the helmet’s scanning laser, they’d created a special frequency-hopping algorithm designed to avoid those parts of the spectrums. But invoking it meant getting permission from the computer driving the whole suit, and that required a deep dive into the guts of settings written only in Dornaani.

Despite tutoring from both Caine and the translator, he still had trepidations. Riordan had noticed and was prepared to perform the target survey himself until Bannor and the others, in a rare display of instant unanimity, respectfully told him, “Sir, no, sir. Please.” In an officer, leaning into personal action was a better trait than the opposite, but in Caine’s case, some tempering might be required.

The HUD pinged: surface mapping completed. Rulaine activated the thermal imaging overlay.

The TI’s first pass was to measure general radiance coming off the structure, but adobe was a challenging substance. It was comparatively “muddy”—no crisp thermal differentiation—and Bannor had only one measurement perspective. Within the first few moments he discovered another wrinkle. The radiance patterns were being disrupted by curved interior walls: the remains of the first, smaller structure to which the larger one had been added. But the Dornaani sensors had already shown themselves to be both remarkably sensitive and adept at filtering out surrounding radiance, particularly given enough time for multiple passes.

With the suit’s computer constantly refining its baseline measures of both average radiance levels and variation patterns, he recalibrated the sensors to focus on a much thinner cross section of the walls in the hope it would indicate density and thickness. Rulaine considered it a long shot. Eku had only mentioned using the setting in passing, implying that when the materials and their shape was adequately defined, the TI could analyze the spectral distribution and decay to interpolate the kind of heat source from which they’d come. Kind of like reverse-engineering a Dopplering echo to arrive at the original sound that produced it.

To Bannor’s pleased surprise, the TI did just that. And because the setting worked partly by assessing radiant variations along the walls, it also showed where they were thickest and thinnest. A pity he couldn’t get a read of the other side of the structure, but this would certainly be sufficient for their purposes.

However, getting a count on the numbers of trogs inside was almost impossible. In addition to the muddying effect of adobe, there was insufficient distinction between the temperature of the air, the walls, and the bodies.

Rulaine sighed. He’d have to stay hidden on the travois until Bactradgaria’s rapid dusk cooling produced better contrasts. Even then, the images were going to lack detail, and if there was a lot of movement, counting occupants could become problematic. At least the suit’s own thermal reprocessing system ensured that he’d remain neutral against the background, so no need to worry about being discovered.

Bannor instantly repented tempting fate . . . but fate proved faster than the speed of human regret. From beyond the right side of the h’achgai hovel arose a screeching, then an approaching skitter of clawed feet. Lying on his side, he couldn’t see what was essentially above his head without giving away his position, so he could only wait and wonder as the scrabblings became more confused and the screaming resumed. One voice was shrill: desperate and angry. The others were excited and, very possibly, hungry.

A pack of ’qo swarmed into his limited field of vision, a wounded one keeping just ahead of a half dozen others. Their only similarity was that they all had two legs and two arms. Except for the one they were chasing. He had only one and a half arms; a hand was missing and the forearm flesh was hanging in shreds. Which wouldn’t have concerned Rulaine except that he was also heading for the travois.

Duncan had no firing angle for his crossbow; they were too close to the curved wall of the hovel to be seen from its entrance. And it certainly didn’t look like they were going to race past; the wounded one had already started clambering up the pile of shattered adobe bricks upon which the travois’ top was propped. Probably to fight off the others from a higher position. Not that it will change the outcome.

But if it did try to make its last stand near or atop Bannor’s head, that meant all the other ’qo would soon be swarming around and up the travois. Which will cause it to fall over. A when it does and I roll out—

Rulaine finger-flexed the HUD to a different screen: the one that controlled the exterior surface and systems of the suit.

The wounded ’qo began repelling attackers, raking savagely with the claws of its remaining hand and equally dexterous feet. More eager pursuers flashed past within half a meter of Bannor’s eyes as they flanked their prey, preparing to ascend toward their quarry from the wider base of the travois. Which meant they’d be using Rulaine’s body as a ramp.

He increased the volume of the external speakers to maximum and, hoping that ’qo ears were as sensitive as reported, pushed the frequency controls to emit the highest pitch possible.

The predatory patter around the travois became chaotic scrambling as the pursuers leaped off in an attempt to escape the twenty-thousand-hertz tone exploding straight into their faces, yet unheard by the humanoids around them. However, the wounded one was still clinging to his perch and, judging from the bitter gnashing of fangs, the others were apparently trying to force themselves back to the attack.

Rulaine hastily shifted to a new control screen that was both unfamiliar and unreadable and attempted to add a variable cycle to the audio output. At least that’s what he’d meant to do. He returned the HUD to the normal audio controls and, hoping Caine’s lessons in Dornaani had been sufficient, cut loose with the revised sound profile.

The ’qo were suddenly jumping off the travois. The defender’s leap away was a soaring four- meter arc that ended just beyond the reach of the startled h’achga that remained on watch. Desperate to escape the ear-splitting ultrasonic sine wave that cycled from fifteen thousand to twenty thousand hertz, it ignored the startled warrior and charged for the entry—

A very audible slap of shaped bone seemed to propel the hapless creature backward into the dust, a heavy quarrel protruding straight up from its chest.

Bannor exhaled in relief: Good call, Duncan. The others would have been sure to follow the wounded one inside, possibly inviting an opportunistic follow-up attack from a local rival.

Surprisingly, the twice-wounded ’qo began to rise but disappeared beneath its swarming pursuers. But they couldn’t withstand the unrelenting sound. Pawing frantically at their ears, some took a bit, others grabbed whatever else came away easily, and they all streaked off, howling as they went.

The tactical channel squawked: a momentary squelch break. Bannor responded in kind, signaling to Duncan that he was neither hurt nor required extraction. The only possible concern might have been the two praakht standing watch at the target hovel, but rather than showing any inclination to investigate the events, their unblinking eyes were now focused on the dark entry to the hovel just behind. They appeared suitably impressed, and perhaps a bit intimidated, by the swift response to the wounded ’qo’s attempt to escape into it.

Rulaine sighed, turned off the sound system, was careful not to shift position. The ’qo were light and hadn’t made much progress up the travois, but any movement might collapse the frame and reveal him. Who, from the perspective of the target structure’s guards, would appear to be a harrow that had been secretly observing the entry through which any rescue attempt for their harrow-equipped captive would have to be mounted.

So rather than get comfortable, Bannor had to remain motionless. Which wouldn’t have been too bad if it weren’t for the most common irritation that arose when wearing any suit for a long-duration mission. An irritation that had clearly stymied Dornaani engineers.

Apparently, even they couldn’t make a comfortable catheter.


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Framed