Two of him caught sight of the spacer floating down through the haze. The Visitors would have no clear view of what they were shooting at. Pale light flickered from beneath the craft. A scythe swept across the hillside toward Woodcarver's troops.
Pham was bounced around his perch as Blueshell turned the boat back to the target. They weren't moving fast; the airstream couldn't have been more than thirty meters per second. But every second was full of the damnedest jerks and tumbles. At one point Pham's grip on the gun mount was all that kept him indoors. Forty some hours from now the deadliest thing in the universe is going to arrive, and I'm taking potshots at dogs.
How to take out the hillside? Steel's whiny voice still echoed in his ears. And Ravna wasn't sure what OOB was seeing beneath all the smoke. We might do better without automation than with this bastard mix. At least his beamer had a manual control. Pham embraced the barrel with one arm while he reached with the other. At wide dispersion the beam was useless against armor, but could burst eyes and set skin and hair afire — and the beam width would be dozens of meters across at ground level.
"Fifteen seconds, Sir Pham," Blueshell's voice came in his ear.
They were low this time. Gaps in the smoke flickered past like stop-action art. Most of the ground was burned-over black, but there were precipices of naked rock and even sooty patches of snow trapped in crannies and shadowed pits… Here and there was a pile of doggy bodies, an occasional gun tube.
"There's a crowd of them ahead, Sir Pham. Running near the castle."
Pham leaned down and looked forward. The mob was about four hundred meters ahead. They were running parallel to the castle walls, through a field that was a spinehide of arrowshafts. He pressed the firing stud, swept the beam out from below the boat. There was plenty of water under that dried cover; it exploded in steam as the beam passed over it… But further out, the wide dispersion wasn't doing much. It would be another few seconds before he'd have a good shot at the hapless packs.
Time for the little suspicions. So how come the enemy had muzzle-loading cannon? Those they must have made themselves — in a world with no evidence of firearms. Steel was the classic medieval manipulator; Pham had spotted the type from a thousand light-years out. They were doing the critter's dirty work, that was obvious. Shut up. Deal with Steel later.
Slanting in on the packs, Pham fired again, sweeping through living flesh this time. He fired ahead of them and on the castle side; maybe they wouldn't all die. He stuck his head further into the slipstream, trying for a better view. Ahead of the packs was a hundred meters of open field, a single pack of four and — a human figure, black-haired and slim, jumping and waving.
Pham smashed the barrel up against the hull, safing it at the same time. The back flash was a surge of heat that crisped his eyebrows. "Blueshell! Get us down! Get us down!"
— =*=
"A bad understanding. She was lied to."
Ravna tried to read something behind the voice. Steel's Samnorsk was as creaky as ever, the tones childish and whiny. He sounded no different than before. But his story was stretched very thin by what had just happened. He was either a galaxy master of impudence — or his story was actually true.
"The human must have been hurt, then lied to by Woodcarver. This explains a lot, Ravna. Without her, Woodcarver could not attack. Without her, all may be safe."
Pham's voice came to Ravna on a private channel. "The girl was unconscious during part of the ambush, Rav. But she practically scratched my eyes out when I suggested she might be wrong about Steel and Woodcarver. And the pack with her is a lot more convincing than Steel."
Ravna looked questioningly across the deck at Greenstalk. Pham didn't know she was here. Tough. Greenstalk was an island of sanity amidst the madness — and she knew the OOB infinitely better than Ravna.
Steel spoke into her hesitation: "See now, nothing has changed, except for the better. One more human lives. How can you doubt us? Speak to Jefri; he understands. We have done the best for the children in…" a gobbling noise, and (another?) voice said, "coldsleep."
"Certainly, we must speak to him again, Steel. He's our best proof of your good intentions."
"Okay. In a few minutes, Ravna. But see, he is also my good protection against treachery from you. I know how powerful you Visitors are. I… fear you. We need to — " gobbling consultation "— accommodate each other in our fears."
"Um. We'll work something out. Just let us speak to Jefri now."
"Yes."
Ravna switched channels. "What do you think, Pham?"
