When the lookout reported he could see only one of the flying creatures coming toward the ship, half the defenders put their weapons aside and returned to their work. Those still armed argued over who would be permitted to shoot first. It was not a decision to be made lightly. There could be no indiscriminate firing. Crossbow bolts were tipped with metal, and metal was too precious to waste.
“It’s a big one!” the lookout cried. “Biggest I ever saw!”
“Maybe it’s not a guttorbyn.” Ethan strained to pick out the airborne dot arrowing toward them. “I’m sure there are hundreds of lifeforms Hunnar and his people from Sofold have never encountered.”
“Strange sort of flyer.” September was leaning over the rail, trying to make out details. “There’s none of the swooping, arching flight you see in a guttorbyn. Coming in much too low, too.” If you were winged on Tran-ky-ky, you stayed a respectable distance above the ice sheet when airborne, out of the reach of shan-kossiefs and other subsurface ambuscaders.
“That’s no guttorbyn,” the giant murmured tightly, “but recognize it I do.”
Hunnar joined them. “Is that not one of your flying boats?”
“It’s a skimmer for sure. What the hell is a skimmer doing down here?”
“Maybe Trell left behind some partners we never found out about,” Ethan said, referring to the late, unlamented Resident Commissioner.
“Unlikely.” September was trying to pick out faces on the oncoming craft. “They would’ve turned themselves in by now. The body isn’t much use when the head’s been cut off.” He turned and bellowed toward the nearest hatch. A sailor obediently turned and raced below to inform the scientists.
Cheela Hwang was first on deck. Williams said the meteorologist slept less than four hours a night. Ethan forbore from asking the teacher how he’d happened to come by that bit of information.
By now the skimmer was flying parallel to the icerigger, close enough for those on board to make out individual shapes.
“Not one of ours,” Hwang said, “because there aren’t any of ours. Skimmers aren’t permitted at Brass Monkey. Too advanced for use among the natives.”
“Like beamers, which I wish we had.” September gestured. “They’re sliding closer. Doing the same thing we’re doing, I expect. Checking us over.”
“What about the government people?” Ethan asked her. “Could some department have one they’ve been using on the sly?”
Hwang shook her head impatiently. “Brass Monkey’s too small a community to hide something like that. If a skimmer were available, everybody would want to use it. You couldn’t keep it a secret. There are no aircraft, nothing bigger than the ice cycles you saw.”
“Could the Commonwealth have another outpost on Tran-ky-ky whose existence they’re deliberately keeping secret from everyone at Brass Monkey?”
“Governments can do anything, feller-me-lad,” September assured him, “but in this case I expect they’re innocent. This world’s too hostile a place to be playing such games.”
The skimmer wasn’t the only surprise. As it drew quite close to the icerigger, those on board were startled to see that there were no humans on the little craft. It was crewed and operated solely by Tran. This provoked a good bit of comment among the Slanderscree’s sailors. The reaction among members of the icerigger’s human contingent was a good deal stronger.
“Allowing locals the use of this type of technology is an imprisonable offense.” Moware was beside himself. “Just letting them see a skimmer is criminal. Letting them operate one…” He shook his head numbly, unable to countenance such egregious disregard for regulations.
“Someone trusts these Tran a lot!” was all September had to say.
Ethan noticed Grurwelk close by. “Those aren’t demons. They’re your own kind.”
She hardly glanced back at him. “Demons come in many shapes, skyman.”
By this time the skimmer had slid close enough for those on board the icerigger to make out individual details. The skimmer’s operators wore vests of leather strips and similar loose-lying kilts. All wore caps or helmets of dark leather decorated with bits of wood and metal straps. The latter were informative: They didn’t look like the crude iron work of the Tran. They threw back too much sunlight, a hint that they’d been machined. Of course, anyone renegade enough to provide the Tran with a skimmer wouldn’t hesitate to supply them with scraps of metal for decorative purposes.
Two of the flyers moved to the edge of the skimmer facing the Slanderscree and shouted. Ethan considered himself fluent but the words were unintelligible to him. Even Hunnar appeared to be having some trouble with the accent. Through gestures and repetition the skimmer’s occupants eventually got their point across.
“They want us to change course and follow them,” Hunnar announced. “No, wait, that is not entirely true. They are ordering us to follow them. By the Seven Devils!” He turned to yell toward the helm. “Hold to your heading, Captain!”
The admonition proved unnecessary, since Ta-hoding had already independently determined to do just that. The Tran on the skimmer appeared to consult someone out of view. There was much waving of arms and violent gesticulations. Then one of the talkers vanished below, to reappear a moment later with something small and shiny in one hand. A tool.
A hand beamer.
It was an old, outdated model, but still plenty effective enough to burn a hole in the Slanderscree’s hull or anyone unfortunate enough to get in its way. Its operator proceeded to demonstrate the weapon’s effectiveness while everyone on that part of the icerigger ran for cover.
“Beamers.” September peered over the top of a storage locker. “Where the hell did they get beamers? And a skimmer.”
“Outrageous.” Hwang was lying prone on the deck. “Whoever is behind this is a candidate for mindwipe!”
Upon concluding his demonstration the Tran with the beamer waved it carelessly in the direction of the sailing vessel and repeated the demand that it turn and follow. The Tran at the controls handled the skimmer smoothly, keeping it equidistant from the icerigger and the frozen surface below. Clearly he’d been taught how to drive the advanced vehicle.
“What are they saying now?” Ethan asked Hunnar.
“Strange accents. They say that if we do not turn immediately to accompany them, they are going to disable us.” The knight turned cat’s eyes on his human companion. “Can they do that with weapons so small?”
Hunnar’s query was prompted by the fact that the hole the strange Tran had burned in the side of the icerigger was barely a centimeter in diameter. What the knight didn’t comprehend was the beamer’s range. Its operator could stand off at a safe distance and pick off the crew one at a time, or force them to abandon the Slanderscree’s helm, or slice up the rigging like so much spaghetti. Yet they hovered within crossbow range.
Crossbows were not a native development. The Tran of Sofold had been instructed in their construction and use by Milliken Williams. There was a chance the icerigger’s marksmen could pick off the Tran with the hand beamer. A hasty conference was called while the participants lay flat on the deck.
Three soldiers were chosen. Hunnar replied to the ultimatum with a long-winded reply, stalling the skimmer’s occupants until the crossbowmen were ready. Then he ducked down as they rose and fired.
All three bolts struck their mark. The reaction of those on board the skimmer was almost as extreme as the reaction of those on the ice ship to the skimmer’s appearance. The belligerent Tran wielding the beamer clutched at his chest where the heavy bolt had penetrated his leather armor. He tottered sideways and fell over the side, vanishing astern like a leaf on the water. His body bounced several times as it receded behind both craft.