Strongpincer decides to attack. His band has three good fighters against a couple of schoolmasters and two students, and one of the masters is deformed. He knows that getting Shellcrusher inside the shelter is all he needs to win.
He lets Shellcrusher and Weaklegs rest a while before attacking. The schoolmasters won’t come out, and he wants to give them the chance to be bored and sleepy themselves.
When he judges they have slept enough, he wakes his team and the attack begins. The three of them surround the shelter and come at it from different sides, probing for weaknesses.
Shellcrusher has the door. It is barricaded with all manner of junk, but that makes it hard to defend as she gets her powerful pincers into seams and starts to pry the door apart.
Weaklegs and Strongpincer attack small gaps in the stonework. They have spears, and Strongpincer instructs Weaklegs to probe the hole and draw the attention of those within. He himself is less aggressive, keeping to one side where a bolt-launcher cannot hit him, jabbing with his spear at the opening and making a lot of noise.
He gets a response: a spear thrusts out from the opening, probing the open water. Strongpincer tries to grab it but whoever is at the other end is quick enough to pull it back out of reach.
After a bit more poking with his spear, Strongpincer risks trying to pull away some of the stones around the opening. He drags down some smaller chunks and gets no reaction. Perhaps those inside are occupied trying to keep Shellcrusher from breaking in the door.
He grabs a larger stone and braces his legs against the wall as he pulls. It shifts a little, but then he feels a sharp pain as something jabs his left pincer joint. He jerks back and feels his wounded claw. It is a small puncture, the kind that heals up, but it makes him wary. He jabs at the hole with his spear again to drive back whoever stabbed him.
From inside he hears excited pinging, then a loud crunching noise as Shellcrusher finally tears the door apart. Strongpincer abandons the little opening and swims around to back up Shellcrusher at the entrance.
Just then comes the most awful noise Strongpincer remembers ever hearing. It is a throbbing high-pitched tone that drowns everything else out and leaves him deafened when it stops.
Broadtail gropes about, trying to find Oneclaw. He is completely deaf. Someone bumps him and he barely restrains the urge to stab. It tastes like Holdhard, so he places a pincer on her back to calm her. He remembers facing the bandit with Oneclaw to his left, so he moves to the side, feeling with his free claw.
He finds Oneclaw and taps his shell. “No more sound. I cannot hear. We must get out now.” The device makes them as helpless as their attackers; it is useless for defense but he imagines them using it to cover their escape.
Through his feet and tendrils he feels something moving up ahead. Are the bandits coming in? “Make the noise again and then push out of the shelter,” he taps to Oneclaw. He feels around for his spear and picks it up, bracing himself for the awful sound.
Being deaf means the noise isn’t as loud, but it still feels like a pincer jabbed straight into his head. Holdhard flinches but Broadtail holds her steady, then charges, pulling her along. He hopes Oneclaw is following.
The bandit is just outside the doorway, off guard from the new blast of noise. Broadtail jabs with his spear to drive her back, then swims straight up. Holdhard gets the idea and soon is swimming as fast as he is. They go up until he cannot taste the sea bottom anymore, and Broadtail feels mild fear. He has no way to sense his surroundings—there is nothing to touch, nothing to taste, and he still cannot hear. Only his pincer resting on Holdhard’s back gives him any contact with reality. For once it is almost pleasant having another person so close.
He slows and then stops, then concentrates, trying to orient himself. He levels off as best he can by feel, then swims in a random direction. He lets go of Holdhard, but his tendrils can still feel her swimming along with him. He is a little surprised that she isn’t going off on her own, but he doesn’t mind having an ally.
A sound! Broadtail can make it out very faintly. His head still feels like it’s buried in mud. The sound comes again, louder, and this time he recognizes it. It’s Oneclaw’s voice, calling out for help. The old scholar is cut off in mid-cry, and after that Broadtail hears nothing more. He picks a direction at random and swims away. Holdhard follows.
Irona reached Hitode Station nine hours after Gishora died. He came with two more Guardians, using the last of the rapid-deployment pods as the elevator was still going up with a load of humans. Tizhos gave him a report on the situation as he peeled off his suit and dabbed himself with scent.
“The humans appear to feel very unhappy and contrite about Gishora’s death,” she told him. “Several have spoken to me privately, assuring me that they have no doubts of the incident’s accidental nature.”
“Tell me if you have examined the body.”
“Yes. It appears that some individual stabbed Gishora repeatedly with a blade similar in size and design to a human-made utility knife.”
“That does not sound like an accident.”
“No,” said Tizhos. “Someone killed him.”
“Tell me if any human currently in the station might have done it.”
“I consider that very unlikely. I watched Gishora depart shortly before his death, and I feel reasonably certain that all the humans remained in the station. He refused to take a Guardian along.”
Irona growled a little at that. “It surprises me you even considered one of the Guardians as a suspect.”
“I failed to make my meaning obvious. I meant only that Gishora ventured outside alone, with nobody present who might have seen his attacker.”
“I accept your apology,” said Irona, caressing the underside of Tizhos’s neck. “So it seems the rebellious humans killed Gishora.”
“Yes,” said Tizhos sadly. Irona’s sexual overture was proper for a leader, especially at a time of transition, but Tizhos felt absolutely no attraction. She did her best to respond, if only to avoid conflict.
“Tell me if you expect more violence.”
“I do not know. The rebellious humans may attempt more raids, or they may feel as shocked by this as the others. Certainly the humans here at Hitode seem very unlikely to commit any violent acts.”
“If I remember, you and Gishora said the same before he died. We must assume all of them can and will resort to violence. From now on they must remain in their cabins except when eating. No more science, no more maintenance.”
“Tell me if you think the station can remain habitable without anyone to maintain it.”
“Of course it cannot. Which gives the humans a very good reason to leave.” He nuzzles her, then gives her flank a brisk pat. “Go inform the humans of the new rules. Make it clear to them that I will not tolerate disobedience. Tell them their little holiday with Gishora just ended.”
Broadtail is tired and hungry, and is far from Oneclaw’s school compound. He judges it safe to descend to the bottom. He senses another swimmer behind him and nearly turns to fight before remembering it is only Holdhard.
“Are you hungry?”
“Holdhard wants food.”
“You don’t have to use your whole name. We two are alone.”
“I want food.”
“Much better. You sound like a landowner. We search for food on the bottom and share what we find.” He began a gradual dive, aiming for a section of bottom that sounded like angular stone. Perhaps old ruins—a good place to forage. “Share?” She sounds suspicious.
“I give you part of what I find, and you give me part of what you find. Share.”
“Why?”