Heedless of the stunned Oliat Officers, the intruders charged onto the spot where the circle had been, jostling the officers this way and that. Sobering waves of shock washed through the Oliat. Buffeted by howling Natives, Zannesu staggered, catching sight of two huge shadows smashing into Eithlarin. As if waking from paralysis, he let out a roar that set the roof beams vibrating and dived across to Eithlarin, grabbed her off the elevated platform, and rolled away from the attackers.
Jindigar's link to Eithlarin stretched tight, draining all the energy in the links. Then it snapped with a sudden finality—, everything that was Eithlarin fleeing the one nightmare she could not tolerate, break-in. She vanished as if she had never been.
Eithlarin was dead before they hit the floor.
The shock of the snapped link to their Protector hit them hard. Jindigar, as Center, took the brunt of it but couldn't prevent it from going through him to all the others. Without his volition his body staggered toward Darllanyu, compelled by pure, physical need to protect her. But she was surrounded -by Natives stamping and howling in a frustrated war dance. His knees buckled, and he dropped to all fours amid a forest of legs. Feebly he groped for the linkages to shut down the channel to Krinata. He had to protect her from the Dissolution shock.
He was hardly aware of the room filling with frantic bodies, barely conscious of the reek of unwashed Native hive-dwellers, the most intelligent four-species symbionts in the galaxy.
"Jindigar!" Two gentle hands shook Krinata. Dushau hands. "Jindigar, listen. Call me to Protector! Jindigar! I can do it! I have the attunement!"
He forced his eyes open against the crashing pain in his head, his spine, the searing spasms of his internal organs. His senses were raw, as if flayed of every protection. The dim room was too bright, the babble deafening, the odor paralyzing. Hands scrabbled at his skin, feet kicked at him. And it was all alien, too alien.
"Jindigar! I have the attunement. Take me to Protector!" It was Trinarvil shaking Krinata. He needed Trinarvil. The Oliat needed her. He put his hands out to her and called weakly, //Protector!//
The protests from the others came only as silent agony. They had lost attunement, the world turning into an infinite, formless menace. And they couldn't let go of Eithlarin.
Zannesu crouched over a lifeless hulk. Eithlarin's presence was gone—simply gone.
//Trinarvil! Protector!// repeated Jindigar with grim determination. She turned to him, put her hands out in response, and answered steadily, //Center.//
He forged the link to her, following the line that relieved the crashing, stunning pain. Weakness enveloped him, and he lay curled on his side, panting helplessly. But the Oliat steadied as if of its own accord. A new note had been added, deep, calm, vibrantly alive, and stable beyond belief, reasonably at home here. This was maturity.
The texture, complexion, and identity of the Oliat changed then, as it must with each change in officers.
Trinarvil Protected. Gradually understanding replaced helpless horror, inducing attunement in them once again. It wasn't hard. They'd only lost it momentarily.
Jindigar expanded their awareness. The room was filled with unwashed bodies, stinking of fear and flight. Weapons flashed in the last flickers of the dying fire in the pit at the other end of the room. The Native hive's warriors brandished spears, hatchets, and other throwing tools. They were of medium size, covered with a heavy winter pelt, and favored traveling on all fours, apelike. Their upper pair of limbs branched at the elbow into one forearm with a hand at the end of it, and another with a paw with retractile claws. Their main clothing was their weapons harnesses.
Among them were a few of the rustlemen, as Krinata had dubbed them. They were the most intelligent of the hive-dwellers, evolved from the predatory rustlebirds. They were covered with the quasi-feathers or evolved scales that caused the rustling sound when they moved. They stumped about the unfamiliar space of the room trying to bring the warriors to order with piercing screeches and gestures. Several of the rustlemen carried on their shoulders the little, carapaced hive-binders, the telepaths of the hive who created the hive's group mind and defended it.
The warriors milled about, as if bewildered, stomping repeatedly at the place where the worldcircle had been, as if infuriated at being cheated.
The cacophony outside rose. Energy weapons fired over the roar of voices. The settlement's defenses had mobilized. Death permeated the Oliat perceptions.
//Zannesu!// The Receptor still bent over Eithlarin's body, rocking back and forth. //Zannesu! Receptor! We have to stop this!//
With incredible effort Zannesu dragged part of his attention back to his Office. Jindigar focused the Oliat's awareness outward toward the cliff, setting Zannesu to Receive what was happening, carefully gentling Trinarvil into Protector.
On the upper cliff edge, the last of the hive-dweller Natives were climbing down the ropes of the lift onto the settlement below. And the reason for their panicked flight was now evident to the Oliat. Right behind them came a pack of ravenous carnivores such as Jindigar had never encountered before. They were wiry-pelted and went on all fours, but they had long, snouted heads that ended in a suction appendage. The forepaws appeared to be nearly as dextrous as hands. As the Oliat focused on them one of them grabbed one of the small, exoskeletal hivebinders, cracked the carapace, and sucked the shell dry-without bothering to kill the Native first.
Briefly perception blurred. The tiny telepath's agony blanketed the hive-mind and the settlement with a spasm of distorted horror and creeping dread. Then it was gone. The settlement's militia, drawn mostly from the ex-Imperial troops, went wild. They fired indiscriminately into the hordes of Natives now streaming toward the Dushau compound.
Within the compound itself, people ran in every direction. Some fled the encroaching predators. Others dashed to rescue mates or restrain those in the irrationality of Renewal onset from mindless, suicidal attacks on the invaders. A few, desperate, set fire to buildings in the Natives' path, hoping the primitives would stop out of fear. At least there aren't any children yet!
//Darllanyu, can you Formulate the dome image around the Temple?//
She sat up, dashing blood from a cut on her mouth, struggling for self-possession. She didn't answer him, but the dome image wavered hazily over them.
//Protector, see if you can pick that up and use it.//
Trinarvil had not been on the planet when the colony had used that image to repel the all-out attack of the hives, but she had heard the story. Llistyien brought Emulation into play behind her efforts, and soon the gray blocks of a Native hive-dome were almost tangible above the Temple.
It took longer than Jindigar had expected for the invading hive to react. Their hive-mind was in chaos, convulsing with deaths. But finally it penetrated: the dome above them was not their dome. They were in someone else's hive.
The hivebinders riding the rustlemen's shoulders reacted first, twittering and nipping at their partners. A profound disturbance ran through the invaders, and within moments the commands of the rustlemen had triggered a mass exodus.
As the last of the Natives squeezed through the doorway, Jindigar got to his feet. //We've got to expand the hive-dome to enclose the entire compound.// He helped Zannesu up, cradling the Receptor away from the sight of Eithlarin's limp body, urging, //Come, Receptor.//
Outside, chaos reigned in the lanes of the compound. Several buildings were on fire, lending an eerie flicker to the growing dawn light. A military flare went up, burst, and shed white light over all. The Oliat wove that radiance into the image of the dome, expanding it, adding details of aging, stains of droppings, scars of old battles won. With every detail of realism the invading hive's retreat hastened.