Five hours, eight hands, and a thousand nha'h of the soft muck this planet called soil. Despite the lloanna, it wasn't bad work.

The sun was down. Not enough power in the lamps for now and later. They'd worked hard enough, the recyclers had enough material to make a mountain of whatever they wanted. This time, not from their shikaen.

"Ayel, ( Read more... )

“Iurret'na!”

The shades lingered, even now, beneath the hard bridge lights. It was loud, louder than before. That thaessu ryak'na had opened a door somewhere, cracked a casing, and nothing whistled through. It followed him beneath the walls, biting at his heels ( Read more... )