Saketa emerged above the falling container, back into that freezing air. The container had had time to pick up momentum, and so sped away from her on its way to the ground. She estimated she had about a minute before it landed, killing everyone inside, and quite possibly people on the ground as well. She estimated about a minute until then.
She sheathed the sword; a somewhat tricky task while in freefall, but kept a hand on the handle. She needed guidance and grounding. The hundred or so people inside needed her to get this just right.
She focused, really focused, on the container as it continued its plummet. Truly exact positioning normally didn’t matter much when Shifting, but this time it did. And she reached, as she’d been taught, for that moment of perfect calm. Then she made her move.
She emerged more-or-less on the container. She’d actually missed her intended spot by a slight degree, but a quick reach let her grab one of the handholds on the container’s roof. And with that, she could get started.
Most of her body dangled in the rushing wind like a flag, as she climbed her way over to one of the corners. A dinnerplate-sized clamp, coloured differently from the rest of the container, hid one of the gas balloons that were supposed to inflate once a container was dropped.
She took one hand off the handhold that was keeping her on the container, and wrapped her fingers around the clamp. Again she took a moment to find that perfection, and drew on energies far greater than her own bodily muscles, and she tore the clamp free.
The bag came out, and a rush of relief went through Saketa. It was immediately followed by a brutal jerk as the container was slowed by one-fourth of what was needed. They were still falling at deadly speeds. She could not hear the people trapped inside, but she didn’t need to. Claustrophobic death was a constant danger in ships and on stations. She’d witnessed its effects, and near-misses.
She estimated forty seconds until impact.
And so she climbed over to the neighbouring corner, a bit more awkwardly than before, due to the awkward listing of the falling container. But she made it, and got her hand on the second clamp. It came free as well, and so did the bag.
The container slowed some more, but was now hanging almost vertically. No doubt the people inside had been sent flying, with nothing to break the impact save for the walls, and the other bodies, but there was nothing for it.
Saketa was now, perhaps, back at forty seconds. She could see the village below, the mountains and the dry plains, a reminder of just how isolated this settlement truly had been. She looked to the other end, and for a moment she considered Shifting over there, across the length of the container. But her powers were taxed, and this must not go wrong.
So she simply channelled strength, and climbed the way, one grip at a time, as the deadly descent neared its conclusion. She could make out individual houses, and larger vehicles.
Saketa reached the end, then started going to her right, for the third clamp. Then the grip in her hand came loose. She separated from the container, and for a moment she hovered in the air. Then she managed to hook a foot in one of the grips, and pulled herself back in. It cost a precious few seconds, but she reached the third clamp.
As the bag released, the container almost evened out. The sudden, lurching slowdown caused her to slam into the metal surface, but she was able to shield her head.
The container continued to slow down, but there was a lot of velocity to make up for, and not a lot of time to do it. Saketa could make out people now. So she climbed, for one final stretch. The landing might prove to be relatively gentle; perhaps enough to save most of the people inside. But most wasn’t enough. Not while she had strength and time left. Not while she could conceivably make any difference.
Her body was taxed, same as her powers. As much as she honed it and fed it right and did all she could to elevate her mind above it, muscle and tissue ultimately had limits. Her arms and shoulders and back burned and protested, turning stiff on that short but seemingly eternal climb. But they weren’t at their limits, just yet, and so she could make them obey.
She wrapped both hands around the final clamp, put both feet against the container, and pulled.
The fourth bag sprang free, batting her in the face as it expanded, and the container finally fully evened out. The fall slowed enough for her to stand, and as they finally glided down for their landing, a short distance outside of the village, she unclipped the sword from her belt.
She leapt off a moment before the metal met the ground, and did a roll. Behind her came a boom, and a big splash of dust.
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“Oof.”
She allowed herself that one, relieved exhale, before going back to work. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage another Split, and so she focused on her sword instead. She gave it the power to slash through metal, and hacked away at the seam between the doors. It was a slower process than the Split, and more tiring to her already-tired arms. But it worked, and after a few moments she was able to jam the blade in between and use it to wedge the evil thing open.
What met her inside was a battered mass of human trauma, shaken about by the fall and terrified almost beyond sanity. But they were alive. All eighty-nine people, counted on that little screen, were relatively uninjured. In body, at least.
She didn’t speak their language, and being a soothing presence simply wasn’t a skill of hers. All she could do was gesture out of the container, and mutter in her best calm voice. The villagers started ambling out, dizzy and shaky, and Saketa just stepped away.
The whine of an engine shifted her attention, and she watched as the ranger rode over. She took it to mean that the fighting was over, a conclusion strengthened by her own awareness. He came to a stop near the whole mess, and snatched his helmet off.
He was around her own age, blond, and handsome to a degree, with a boyishness that wasn’t affected by the lines of adulthood.
“Warden!” he said, but then got distracted by the group of villagers.
They shared a few words Saketa didn’t understand. She focused upwards, and of course found the freighter completely gone with sight.
“Warden!” the man repeated. “What, uh… what is your status?”
“I am fine,” she told him. “But the freighter has escaped. I cannot sShift into it from here. I would need to go from ship to ship.”
“My ship is coming in!” he told her. “Only two minutes away!”
“Oh, good,” she replied.
She drew her sword, now that she had a moment’s quiet, and drew three fingers down the flat of the blade, collecting blood. Then she smeared it on her face. In case she didn’t reach the freighter after all and the fighting was indeed over.
The ranger looked slightly disturbed, but she left him to his feelings. He visibly shook it off, and cleared his throat.
“Are there more of your kind here?”
“I am afraid not,” she told him. “My people rarely travel in pairs. How many are on your ship?”
“Only my assistant, I’m afraid. We had to set out in a hurry, and the Rangers are… are stretched thin these days. It is all the chaos caused by the war, and the refugees. And the predators that seize upon both.”
“Yes.”
She put a hand on her chest.
“My name is Saketa Kan Tiro.”
“Oh, how stupid of me!”
The ranger slid off the bike and stepped over to her. His voice was still high; likely a side effect of all that fighting.
“I am Zamm Blaze,” he said. “That is, when I am on the job.”
Saketa nodded, and gripped the hand he held out.
“Your people adopt new names so your work does not invite retaliation, correct?”
“Correct. And… thank you for showing up when you did. That was blessed timing.”
“I wish it had been slightly more blessed,” she replied.
She looked at the damaged village, and the damaged people who were staggering back to it. The ranger must have told them it was safe to do so. Many were sobbing, and some didn’t look quite ready to leave yet.
The mix of battle-high, gratitude and civility slipped from the ranger’s face as he followed her gaze, taking in the trauma done to these people for such bad reasons. The pain in his eyes was a good thing, in Saketa’s estimation: A good man, rather than one simply doing a job.
“I think they took around two-thirds of the village,” Zamm Blaze told her. “Two thousand people. Or thereabouts.”
“They have not been lost yet,” Saketa told him. “I only need to get close enough to step onto the freighter. I feel the raiders' fighting strength has got to be depleted.”
“Let’s do it,” he said firmly. “Let’s see this through.”
He said a few words to the villagers that were still in speaking range, and from his tone Saketa took it that he was giving them words of reassurance; that their people would be returned. A few responded to him, mostly in shaky, stricken voices. Some weren’t too shocked for their eyes to linger on Saketa and her suit, and bloodied face. She usually got stared at whenever she wore her suit openly, be it out of fear or curiosity or bewilderment at a display of her power.
A man stepped up to her. He was maybe a bit younger than her. His scalp was bleeding, and his bare arms were covered with bruises. As he raised his hands she saw the knuckles were battered too, suggesting his injuries weren’t a result of the tumble from the freighter.
He took her arm, first with trembling cautiousness, which was quickly replaced with a desperate, drowning man’s grip. He spoke, in a voice that matched his overall demeanour, while staring into her eyes with an intensity she had seen many times before.
“He wants…” the ranger started. “He… well, he is pleading for his family back. And he is doing it in a… sort of formal, or religious way. If that makes sense to you.”
“I think it does,” Saketa replied, and put her free hand over the man’s own. She tried to do with a gentle hold what she could not do with language or bearing.
“Tell him I will do my best,” she said. “Tell him all of my will and strength shall go into this task.”
The ranger translated, in a somewhat halting fashion. Saketa then removed the man’s grip, and he didn’t resist. Then came the ranger ship, and it was time for a pursuit.