Chapter 115: THE COLLECTION ORDER

Three figures emerged from the northern washout, following the exposed foundations as if they knew which stones would hold their weight. The first had a narrow document case slung over one shoulder. Behind her, a broad man balanced a folded metal frame across his shoulder, while a younger companion struggled with a cylinder strapped to their back.

Sio watched from the broken ridge. Below, the relief outlet continued feeding its shallow channel. Caspian stayed with the six prisoners, Tera and Iven held the higher ground near their equipment, and the first sentry guarded the captured square-heeled watcher. The second sentry remained above the washout, keeping the newcomers in view.

"They aren’t trying to hide," Angle said, shifting his iron bar against his forearm.

"Which means they want us to see them," Rhea replied. Her ears turned toward the equipment. "I can hear metal moving inside that cylinder."

The woman in the gray coat stopped beneath their ridge. Her dark hair was bound tightly, and her gloves had thickened knuckles. "We’ve come for the occupants of the rear prisoner carriage. Who is supervising their removal?"

"I am," Sio said, stepping into view. Gumm stirred beneath his collar, then settled against his neck. "Six people are alive. Someone working with your scouts just tried to lock them inside."

The woman’s glance flicked toward their captive. "That operative was instructed to secure the compartment for transfer." She took a stamped page from her case. "Our authorization covers the occupants. We’ll assume custody once the flooded shaft can be approached."

Angle studied the raised page. "Who issued it? That authority field is blank."

"The authorization is valid," she answered without looking at him.

"According to the person holding it," Sio said. "That isn’t enough."

The woman studied him, then the small creature peering from his collar. Recognition showed only in the way she stopped tapping her gloved thumb against the case. "We have no instruction to detain your group. You may leave after the transfer."

"Then you can leave now," Sio replied. "Nobody’s being transferred to people who refuse to identify themselves."

A dull knock traveled from the white carriage above the outlet. Caspian answered it from outside, keeping the six informed even while strangers stood within sight of the wreck. The woman in gray listened to the exchange without looking toward the prisoners. For someone claiming authority over their safety, she seemed remarkably unconcerned about their voices.

Her companions exchanged a glance. The broad man lowered the folded frame, and the younger carrier eased the cylinder onto dry gravel. Something inside clinked against its casing.

Tera called from the higher shelf, careful to remain beyond their reach. "The shaft is still pressurized. We aren’t opening the three-groove door, and none of your equipment goes near the outlet."

The woman closed her case. "I was prepared to leave your drainage work alone. That arrangement depended on your cooperation."

"Cooperation isn’t surrendering six injured people," Rhea said.

"Then the operation is suspended until we control the site." The woman nodded at the cylinder. "Fit the temporary barrier over the discharge mouth."

Tera took a step forward. "You could reverse every bit of pressure reduction we’ve achieved. We don’t know what the damaged seals can withstand."

"I’ve made my decision," the woman said.

The younger carrier loosened the cylinder’s straps and drew out a flexible sleeve reinforced with ribs. It was shaped to spread over an opening, with tightening bands around its edge. Their hands slowed when they saw the water emerging beneath the buried grille.

"That’s not a support," Rhea said. "It’ll obstruct the outlet."

"I was told it would stabilize the recovery," the carrier muttered.

Angle was already moving down the solid approach. The broad man swung the folding frame across his path, using its two rails like a gate. Angle caught one rail with his iron bar and shoved. Gravel sprayed beneath their boots as the frame twisted, forcing both men against the old foundation.

Rhea took the higher path toward the carrier. She kept her injured hand close to her coat, ready to move the sleeve away from the stream without grabbing the stranger. Sio followed a few paces behind, watching the leader rather than the equipment. The runnel had darkened the gravel below the grille, and a few loose stones shifted with its current. He could not put a portal between the sleeve and the outlet without risking a visible opening beside the watchers; more importantly, they had no certainty where the sleeve would fall. For now, keeping people away from the water was the safer move.

"Set it down," Rhea told the carrier. "There’s still time to walk away from this."

A compact crossbow appeared beneath the gray coat. The woman raised it toward Angle, who had one hand wrapped around the frame’s rail. "Away from my personnel."

Angle stopped. His opponent tried to wrench the bar free, but he held the frame between them. Sio crouched behind a broken corner of masonry. The woman’s line of fire was clear; his wasn’t. She had closed the distance during the struggle, staying near enough to cover her man without stepping between the rails. The document case swung against her hip as she raised the weapon.

"Interesting medical procedure," he called. "Threaten the people keeping your patients alive."

Her eyes cut toward him. "Keep out of it, portal user."

So the reports had reached her.

Sio picked up a loose stone and threw it against the foundation behind her. The crack drew her attention for an instant, enough for Angle to wrench the metal rail downward and shove the broad man off balance.

The woman fired. Her bolt struck the stone beside Angle, breaking against its edge. He surged forward, turning his bar toward her weapon. The iron caught the strap of her document case and tore it from her shoulder. The case hit the gravel, its clasp springing open as she retreated beyond his reach.

Rhea kicked the flexible sleeve away from the outlet. It slid across dry stones and lodged against a low wall. The younger carrier backed away from the cylinder with both hands raised.

The broad man lunged again, swinging the damaged frame at Angle’s knees. Angle stepped back, hooked a joint with his bar and pulled it against the foundation. The joint buckled with a sharp metallic snap. The man abandoned the frame and ran after the woman toward the washout.

"Leave the case," she shouted over her shoulder. Neither returned for it.

Angle could have chased them up the northern bank, but Caspian remained alone beside the six prisoners. He withdrew to the ridge instead, breathing hard, and kept his bar between the surrendered carrier and the outlet.

Tera inspected the sleeve where it lay, without bringing it near the water. "This would have covered most of the discharge mouth. Whether the pressure rose quickly or slowly, we’d lose the controlled flow." She looked toward the white carriage panel. "And we still don’t know the limits of that door."

Caspian called that all six prisoners were answering. Their gauge showed no obvious new change, and the lower seal continued leaking at its reduced rate. Sio signaled back, then turned to the carrier, who sat on a rock under Angle’s watch.

"Did they tell you there were people inside?" he asked.

"They called them dangerous detainees," the carrier said. "I thought the sleeve was to isolate a damaged pipe while the transfer team set up." They looked toward the carriage. "She never said blocking it could hurt them."

"You heard Tera explain it," Rhea said. Her voice remained steady, but she did not move closer. "You were still carrying the sleeve."

The carrier stared at the mud on their boots. "I know."

From the ridge, the second sentry signaled that the retreating pair had gone out of sight, not that the northern approach was safe. Angle watched the carrier while Rhea gathered the abandoned sleeve and set it well away from the stream. Nobody mistook the collectors’ withdrawal for the end of the danger.

Sio retrieved the fallen case while Angle kept the carrier in sight. One of its hinges was bent, but most of the papers remained inside. A diagram on the first sheet showed the rear carriage, the three-groove door and the external relief outlet. Its detail exceeded the damaged Legacy Index fragment that Fern had recovered.

"Someone had a better map," Sio said, showing Tera the marked pipes.

"Or kept records after the wreck," she replied. "Don’t assume we know when it was drawn."

The next page carried typed instructions, with a note added in darker ink beneath them.

ALLOW EXTERNAL RESCUE TEAM TO COMPLETE PRESSURE REDUCTION. DO NOT INTERFERE WITH PORTAL USER UNLESS HE ATTEMPTS OCCUPANT EXTRACTION.

Angle read it beside Sio. "So she was supposed to let us finish."

"She changed the plan when we refused to hand them over." Sio folded the page. "She’d rather risk the pressure rising than lose custody."

A final sheet listed seven compartment entries. Six had been marked PRESENT — REAR CARRIAGE. The seventh was crossed out, with a short handwritten amendment beside it.

UPPER SERVICE ACCESS — OCCUPANT REMOVED. METHOD: PORTAL.

Rhea leaned closer. "Dessa."

Sio remembered her emerging from the upper hatch, clutching the spanner she’d used to knock for help. Nobody outside their group should have known how she’d escaped. Yet someone had seen the rescue—or received a report precise enough to identify the method.

He handed the papers to Angle. "We get these to Mara through the secure outer handoff. No one follows us to the node."

Angle tucked them beneath his coat and glanced toward the washout, where the two collectors had vanished. The surrendered carrier stayed seated, watched by the team; the captured square-heeled scout remained under the first sentry’s guard. Neither could tell them how much their employers already knew.

Beyond the ridge, the six prisoners were still trapped behind the white wall. The outlet was clear, but every improvement the rescuers made seemed to bring another attempt to claim the people inside.

Sio could still picture the handwritten line naming a portal. The record was recent enough to include Dessa’s disappearance, but it bore no time, witness or signature. Their enemies hadn’t simply guessed that she was gone.

They knew how she had left.