Shadowkill

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Shadith crouched in the backcurve of the larger dome using a small handpump to blow up an air mattress. Her head was wrapped in a towel and now and then she stopped her pumping to shiver; the thin silken undersuit she’d put on was dry, but no barrier to the drafts the air machine was blowing through the domes.

Tsipor crouched silently across from her, holding herself as far from the others as she could in the cramped space.

Ginny sat on an air cushion before a low table, working quickly, neatly, clipping components together, sliding accumulators from their cases and snapping them into the receptors of the shield generator, the EYE controls, the viewscreen, and the rest of the equipment that ran the domes.

Half an hour later he grunted and sat on his heels. “That is done.” Over his shoulder, he said, “I must wait for the storm to abate further before I launch the EYEs. Singer, are you able to reach into the Compound?”

Shadith moved onto the air mattress, sat with her legs drawn up, her arms draped over her knees. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea first. I’m still cold to the bone.”

Ginny smiled, startling her with the sly amusement she felt in him. “I live only to serve you, Singer.”

“Yeh, yeh, sure you do.” She spread a blanket over her knees, pulled the towel off, and began to rub at her hair.