Raising Caine - Earc
“But much harder.
Riordan hit the far wall of the corridor like a rag doll slung across a room. He bounced off, the wind driven out of him, but was glad for the reflexes that brought up his left arm to cover his head and turned his fall into a crude roll. Finally, the long hours of intermittent martial arts practice were paying a muscle memory dividend.
As he rose, a sudden forward-suction draft pulled the air from behind him, the force against his back building swiftly toward hurricane intensity. God damn, explosive decompression up ahead? Nothing to grab on to, no way to— The growing maelstrom diminished quickly, then stopped. His collarcom, still in his right hand, emitted a wind-chime and flutes tone. He tapped it. “Ambassador?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s connection was very poor. “Caine Riordan, can you hear my words?”
“Yes, but not well. Can you give me a sitrep—uh, a situation report?”
“I can, but it must be brief. I am using a personal communicator with low batteries.”
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