text: The soldiers unlocked the door of the first bus, and lead five dozen manacled and presumably infested hovens across the single narrow bridge over the moat, through the temporary gate in the coils of wire, through the permanent door in the grey stone wall. Once they were inside, their manacles were unlocked, and they drifted towards the apartment buildings.
  
  The second bus didn't work so well. Two soldiers opened the door, as before. Manacled hoven hands grabbed them with transhoven strength and transhoven speed, dragging them into the bus, slamming the door. The soldiers outside blinked in confusion, hooting to their officers for instruction. By the time the officers had their first order ready — "Open that door again!" — the wormridden hovens had started the bus. The soldiers scattered before the gigantic (to them) vehicle, with mixed success. A few of them shot at it as it drove by, and the tasty scent of hoven blood and brains spread in the air.
  
  Csirnis leapt into the path of the bus, and breathed. All the tires of the bus burst in his flames, but the volatiles in the engine were untouched. (Can I marry that beautiful, graceful, merciful prince? — yes, if I want to.) The bus skidded into him, but he and his the Ulthana's Targe stood firm.
  
  Five dozen more wormridden hovens, less two and all rather shaken, were led from the ruined bus into their new homes. Csirnis and I did what we could to save the victims. The two wormridden shot by the soldiers were dead. The dozen or so soldiers injured by the bus were straightforward enough. One of the soldiers that had been dragged into the bus had been injected with a juvenile cyoziworm, and Dr. Grauzeng and I ripped his chest open and took the worm out whole. It had only gotten one probe into his brain, and we think not fully seated yet.
  
  The rest of the busses were unloaded under the intense glare of five dragons. There were no further incidents.