Working in an office, even one with nice people and interesting tasks, just reinforces my desire to be self employed and work from home.
Seeds–

The first explosion shattered the wood, bent the tracks and rocked the flatbed. The secondary blast, as the gas canisters went up, lifted the flatbed and threw some of the anti air crew off. The metal wheels dug into the soft plains earth and it began skewing off at an angle.
The locomotive followed the flatbed until the coupling broke and the rail car flipped over. The engine rolled over the flatbed, crashed off at its own angle and gouged a path through the seed grass. Prisoners and Lensman�s men scattered as it headed for them.
Emergency brakes were screaming on in the remaining carriages, but couldn�t stop the first three cars derailing. The stonks laid shots into these upturned boxes, turning the dark wood panelling into shrapnel.
One by one the autogunners dropped as Kess did his job. One of them ducked low behind the cover of his nest and kept firing wildly. Kess transferred his attention to the anti air at the rear of the train.
The bomb lobbers arced their first shots over the train and onto the track beyond. The crew dialled in some adjustments and landed their second salvo dead on the anti air, completing Kess� task.
Former prisoners and Lensman�s squad had risen from the seed grass and were concentrating fire on the upright passenger carriage. They charged toward it, over confident.
Lensman could see the tactical mistake, and had his fears confirmed when a series of small explosions shook the rear boxcar. The carriage walls disappeared as a large calibre gun fired from inside. Five prisoners and two of Lensman�s men fell. The rest dived for cover and began returning fire.
The bomb lobber crew dialled in another correction and fired. The boxcar exploded.
Out of ammunition, the last autogunner moved to reload. Kess put a bullet into the narrow gap between the rim of his helmet and the top of the sandbag barrier.
There was a lull. Everyone moved more carefully toward the last boxcar and carriage. Lensman trotted up the track and joined Mov and Rey in checking the wrecked locomotive and carriages for survivors. There were none. The sound of smashing glass and gunfire heraldd the last stand of the soldiers in the upright carriage.

Seeds–

Save for the arrhythmic clanging of hammers on metal spikes, the railroad crew worked in silence. They didn�t sing as they worked. A propaganda film crew had shot some footage of them once, but the musical number had been performed by traitors dressed up for the day. Now the Southern cities knew just how happy and well fed were the prisoners of war who toiled in the sun of the conquered plains.

Umat paused for a moment, closed his eyes and relished the shade of the boxcar. The guard would be along soon to prod him with the rifle barrel and insult him. It didn�t matter, he could feel the rain on his face. It fell in big warm drops. He smeared the liquid over his brow, then opened his eyes and stared at his fingers. They were red.

On the boxcar roof, both autogunners were slumped over their weapons, ragged exit wounds in their uniforms. There was a commotion on the other side of the railroad truck, the sound of gunfire. The guard who had escorted Umat back from the work detail was confused, looking around for someone to give him an order and stumbling closer to his prisoner.

Umat had been sent for more spikes to drive into the railroad sleepers. There was a bucket full of them in front of him. He dipped down, grabbed one and whirled on the guard. The spike buried deep in the Southerner�s chest. Umat watched the surprised expression with satisfaction before letting the soldier collapse.

An armed man, in a uniform Umat didn�t recognise, rounded the boxcar. Another came round the steam engine at the front of the service train. Umat raised his hands to show that he was unarmed and chained. The soldiers advanced on him. The one who had come around the boxcar lowered his gun and dug a small book out of a pocket. �We are here to free you.� He pronounced slowly.

�My thanks.�

The soldier flipped back a few pages, read something and smiled. �I speak Overall.� Umat announced. The soldier nodded, he understood the traders� language. �Do you?�

�Not with brilliance. But enough.�

Seeds–

One of the monoplanes had buzzed upstream earlier, low and full throttle. They had a long time to ponder the meaning of its transit whilst waiting for the next plane.

The big biplane sailed upriver at a much more leisurely pace. It couldn�t really travel any other way. Again the crew waved to the occupants of the small paddle boat as they passed.

�Do you think the other two are coming?� Marra asked.

�No.� Dack looked downstream. There was just the hint of smoke blowing into the gorge. �It will be dark soon.�

Marra piloted the boat through the rest of the minefield. When they were certain they had cleared it, Morn took a lighter from his pile of gifts and set fire to the map. He flapped it so the ashes were dispersed.

The smoke was thicker now. The sun disappeared behind hills and it was dark enough to move. Morn and Dack had oars at each side of the boat and Marra another at the rear. They let the current drive them, intervening with the oars if necessary.

They emerged from the gorge into a valley lit by fires. Ahead on the eastern bank the forest burned uncontrolled whilst figures rushed around the fires on the western bank. The corrals of logs had been smashed by some impact and fragments of wood were being caught by the current and drawn downstream.

The boat navigated into the stream of flotsam. No-one on shore was paying the river the slightest attention, so they rested at their posts and viewed the devastation as it passed them by.