Page 68 of Warrior’s Mate

"You were thinking loudly."

"Occupational hazard."

The next explosion struck the lower terraces.

The ridge shook hard enough to throw one of the field tables sideways. The tactical display flickered. Kaiven dropped to one knee, caught the edge of the table before it crushed a communications tech's hand, and looked downslope.

A black plume rose from the eastern grain silos.

"Report."

Voices collided across three channels. Kaiven separated them by habit.

Sargan craft had crossed the defensive line west of the river. A civilian transport had stalled at the junction. The lower ridge battery was down to forty percent charge. Two Brigade squads were cut off between the old mill and the irrigation station.

Then came the report that changed everything.

"Captain Daratu, this is Talon support. Sargan ground teams are bypassing the ridge. They're moving for the evac transports."

Kaiven brought up the projected path. The pattern was instantly clear. The Sargans were not trying to take the military position. They were using it to hold Brigade attention while lighter teams swung south toward civilians.

Taken alive. The words Maelis had used earlier came back with brutal clarity.

He pointed at the display. "Shift Second Squad off the ridge battery. Put them on transport security."

Serak frowned. "That leaves the lower gun undercrewed."

"They don't want the gun. They want the people behind it."

"If you're wrong—"

"Then we lose a battery. If I'm right and we hold the battery, we lose three transports full of civilians."

Serak studied the movement markers and nodded once. "Second Squad, move."

Kaiven switched channels. "All evacuation pilots, stagger launch intervals. Do not wait for full manifests if the perimeter breaks. Half-full and airborne is better than full and captured."

A transport master came back immediately. "We still have seventy people coming down the east road."

"Then the next ship takes them. Launch now."

"Captain—"

"Launch."

The transport rose under fire thirty seconds later.

The Sargans reached the southern terrace just as Second Squad arrived. For the next twelve minutes there was no room in Kaiven's head for Maelis, fate, or anything beyond range, cover, civilians, and the ugly arithmetic of keeping a retreat from becoming a collection point for slavers.

He fought from the ridge stairs with a pulse rifle braced against the stone wall. The Sargans used restraint launchers whenever they had a clear angle on civilians and lethal fire whenever Brigade soldiers blocked them. That distinction settled any remaining doubt about their objective.

Kaiven shot one attacker through the shoulder and watched another drag the wounded Sargan behind cover instead of leaving him. Organized. Disciplined. This was not a raid assembled from opportunists. Somebody had planned the taking of Farseek's people.

A child stumbled on the terrace below. Kaiven saw a restraint filament burst against the ground beside her.

He vaulted the low wall before thinking, caught her by the back of her coat, and hauled her into cover as conductive strands snapped across the stones.

"Where is your family?"