Mars Time: 05:23, February 19, 2295

  Open streets, Dragon District, Xing Hong

  Batu's blade went for her throat.

  Sigrun caught it on Járn's haft, the impact jarring through her arms and into her spine. Her boots scraped against concrete as she was driven back. Again. Third time in thirty seconds.

  She was slowing down.

  The Draug pressed his advantage, that curved organic sword weaving patterns she'd once been fast enough to read. Now the attacks came too quick, her exhausted mind lagging behind her eyes.

  Block. Parry. Dodge—

  But she was getting too slow, the edge kissing her shoulder, splitting ballistic weave and drawing a line of fire across her skin.

  "You're fading, Third Princess." Batu's voice held clinical observation, not mockery. "Your form was better in the Warren."

  "Frost, bylgja!"

  The Lunar spell came out ragged. Ice crystallized in a weak spray that Batu sidestepped without effort. Her Aether reserves scraped bottom, she could feel the emptiness like a hollow in her chest.

  "Bheda Atisīmā!" Xin's voice cut through the chaos. Green light flickered around his 10mm Magnum as he fired.

  But even the AI-targeted shots went wide, punching into some concrete nearby, meters from Batu's position. The Void enchantment that had been so precise in the Warren now sputtered and failed.

  He was depleted too. They all were.

  Batu didn't even glance at the missed shots. His blade came around in a horizontal arc, nearing Sigrun's neck—

  "SKJ?LD!"

  Blue light blazed between Sigrun and the killing stroke. A Lunar barrier, small and flickering, but enough to deflect the blade's edge. The impact of Batu's blade shattered the spell instantly, but it bought her a half-second to stumble backward.

  H?kon. The little Diabolisk clung to Xin's shoulder, scales cycling through exhaustion-gray and determination-azure, one tiny claw extended toward her. He'd cast the barrier from meters away.

  "Sky Lady need help-help!" His voice was thin with strain. "Haw-koon help!"

  Batu's mandibles clicked. "A hatchling's spell won't suffice to save you."

  He advanced again. Sigrun raised Járn, arms trembling.

  Then H?kon did something new.

  "Hjarta Kyrr."

  The words were barely a whisper, but warmth flooded through Sigrun's chest—subtle, gentle, like someone was hugging her. Her heart, which had been hammering against her ribs erraticly, steadied. Slowed. Found a sustainable beat.

  Her vision cleared just enough. "…hey, that felt good!"

  "H?kon calls it 'Heart Calm'!" Xin called out, ducking behind the Genbu's wheel well as a Bone Fiend lunged past him. "He learned it months ago. In a dream, of all places! It helps regulate—"

  Batu charged.

  Sigrun met him this time. Járn's thermal edge caught his blade in a bind, quantum-blue light casting harsh shadows across both their faces. She couldn't overpower him, as her power meant little against Draug-enhanced strength. But with her heartbeat steady, her movements stopped stuttering. She could think again. React fast enough.

  Their weapons disengaged. He thrust. She turned it aside. She countered. He deflected.

  "Better," Batu acknowledged. "You work well with Radi-Mons after all."

  "Not the ones like yours!" She shot back, swinging her axe.

  "Fenris. Jokull. Rakshasa. All Radi-Mons are great art in their own right." Something resembling a smile formed on Batu's insectoid face. "All superior to weak human flesh."

  Behind her, Sigrun heard Marcus roar something in Ordovox. Jabari's crossbow twanged. The Constables' Shock Katanas crackled against Fenris beasts pressing ever closer.

  And still the Bone Fiends tightened their perimeter like a noose.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Then Ysolde moved.

  The alabaster Elder Draug had been watching from the Genbu's roof, amber eyes tracking the battle with predatory patience. Now she unfolded, pale limbs spreading wide, brandishing her monstrous nudity as she made the terrifying leap that cleared over a dozen meters.

  But to Sigrun's surprise, she landed before Haylen Shih.

  The Sergeant was still on her knees, clutching her wounded arm. Blood dripped between her fingers, pooling on the concrete. Her rifle lay meters away, dropped when Batu had opened that gash.

  "Poor little doll bleeds so easily." Ysolde's voice was honey and venom as she crawled towards Haylen on four. Then she rose, standing on her legs, smiling, those thorn-tipped breasts catching the pre-dawn light. "Perhaps you'll be more useful as womb for the Vuhk-stir. Such a pretty, breedable thing—"

  Haylen's jaw tightened. Her off-hand fumbled for the Shock Katana at her belt—

  Ysolde's claws descended.

  "SCUTUM SOLIS!"

  Golden light blazed. Marcus crashed into the space between them, shield raised, the Solar barrier extending from its surface in a hemisphere of burning radiance. Ysolde's claws struck the light and recoiled, her flesh smoking where it touched.

  The Stalwart stood over Haylen's kneeling form, his injured arm hanging useless, his shield arm trembling with effort. Blood soaked through his armor at a dozen points. But he held.

  "Not. Her." Each word came through gritted teeth. "Not while I breathe."

  Ysolde tilted her head. Those amber eyes examined him with renewed interest.

  "The rare one comes to defend the wounded hen." Her smile widened, tongue tracing her pale lips. "How deliciously noble. Does she know what you're sacrificing for her?"

  "Get back." Marcus addressed Haylen without looking away from the Elder Draug. "Get to the transport. Now."

  "I can still fight—"

  "Sergeant." His voice softened, just slightly. "Please."

  Haylen's eyes widened. Something flickered across her face—surprise, confusion, maybe something warmer beneath both. She struggled to her feet, clutching her wounded arm.

  "Don't you dare die, Stalwart." Her voice cracked. "That's an order."

  "Since when do Covenant soldiers take orders from Blackcoats?"

  "Since now." She was backing toward the Genbu. "Since bloody now."

  "Such devotion." Ysolde circled Marcus, testing his guard. "I wonder—does your Goddess approve of these feelings? This warmth toward the faithless woman behind you?"

  Marcus's jaw tightened. "Zori teaches that all deserve protection from monsters."

  "Monster?" She laughed—a sound like breaking crystal. "I was human once, Stalwart. More human than you, perhaps. I knew pleasure without guilt, desire without shame." Her tongue traced her lips. "I could teach you the same. Show you what that body of yours was truly made for."

  "I'll pass."

  "Pity." Ysolde's smile didn't waver. "You would have been magnificent. Perhaps next time, I'll take you instead of killing you."

  She lunged.

  Sigrun couldn't watch what happened next. Batu was pressing her again, that curved blade seeking her throat, her chest, her belly. Each block sent shockwaves through her depleted muscles. Each dodge came a fraction slower than the last.

  H?kon's Heart Calm spell kept her focused, but focus couldn't replace strength. Couldn't replace the Aether she'd spent fighting through that corrupted motel. Couldn't replace the hours of desperate survival that had worn her down to bone and will.

  She was going to lose.

  Not today, something stubborn growled in the back of her mind. Not to him. Not like this.

  Batu was faster, stronger, and had reserves she'd burned through hours ago. His blade found an opening. Slid past her guard. The edge touched her throat—

  Engine sounds.

  Distant at first, then growing. Multiple engines, the distinctive whine of Alliance turbines cutting through the pre-dawn air.

  Batu paused. His blade stayed at her throat, but his red eyes shifted toward the eastern horizon.

  Sigrun didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe.

  The sound grew louder. Gunship rotors. Ground vehicle treads. And beneath it all, the crackle of military communications bleeding through on open frequencies.

  "—Prairie Commons security responding. All units converge on Dragon District coordinates—"

  "—Vanguard squads deploying, suppress and contain—"

  "—Cavalry's here, you Fenris bastards—"

  That last voice. Familiar. Where did she—

  Light blazed on the eastern horizon. Not dawn—searchlights. Alliance searchlights, cutting through the pre-dawn darkness, illuminating the street in harsh white brilliance.

  "PAPPA LOOK!"

  H?kon's excited shriek pierced the chaos. The little Diabolisk was practically vibrating on Xin's shoulder, scales shifting to excited azure, his tail wagging.

  "White turtles! Many-many white turtles coming!"

  Space Rovers. Four of them cresting the rubble like armored beasts, each one the size of a small house on massive wheels that chewed through debris without slowing. Their white composite hulls caught the searchlights, American eagles and corporate sponsor logos gleaming on their flanks: Arctech Industries, ZenFusion Data Solutions, NexLink Communications, names Sigrun had seen on bounty board advertisements and rejected job postings alike. Roof-mounted Gauss guns swiveled, tracking targets.

  Behind them came the infantry.

  Vanguards. She'd seen them before, during her Psi Lynx certification in Eagle District. White-armored soldiers running drills while she'd demonstrated her combat proficiency for the assessors. Back then, they'd seemed almost decorative. Parade troops. Pretty boys in matching suits.

  They didn't look decorative now. For there were two dozens of them advancing in staggered formation, three ranks of Alliance space marines, their white composite armor dulled with Martian dust, M-77 Pulse Lasers held at the ready. Blue light flickered along the rifles' barrels, building charge.

  Their helmets turned in synchronization, faceplates reflecting the chaos ahead. Sponsor patches on their shoulders—energy drinks, weapon manufacturers, insurance companies—seemed ridiculous but oddly comforting against the blood-soaked street and the Fenris beasts pouring from the other side.

  The first rank dropped to one knee. One man among them shouted in vigorous voic. "Arctech Squad 1, locked and loaded!"

  The second rank braced behind them. A woman's voice this time. "NexLink Squad 2, ready!"

  The third rank formed last, the leader's even-toned voice coming from inside his helmet. "ZenFusion Squad 3, jacked up and good to go."

  Together, the Vanguards fired. Blue beams lanced through the pre-dawn dark. No bullet, no casing, no shell, just coherent azure lasers that crackled and hissed where it struck flesh.

  The Bone Fiends caught in the first volley didn't fall so much as come apart, pale bodies flash-burned and tumbling. The stench hit Sigrun a second later: scorched meat and something chemical, like burnt electronics.

  The Vanguards fired again. And again. Synchronized volleys that swept across the Fenris line like a scythe through wheat.

  Hope surged through Sigrun's chest.