The enemy were pushing the Allied forces hard. Forced to give ground against superior numbers and logistics they fell steadily back, striking when and where they could. Many were carrying captured weapons now, eating enemy rations… when there were any to eat… and doing their best to survive the onslaught. As other units joined their ranks along the evacuation route, they slowed to a crawl, no longer able to carry their brethren as they had with the Ixi. The Troika forces harried them at every turn while their casualties steadily mounted.

Finally, they reached their destination, the secondary trench lines and obstacles they’d dug forward of the final perimeter, the one nestled against the ridgeline bordering the sea. They’d constructed them after the Ixi, Legion, and Zaitai had signed on with the Alliance once they realized their original defenses gave them little flexibility. With their original numbers they’d had no choice, but with the influx of bodies they had both the need and the labor force to build a defense in depth. It gave them options, something they desperately needed.

Despite their own exhaustion, the Terrans stood watch while their allies collapsed upon arrival, pushed to their breaking points and beyond. Their unique physiology had bought them some time; without vehicles it compelled the Troika to move by foot, and they were no more able to match the humans’ stamina than their allies were.

The remains of First Squad huddled together for support, scanning the horizon as they waited for the inevitable attack. Kai nursed a badly sprained ankle he’d picked up during the march, resting it on an empty ammo crate as he fought to stay awake. Rivka had retreated within her shell, barely saying two words to anyone as she mourned Tawfiq’s death, hungering for payback. Rúna’s wounds had become infected, forcing Doc to dig the pellets out of her flesh without anesthesia. She’d screamed her throat raw during the surgery, but at least now the pain had settled down to a dull throb. Operating under such primitive conditions had cost Doc Svoboda dearly, wondering and worrying if she’d end up as one of ghosts that constantly hovered around him now, the spectres of those he could not save.

In fact, only Arthur seemed to have finished the journey more or less intact, though he was far from unscathed. He’d hardened, his once furtive glances now something darker, and far more dangerous. Turning to the corporal, the pair shared a look. Soon. In a few hours, or a few days at the latest, the enemy would come.

Rúna shifted uncomfortably, her wounds still bothering her more than she’d let on. Arthur caught her movements and recognized them for what they were.

“Get some sleep, corporal,” he suggested. “I got this.”

Any other time she would have bristled at the very notion that she needed his charity, but stark reality forced her to accept the truth. She’d reached the end of her tether, and if she didn’t get at least some rest and give her injuries a chance to heal, she’d be no good to anyone when it all went down. Surrendering to the inevitable, she bobbed her head.

“... only a couple hours,” she mumbled, slurring her words, “just need to rest my eyes.” She curled up at the bottom of the foxhole and laid her head on her ruck, already fast asleep before she could even pull off her boots.

She awoke in darkness, to the sound of weapons fire.

Grabbing her beam rifle, she threw herself to the parapet as Arthur fired a grenade. “Talk to me!” she shouted, searching for a target.

“They’re hammering us!” Arthur fired back. “Looks like they’re trying to punch straight through!”

As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she saw he was right. They’d concentrated their forces almost directly in front of her position, hoping to use overwhelming numbers in order to smash their defenses. If they could sever the lines and get behind them, they’d be surrounded with no means to escape… and the Troika had the numbers to do it.

Rivka’s gun was already tearing great holes into the attacking forces while Kai shouted for reinforcements. What artillery they had left, mostly alien at this point, fired to minimal effect. With Terran spotters calling in support from Legion guns and using Ixian intermediaries for communication, they were lucky to hit anything at all. After the brutal slugging match prior to the Terran’s victory that cost them their tanks and aircraft, this battle would be purely an infantry affair. Rúna heard noise behind her, the sound of reserves being brought up, but given the number of Troika coming for them it was unlikely they would be enough.

A warning tone sounded in her helmet, as Colonel Holme’s voice came over the air. “This is Warlord Six to all units: Marathon! I say again, Marathon!”

“Time to go!” she yelled as they scrambled back, grabbing their gear before racing through the feeder trenches that lead away from the enemy. Beams and frangible rockets and hypersonic rounds split the air surrounding them, sending Terrans and aliens alike to their graves. A thin crackle of fire tried to cover their escape, but there simply weren’t enough numbers in position to pull it off. The Troika barely slowed down as they raced forward, smelling blood in the water.

As reinforcements moved forward through the lines while the defenders fell back, the bottlenecks that followed were inevitable, creating logjams that brought the retreat to a standstill. It was a foul-up of the first order, and by the time they’d turned things around and gotten everyone moving in the right direction again the enemy had closed the gap, driving hard for the Allied defensive line.

With one massive blow, the resistance collapsed, sending panicked soldiers racing for the rear.

The Troika gave chase, baying like hounds, pouring through the central fortifications like a raging river past a collapsed dam. Those that reached the last set of trenches… dubbed the “Maginot Line” by someone with a questionable sense of humor… took positions as best they could and returned fire. But it was too little, too late, and the Troika recognized it for what it was: the last gasp of a dying quarry. Despite their exhaustion, despite the merry chase the Allies had led them on, their prey had nowhere left to run. Victory was within their grip, and with one last push they would crush this rebellion once and for all. Casting their cultured deportment aside, the so-called “Enlightened Races” of the Troika embraced the call of the barbarian, eager to repay every provocation and torment the Alliance and their troublesome Terran partners had visited upon them tenfold. Bellowing like madmen, like beasts, they raced to catch them with their very claws and wring the life from their broken bodies.

Their advance came to a crashing halt as dozens of flares shot into the sky, briefly turning night into day. What could be the meaning of this? they wondered. The Terrans were finished; it was as certain as the supermassive singularity that lived at the galaxy’s core. It had to be a ruse of some sort, some last-ditch bluff the Allies hoped would frighten them off. It was pointless, and the deluded fools were merely delaying the inevitable.

Their swaggering bravado became blind panic as the Allies sprung the trap.

Alliance lines had buckled as the Troika slammed into them, the defenders falling back as quickly as they could and stretching the line into an elongated “U”. Backpedaling all the way to the last line of defense, they’d fought to keep the enemy at arm’s length and had mostly succeeded. They’d recognized the risk of pulling off such a difficult maneuver, forced to accept the casualties that went with making the attempt. The logjams and confusion had been part of the ruse as well, a way to lure the enemy even deeper into their trap.

Once they entered the killing ground, two things happened: hundreds of Allied soldiers seemingly appeared out of nowhere along the trench line, blocking their advance, while both flanks of the long “U” turned inward, and fired.

By time they realized what had happened, it was already too late. Caught behind enemy lines and surrounded on all sides, they fought desperately to escape, while heavy machine gun fire raked the long axis of the enemy line, shattering the Troika force. With greater numbers or fewer enemies they might had saved their forces; as it was, they were lucky to rescue a third. They’d been caught in a double-pincer attack that had been used so successfully in the ancient past, at places like Cannae and Marathon, at Kiev, and at Cowpens. The Allies had shown the enemy exactly what they wanted them to see, and by the time they realized the truth, their fate was already sealed.

Rúna’s tactical brainstorm had been picked apart by experts, then stitched back together with a few added wrinkles, then polished and honed in training. The ancient tactic had found a purpose once more.

The only thing that saved the Troika from utter annihilation was their inability to move their entire force far enough forward. This was not their type of battle; only the unique and convoluted circumstances of the situation had forced them to use tactics that did not play to their strengths, but that did play to the enemy’s. The Troika forces that survived did so by lagging far enough behind the main body they weren’t caught in the kill zone, forcing them to reverse direction and run for the hills and woods to remain free of the Allies’ clutches.

For those caught within the ambush, however, there would be no mercy.

Rivka screamed into the night as she gunned down the enemy, her eyes red with madness as she tore them apart. Arthur’s grenades walked a path of destruction as he found the hidden places the Troika tried to shelter in, while Rúna and the others picked off anyone foolish enough to show themselves with careful precision. They finally called cease-fire to conserve ammunition… that, and because there was no more movement spotted within the pocket where the Troika had died.

Assessment teams moved forward, weapons at the ready as they swept the objective. Kai and Rúna alongside others picked their way through the carnage as they searched for survivors, quickly dispatched the few they found, their jaws hardening at the grisly work. They culled through the debris, searching for intelligence, looking for anything that might give them an edge. Other teams came forward now, scavenging for provisions, weapons, food, and medical supplies.

They left the bodies to rot where they’d fallen.

Rúna and Kai staggered back to their lines, handing off what data they’d recovered. The Paygan waited for them, tasked with monitoring the squad as they’d completed their mission, capable enough to be trusted in the task, yet wise enough to know not to press the Terrans too far. The look on his face was not one of triumph.

“On any other day I would call this a victory,” he said grimly, “but not today.”

“We’ve broken them, Paygan,” Kai said wearily. “Those still alive are scattered and demoralized, a mere fraction of the force they sent. They’re done.”

“Are they?” he questioned him. “You forget their forces still in orbit.”

“What would be the point?” Rúna demanded. “They sent soldiers so they could grab the eggs. Bombing us with KEW’s would destroy those. They’d get nothing.”

“Assuming they still care about the eggs,” the Ixian pointed out. “Yes, that was the initial goal, but now?” He slowly shook his head. “Now, they have much greater concerns.”

“Us, you mean,” Kai said quietly. “The Alliance.”

“Indeed,” the Paygan said gravely. “Until now they have attempted to defuse the situation with minimum force.” Rúna raised a questioning eyebrow at that, forcing the Ixian to shrug. “Minimum for them, I should have said. By their calculations, they have used the utmost restraint in dealing with our situation. Obviously, we would disagree, but that is irrelevant in their eyes. Theirs is the only opinion that matters, and I believe they will view this battle as a provocation… and an excuse to escalate.”

“What else were we supposed to do?” Rúna snapped. “Surrender? Let them kill us? What other choice did we have?”

The alien gave her a sympathetic look. “None, of course. You and the other Terrans have been mere pawns in this since the beginning, and now?” He shrugged, spreading his hands. “Now, I am afraid, the Troika will decide to end this, once and for all.”

“Have you told the colonel about this?” Kai asked, while Rúna abruptly sat down, hugging her bent legs.

“He is an intelligent leader,” the Paygan said. “I am quite certain he already knows.”

“So it’s all been for nothing,” Rúna said bitterly. “All the pain, all the death, all for nothing.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she pressed her head to her knees and quietly wept.

The Ixian knelt at her side as Kai looked on. “I owe you a debt,” he said, reaching out and briefly touching the blade at her waist. “My cousin the Mirza has already made arrangements, should the worst happen. He will send a shuttle to evacuate me from this wretched place.” The Paygan sighed heavily. “Orders from the king, I’m afraid.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Kai said curiously. “If word of this leaks…”

“A necessary risk,” he answered, “considering what I have to say next.” Rúna looked up as he touched her shoulder, her eyes red and puffy. “I can take the two of you with me when I go, corporal,” he said gently. “I can offer little else, I regret to say, but I can offer you that.”

The Terrans looked at one another in shock. “And the squad?” Kai asked carefully. “Can you get them out, too?”

The Paygan clenched his jaw, biting off a scathing response, before giving him a brief choppy nod. “Yes,” he said at last. “It will be difficult, but I am certain I can manage that much.”

Kai and Runa shared another look, this one full of longing and hope. The pair glanced over at where the others were huddled, resting after the battle. They were still family, and they’d been through so much. Getting them out before the slaughter was likely the only victory they could manage out of this shitty mess. They owed them that, right?

Right?

Another look passed between them, before Runa stood up and faced the Ixian as she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she told him, “but we can’t.” She reached out and found Kai’s hand, holding it tight, and for once he didn’t flinch, or try to hide what they truly felt. “Even if you got the squad out, what about all the others?” she asked, waving her hand to show the hundreds of her fellow Terrans that would be forced to remain. “And even if we accepted, where could we possibly go?” she continued. “We’d be pariahs, cowards and traitors that abandoned our post. No human ship or settlement would ever accept us.”

“At least you would be alive,” the Paygan all but pleaded.

She smiled at him; a sad, heartbreaking smile. “Duty is heavier than a mountain; but death is lighter than a feather,” she quoted, as Kai moved to her side.

The Ixian searched their faces, seeking even a glimmer of wavering resolve… and found none. He bowed his head in mute acceptance, and then snapped to attention, his posture now straight and proud. The Paygan slammed his clenched fist against his chest in salute, holding it there, before letting it fall once more. He gave them both one last nod as he spun on his heel, slowly walking away without another word.

Strong arms enclosed around her as she buried her face in Kai’s chest… wishing desperately that she could have said yes.