Mars Time: 02:05, February 19, 2295

  Gate 7 Uppekkha, Honghuang Administrative Palace, Phoenix District, Xing Hong

  The elevator ride down was quieter than the ascent had been.

  H?kon stood on Xin's left shoulder like a guardian familiar, his small claws gripping the fabric of the puffer jacket with easy confidence. His scales had settled into peaceful silver-blue, and every few seconds he let out a contented chirp. A sound he made when something had gone right in his small world.

  "HAW-koon's drawings safe-safe," he announced to no one in particular. "Cool Bald Man promised."

  Xin smiled. "That's right, buddy. Kenji will take good care of them."

  "HAW-koon draw more later. Draw Sky Lady. Draw Round Man." The little Diabolisk's tail swished. "Draw everyone."

  Marcus stood at the elevator's far side, one hand on his golden medallion as he murmured words Xin couldn't hear. Jabari leaned against the opposite wall, humming something under his breath.

  Sigrun watched the city scroll past the elevator's glass walls. The distant fires of Dragon District painted her profile in orange light, catching her blonde hair. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the conference room.

  The doors opened onto the ground floor checkpoint.

  Sergeant Haylen Shih stood waiting.

  Her squad flanked the exit. The same eight Constables and three Blackcoats from before, weapons checked and ready. Haylen now had her Kowloon-7 Gauss Rifle slung across her back, a sidearm at her hip, and what looked like a sheathed wakizashi on her belt. The short blade's handle bore worn wrapping.

  Her expression was something between resignation and distaste.

  "Well then." Her British inflection carried a dry edge. "Isn't this lovely."

  Xin felt H?kon stir on his shoulder, the little Diabolisk's scales shifting to uncertain brown.

  "Shiny Lady?" His voice was wary. "Why Shiny Lady here?"

  "Because apparently—" Haylen's jaw tightened. "—Seneschal Kenji has decided that the best use of my squad is escorting you lot. Directly into active combat." She looked at each of them in turn, her gaze lingering. "I do hope the irony isn't lost on anyone."

  "I'm sure you'll find a way to remind us." Jabari grinned.

  "Oh, I intend to. Repeatedly."

  Marcus stepped forward, his posture formal, one hand still resting on his medallion. "Sergeant. I understand this assignment may not be to your liking. But there is honor in duty, regardless of personal reservations."

  Something shifted in Haylen's bearing. Her shoulders, which had been rigid with tension, eased imperceptibly. She studied the Covenant soldier, her eyes lingering on his silver-white armor.

  "Honor in duty. Indeed." she repeated. The words came out less sharp than before. For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Long enough that Xin wondered why.

  Haylen then turned to her squad. The Constables and Blackcoats snapped to attention. "Sons and daughters of Xing Hong. Our objective is Dragon District, Sector 9. We're reinforcing the defensive line and holding until Terra Alliance forces arrive at dawn."

  Silence from the squad.

  "These four are assets. Valuable assets, apparently. We keep them alive. We keep ourselves alive. Are you ready?"

  "Zik-zaak tung Zi-jau!" The Constables and Blackcoats responded in unison, their voices booming as they fell into formation around them—Constables forming a protective ring, Blackcoats taking point and rear guard.

  Xin looked down at the Nucleus Watch on his left wrist as the device beeped with a holographic bubble translating the Xing Hong local dialect:

  [Old Earth Cantanse: '職責同自由!' —> 'For Duty and Freedom!']

  "Good." Haylen looked back at the group. "Armored transport is waiting outside. It's not pretty, but it'll get us to the combat zone in one piece."

  "Should be good." Jabari added from the side.

  "Seneschal Kenji has placed my unit at your disposal for the duration of this operation." Then Haylen's gaze moved past Marcus and Xin with coolness before settling on Sigrun. "Regardless of my personal reservations about traveling with a Covenant zealot, a Directorate mercenary, a civilian engineer carrying a Radi-Mon that could theoretically discharge enough psionic energy to level a city block—and a Psi Lynx with a reputation for selling more than her combat skills."

  Sigrun moved. Not toward her weapons. Toward Haylen.

  Three steps closed the distance between them until they stood nearly face to face, the Nordling's ice-blue eyes boring into the sergeant's brown ones.

  Sigrun was taller by several centimeters. She used every one of them. "Say that again."

  Haylen didn't flinch. "Which part? The bit about your side business?"

  "You don't know anything about me." Sigrun's voice became low and dangerous.

  "I know what the reports say. You are the Bedchamber Valkyrie, the one men of this city can't seem to shut up about."

  "Reports." Sigrun laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Did your reports mention that I've killed more Radi-Mons than half your squad combined? Did they mention that I've held Psi Lynx certification even before you Blackcoats became a thing?"

  "Uh, Sigrun." Xin stepped forward, one hand raised. "Maybe we should—"

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  "Stay out of this. Yeah, fuck that." Sigrun's eyes never left Haylen. "You've been pissing me off since we got here. What your problem?"

  "You want to fight me, Miss Fjeld, be my guest." Haylen's voice cracked like a whip, jaw set like iron. The Constables and Blackcoats behind her had tensed, hands moving toward weapons. The air felt suddenly very thin. "But know that my squad will put you down before you draw that axe, and then we'll have to explain to the Prefect why her valuable asset is bleeding on the lobby floor."

  Sigrun's hand twitched toward Járn, the Thermal Axe beneath her trench coat.

  "Why Big-people always angry?" The small voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk.

  Everyone turned.

  H?kon had climbed higher on Xin's shoulder, his sapphire eyes moving between Sigrun and Haylen with confusion, his scales in anxious brown, head tilted, visibly trying to puzzle something out.

  "Sky Lady angry at Pappa sometimes. Shiny Lady angry at Sky Lady also." He looked at Haylen, then back at Sigrun. "Maybe two ladies get married? Then no more angry?"

  Absolute, ringing silence.

  One of the younger Constables frowned. Marcus made a choking sound. Haylen's expression was somewhere between outrage and bewilderment.

  Sigrun stared at the little Diabolisk as if he'd grown a second head.

  Then Jabari laughed. He stepped forward, moving between Sigrun and Haylen with easy grace, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

  "Out of the mouths of babes, eh?" His grin was disarming. "Or whatever the Radi-Mon equivalent is."

  "This isn't funny, Mr. Adomako." Haylen's voice had already lost some of its edge.

  "No, it's not. But a three-year-old is asking why adults can't stop fighting long enough to work together." Jabari looked at Sigrun. Then at Haylen. The Griot then spread his hands. "The sergeant doesn't trust us. Fair enough—she doesn't know us. Miss Fjeld doesn't appreciate having her choices questioned. Also fair—they're her choices to make."

  Xin saw the opportunity to chime in. "But right now, what matters more is that we've got six hours until dawn, and a lot of people counting on us to keep them alive."

  "Exactly." Jabari nodded approvingly at him.

  Sigrun's shoulders dropped a fraction. Her hand moved away from Járn. "Fine."

  "At a later time." Haylen's voice was dry, but the killing edge had faded.

  H?kon's scales began cycling back toward calmer blue. His sapphire eyes found Jabari, and something like recognition lit in them.

  "Music Man talk good-good." His tail swished with approval. "Make angry-people calm."

  "So did you, little one." Jabari reached up slowly and let his fingers brush the Diabolisk's scales.

  H?kon trilled with pleasure. "HAW-koon know. HAW-koon try too."

  Then Haylen cleared her throat as she turned, gesturing for her squad to form up. "This way."

  They followed her through the lobby and out into the Martian night.

  The heat hit first. Then the smoke carrying the acrid stench of burning polymers. The sky above Phoenix District was still clear, but to the east, Dragon District painted the horizon in shades of orange and red.

  Screams in the distance. Gunfire. The distinctive shriek of Fenris Radi-Mons.

  An ebony armored vehicle idled at the curb.

  Xin's first thought was that it looked like someone had crossed a tank with a transport truck and then beaten the result with a hammer.

  Deep black armor plating covered every surface, scarred and dented from previous engagements. Gold trim traced the edges—civic pride showing through the utilitarian design, and Xing Hong's phoenix emblem blazed on the front hull. Heavy treads bit into the Martian ground. A modest turret crowned the roof, currently manned by a Blackcoat who scanned the surrounding streets with professional vigilance.

  "A locally made armored transport." Haylen patted the vehicle's flank with something approaching affection. "We call him the Genbu. Means 'Black Tortoise' in one of the old Earth Imperial languages. He's what my squad uses when we need to crack a smuggling den or assault a fortified position." Her lips quirked. "Not pretty, but he'll get us there in one piece. Probably."

  "Probably," Jabari muttered. "There's that word again."

  "BIG TURTLE!"

  H?kon's voice rang out with pure delight. He scrambled higher on Xin's shoulder, scales flashing to excited gold as he stared at the Genbu with wide sapphire eyes.

  "Pappa, look! Big turtle! Big turtle got house on back!" He bounced with excitement. "Can HAW-koon ride big turtle? Please-please?"

  Xin couldn't help but smile. "That's the plan, buddy."

  "The Diabolisk isn't wrong," Marcus observed, studying the vehicle. "The resemblance is...apt."

  Haylen's expression flickered with annoyance and amusement both.

  "Right. Everyone in. Private Chen has the driver's seat, Corporal Yau is on the gun. The rest of us are in the back." She pulled open the rear doors, revealing bench seats along both walls and weapon racks between them. "It'll be cozy. Try not to stab anyone you're sitting next to."

  They filed in.

  The interior smelled of metal and gun oil, with sallow lighting. Xin settled onto the cushioned bench, and H?kon immediately climbed down from his shoulder to perch on his lap, tiny claws kneading the fabric of his pants as he made himself comfortable.

  "Big turtle belly," the Diabolisk announced with satisfaction. "Safe-safe."

  Sigrun took the seat beside Xin. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her, smell the faint lavender scent that clung to her hair.

  She hadn't looked at him since they'd left the conference room. He understood why. Everything that had happened between them—the Warren, the motel, the words spoken and unspoken—none of it could be addressed here, now, surrounded by strangers and heading into battle.

  But she'd chosen to sit beside him. That had to meant something.

  Surely.

  "When we get out there." Her voice was quiet, meant only for him.

  "Yeah?"

  She paused. "Stay close to me."

  It wasn't a declaration. Wasn't a promise. But her eyes, when they finally met his, held something more.

  "I will," he said.

  Across the transport, Marcus had settled beside Haylen. The Covenant soldier sat with his Titanium Shield propped against his knees, one hand on the pommel of his Zephyrium Sword. The sergeant had her Kowloon-7 across her lap, checking the action bolt.

  "Your squad is well-disciplined," Marcus said. "The formation work earlier. Professional."

  Haylen glanced at him. "They'd better be. I trained half of them myself."

  "It shows." He nodded toward the Constables and Blackcoats filing in around them. "In the Covenant, we believe that discipline is the foundation of valor. Without it, courage becomes mere recklessness."

  "Sensible." Haylen's tone was grudging, but not dismissive. "Most Covenant types I've met are too busy preaching to fight properly. You seem different."

  "I preach through action, Sergeant. Words are cheap. Holding the line is not."

  Something like respect flickered in Haylen's eyes.

  Jabari, wedged between two Constables on the opposite bench, had produced a small object from his belt—a compact drum no larger than his palm, its surface etched with geometric patterns. His fingers moved across it in idle rhythms, too soft to hear over the transport's engine but visible in the subtle movements of his hands.

  H?kon's head turned toward the Griot, scales shimmering.

  "Music Man making sounds?"

  "Just warming up, little one." Jabari smiled. "Battle's coming. Got to have the rhythm ready."

  Haylen pulled the doors shut.

  "Everyone secure?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Driver, move out. Sector 9. Best speed."

  The Genbu lurched into motion.

  Through the armored viewports, Xin watched Phoenix District's clean geometric lines give way to the chaos of a city under siege. Autocabs and emergency vehicles screamed past, their lights were strobing red and blue. Civilian transports clogged evacuation routes, horns blaring.

  And ahead, the fires of Dragon District grew brighter.

  Strangers. Enemies. Allies.

  A Covenant Stalwart beside a Blackcoat sergeant who just might understand him. A Directorate Griot keeping rhythm for the battle to come. A Nordling Psi Lynx with secrets she'd never share, sitting close enough to touch but miles away. A squad of city guards who'd been ordered to protect people they didn't trust.

  And one civilian engineer, holding a three-year-old Radi-Mon on his lap.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's whisper cut through the transport's rumble. "We help people?"

  "Yeah, buddy." Xin stroked his scales. "We're going to try."

  H?kon considered this. His small claws gripped Xin's jacket.

  "HAW-koon help too. HAW-koon protect Pappa. Protect Sky Lady." His sapphire eyes gleamed with fierce determination. "Protect everyone in big turtle belly."

  "I know you will."

  The Genbu accelerated toward the flames.