Chapter 5 — First Strike
The first explosion did not sound like thunder. Thunder rolled across distance; this struck the valley like a blow.
A hard concussion punched through the pumping station and turned every loose tool in the maintenance room into a clattering projectile. The windows flexed inward. One of the wall displays went black.
Maelis hit the floor with Kaiven's arm across her shoulders. For half a second she could hear nothing but pressure. Then sound came rushing back all at once—alarms, shouting, the scream of stressed metal somewhere below them, the maintenance supervisor swearing as a rack of fittings collapsed.
Kaiven was already moving.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
He looked at her anyway, checking face, arms, legs with a soldier's ruthless speed.
"I'm fine."
Another detonation sounded farther north. The lights flickered. Maelis pushed herself upright and reached the remaining display. The district grid was changing faster than she could read it.
Red faults spread across the eastern communications nodes.
"Impact near the ridge relay," she said.
Kaiven keyed his comm. "Regional command, Daratu. Wasaytu taking fire. Confirm hostile contact."
Static. He switched channels.
"District security."
A voice answered through heavy interference. "We see them. Unknown troop carriers crossing east ridge. Defense batteries are—"
The transmission cut off. The maintenance supervisor stared at them.
"Troop carriers?"
Kaiven's expression gave nothing away.
"Seal the lower pressure doors. Keep pumps running unless structural alarms trip."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting the district moving."
They ran. Outside, the morning had become something Maelis's mind refused to recognize.
Smoke climbed beyond the northern terraces.
A black wedge of alien craft passed low over the agricultural exchange, followed by two smaller attack vehicles that fired toward the distant landing field. The explosion arrived a second later.
People froze in the roadway. That frightened Maelis more than the blast.
Wasaytu people did not freeze. They moved harvest machinery through flash floods. They fought brush fires. They repaired ruptured irrigation mains in winter sleet. They knew what to do when normal things went wrong.
This was not a normal thing.
"Maelis."
Kaiven's hand closed around her forearm. Her body reacted to him before thought caught up—the recognition from the tunnel, the impossible certainty that had entered the space between them. Solmatu. She almost hated the word for existing today.
"What?"
"Exchange."
She nodded. They sprinted toward the nearest utility transport. Kaiven shoved the driver aside without ceremony, took the controls, and accelerated hard enough to throw Maelis against the restraint harness.
"Warn me."
"I did."
"You said one word."
"It was a useful word."
Despite everything, anger steadied her.
"Turn west."
"The exchange is north."
"Main road will choke in three minutes."
He glanced at the traffic display. It already was.
Vehicles poured away from the eastern ridge. Civilian transports, farm crawlers, private skimmers, carts. Everyone was choosing the largest road because fear made obvious routes feel safe.
Maelis pointed toward a narrow maintenance lane between irrigation embankments.
"West."
Kaiven turned. The transport dropped off the pavement onto the service lane, suspension protesting. Another enemy craft crossed overhead. Kaiven looked up once, identified it, and swore.
"What?"
"Sargan."
The name chilled her more than the explosions had. Everyone on Farseek knew the Sargans.
Raiders. Slavers. The labels came easily now: military opportunists who made profit from weakened worlds and populations no one was left to protect.
"But why here?"
"I don't know."
"You said their movement was only suspected."
"It was."
"Your intelligence is terrible."
"Now?"
"Especially now."
His mouth tightened, but there was almost something like approval in his eyes. They reached the agricultural exchange from the western loading side. The central yard had become controlled chaos. Controlled because Maelis's staff had followed the readiness exercise.
Chaos because no one had expected the exercise to become real.
Shelter marshals shouted assignments. Children from the nearby school were being moved below the grain administration building. Market vendors abandoned stalls and carried food crates toward shelter entrances. Three medical workers dragged portable treatment packs from a service bay.
Maelis jumped from the transport before Kaiven had fully stopped it.
"Torren!"
She turned. Administrator Baret ran toward her, pale and breathless.
"Regional network is gone."
"Local?"
"Working."
"Good. Keep it local. No routing outside district unless we authenticate the node ourselves."
He blinked. "Why?"
"Because messages are being diverted."
"By the Sargans?"
"I don't know."
She did not say Consortium yet. Kaiven had come to stand beside her, while Baret looked at his uniform as though authority itself had finally arrived.
"Captain, should we evacuate?"
Kaiven glanced at Maelis, a small movement she nevertheless noticed. He could have answered Baret without consulting her.
Instead he said, "Show me the strike map." They hurried inside. The operations floor had lost one wall screen but the rest remained functional. Maelis pulled up the district. Three confirmed impact zones.
The pattern resolved as soon as she saw the three confirmed impact zones: the eastern communications ridge, the landing field, and a power substation north of the market. These were not random strikes.
"They're hitting infrastructure," Kaiven said.
"Not shelters."
"Not yet."
Maelis enlarged the attack paths.
"What does that mean?"
"It means either they want the population trapped, or they want something here intact."
Her stomach turned. The Sargans were slavers.
"People," she said.
Kaiven's eyes met hers. Neither spoke for a moment. Then he turned to Baret.
"Begin evacuation of exposed eastern sectors using Torren's six-stream plan. Do not send everyone toward the central roads. Shelter southern quarter in place until we know the attack pattern."
Baret nodded and started issuing orders. Maelis moved to the registry station. She had spent years arguing that civilian logistics was not lesser work simply because no one wore medals for it. Now every imperfect record felt like a life.
"School Four?"
A clerk answered. "Moving."
"East orchard crews?"
"Still trying to reach supervisors."
"Medical residence?"
"Transport requested."
"Don't request. Assign. Give them two grain haulers if you have to."
"They're not passenger-rated."
"They have restraint rails and sealed cabins."
The clerk nodded and changed the order. A military priority channel broke through the local network. Kaiven answered.
"Daratu."
"Captain, regional fallback command. Confirm situation."
Kaiven gave the report. The officer on the other end sounded as though he were speaking from a room full of shouting.
"Hold district assets. Brigade response units are being redeployed."
"ETA?"
"Unknown."
"Enemy troop carriers are already on the ground."
"Understood."
"Then give me air support."
"Unavailable."
"Ground response?"
"Unavailable."
"Evacuation lift?"
A pause.
"Unavailable."
Kaiven's face became very still. Maelis knew enough about him now to understand that stillness meant anger, not calm.
"What's available?" he asked.
"We're coordinating."
"With whom?"
Another pause.
"Captain, maintain district control. Further instructions pending."
The channel died. Maelis kept working. If she looked at him too soon, she thought she might see the exact moment his faith in command broke. She did not want to witness that while people were waiting for them.
A shelter alarm sounded.
"Which one?" she snapped.
"East market basement," a coordinator said. "Ventilation fault."
"Move them to Grain Hall Two."
"Main corridor is blocked."
"Use the freight tunnel."
"The doors are security locked."
Maelis turned to Kaiven. He understood before she spoke.
"Can you override military civil-defense locks?"
"Yes."
"Then congratulations. You're useful again."
They ran for the freight tunnel beneath the exchange's eastern loading dock. As they descended, another impact shook the building and sent dust sifting from the ceiling.
The tunnel doors were heavy composite panels designed to isolate fire and pressure failures. Kaiven connected his field terminal to the lock.
"Thirty seconds."
"We don't have thirty seconds."
"Do you want it open or fast?"
"Both."
He gave her a look.
"You're becoming demanding."
"Recognition has changed me."
His hands stopped for half a heartbeat. Even here, even with alarms and impacts and frightened civilians behind the wall, the word found him. Her humor vanished.
"Open the door, Kaiven."
He did. The panels separated. Warm, stale air rushed out, carrying the cries of children. Maelis stepped through first.
Kaiven caught her shoulder.
"No."
She spun. His grip loosened immediately, but he did not remove his hand.
"I need to clear it."
"You need to what?"
"Make sure the tunnel isn't compromised."
"There are people suffocating."
"And sending you into a damaged tunnel without checking it helps them how?"
The old irritation flashed between them, but fear now ran beneath his words—fear for her.
Not because she was a registrar or because she was useful, but because his body had named her. Maelis lowered her voice.
"You get ten seconds."
"Fifteen."
"Twelve."
His mouth almost moved.
"Stay behind me."
"For twelve seconds."
He drew his sidearm and entered. The tunnel lights were dim but functional. No visible structural collapse. No hostile movement.
He advanced to the first junction, checked both branches, and turned.
"Clear."
Maelis was already moving. They reached the trapped shelter group within minutes.
A ventilation fan had failed after the power strike, and the basement heat had climbed dangerously. Two elderly civilians were barely conscious. Children pressed against their teachers, trying to be brave because adults had told them bravery was useful.
Maelis crouched beside a little girl clutching a carved wooden animal.
"What's his name?"
The girl's lower lip trembled. "Boro."
"Good name."
"He's scared."
"So am I."
The girl stared at her. Adults were not supposed to admit that. Maelis held out a hand.
"We're going through a tunnel. Boro can help you make sure I don't get lost."
The child took her hand. Around them, shelter marshals started organizing the line. Kaiven watched Maelis for one second too long. Then he turned away and took point.
They moved the group through the freight tunnel and into Grain Hall Two. By the time the last person crossed, distant weapons fire had begun to echo between the hills. Kaiven received a burst transmission. He listened, face darkening.
"What?"
"Sargan ground teams entered the eastern residential quarter."
"How many?"
"Unknown."
"Are they killing people?"
"I don't know."
A woman near them overheard and started crying. Maelis wanted to tell her it would be all right. She did not. Promises mattered too much today to spend them carelessly.
Instead she called Baret.
"Shift all eastern evacuees off the public roads. Use service routes only."
"Some families won't leave without their vehicles."
"Then tell them they'll lose the vehicles."
"Maelis—"
"Tell them."
She ended the call. Kaiven studied her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing."
"You sounded like an officer."
"I'll recover."
A burst of gunfire came from outside. Kaiven moved instantly, pushing civilians behind the grain barriers. Maelis followed. Three district security officers ran through the doors.
One was bleeding from the shoulder.
"Sargans at the east vehicle yard," he said. "They're not holding ground."
Kaiven crouched beside him. "What are they doing?" The officer swallowed.
"Taking people."
The room went silent as the implication moved through everyone who had heard the report. The Sargans were not holding ground; they were taking people.
Kaiven's gaze found hers across the hall. There was no disbelief left now. Only calculation.
"How many transports do we have?"
Maelis answered immediately. "Locally? Enough to move maybe twelve hundred at once if we use agricultural freight."
"Population in exposed zones?"
"More than eight thousand."
"How many shelter safely in place?"
"Depends what the Sargans know."
"Assume they know everything."
That was the first truly military thing he had said that frightened her. Maelis brought up the service network.
"Then we don't move everyone."
Kaiven's head turned sharply. She pointed to the map.
"We move the people they can reach."
"Explain."
"Large transports are targets. Main shelters are obvious. But half of Wasaytu is built over storage, water, and harvest infrastructure. Small groups can disappear into it faster than we can move them out of the district."
"Hide civilians while enemy ground teams are operating?"
"Yes."
"That can become a trap."
"So can a transport convoy."
He stared at the map. She continued.
"Use the shelters farthest from confirmed Sargan movement as collection points. Everyone else goes into distributed agricultural infrastructure until we know where the attack is concentrating."
"Your service routes aren't on military maps."
"Exactly."
He looked at her. The argument lasted only a second. Then Kaiven touched his comm.
"District security, this is Captain Daratu. New movement plan. Civilian logistics has route control. You support Torren's network."
The wounded officer blinked.
"Captain?"
"You heard me."
Maelis did too. In the middle of an attack, Kaiven had just placed military personnel under a civilian route plan without ceremony or any need to make the idea appear to be his.
Her chest tightened for a reason that had nothing to do with fear. Kaiven looked at her.
"Tell me where to send them."
So she did.