“Soldiers, not objects,” Jehan corrected.

Tanner hadn’t heard that. He looked up sharply. “Oh?”

“Heavy armor. Loud weapons,” Jehan told him in that clipped way of his. “Their weapons kill Drasin.”

Tanner blinked.

Well, at least something was killing Drasin.

All he had to do was figure out who, what, and of course, why. Then maybe he might be able to save his world.

Tanner was about to reply when one of his aides came running up.

“Admiral, sir…We have a call for you.”

“I don’t have time for—” Tanner started to say.

“It’s from Ithan Chans…assigned to the Carlache.”

Tanner froze.

He turned slowly, his eyes falling on the flushed aide. “That is not possible.”

“Her identification has been verified, sir.”

“Show me.”

The aide nodded, passing him a remote terminal. Tanner flipped it over, looking at the picture on it. “That is not any ensign I’ve ever encountered.”

His dry tone caused the aide to flush. “She claims to be wearing body armor, Admiral.”

“Armor? May I see?” Jehan asked.

Tanner handed him the terminal without question.

“This is the armor those soldiers wear,” the big man said after a moment’s glance. “I’ve been receiving reports on it from all over the city.”

Tanner considered that thoughtfully. “So, what is she saying?”

“That she has information on the unknown ship and soldiers, Admiral,” his aide replied. “She wants to be brought in.”

“Do so. Send a detail. Make certain that she is alone and unarmed, then put her on a secure terminal,” Tanner said finally. “I want to talk to this Ithan Chans.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Listen to me carefully, Lieutenant,” Major Brinks growled. “I don’t care if that laser can play the ‘Star-Spangled Banner.’ I read over thirty of the damned ET spider things coming your way now, and I want you and the rest of your team out of there—now.”

Lieutenant Bermont didn’t look happy over the order, but he acknowledged it.

“All right, I’m sending in two more chutes to pick you up,” the major told him, waving off a reply. “I’d suggest you don’t miss them.”

“Yes, sir,” Bermont said over the network. “Understood.”

“You’d better,” Brinks growled, wiping the channel clear with a finger flick and an eye blink.

He was watching two full-fledged firefights and one cautious approach while at the same time eavesdropping on Milla as she talked to her boss. Of the four, he was firmly convinced that it was the conversation that would prove to be the most important, but he had an artillery barrage to direct.

“Sniper teams, prepare to direct a mortar barrage to Lieutenant Bermont’s position,” he ordered. “Thermobaric munitions are cleared for use.”

“Russell!” Bermont yelled, though he didn’t have to. “Pack your shit, boy! We are leaving!”

Corporal Russell glanced back, nodded once, and emptied the rest of his clip into the approaching wave that was clambering up the slick, smooth sides of the pyramidal structure’s tube-like pylons.