“Sir, we’ve got snipers,” called another human, staring intensely at the screens. “Coming from the chapel and the headquarters roof, I believe. Alpha one-three and one-seven are down, and one-nine has been severely wounded. Should I order it to return to base?”

“No,” I said calmly. “If it’s going to die soon, there’s no reason for it to return.” I swept a hand toward the screen. “Have Alpha one-nine ram the chapel tower. Hopefully that will get rid of at least one shooter. The rest of them should take out the machine gunners and the other snipers.”

There was a moment’s pause. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on me, wide and stunned. “Are my orders unclear?” I asked softly.

“No, sir!” The man quickly turned and spoke urgently into his radio, and the rest of the team averted their eyes. Casualties were to be expected, I told myself. The vessels were tools. Bred to fight, kill and die. And when they died, they should take out as many enemies as they could. I was commander, and victory was nonnegotiable. The life of a single vessel, a dozen vessels, didn’t matter. They existed only to ensure that the battle was ours.

“Sir,” said another human, “what of the armory? We’ve got shots coming from that building, too.”

“Ah. That would be their headquarters,” I mused. “Their bunker for this attack. If we destroy it, the fight is ours.” I raised a hand. “Send in flight two,” I ordered. “Have them concentrate fire on the armory.”

Chapter 44: GARRET

GARRET

The scene outside dissolved into utter pandemonium. Metallic-gray dragons swooped through the air, breathing flame and lighting up the darkness. Turret fire roared, and the occasional bark of sniper rifles could be heard over the cacophony. Dragons tumbled from the sky, falling to the ground or crashing into the sides of buildings. We seemed to be holding our own, but I knew this couldn’t be the whole strike force. Talon had to be holding something in reserve, just as we were.

Behind me, I could feel the tension in my squad, watching the screaming chaos through the windows, their hands on their RPGs. I saw several looks shot my way, wondering when they would receive the order to fire, to aid the rest of the base. Not yet, I thought at them. Hold your ground, it’s not time yet. We get only one shot, and we have to make it count.

Voices crackled over the radio—Martin calling orders to his men, the other squad commanders responding in turn. I listened, helpless to do anything else, knowing our time was coming but not yet. I heard Storm commander snarling defiantly at the dragons swooping by, heard the chatter of machine gun rounds, before his voice abruptly cut out over the radio. Martin called out to him, demanding his status, but he didn’t respond.