“But whoever they are can’t know we’re coming,” Fela stated without challenge. “We didn’t even know they were here.”

Epyc Ro’s gaze lingered over the terrain. “They must think someone might.”

Fela couldn’t help but admire them. The Hellfighters were an elite unit, trained to seek out enemy ambushes. Professional targets her O.E. instructor called HOVA. Trained to move, observe, or track in any environment. Kill if necessary. Only if necessary, her Muungano instructor at the Thmei Academy taught her. The HOVA Hellfighters neared the heart of the nameless town. So close to their target, the squad needed to advance. And quickly. If one knew what to look for, signs of the enemy surrounded them. Lean-tos hidden among the scattered copses. Fighting positions, rocks stacked, stony sandbags against a storm of weapons fire. Perches overlooking the well-traveled ruts. Camouflaged dugouts roofed with logs and buried under sand along the roads like crab traps. From overhead, they wouldn’t be detected and might defeat casual scans. Whoever they were, they weren’t primitive people. They knew how to improvise, use what was at hand in sophisticated ways. Technology and superior firepower could be matched by those who knew how to use the terrain to their advantage. “What do the drone scans say?”

<Telemetry readings are off. Something interferes with the signal,> Chandra’s voice transmitted directly into their helmets.

“Can you tell what direction the interference is coming from?” Epyc Ro asked.

<Yeah.>

“Then that’s where we’ll head.”

Fela remained quiet, resigning herself to being the outsider. Though raised Asili, she was fascinated by Ugenini culture. She listened to their music, even risking punishment from her parents in doing so, as they were strict about the Asili ways. Nevertheless, she studied Ugenini art, literature, language. Even trained at the Thmei Academy and graduated at the top of her class. She had nothing to prove, but she would always be locked outside of them by culture and rank.

“You got that look again.” Robin turned to the captain once they started marching.

“What look?” Epyc Ro asked.

“That ‘weight of the world’ / ‘thinking about the past’ look.”

“Feeling nostalgic, I guess. Lost some good people along the way.”

“The best.”

“What were you doing before all this?” Epyc Ro asked.

“Writer, spoken-word poetry. You?”

“Librarian.”

“Remind me to never fuck with a librarian again.” Robin’s tone reflected on many shared missions.

“It seems so long ago.” Epyc Ro never met Robin’s eyes, her focus on the terrain, scanning for any trace of movement or anything out of place. The vigilance of constant suspicion. “Now it’s like combat is all I’ve ever known.”

“Because you were born for it.”