Gwenna ground her teeth as the woman turned back toward the houses, tried to ignore the blood hammering at her temples, tried to figure out how to get the fewest people killed. It was tempting to pull everyone back to West Island, maybe as far as the West Bank, and then to destroy the bridges behind them. That would put a little more space between the people of Andt-Kyl and the Urghul, plus two more channels of flowing water. The trouble was, she’d already tried that trick once, and Long Fist had anticipated it. She could give ground, then find herself on the far bank facing the same army without even the semblance of a defensive position. At least here the Urghul would have to pick their way slowly across the shifting and uneven dam, and while they were picking, the loggers could be shooting.

Gwenna looked over the crew, trying to see something different, something that might give her hope. She cursed the Flea again for putting her in charge. She wasn’t a general. She was a demo master. She’d trained to blow things up, not to lead people, she—

“Oh, Holy Hull,” she breathed, staring at the dam. “Oh fuck.”

She tried to run through a dozen calculations at the same time—weight, force, flow, distance, density—and failed. It was impossible to say how deep the dam went, how tangled the logs were, what it would take to dislodge them, but it was suddenly, perfectly clear what she had to do.

“Annick,” she said, turning to the sniper. “Hold them here.”

The sniper blinked. “Where are you going?”

Gwenna waved at the bridge. “I’m going to blow it.”

“They’ll fill you with arrows before you get halfway across, and a starshatter on the surface . . .” She shook her head. “It won’t work.”

“I’m not going across,” Gwenna said. “I’m going under.”

She had the faint satisfaction of seeing Annick’s eyes widen a fraction. She waited for the sniper to tell her it was insane, impossible, that the water was too cold, the dam too wide, the explosives inadequate to the task. Instead the sniper just nodded. Not that that should have been surprising.

Gwenna took a deep breath, then turned away from the barricades. She was going to die, that much seemed clear, but this kind of mission, at least, she understood.

“If you don’t see anything by full dark,” she said, “it didn’t work.”

The sniper nodded again. Then, as Gwenna grabbed her pack of munitions, Annick extended a hand. For just a moment she looked small, girl-like, confused.

“Good luck, Gwenna,” she said quietly.

Gwenna wasn’t sure whether to cry or shit herself.