The sound from the Jelly’s weapon was short and sharp. It cut through the commotion like auditory punctuation. Startling silence followed. Trig’s guns ceased firing as his armor locked up, and then he slowly toppled backward, a statue falling.

Centered on the front of his visor was a finger-sized hole, and frozen on his face, a look of terrible surprise.

“No!” Falconi shouted.

Shock paralyzed Kira for a moment, and then horrified understanding spurred her back into action. Too slow. She relaxed her hold on the Soft Blade and reached out with it, intending to loose the xeno and tear the Jelly to shreds.

Before she could, a woman in a skinsuit ran in front of the squid, waving a piece of white cloth. “Wait! Stop! Stop! We come in peace!”

Kira froze, unable to process what she was seeing.

As the stranger clambered into the temple, the gold sheen of her visor cleared to reveal a hard, lined face.

For a moment, Kira saw only a collection of unfamiliar features. Then her perspective shifted, and the planet seemed to tilt underneath her. “You!” she said.

“Navárez,” said Major Tschetter.

2.

More Jellies gathered around the broken front of the temple, but for some reason they didn’t shoot, so Kira ignored them as she rushed to Trig’s side.

Falconi and the squad’s medic were only a step behind. The medic removed Trig’s helmet with practiced speed, and pooled blood poured out across the tessellated floor in bright crimson streaks.

The kid was still conscious, his white-rimmed eyes darting around with a panicked look. A bullet had hit him near the base of his neck, ripping apart the arteries. Blood pumped out at a frightening rate, each spurt weaker than the last. His mouth worked, but no words came forth, only a horrible bubbling sound—the desperate gasps of a drowning swimmer.

My fault, Kira berated herself. She should have acted faster. She should have trusted the xeno. If only she hadn’t been so focused on control, she would have been able to protect the kid.

From a pocket, the medic produced an oxygen mask that he fixed over Trig’s mouth. Then he took a canister of medifoam, pressed the nozzle into the center of the wound, and sprayed.

Trig’s eyes rolled back, and his breathing stuttered. His arms began to quiver.

The medic stood. “He needs cryo. Unless you can get the Ilmorra here in the next few minutes, he’s dead.” As he spoke, Nielsen got back to her feet, holding a hand against the dent in her chestplate. He pointed a finger at her. “Need help?”

“I’ll survive,” she said.

With that, the medic hurried past to the Marines waiting for his attention.

“Can’t we—” Kira started to say to Koyich.

“The Ilmorra is already on her way.”

Kira looked to the sky. After a few seconds, she heard the distinctive rumble of an approaching rocket. “Where should—”

A trio of laser beams, each beam equal to the output from a dozen handheld blasters, stabbed upward from somewhere beyond the outskirts of the city. A second later, a burning star plummeted through the shelf of clouds: the Ilmorra, trailing blue shock diamonds and a line of white exhaust. The shuttle vanished behind the flank of the nearest mountain, and a blinding flash illuminated the valley, sending shadows streaming eastward from the base of the buildings.