Mlurrrllp.

  Amalia was roused from sleep by the light gurgling of Riza's belly under her ear. The skin was warm against her cheek, and Amalia focused, listening closer. “Good morning,” she whispered softly.

  Glloorrrlp.

  “If you're waiting to feel a kick, it's still too early.”

  Amalia hadn't realized Riza was awake yet, but it didn't surprise her. “I know that.” She pressed her face into Riza's belly and said, “But I can hear the baby.” Her voice was muffled by soft skin and hard abs. “I know you're in there.”

  “I'm just hungry,” Riza said in a groggy tone.

  “I'll get you food!” Amalia leapt up, being careful to not step on anyone else laying around.

  Blankets and limbs were strewn all around like a chaotic nest. Violet was curled up next to Brana with one arm flopped over her face. Veolo was holding a snoring Brolgar like a big teddy bear. Tamiyo was mumbling in her sleep, tangled in a blanket and tucked between the wall and Aurania's tall body. Inelius wasn’t there—he had the overnight guard shift. Raine was missing too, she probably found it harder to sleep without Inelius next to her.

  No Soren either.

  Amalia paused. She wasn’t surprised, he didn’t seem to sleep much. Or if he did, it wasn’t ever here, not unless someone pulled him into the group. She made a mental note to do that more. Not that he needed help—but maybe it’d be nice to not feel alone at night, even if he didn’t say anything.

  She carefully made her way across the pile of snoozing bodies, laughing quietly to herself at the thought of shoving an unconscious Soren onto the chest of a sleeping Aurania. Maybe that would speed things up. I wonder if he'll glow when they finally fuck.

  Outside, the early light had begun to stretch across the hard-packed ground, casting long orange-blue shadows beneath the ship. The air still held the bite of night, but it was loosening—making way for another hot Mol’eyne day.

  Inelius stood at the bottom of the ramp, posture alert but relaxed. His rifle was slung across his chest and his eyes scanned the horizon. Next to him, Raine was working Brolgar's portable cooking setup, already prepping food. She wore one of Inelius’s jackets—oversized and clearly too warm for later, but it looked good on her. The extra arm sleeves somehow gave it a bit of fashionability on the CIPHER. Her hair was tied back, and she had that focused expression she always got when she was working with her hands.

  Amalia grinned and hopped the last step down. “The baby is requesting food!”

  Raine didn’t look up. “You? Or little Elias?”

  “Yes.” Amalia skipped over, bumping the lazarco with her hip as she passed. “Mornin’ Neely.” Peeking into the pan, she said, “Oooh, this smells good.”

  Raine pressed the lid down, shutting her out. “It's not quite done yet. Go see if Soren is ‘meditating’ or if he dozed off on his rock.”

  “What do you mean ‘go see?’ I can check that from here.”

  Amalia picked up a small rock and looked past the ship in the direction of Soren's perch. She raised her other hand up to guide her aim and started estimating the trajectory.

  “Ain't no way you're gonna hit him from way over here,” Inelius challenged.

  “You're on, Quadpaw. I hit him and you buy my sister a big hat to go with her cool new gunslinger outfit.”

  “Oooh,” Raine butted in. “We'll take that bet.”

  “Wait, what do we win if she misses?” Inelius said quickly.

  Amalia closed one eye, let out a, “Yyah!” and put her entire body into hurling the stone. It flew into the distance in a long arc, vanishing from sight. She turned and held her hand out for Inelius to shake. “Such a shame. Four hands and you can't grasp how great I am.”

  He stared back at her. “I think you missed.”

  A quiet “Ow!” echoed from up on the ridge, undeniably Soren's deep tone.

  Inelius let out a small sigh and shook her hand, Raine giggling beside him.

  “Big hat,” Amalia told him. “Reeaal fancy.”

  He's good for it, Amalia thought as she headed up towards Soren. Inelius has that loyal puppy energy. So dependable. Raine found a good one.

  She found Soren massaging a sore spot on the crown of her head. The precise aim surprised even Amalia, but she wouldn’t tell Inelius that. She drug Soren back down and made sure he ate, then brought food to Mama Riza. Then she helped Inelius prep everyone's gear while snacking on Raine's delicious breakfast.

  Once the team was all up, they met in The North Wing for the pre-mission brief. Riza wasn’t coming with them, but she was still in attendance, flipping Violet’s new gun around in her hand like a badass. Violet had on her new skirt—it looked so good with the rest of her armor. The whole thing gave her this sleek, deadly silhouette, and she had already mastered the walk overnight.

  Once Violet put that belt and skirt on, her hips moved with this slow, confident gait that told people to get out of the way. Her hand seemed to hover near that new gun, Morgan’s Mercy, like she was just waiting for someone to say, “Draw!” so she could shoot first. Amalia grinned proudly, watching Violet take mental notes on how Riza was spinning the gun on one finger. I have the coolest sister.

  “Alright everyone, listen up,” Aurania began. She had on her viridian robes with heavy plate armor, her giant axe held in one hand. The handgun strapped to her left thigh was simpler than Morgan's Mercy but she still made it look cool.

  “We're escorting a truck out of town loaded with goods Boadicea has produced for the Liberty Union. We'll be meeting an LU convoy, swapping loads, then returning to Boadicea with the supplies the LU is providing to the town. Both legs of the trip are dangerous, we anticipate being attacked during at least one of them.”

  Aurania’s voice was calm but carried weight. “These convoys keep getting hit. No one has been killed, but it's too damn clean. They keep making away with part of the payload, so we're shooting to wound if engaged. I want someone alive to probe for information, maybe we can stop this before it gets worse.”

  She looked around the room at everyone, then finished: “Questions?”

  They all sat with the info for a minute, but it was pretty straightforward. Amalia stretched out, mentally prepping for the day's fun. But then Aurania’s eyes landed right on her.

  “Amalia, go drop NMW back in the ship.”

  “Wh—seriously?” She was holding Riza's cannon in a cross-body carry—she'd built up enough endurance from carrying it on her back that she needed to strengthen her arms now. “But I just got good at carrying it!”

  “You won’t need it,” Aurania said simply, but she added a warm smile. “The only cannon I need from you today is your quick chaos. You'll get plenty of chance to shoot it later.”

  Amalia tried not to pout. Riza gave her a small smirk from across the room. Then Amalia perked up and told Aurania. “You got it, Boss.”

  The truck pulled out of Boadicea just over an hour later, Brolgar behind the wheel. He had his shotgun in the cab with him, but otherwise sat alone. The rest of the team was on top of the long vehicle: Amalia, Violet, Veolo, Aurania, and Soren. They were perched into armored nooks mounted atop the cargo bays.

  It wasn't until they were out of town that Veolo said over comms, “I wouldn't be surprised to find out Venlin is backing these raiders himself.”

  “You think so?” Amalia asked sadly.

  “How else do you think the raiders always know about these convoys?” Veolo's tone was stern, but not unkind. She was just speaking the facts. “Only way they could get in and out so clean is if they have someone tipping them off.”

  “I agree,” Aurania said. “I think Venlin would be happy to have the LU completely off of Mol'eyne so he can play king.”

  Amalia stayed quiet. She felt so disappointed thinking about it, Venlin always looked so nice. And they had flirted a little too, it had been fun.

  They rolled on for another hour without incident. The road dipped and curved through a low valley dotted with jagged red rocks and scattered brush, the sky above washed pale and bright. Heat shimmered just ahead of them, making the distance look like it was swaying. Amalia squinted down the trail, scanning for threats.

  They were halfway through a narrow stretch of badland when Veolo called through comms, “Vehicle approaching fast, five o’clock.”

  Amalia's pulse jumped, and she twisted to look behind them. Through the dust pluming in the distance, a blocky flatbed hauler was barreling down the trail, rigged with metal slats and hastily welded armor. She could already see shapes on the back—six figures standing armed, gripping tight to the railing.

  “Brolgar!” Aurania yelled. “Floor it!”

  The truck lurched a bit as the d'moria gave the cargo hauler all it had. It wouldn't outrun their adversaries, but it would at least make their job harder.

  The flatbed opened fire first—wild bursts of rifle fire peppering the side of the LU-marked convoy. Amalia ducked as rounds zinged past her shoulder, then popped back up and returned fire.

  Aurania’s voice followed just as Amalia fired her first burst. “Weapons free. Disable them before they get close enough to board.”

  Amalia ducked once more as their adversaries returned fire. Then they were answered by two coordinated rifle bursts from Soren and Veolo, followed by a sick, throaty growl as Violet let six successive shots loose from Morgan's Mercy.

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  “Damn Vi,” Amalia bubbled. “That thing is nyasty.”

  Her sister laughed and fired two more rounds toward the flatbed.

  Amalia popped up and fired several more times, pinning a couple enemies behind cover. She heard a cold ping beside her as Violet ejected her heat-sink magazine.

  Aurania laid down a cluster of fire with her handgun then yelled, “Driver's armored! Focus on tires and personnel!”

  Amalia complied, accompanied by gunfire from Veolo and Soren. The flatbed's tires held up, and the attackers were doing surprisingly well at staying in cover when attacked. For a few quick rounds, the two trucks went back and forth with neither side giving ground.

  Then Violet popped up to fire and a bullet ricocheted off her right pauldron. The blast knocked her shoulder backwards, but she immediately answered by hip-firing back at them. Amalia took aim again just in time to see an attacker catch a slug of Mercy in the chest.

  He flopped hard back into the bed and his teammates looked startled by his injury. Amalia kept firing, but a few moments later, the flatbed gave up the chase—slowing and rapidly receding into the distance.

  She watched them go, then scanned the horizon for any additional threats.

  “I think we're clear,” Veolo said.

  “Yep,” Aurania answered. “Brolgar, you can ease off.”

  The truck gradually slowed to its previous pace as they took a breath and reloaded. Amalia checked Violet's pauldron but it held up great—just a small dent and scratch where the bullet had been deflected.

  As they sat back down, Amalia looked at Aurania, keying up comms to speak through the wind. “Sure would've been handy to have NMW back there.” She had a huge grin on her face.

  “Yeah yeah, let me have it,” Aurania smiled with an eye roll.

  “Could've taken the truck's engine out,” Amalia continued.

  “Or the wheel,” Soren piled on.

  “Or scrapped the whole plan,” Amalia shrugged, “and killed all six with a single slug.”

  Aurania picked up a shell casing and chucked it at Amalia's face, but the wind caught it before it could reach her. Amalia giggled and stuck her tongue out at Aurania, who did the same in return.

  The rest of the journey to the rendezvous point passed without incident, though Amalia stayed perched and alert, watching the horizon. Every heat shimmer could’ve been a threat, but nothing stirred, and eventually the trail opened into a wide plateau.

  Three Liberty Union vehicles were already parked near a cluster of red rock formations—two armored transports and one multi-wheeled hauler. LU banners marked their flanks, faded by wind and sun but still visible. A few soldiers milled around, checking cargo and chatting near the tailgates.

  Brolgar slowed their truck to a crawl, then parked beside the hauler with a hiss of hydraulics. Aurania signaled everyone to stay sharp but gave a nod of recognition to the lead LU officer.

  The shorn stepped forward and said, “Captain Aurania, right?”

  “Uh, close enough,” Aurania responded. “We’re independent, not actually military.”

  “Oh. Well either way—heard your team’s been making an impression out here.”

  “Only the good kind, I hope,” Aurania replied as she hopped down.

  The officer—Commander Tullis, according to his badge—laughed and offered a handshake. “Depends who you ask. Any trouble along the way?”

  Aurania gave a short nod. “Yeah, half-a-dozen on a flatbed tried taking a stab at us but we fended them off. Keep an eye on your backtrail.”

  Tullis’s expression sobered. “Thanks for the warning, we’ll sweep the area before heading back. You should know though—we keep hearing about these raids, but they only seem to be happening on Boadicea’s leg of the trip.”

  Aurania glanced back at her team, the same thought passing between them. Then she said to Tullis, “Yeah we’re pretty sure someone local’s been tipping off the raiders.”

  Amalia hopped down beside Violet and watched as the two teams got to work. Crates were unloaded from Boadicea’s truck—tools, raw materials, preserved produce, even a few bottles of high-proof Mol’eyne whiskey sealed in wax. In return, the LU crew loaded up their side of the bargain: medical supplies, high-grade protein bars, water filters, circuit components, and a few desperately-needed power modules for the next time the eastern grid acted up.

  Amalia helped guide one of the crates into place, brushing her hands together once it was secure. Then she noticed one of the LU boys trying not to stare at her. She realized he was human and it had been a while since she had seen one other than Soren.

  She walked over to him with a grin and he began to blush. She looked at his rank and then touched one finger to the bottom of his chin, tilting his eyes up to hers. “What’s wrong, Corporal? Never seen a lacravida before?”

  He let out a flustered laugh and shook his head.

  She giggled and gently pushed him away. “Well I’m not military,” she glanced below his belt. “You only have to stand at attention if you want.” As she made her way back to Violet, she exaggerated the sway of her hips.

  “Stop teasing them,” Violet muttered in a bored tone.

  Amalia leaned against their truck. “Neh, make me.”

  Aurania and the LU commander shook hands again, confirming the exchange. The wind had picked up a little, rustling Violet’s new skirt and tugging at the fabric like a playful child.

  “Alright, we’re full,” Brolgar called.

  “Mount up,” Aurania commanded. “Stay sharp—this next leg might get heavier.”

  Amalia climbed back onto the truck, settling back into her armored perch. Her fingers absently fidgeted with the strap as she thought through the possible ambush points on the return trip. Violet sat across from her as Veolo, Soren, and Aurania climbed back aboard.

  Then they were off.

  The road back felt more tense.

  Everyone was quiet. Amalia tried to think of the best way to lighten their moods, but knew they needed to stay focused. The return haul was heavier and slower. The supplies were important—too important to risk. The goods they transported out of Boadicea could've been sold by the raiders, sure. But what they hauled now would help them survive out in this harsh environment.

  This is when they’ll hit us. If I were them, I’d hit us now. She kept her rifle resting across her knees, her eyes on the ridgeline to their right. Jagged outcrops created natural bottlenecks. Places where attackers could get elevation.

  She wasn’t the only one on edge.

  Violet was checking the chamber on Morgan’s Mercy again. Veolo had adjusted her rifle sling three times in the last ten minutes. Soren was still as stone, watching the trail ahead like he could will enemies to appear early.

  And then they did.

  “Two flatbeds coming right at us!” Veolo snapped over comms.

  Amalia felt her gut dip as she spotted the trucks. They were both barreling down on them, each one hauling six gunmen.

  “Soren!” Aurania barked out. “Move up front to protect Brolgar!”

  He did as asked, and a moment later, gunfire rained down on them.

  “Don't worry about me!” Brolgar said.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Aurania spit back. “Soren, you hang off the goddamn front of the truck if you have to. You are Brolgar's shield!”

  He did just that.

  Amalia popped out of cover and laid down a round of fire at the oncoming trucks. They were too far out to get an accurate shot yet, but that was quickly changing. Her heart was pounding, dirt kicked up from the tires of all three trucks, and gunfire rang back and forth.

  “Right truck doesn't have an armored driver!” Veolo called out.

  “Brolgar, get as close as possible when we pass each other!” Aurania commanded.

  “Aye ma'am!”

  Aurania suddenly stood, steady despite the jostling of their speeding vehicle. Her viridian robes whipped out behind her, waving like flags in the blood-orange dust. She holstered her handgun, gripped her massive greataxe, and just as the right-side flatbed was about to pass—

  She leapt off of the truck.

  With a carefully coordinated arc of grace, fury, and raw muscle—she raised her axe overhead and brought it down through the windshield.

  It was brutally precise.

  The blade bit into the driver’s chest and embedded in the back wall of the cab. Then the trucks whipped past each other. The last thing Amalia saw was Aurania standing on the flatbed surrounded by six enemies—each petrified with fear.

  “Hang on!” Brolgar yelled.

  Amalia felt the truck lurch underneath her as Brolgar cranked the wheel hard right. Their transport veered into a tight arc, tires skidding against the dusty terrain as the truck swung around to loop behind the enemy vehicle.

  “Lay down fire on the other truck!” Violet yelled. “Keep Aura safe!”

  Brolgar drove hard directly towards Aurania as the other enemy truck swung around on their flank. Amalia let loose a barrage of gunfire, as did Veolo. Sparks flew across the chassis of the flatbed and the men on back ducked for cover, a few of them taking grazing blows. The rattle of rifles echoed in her ears as hot rounds pinged off the armored nooks, forcing Amalia back down. One clipped the edge of her cover, spraying sparks.

  She popped up once more, aimed fast, and dumped a burst toward the enemy gunners.

  Then Morgan’s Mercy let out a throaty roar as Violet fired three times in quick succession—one shot clipped an attacker in the arm, spinning him sideways, another blew a jagged hole in the flatbed's railing, and the third cracked the windshield just shy of the driver.

  A flash of movement in the corner of Amalia’s vision caught her attention—Aurania’s flatbed was fishtailing wildly without a driver. But through the open air she glimpsed a blur of green robes and the shine of metal as Aurania tore through one of the raiders with a clean upward swing.

  I want to be like her when I grow up.

  Gunfire continued to blaze back and forth, and Amalia ducked again as another round sliced too close to her face for comfort.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered, sucking a deep breath through her teeth. She popped up, steadied her rifle, and took her shot—catching one raider square in the leg. He screamed and dropped out of sight.

  “Got one!” she called.

  “Hell yeah!” Violet shouted. “Great work!”

  Brolgar's truck was coming up to stop behind the driverless flatbed as it coasted to a halt—just in time to see one of the enemy gunmen try to scramble down from the side to flee. Aurania grabbed him mid-climb and threw him backward over the railing. He hit the dirt in a tangle of limbs and didn’t get back up.

  The other truck was barreling down on them again, four enemies still laying down fire from the flatbed. They returned fire, up and down from cover, balancing keeping themselves and Aurania alive. The enemy truck started turning left, then something flew threw the air—

  Veolo shouted, “GRENADE!”

  Amalia kicked off from her perch and tackled Violet, the two of them slamming into the steel deck just as the grenade exploded midair. The blast rocked the truck, sending dust and heat across the roof, but the armor held.

  “You, mother fu—” Amalia jumped back up. “Soren! Tear their fucking wheels off!”

  He was still hanging off the front of the truck, shooting his rifle one handed. He looked up at her, back at the truck, then dropped to the ground. The enemy flatbed was circling back to make another run, still firing in intermittent bursts.

  Soren reached out a hand and began faintly glowing. For a split second, everything stuttered. The dust slowed midair. The sound dulled, like it was underwater.

  Then gravity collapsed on top of their adversaries.

  There was no warning shot—just a pulse of pressure that crushed the approaching vehicle. One second, enemies were firing from atop a moving vehicle—the next, a crater lay in the ground like the truck had been hit by an invisible sledgehammer the size of a house.

  Veolo swore, Violet stared. Amalia was kind of impressed. She let out a long whistle, breaking through the sudden quiet on the battlefield. “Dayum. I think they dead.”

  Soren stood in the road, dust swirling around him like steam. One arm was still outstretched, fingers trembling. His hair and eyes were faintly glowing—like a dim furnace trying not to catch fire.

  Aurania’s voice broke through the comms, “Soren. Pull it back. Breathe, you’re ok.”

  He didn’t answer, and for a second, Amalia thought he hadn’t even heard.

  Then slowly, he lowered his hand. The light dimmed and his shoulders slackened.

  Aurania, still atop the enemy truck, was holding a struggling lazarco up in the air with one hand. She headbutted him hard, he stopped wiggling, and she threw him down onto the ground. “We’re clear. Regroup on me, bring me something to tie this guy up with.”

  Amalia approached Soren and looked up at him. “That was pretty badass.”

  He looked exasperated. “Thanks. Still trying to get this under control.” He looked at his palms in frustration.

  “No quake this time!” She chirped with a smile.

  “Yeah.” He sounded a little more cheerful now.

  “Come on, let’s not keep Aura waiting,” she nudged him and began walking towards their leader. He fell in beside her, and they both looked curiously at the crater, grimacing as they passed it.

  Amalia glanced up at Soren.

  “Do you want pancakes when we get back?”