An infection after my last miscarriage had rendered me both barren and, consequently, expendable. My sisters had fled with their children, through the mine to the lower docks. With luck, they would reach the waiting ship before the final attack. The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, a blur of red and orange; it wouldn't be long now.

I sifted through the power-packs, checking each display and keeping those with even a couple charges left. These were all I'd been able to scrounge from the the warehouses after the last bombing.

"Hey, Marit. Catch." I looked up in time to keep a nutribar from smacking me in the face.

Jorgen scrabbled up the rocky path and sat, easing his long legs out in front of him. He unwrapped another bar, biting off the corner. "Gah, this stuff's foul. Vitamin-enhanced, protein-fortified shit." He chewed with obvious distaste. "So how many slugs, you think?"

I tucked my own bar into my utility belt and considered the growing pile of empties. "Four hundred. Maybe."

He winced, the skin around his eyes like cracked leather. "When we run out of ammo, we'll fight with knives, eh?"

"And when our blades dull, we'll fight with fists," I finished the old aphorism without enthusiasm and chucked another empty. We both knew it wouldn't come to knives.

"So...." Jorgen chewed slowly. I could feel his sharp gaze, but I didn't turn from my task. "Isak didn't send you with the others."

I shrugged. "He's not a man to bend the rules."

Jorgen grunted in agreement. "Maybe -- but his heart must be made of ice. Or one of these rocks." He selected a piece of shale to illustrate his point and then hurled it over the ravine's edge.

I drew my sidearm and checked the wiring. It was older than me; the ignition could be damned finicky. "He can't afford sentimentality."

Jorgen sighed. "Hate to see a good woman go to waste."

"I'm more use here, Jorgen." The fuse plate on the weapon needed replacing, but I would give out before it did.

A katabatic wind started up, rushing down the mountain face and bringing the ubiquitous red dust with it. The tents flapped violently, but their moorings held. The artillery would jam if grit got in the mechanism, so the guns slept in tents and we slept exposed.

"You're our best pilot," Jorgen shouted over the roar.

"Liv flies as well." If anyone could slip through the SKR dragnet, my little sister could -- I'd trained her myself. Her babes had lived.

"Bah." Jorgen stuffed the last of the bar in his mouth with a shower of crumbs and climbed to his feet, wincing as his arthritic knee twinged. "Got to see how the boys are doing."

I waved him on and shaded my eyes, squinting into the hazy sunset. Below the ridge, men dug a foxhole for the mortar.

"Nils!" I called, and a gangly teenager in an orange cap looked up. I jerked my chin to indicate I needed him and watched as he scrambled up with the gracelessness of puberty. He would have grown as tall as his father, given the chance.

"Help me with these, eh?" I said, gesturing to the charged packs. He nodded mutely, and we divvied them up. He kept stopping to tug on his over-sized flak jacket where the neck gapped.

The settlement had two lines of defense: the first station lay where two peaks came together to form a narrow trough. The incoming ships would keep to it or risk being dashed against the rocks by the crosswinds; our best chance to pick them off would be there. The other station lay at the mine's entrance.

Nils drew the drawstring tight on a haversack. "That's the last of them, Marit."

"Good boy," I said. "You get this half up, I'll get the rest down, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded once and pulled at his jacket again.

Clapping him once on the shoulder, I managed a smile. "Get on with it then and I'll see you in a bit."

I watched him climb up the edge of the ravine, kicking up a new cloud of dust, and then reached for my own duffle.

The climb down was easier but treacherous, and I slipped twice, nearly losing the pack. In the shelter of the camp, the wind lessened, no longer threatening to pull me from my feet as I navigated the confusion of last minute preparations. Men worked along the walls of the ravine, setting the detonator charges.

Isak saw me as I dropped the pack but waited until he'd finished checking the integrity of the stone around a detonator before he hailed me.

"Any luck?" He set aside the heavy drill and wiped sweat from his brow, dust etching the dampness.

"Close to four hundred slug's worth. Got maybe two hundred here and Nils's taken the rest on up."

"Good. We've almost finished setting the charges. Enough to bring the mountain down." He brought his broad hand down in a flattening gesture, as though he were squashing a bug.

"Hey, Isak! You should see this." We both turned; one of the techs popped his head out of the command tent, his headset still around his neck. My task completed and with little to do but wait, I followed Isak in.

The tent was warmer, more from the over-heated equipment than the rattling thermal unit. I eased my balaclava off as the tech led us to a scanner.

"The carrier has changed orbit, sir," the tech said, pointing to a green dots drifting across the screen. It wouldn't be long now.

Isak leaned over his shoulder, studying the map. "Why?"

He pointed to a patch of sickly green on the screen. "There's an electrical storm in this quadrant and they're keeping well clear of it. It'll be playing havoc with their sophisticated equipment; their machines can't handle this kind of interference." He thumped the clunky display affectionately. "Our stuff might be shit, but it's sturdy."

"Good," Isak said, "The storm will cover our people's escape."

"It would," the tech agreed reluctantly, his mouth twisted downward. "But they'll fly into it blindly, and I don't know how a ship that old will handle it."

Isak rubbed the back of his neck; the muscle of his jaw jumped as he clench his teeth. "Can we radio them?"

"Not until they're away from the mountain." The tech didn't have to say that by then it would be too late.

Isak's eyes flickered to me, looking for something, before he turned back to the tech. "Upload the cruiser's projected orbit and the storm's current location and path onto an infostick."

The machine hummed loudly as it copied the data over, the tech drumming his fingers along its top. Isak laid a hand on my elbow. "Marit, a word?"

The wind immediately whipped hair into my watering eyes as we stepped outside.

"Having the children with them will slow the refugees' progress. One adult could catch them before they reached the ship."

I lifted my chin, my eyes narrowed. "And whom do you mean to send?"

"You could catch them, easily."

"So could any here." I bit my chapped lip, tasting grit and blood.

"Perhaps." I studied the fraying clasp of his jacket, the fabric had worn thin. He'd mended it twice already, and I remembered his deft fingers and the flash of the needle in the lamp light. "But I'm sending you."

"Ordering me." I tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear. A couple of men, the barrel of a cannonade carried between them, slowed to watch the exchange. Isak cask a dark look their direction and they hurried on.

"I'm your commander, that's my right," he said sternly, but then something quiet and desperate crept into his tone. "Don't argue with me, Marit. For once."

The tech stepped from the tent, and suddenly I remembered his name—Henrik.

"The info, Isak," he interrupted. "And the first of the fighters will be here within the hour."

"Thank you," Isak said, accepting the infostick. It fit neatly in the palm of his hand. "Get the men to their posts."

Henrik nodded and headed back at a trot, shouting out the orders. My heart jumped with a rush of adrenaline as the sirens began to shriek.

"Take it." My fingers closed around the stick as he pressed it into my hand, his fingers warm over my own. "Please."

"All right," I agreed.

He smiled, the first I'd seen in weeks. "Then go now."

I hesitated and kissed him quickly and then turned and ran. I made it more by feel than sight as the sun sank below the horizon. Reaching the shallow cave that marked the entrance of the mine, I stopped, panting in the thin air.

"Marit?" Nils held one of the power packs, trying to load it, but his hands shook badly. He fumbled and and the pack hit stone with a clatter.

I stooped to retrieved it. "Here." With a deft jimmy and twist, I loaded it.

"They're coming, aren't they?" His voice broke on the final word.

I nodded and then pulled the infostick from my pocket. "Take this."

"What is it?"

"There's a wicked storm blowing in. If our people fly out into it, then this whole game's for naught. You're the fastest--you've got to catch them before they leave. This has everything Liv needs to navigate the squall."

He looked at me in confusion. "But I won't have to time get back before the fighters show up."

"No," I agreed and gave into impulse to brushed the over-grown hair from his eyes. "You'll go with them; there's room for one more."

"But the lottery -- I drew this lot. I can't abandon my post."

"You've got a new one." I pushed him toward the ladder down into the shaft. "Run now."

He paused, turning the infostick over in his hand. "But what about you?"

I squeezed his shoulder pushed him again, harder. "I've got things to do." I grabbed the nutribar from my belt and tossed it to him. "One for the road."

He raised it in a salute and disappeared down the shaft, swallowed by blackness.

I drew my gun and check it again, habit carrying me to the last. From the mouth of the cave I could see the bright streak of the carrier dropping through atmo.

They were here.