The thud of the mortars landing overhead shook the bunker to its very foundations. Mal crouched next to a support post, rifle in his lap, waiting for orders. He rubbed at the back of his neck where the itchy dust and fragments of concrete that rained down from the ceiling with every hit had fallen inside his collar. Ten feet away, Stephanie knelt as she spoke to the colonel on the radio, presumably finding out what they were doing next. Mal couldn’t help but flinch when another blast rocked the building. They were getting closer by the minute.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephanie slam the radio against the floor in frustration, then hand it to the soldier sitting next to her. She stood up. “All right, people, Command says hold tight, they’re going to clear us a way outta here,” she shouted. “That means we’re waiting a bit longer. I want everybody who can to move to the lowest place you can find and stay close to the supports. If you got wounded near you, help ‘em get to a safe spot. Stay ready to move, people—we may have to get out of this place quick.”

She had barely finished speaking when the ceiling gave out.

He could see her silhouette moving, miraculously still standing, through the thick dust. Coughing, he leapt to his feet, scrambling over the rubble of the building. It seemed to happen almost in slow motion—she jumped over a slab of broken concrete, rushing to help one of her men who was pinned under a chunk of debris. Mal could hear the snap and hiss of rifle fire as the Alliance ground troops moved in. He emptied his gun into smoke of the ruin. His eyes were burning, and he reached up to wipe away the blood that was running into them from a cut on his scalp. Looked up to see the Purplebelly closing on her from behind as she tried to heave the piece of concrete off her trapped comrade. No time to load. He dove toward her, felt the breath leave her lungs as his shoulder impacted her stomach. Heard her cry out as the bullet sank into her arm—better her arm than her che