“You command at my pleasure, Commander,” she hissed.
Then she lifted him off his feet with what witnesses later would describe as superhuman strength and threw him over the wall.
He was still screaming when she turned to the soldiers who had watched it all happen and shouted, “Now get those gates open!”
Outside the walls, the rescued soldiers were gathered in a knot before the gates, having abandoned the sleds after the flits had been forced to cut them loose. Daylight was fading quickly. First Response still flew overhead, offering what protection it could, making wild sorties into the teeth of the attacking army as it swarmed over the grasslands and approach road, watching in horror as the enemy overran watchtower after watchtower on its way to the walls of the city.
Keeton was searching the walls for some sign of activity near the gates—anything that would have indicated they were about to be opened—when a body came flying over the wall. It was a man in Federation military uniform, but that was all he could tell. He watched in shock as the man tumbled earthward and struck with such ferocious impact that there was no question about whether he still lived.
“Who was that?” Wint whispered.
Seconds later the gates opened, and the soldiers trapped outside poured through.
Wint took the two-man out onto the approach road for one more run at the attackers as they surged across the grasslands and past the watchtowers on their way to the wall, giving the rest of the team an opportunity to cross the walls and manage a landing inside. Then he swung the craft about and raced after them.
Back on the ground, below the west wall, hundreds of soldiers were flooding through the open grounds fronting the gates, heading for the battlements. Weapons were being unhooded and swung into place. Huge fire launchers were charged and rail slings loaded. The gates were sealed anew, the locks set, and the crossbar dropped back into place. Dust and shouts rose into the air—a wild cacophony of sound that smothered Keeton’s attempts to tell Wint what he wanted next from First Response. All around him, the soldiers of the Federation army were preparing to defend Arishaig.
He was barely out of the two-man when one of Tinnen March’s adjutants rushed up to him. “The Prime Minister requests your presence on the wall immediately!” he blurted, forgetting to salute until he had finished delivering his message. “Sir.”
Keeton glanced up, then nodded. “Who fell off the wall?”
The adjutant couldn’t seem to get any more words out. He saluted again, a quick sharp act, and rushed away.
Keeton managed to tell Wint what he wanted from First Response and then set off for the top of the wall. When he got there, he found Edinja Orle waiting for him.
“Commander Keeton,” she greeted him. Her words were sharp-edged, but her voice steady. The big moor cat Cinla was sitting next to her, watching him. “Commander March has been relieved of his command. You are his replacement. The defense of the city is in your hands.”
Keeton stared. “I don’t want the job,” he said finally.
“Well, you don’t have a choice.” She stepped close, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “Tinnen March panicked. He was not going to open the gates. He was going to leave you and the others out there to die. I saved your life.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s who went over the wall?”
“He deserved what he got. I can’t have cowards and fools leading the army at a time like this. You and I don’t much like each other and we’ve not gotten along well, but I respect your abilities and your courage. I hope you respect that my responsibility as Prime Minister and leader of the people of Arishaig requires that I make the best choices possible when I am required to do so. This is one of those times.”
“I just don’t—”
She stopped him with a sharp hiss. “This isn’t up for debate. We don’t have time to argue about it. You are being given command of the army. You are being charged with the safety of the city and its people. Would you refuse to do your duty when so many lives are at stake, Commander?”
Then she pivoted and walked off without a backward glance, the moor cat trailing after her with long, loping strides.