“Platoon,” Foster shouted, “circle and squad lines!”
The Agrarians changed tactics, bumping into one another and shuffling around in an effort to assemble into the ordered formation.
Shariel tried to mimic the Agrarians. She joined their front line—the remnants of A squad, she believed—and fought alongside them, careful not to break rank. Her Breed was famously individualistic, and had never been good at formative tactics, but Shariel Veruseven had never been one to shy away from a challenge, either. She focused on the man to either side of her, adding her blade to his when he was hard-pressed. Holding herself back like that was torture, and she ground her teeth and muttered curses and hissed, but she stayed in her line.
The men and women in the Reliant fighting square moved like a floc
