“Convoy ETA?" Nora asked, checking the blade under her sleeve.
“Four minutes," replied Sable, her second-in-command. “Five transports. Lead vehicle carries the archive core. No civvies. All Starblade."
“Good. Smoke bombs ready?"
“Packed and primed."
“Lyall?" Nora turned to the youngest on the team, a green-eyed field medic clutching a satchel too big for his frame.
He nodded. “Antitoxins, blood coagulants, and suppressants. I'm set."
“Stick to cover. No heroics."
He gave a nervous grin. “I'm not the heroic type."
Nora almost smiled.
Almost.
---
The moon was absent. Perfect.
Their team of four—Nora, Sable, Lyall, and a scout named Ferik—waited behind a ridge of black shale.
Then—
Engines. Headlights.
Nora raised her hand.
“Now."
Explosives rocked the lead vehicle. Smoke bur
