Shara had descended to street level, where the action was, and was proceeding down the Straight side door to side door. She had lifted a bag of ammunition from a surprised child and sent him back to his mother. Now she was feeding cartridges into the wound on her upper arm.

The combat telegraph had been strung between buildings through sewers and drain pipes. There was a handset in the lobby of every building. Shara stopped halfway along the Straight to talk into one, getting an update from Aurile.

The destruction squads were moving behind one man tracks, the heavy autoguns of which kept defenders out of the open. The squad would wait until a building’s door and windows were behind the tracks, then smash the door down with charges. As the door fell, a soldier with a portable flamethrower lit up the inside of the building. Further charges and incendiary bombs were then thrown in to complete the job. Another squad mopped up anyone who fled the burning building. The squads were three buildings away from Shara.

An ever growing band of would be defenders was growing in the lobby, stopping on their way to or from the relentless arson to stare at this striking woman with her warrior’s bearing and strange language. Shara returned the handset to its cradle. “Are you ready to fight?” she asked the assembled throng. There were mumbles of assent, growing in volume as she stared at each defender individually. “Then come with me. It is time for you to fight back.”