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His hand closed on the barrel, pushing it away as it fired. The heat burned his hand but Tristan ignored it. He opened his eyes as he pulled on the LR-723 watching the surprised man's expression as he lost his grip on it and the strap connecting the rifle to him pulling along. Tristan put his other hand on the stock and shoved it back into the man's neck. He heard the bones break as he fell back, ripping the rifle out of Tristan's hands.

He moved to a crouch as the woman brought her rifle up, grabbed a knife off Alex's harness with his uninjured hand and the barrel with his other hand. He felt the knife's vibration as it turned on under his touch. She pressed the trigger. He felt the heat of the bolt against the side of his head, smelled the burned fur.

He pulled on the rifle, forcing her forward. He brought the knife up, slicing the strap. The knife dug into her armor, not deep enough to hurt her, but it didn't matter. The knife moved past the armor and to her face. The knife went in easily and he pushed her back with it. He let go of it, flipped the rifle around and put it to his shoulder scanning the area, trying to find the hover they'd come in, but it had to be in the forest.

He saw Alex out the corner of his eye and was afraid. His first instinct was to bury it, to be angry for Alex causing him to feel something, but he let the fear flow through him. He was afraid, terrified. Alex was breathing, but he couldn't know how badly injured he was. There was a chance he might die.

He swallowed, and with a slow breath took the fear and set it aside. Now wasn't the time for it. If he let it overwhelm him, Alex would die. He looked at the humans as he placed a hand against Alex's neck. His pulse was strong, steady, and his fear, in its box, diminished.

They wore black armor, Military issue, identical. He exchanged his rifle for one with an intact strap. These weren't mercs. These were a corporate army.

A quick check of Alex didn't reveal any major injuries. He put the strap over his shoulder and carefully picked Alex up. He wavered for a moment as the world threatened to tilt, but he focused on Alex. He had to get him to safety.

They had been targeting him, which meant they had known about him. Them. Jacoby had been target one. Tristan found it mildly insulting not to be at the top of the list. They'd given themselves away at some point. The destruction of the equipment depot was the most logical place it had happened.

Tristan hadn't been in a state to be careful. Alex had been distracted and Jacoby was.... Jacoby was a retired merc. One who had had a long career and lived through it, but he'd left the live behind over sixty objective years ago. No matter how good he might have been, he wasn't the man he had been then.

He paused before entering the House. The dropship had landed on the other side of the town, and Samalians were running out of it, toward the House. There had to be a wave of corporate soldiers moving on the town. A dropship could hold five hundred soldiers, but had the corporation that many of them here? He hated not having information.

Inside the House, the Priestess was speaking to children, doing her best to keep them calm. His presence in the building had the opposite effect to what he'd expected. They relaxed. They felt safe with him here.

He watched them looking at him, and he felt something... odd. He set that emotion aside with the others. He'd study it later. The Priestess, Hea'Las. People had names, the thought popped in his head. They weren't just items to be used and discarded. That was strange, but he had a sense that his acceptance of Alex meant more than just caring for him.

But right now he didn't have the time.

Hea'Las came to him.

"Alex his hurt," he said, his voice steady, his emotions under his control. "And you have townsfolk coming. Some of them might be hurt, but you will make sure Alex is cared for."

She took him. "Of course." And brought him to a mat on the floor.

Tristan took a step to follow her and the world decided to tilt. He staggered and forced it to be steady. "I may have a concussion. Do you have anything for it?"

"I do not have anything prepared, but I have Sabato bark. I can steep some for you."

He had to dredge the name up from his memory. His father had taught him what plant could help him. The medicine in the hover would be better, but could he make the world obey him that long?

"I don't have the time for that, just give me the bark."

She eyed him and opened a small cabinet. She handed him a handful of strips, but didn't release his hand. She studied his face. "You seem better. Did you get the boon you were looking for?"

He looked at Alex's form on the mat, felt the emotions he'd set aside, and shook his head. "I got more than I was looking for."

She canted her head. "Is that a good thing?"

"I... don't know." He found himself smiling. "I'm going to make it a good thing." He untangled his hand from hers. "But for now, I have to go deal with your pest problem." He broke a piece of bark in two and popped it in his mouth, chewing it.

She made a face at him. "How can you stand the taste?"

"It's just taste. All I care about is that it's going to help me. Remember, care for him. I need him to be well."

She smiled at him. "I will."

He took a step toward the door, and when the world remained steady he took another, hurrying outside. He headed toward the incoming people.

"Don't do that, boy."

Tristan froze.

"It's their problem, not yours."

Tristan turned and faced his father, looking at him sternly

"They brought this on themselves, with their faith and prayers. The hover's right there, get in it and leave."

He locked eyes with his father's. "You are dead. Go away."

With an expression of surprise, his father vanished.

Tristan gave himself a second to appreciate the peace, then turned and hurried toward the town, popping all the bark in his mouth.

When he reached the first group, they called to him and he walked through them. He only caught a few words in the dialect he understood. 'Savior, Protector. Envoy.' And he took the emotions he felt and set them aside with all the others. The anger at being expected to do something for them. The pity they hadn't taken advantage of what Alex and Jacoby had offered. The sadness at the knowledge that some of them wouldn't survive.

Once this was over, he was going to have a lot of things to process.

When he reached the back of the group, he saw six form dressed in black at the edge of the town. He could see blaster fire between the buildings behind them People were fighting back, and Tristan smiled.

He switched the rifle to maximum power and took aim. They either hadn't noticed him or, at this distance, didn't realize he was armed. Like the others, they weren't wearing helmets. An overconfidence that would cost them. He fired, and a head exploded. He aimed at the next one while the weapon cycled. When it was ready he fired again. A second head exploded.

The others were moving now, making aiming more difficult, but it also made their shots go wild. He waited. One of them would realize the situation they were in and make the expected mistake.

One of them stopped moving to aim at Tristan, but it was too late. Tristan fired, and he went down. The three left went back to the town for cover. Now Tristan ran, but not directly at them. He ran to the right. Let those in the town deal with them, or not. If they tried to follow him, he'd deal with them.

They didn't, and he reached the town. He continued in, coming across bodies, most Samalians, but some soldiers. Off one he replaced his rifle with a Kentric Destructor. The handgun didn't even have a scuff mark on it. Brand new. These soldiers have been equipped specifically for this attack.

The sound of a fight drew him deeper in and he killed the two soldiers attacking the Samalian woman.

"Get everyone out of town and to the House," he told her.

She replied in a dialect he didn't understand.

He motioned in the direction of the House. He needed to find someone who understood him.

He fired at every soldier he came across, a headshot each, if they were quick enough he needed a second one, but they all died. He took gun belts, and put them over his shoulders, and added a knife sheath to them. He set the guns at max power, not caring about draining them, having enough of them on himself and an easy way to get more as he killed more soldiers. He liked the Destructor, he found, for this situation. It was bulkier than his Azeru, but at close range and max power it could blow through the armor the soldiers were wearing.

Each Samalian he rescued he told to get everyone out, but he wasn't having any luck finding one who understood him. He needed to empty the town. He couldn't afford to have anyone in it for what he was planning to do.

Another fight further in, and he killed another soldier. When that Samalian turned to see who had saved him, he froze.

Tristan recognized him, the blond and copper fur was distinctive. He was the Samalian who had made advanced on Alex. The one who'd driven Tristan almost mad enough to kill him. He felt shame at that loss of control. He knew Alex better. He knew how deeply he cared for him. Alex would never go with someone else. He should have trusted him. He would have, if he hadn't been out of control.

The Samalian didn't react fast enough, by the time he tried to bolt Tristan had a hand on his neck, claws digging in to keep him still. "Listen to me carefully. You are don't fighting."

"No, I--"

"Listen to me." Tristan growled. He didn't have the time to deal with an obstinate youth. Motion out the corner of his eye, a form clad in black. He fired at it until the gun overheated, dropped it and took another one from a holster. "You have a more important job now." That calmed him. "Good. You need to get everyone out of the town and to the House, get everyone in there and make sure they stay inside. Am I clear?"

"Why?"

"No time for that. You do it, or they die. It's that simple. I'll deal with the soldiers, you evacuate the town."

"You can not to it alone."

"I'm not alone. There's plenty of you warriors fighting, sacrificing themselves so others can live. You need to make sure those sacrifices are not in vain."

The Samalian nodded and Tristan released him.

He stayed there. "About Alex," the youth said.

He didn't have the time for that. "Later. You have a job to do, your town depends on it."

It looked like the young Samalian might say something more, but instead he ran to the closest building, shouldering the door open and talking rapidly. Tristan smiled. Not everyone would be saved this way, but more would now.

He set his gaze on the dropship. Now he needed to find one person among the fighter and then arrange for the first step toward removing the people here from the corporation's radar.