4.7 - Blitz

“Let’s move!”

The team set off down the hallways at a jog, Tor’laen and Saevra taking point while the other two marines took the rearguard, the Armswomen sandwiched in the middle. They didn’t encounter another soul, moving quickly past unlit offices and locked storage rooms.

They continued for nearly two whole marks, making their way down to the third floor without resistance. It was like an unscratchable itch had settled inside Tor’laen’s mind, the instincts he had honed over his long career shouting that this was wrong. Still, he kept focus, constantly scanning each doorway they passed, each corner they rounded.

Finally, when they reached the first intersection on the third floor, he raised a fist to halt the team.

“We have an issue here,” he said over the squad channel. Tapping at the side of his visor, he brought up a small 3D map of the building they were in. “To reach the mezzanine and lobby, we need to cross to the other side of this floor. However, the path splits here, either routing through an assembly room or a sizable meeting room.” He manipulated the small control panel on his visor, highlighting the two rooms, and sending the map to his team. “Both would make excellent ambush points.”

“Can we bypass them somehow, Captain?” Vaeth asked.

“Not without setting off the building’s emergency evacuation system.” Tor’laen shook his head. “We would have to go through the fire containment doors. I shudder to think how the extremists would react.”

“So we blitz through one of the rooms, then? Which one is easier?” Kessi chimed in.

“Bad idea,” Mikka said. “That’s just asking to get flanked. Don’t fancy getting caught between a rock and a hammer.”

“The Lieutenant Commander is correct,” Tor’laen said slowly. “We cannot afford to leave either room unchecked, and we do not have the time to check one after the other.” He paused for a breath. “We will divide the squad and clear them simultaneously.”

The Armswomen exchanged glances.

“Is that…a good idea, squad leader?” Tovik asked after a moment. “I mean, we’re already outnumbered…”

“A standard Ydani fireteam is five marines. The group we just encountered on the fourth story was following that protocol,” he said evenly, not offended by the question. “With the number of estimated extremists in the building, I cannot imagine they have assigned more than a single fireteam to either room. If we match their numbers in an encounter, we hold a heavy advantage in experience and training.”

“What of the lone sentry that checked the roof, Captain?” Saevra asked, uncertainty in her voice. “At the very least, these opponents are not following the standard tactics. Either room may have more than a single fireteam in the worst case.”

“That is true.” Tor’laen nodded to the woman. “However, I believe this is our best chance to reach the hostages in time.” He checked a sigh. “There are no more shadowless paths.”

“Yes, Captain!” The three Ydani marines saluted, while the Armswomen nodded at him, their gazes firm.

“Vaeth, Saia, Lekka, Tovik — you’re with me, we’ll be taking the assembly room on the left,” Tor’laen ordered. “Saevra, Theren, Mikka, Aril, Kessi, you will be clearing the meeting room.” He glanced around at the teams. “If you encounter overwhelming resistance, do what you can to retreat and contact us over the comms. We’ll move to assist if we are able, and vice versa.”

“Understood!”

The word came back at him in both Zakkili and Hylec. Both squads gave each other nods, then moved in their separate directions. Tor’laen and Vaeth took point, shields held at the ready, while the three Armswomen fell in behind them. Within half a mark, they reached the assembly room.

It was sizable, able to seat more than two hundred Ydani easily. The right wall opened up into a raised, curtain-covered platform, from which civic officials and other dignitaries could give speeches or addresses to the audience. The main part of the floor was filled with simple wooden chairs, all lined up in near-perfect rows, apparently undisturbed. A single strip of narrow windows ran along the top of the left-hand wall, allowing natural light into the room.

A perfect place for an ambush. Tor’laen’s fists tightened inside his gauntlets.

The team started to move down one of the center aisles, slowing down from their earlier pace, wary of a surprise attack. Perhaps the only positive thing was that the chairs were tall enough for the Armswomen to almost be in concealment while standing.

Almost halfway across the room, Tor’laen froze, as did his squadmates. The unmistakable sound of gunfire rang out, muffled slightly by distance. Immediately, the comms came alive with voices.

“Contact!” Mikka’s voice sounded in their ears. “We’ve got four…no, five hostiles! Moving to neutralize!”

“A full fireteam,” Vaeth muttered, opening a private channel to Tor’laen.

“As I hoped,” the Captain nodded. “They shouldn’t have an issue with—”

Tor’laen’s sentence cut off in a wheeze as a pair of slugs slammed into his chest plating. Sharp pain danced across his ribs, but he ignored it, spinning to put his shield in the direction the shots came from.

A trio of enemy soldiers, all wearing similar gear to the ones upstairs, had popped up at the far end of the room, having evidently been hiding amidst the rows of chairs. As they continued to fire, Vaeth bounded over to him, smashing chairs out of his path to cover Tor’laen’s exposed side.

“Three ahead!” Vaeth reported over the comms, locking his shield against the Captain’s.

Tor’laen noticed a flicker of movement to the left and right of them, straining to see the one on his blind side.

“We’ve got one flanking on each side!” he called on the squad channel, switching to Zakkili. “Ladies, take care of them!”

Already, Lekka and Saia were moving to fire, popping out from between the chairs, harrying the two flankers. The extremists had to dodge and weave, trying to keep out of sight of the Armswomen.

Tor’laen gave a low growl. His instincts were screaming at him to assist with the flankers, but that wasn’t his role. The three soldiers on the other side of the room were doing a passable job of suppressive fire, their shots almost constantly pinging against his and Vaeth’s shields.

However, he needn’t have worried. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tovik, creeping under some of the chairs, closing in on the flanker that Saia was firing at. The burly woman paused, clearly trying to judge the correct timing, then jumped up, weapon already leveled as she slammed it onto one of the chair backs for stability.

Tovik fired, the sound of her weapon discharging echoing throughout the room. The unsuspecting extremist took the projectile in the center of his chest, caught completely by surprise. He was thrown backwards, chairs splintering as he smashed through them, until he finally came to rest in a heap on the ground.

“Oh, fuck. I hope that didn’t kill him.” Tovik’s voice muttered over comms, before she spoke up. “Target down! Right side neutralized.”

“Left side down as well!” Lekka reported, as the extremist on the opposite flank dropped, an electrified dart protruding from his side.

“Nice work, Grace squad,” Tor’laen called over the comms. “Focus on—”

He was cut off by a pair of spheres rolling to a stop, just under his shield.

“GRENADES!” he roared, diving away from the explosives. Tor’laen landed just in front of Tovik, pulling the woman down as he covered them both with his shield. Through the flash of motion, he caught Vaeth doing the same for Lekka across the aisle. His visor filtered the ear-splitting bang, and he could feel the bits of shrapnel pounding against his shield as the chairs surrounding them were reduced to splinters. Even through his shield, the shockwave rolled over him, slightly stunning the Ydani.

Tor’laen tried to heave himself to his feet, and he felt Tovik’s hands on his back, helping to push him upright. Just in time. One of the extremists who had been laying down suppressing fire was charging directly at him. Instinctively, Tor’laen twisted his heel, activating the stabilizers in his boots, the metal spikes digging into the floor. Even as he did so, the enemy smashed into his shield with a full body tackle.

The Captain tried to meet it with his own weight, pushing his body against the shield, resisting the sudden impact. Tor’laen’s stomach screamed with pain, and he felt something tear within his abdomen. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he did his best to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth. He pushed back, bringing the extremist to a standstill.

Out of the corner of his vision, he noted Vaeth doing the same, bracing his shield against another charging enemy. The two Ydani were struggling, each trying to unbalance the other, when the third opponent closed in. Too late, Tor’laen caught the glint of the naked blade of a combat knife, the extremist moving to thrust it into the marine’s torso, seeking the gaps in his plating.

From seemingly nowhere, Saia popped up between them. Dropping her rifle, she turned, and caught the blade of the enemy’s knife with her prosthetic hand, the steel cutting slightly into the polymer coating of her replacement limb. Saia twisted her arm, and Tor’laen could hear the whine of servos rising above the sounds of his struggle. After a second of struggling, Saia’s prosthetic hand twisted, and shattered the steel knife, the shards scattering across the floor. The extremist could only stare in disbelief as he held up the hilt of his now-useless weapon.

Saia didn’t miss the opportunity. Stepping in, she swung with all of the servo-enhanced might of her left arm, and caught the side of her opponent’s kneecap with her metal fist. Tor’laen imagined he could hear the Ydani’s joint get dislocated, and the man crumpled to the floor, writhing in agony. The Armswoman didn’t hesitate, moving to seize the wrist of the Ydani grappling with Vaeth. She twisted her arm, and the Ydani quickly lost focus, trying to grab at her prosthetic with his other hand. It was exactly the opening Vaeth needed. Snatching the shock baton from his belt, Vaeth jabbed it into the man’s side and discharged the weapon, causing his opponent to drop instantly.

That left the last extremist, still trying to push against Tor’laen’s shield, to bowl the Captain over. The man was shouting at him angrily, something in Ydanic, but he didn’t bother paying attention. Not that he could understand it anyway. With a growl, Tor’laen shifted his shield right, letting his opponent slide slightly along the ceramic plating. As soon as he did, the Captain reversed his momentum, bashing the extremist across the face and chest with the heavy equipment.

The other Ydani staggered back, directly into Tovik’s firing line. Tor’laen almost swore he could hear the woman snicker, before she discharged her weapon again, catching the extremist right in the ribs. The man went down like a sack of bricks, breaking several chairs on his way down.

“C-clear,” Tor’laen managed to cough over the squad channel. He could taste iron, as flecks of his blood splattered across the inside of his visor. “Let’s get them restrained.”

He remained on standby, trying to get his breathing under control, as his squadmates snapped restraints onto the downed extremists, kicking their weapons away and pulling out their earpieces. With a slightly trembling hand, Tor’laen tapped at the side of his visor, pulling up the feed from Mikka’s helmet.

The other squad was in the final stages of neutralizing their opponents, he was pleased to see. The Lieutenant Commander had clearly taken a much different approach to their side of the firefight, at least from what Tor’laen could tell. It seemed that she had left the two marines and one Armswoman, Aril, in the center of the room as a distraction, while she and Kessi had out-flanked the enemy flankers. Her squad was now bearing down on the last two enemy combatants, peppering them with shock-darts as the two Ydani marines in her squad slowly closed in on the extremists. A stun grenade went out from behind the shield wall, and the enemy combatants staggered as it went off, leaving them open. Within half a mark, it was done, and Tor’laen watched for a moment longer as Mikka snapped restraints on one of the squirming extremists, even as the man presumably cursed at her in Ydanic.

Cutting the feed, Tor’laen glanced around, noting that all the extremists in the assembly hall were now properly bundled up. The two men that Tovik had taken down were half-unconscious, but clearly alive, at least. The team had gathered around once more, keeping a watch on the opposite entrance, but giving each other nods and thumbs up. At the edge of his vision, he noticed Saia giving Vaeth a friendly punch in the thigh with her prosthetic, the Ydani involuntarily flinching at the action. The marine relaxed a moment later, tentatively giving the Armswoman a thumbs up while she chuckled.

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“The other squad has cleared their room,” Tor’laen announced over the team’s channel. “Let’s link up with them and proceed to the mezzanine.”

He received a chorus of acknowledgement, and his squadmates once again formed up, beginning to move to the doorway on the opposite side of the room. Tor’laen resisted the urge to press a hand to his side, as pain pulsed through him with every step. Just a little longer. They had already taken down sixteen extremists — over half, even by the most generous estimates of the enemy forces.

The team exited the assembly room, moving into hallways once more, the two Ydani taking point with their shields as usual. Moments later, they were face-to-face with the rest of the squad, the other members coming out of a connecting hallway.

“Good work, soldiers,” Tor’laen said, gesturing to them to fall in. They did so, the Armswomen giving each other friendly punches while the marines tapped their shields against each other lightly.

They continued to move down the corridor, once again moving at double time, or at least as fast as they dared to. A small ping inside Tor’laen’s visor notified him of a private comms channel opening.

“Tor’laen, big guy, are you okay?” Mikka’s voice sounded in his ear.

“I’m…fine, Mikka.”

“Are you sure? There’s fucking blood dripping from the bottom of your visor, man.”

“I…” He paused to cough, the sound contained by his visor. “I believe my gunshot wounds have opened again. I’ll be fine, at least for now.”

“By the Maker, Tor’laen, you’d better be.” The woman’s voice had an unmistakable edge of concern in it. “If you fucking bite it, Nalyra is gonna take my damn head off.”

“Trust me, I’ve fought through worse,” he managed to chuckle.

“Yeah, somehow I’m not fucking surprised.”

The team continued to move through the empty hallways until Tor’laen once more raised a fist, halting the group. Directly ahead of them was a large doorway which, according to the building diagram, led to the balcony that ringed the large mezzanine. The area acted as the lobby of the civic center, and was where the hostages were being held at gunpoint, according to the latest intel. Only glimpses had been caught by network drones through the narrow windows, but it was all the team had to go on at the moment.

“We’re approaching the suspected hostage location,” he said quietly, glancing back at his team. “We move as quietly as possible.”

Normally, any form of stealth would be impossible with the armored sabatons the Ydani were wearing, but thankfully the mezzanine and hallways connected to it had thick carpeting. One of the few forms of comfort allowed in the civic center. It would muffle their footsteps, at least to a degree.

“Continue to stay on strictly Zakkili frequencies, and only transmit if necessary,” Tor’laen warned, repeating the instructions in both languages. “We don’t know what comms gear the enemy has available.”

The group crept forward, as stealthily as possible, moving onto the balcony. When they were a few paces away from the railing, Tor’laen paused, unsure as to the best way to approach. Mikka gestured, catching his attention, and held up a cable. Instantly, Tor’laen recognized it as the small camera he had seen her use numerous times back on Orphila. He nodded to the woman.

Mikka eased herself onto the floor and crawled forward, until she was only a foot away from the railing. Slowly, she pushed the small camera ahead of her, until it was just barely dangling over the edge. Tor’laen pinged the squad, telling them to open the Lieutenant Commander’s feed on their HUDs. A small window popped up on his own visor.

The hostages were there, all sitting in a cluster behind the reception desks, their hands on their heads. None of them seemed to be badly injured, though a number of them had clear bruises or scrapes. Tor’laen did a quick head count, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when he reached twenty-four. They were all there.

The most surprising thing was the fact that there was just a pair of guards watching them. The two Ydani, a man and a woman, were equipped like all of the other extremists, holding SMGs as they paced around the grouped-up hostages. Just two guards? Mikka apparently had the same thought, the woman twisting the cable around, panning the camera over the rest of the room.

Just two guards. The team needed to strike quickly, before any other extremists, assuming there were others, could return to the lobby.

Tor’laen tapped Mikka’s boot, and the woman withdrew the camera, crawling back to the group.

“We need to move quickly,” Tor’laen said over the team channel, his voice barely above a whisper. “Mikka, Saia, you’re the best shots we have. Lean over the railing and take those guards out simultaneously. Aim for the back of the neck, if you can. The darts will be most effective there. The rest of us will move down the stairs as rapidly as possible.” He gestured to the switchback staircase on the other side of the balcony. “If they start to recover, hit them again. We need to keep them from grabbing the hostages as living shields, or worse. The rest of us will get down there and restrain them. Any questions?”

He looked around to see only eager gazes. This was it. They were ready.

The team started to creep toward the staircase, as Mikka and Saia sidled up to the railing. The Lieutenant Commander’s whisper came over the comms.

“Three…two…one…mark!”

Tor’laen caught the noises of their rifles firing, but he didn’t look back. Along with the rest of the team, he surged toward the staircase, ignoring the sharp pains in his abdomen. They bounded down the stairs, taking them several at a time.

“Targets down, keeping them neutralized!” came Saia’s report in his ears.

It felt like the trip down the stairs somehow took entire marks in Tor’laen’s mind, but the team reached the ground floor quickly, getting eyes on the two extremists. Even as they started across the lobby, he watched another pair of shock-darts strike the downed Ydani, just as they started to recover.

Vaeth and Saevra sprinted ahead of the group, putting on an extra burst of speed. They pounced on the two guards, ignoring the active darts, their gauntlets insulating them from the effects.

“We’ve got hands on them!” Tor’laen called over the comms. “Mikka, Saia, you can come down here. Damn good shots.”

Some of the Armswomen were already assisting the marine, bundling up the extremists like before, while the rest of the team was moving to cover the lobby, keeping eyes on the doors and hallways that led deeper into the building.

Tor’laen turned to the group of hostages. The captives were looking at his team with expressions ranging from suspicion to hope and even awe.

“I am Shield Consort Tor’laen of the Saint’s Aegis,” he announced, recognition lighting up the faces of many of the Zakkili hostages. “We’ve been dispatched to rescue you. Does anyone know how many extremists are in the building? Even guesses or estimations would be helpful.”

One Zakkili woman, an ensign judging by her uniform, raised her hand before any of the other hostages could.

“We saw them all when they grabbed us, I think,” she said, gesturing to the other captives. “I counted nineteen in total.” Other hostages nodded in agreement.

Nineteen. They were missing one. His gaze darted around the room.

Mikka and Saia had just reached the bottom of the stairs, jogging toward the rest of the team.

“Contact!” Tovik roared, and the sound of her shotgun echoed across the lobby.

Tor’laen spun, finding the woman, and what she was aiming at.

His chest tightened at the sight, even as his body started to move instinctively, raising his shield in front of the hostages. The last extremist was fully geared in Ydani riot control gear, similar to what the marines on his team were wearing, but with even heavier plating. However, what made his pulse jump was the sight of the man’s weapon. It was a large, bulky rifle — even larger than the AMR they had seen upstairs. The entire barrel was covered with magnetic coils, which glinted in the lobby’s artificial light. A power cable ran from the bottom of the butt of the weapon to a large unit strapped to the man’s back.

“RAILGUN!” Theren screamed over the squad channel, even as he and the other marines moved to Tor’laen, making a four-person shield wall, completely covering the hostages.

Tor’laen’s visor dampened the sound of the weapon, even as it felt like the other side of his shield exploded. The impact sent him crashing back into the reception desk, the wooden furniture collapsing under the impact. His vision swam, as he tried to pull himself back up, burning pain spreading throughout his chest and stomach. Even still, the tactical part of his brain noticed the Armswomen returning fire, shock-darts bouncing off the man’s plating. Tovik fired again, and the extremist staggered, her projectile catching him in the stomach.

Vaeth was shouting something in Ydanic, his helmet broadcasting his voice, as the marines adjusted their wall to cover the downed Captain as well. The extremist replied in Ydanic as well, before another one of Tovik’s shots caught him in the chest.

The enemy fired again, his shot going wide, missing Saevra’s shield and punching a sizable hole through the wall behind her. With that, he turned and fled, vanishing further into the building.

Vaeth turned to help Tor’laen up, as the other two marines immediately moved to block off the hallway the shooter had disappeared into.

“V-Vaeth, Aril,” Tor’laen wheezed, getting pulled to his feet. “Get the hostages out of here. The front door is clear now.” He gestured to the doors on the other side of the lobby. “Shoot out the lock if you have to. The rest of us will go after him.”

“Squad leader, we’ve got the hostages!” Aril pleaded. “Let’s just all go, now!”

Tor’laen shook his head.

“The man has a railgun. If he starts shooting out one of the windows, he could cause untold carnage, especially with civilians out there. We have to pursue.”

Vaeth looked like he wanted to argue, badly, but simply gave a salute instead. Aril stared up at the Shield Consort, watching the blood drip from his visor, looking almost on the verge of tears.

“You’d better fucking come back in one piece, Tor’laen!” she swore, before moving to the cowering hostages. “Come on people, let’s move! Everyone out, now!”

Tor’laen took a moment to check his shield. The railgun slug had caused massive damage, burrowing in all the way to the hardening fluid layer, the stuff slowly starting to dribble down the shield. It almost certainly wouldn’t stop another shot from the weapon. He disengaged the magnetic charge on his glove and let it fall to the floor. Stooping down, he grabbed an SMG and some magazines from one of the restrained extremists, the woman glaring balefully at him. She hissed something in Ydanic, but Tor’laen ignored her. He felt like he didn’t even have enough energy to try and communicate with her in Hylec.

“Alright, squad, we’re moving!” He tried his best to sound confident and commanding. “The enemy has a railgun, as you doubtlessly noticed, so don’t trust any cover to stop a round. Even our shields can only take one hit at the most. We pursue, and hit hard and fast. Try to take him alive, but don’t risk the team for a non-lethal takedown.” He started jogging down the hallway, moving behind Theren and Saevra. “Watch your corners.”

They moved in silence, checking each door they came across. The doors were locked, each office closed for the day apparently. Was it a Ydani holiday today? Tor’laen had lost track of his homeworld’s calendar over the past few measures.

After a few marks of moving cautiously, the hallway ended in a large administrative room, full of desks, cabinets of physical documents, and tables laden with tablets and other devices. The lights were on, and the other two entrances to the room were closed.

Saevra shouted into the room in Ydanic, and Tor’laen’s visor picked it up and translated.

“We know you’re in here, traitor. Drop your weapon and come out slowly.”

A voice answered her back in the same tongue, full of anger and disdain.

“I am no traitor. I fight for our people, while you fight for their conquerors.”

The armored extremist stood from where he was crouching behind a cluster of desks, swinging the barrel of his large weapon around.

“Move!” Tor’laen shouted, the Armswomen scattering as he and the marines dived for cover. He could feel the displacement of air as a railgun slug flew over his head, a filing cabinet getting blown into scraps behind him.

Saevra and Theren were already back on their feet, moving in opposite directions, each covering an Armswoman, trying to close in on the extremist. Tor’laen began to move as well, staying low, wary of presenting a tempting target for the man.

The enemy fired again, this time thankfully only pinging off the edge of Saevra’s shield, the projectile deflecting wide rather than destroying the ceramic plating. A series of shock-darts hit his chest plating as Mikka fired around Theren’s shield, trying to find a seam in the armor. The extremist spun, and fired the railgun again. This time, it hit Theren’s shield straight on, blowing the Ydani back off of his feet. It left Mikka standing there, completely exposed, clearly taken off-guard by the sudden shift. She stared as the man moved his barrel to aim at her.

The room seemed to freeze for Tor’laen, as he struggled to stand, gripping his SMG. He wasn’t going to make it in time.

Mikka’s mind touched his for a brief moment, a burst of thoughts tumbling into his head.

Hey man. Thanks for everything, Tor’laen.

The enemy pulled the trigger.

A shock dart struck the side of the man’s helmet, and it caused him to jerk his weapon the slightest bit. The railgun slug missed Mikka’s helmet by inches, blowing a massive hole in the desk behind her. Lekka had wriggled her way under one of the desks, and was now firing from a prone position, peppering the man with shock-darts.

Mikka recovered enough to dive behind a desk, crawling out of the enemy’s field of view.

Tor’laen started firing his SMG, the bullets bouncing off the plating but still transmitting their force to the extremist, causing him to stagger. Tovik and Kessi popped up behind the enemy, Tovik’s first shot hitting him square in the back.

The man staggered, and turned, blasting Saevra’s shield as she tried to close in on him, sending the woman tumbling to the floor. It was enough of a distraction, however.

Taking two great strides, Tor’laen planted a foot on a desk and leapt, flying through the air to slam into the extremist, the pair crashing to the ground. Immediately, the enemy smashed the butt of his weapon into Tor’laen’s stomach, and the Captain coughed a mouthful of blood into his visor. Gritting his teeth, Tor’laen threw away his weapon, and grabbed the man by the arms, flicking a small button on the inside of his gauntlets with his thumb. They immediately electrified, the charge passing through the extremists plating, causing his body to jerk and twitch. A fair amount of the charge was passing back into Tor’laen, the pain combining with that from his injuries. The edges of his vision started to dim, but he simply growled and clenched his jaw, willing himself not to pass out.

“Grab him!”

“Get his weapon!”

“Come on!”

Tor’laen was dimly aware of his squadmates shouting over the comms, but all of his focus was on keeping the enemy pinned and shocked. A black prosthetic hand entered his vision, and Saia pulled the extremist’s helmet off, ripping the equipment apart.

A pair of gauntleted hands pulled Tor’laen off of the man gently, as Saevra reached him. Theren had his shock baton out, and as soon as Tor’laen released the extremist, he jabbed it into the man’s neck, shocking him once again.

Tor’laen leaned against a nearby desk, struggling to catch his breath as he watched his squad subdue the enemy. They cut the cord for his railgun and pulled the backpack off, as Saevra dismantled the man’s plating and rig with cold efficiency.

The enemy was still struggling, twisting and tugging against the restraints, seemingly desperate to keep the fight going. It triggered something in Tor’laen’s memory. Something back from Orphila.

“Mikka,” he opened a private channel to the woman, still wheezing slightly. “I think we need to get Vessa or High Priestess Soreth down here.”

“Huh? Why in the Maker’s name would we do that?”

“I might be mistaken but…” he paused, staring down at the squirming extremist. “I think this man may have been Taken.”