From the intermediate overhead frame of the Quarry rim, Len Vey looked south toward the faint, amber glow that marked the Tram shed. He couldn’t see the hunter, but his courier’s instinct—the skilled intuition for route vulnerability that no system milestone could replace—told him where the pressure was concentrating.
“He’s going to Tram,” Len said. He turned to Ivara, who was checking the final transit schedule with Corin Petch. “He knows the outer anchors are dead. He knows he can’t stop the Quarry release from the pit. That was because Geth Marr has four hundred armed stonecutters holding Level Five. The only place we have soft tissue is the refugee shelters.”
“Tram has six hundred people in the car-barns,” Ivara said, her brow furrowing in deep worry. “And Doma has only sixteen guards. If he enters the sheds with Burdenless Step and Hookhold, he can tear the roof supports down on five hundred sleeping children before Bram can loose a crossbow bolt.”
“We don’t wait for him to hit the sheds,” Len said, picking up his sounding pole with his good right hand. “Corin, take the sight horn. Signal Doma: Double-Bar on the threshold. Move every family from the wooden car-barns into the brick repair bays. The brick bays have iron rolling shutters and concrete floors. There are no floor drains and no uninspected crawlspaces.”
