The boundary assembly stood across the settlement entrance on wheels that had sunk into the floor. Its operators had packed wedges under each one. For months its position had been a fixed part of the street: children walked around its back rail, porters touched the outer post when they turned with a heavy load, and the woman who sold food beside the wall kept her baskets outside its turning distance.
Now the commander was asking which parts could be moved.
A resident stood between her and the first wedge. “They asked for help when their own district opened. They didn’t ask who was living behind this.”
“They know now,” she said.
“And that brings defenders?”
“It brings a promise of the remaining reserve if this approach is threatened. They are not at the door.”
The answer made the gathering quieter, without making it calmer. Her operators had heard the breach report. One had family working at the human anchor. Another had helped fit the assembly to this entrance and could describe exactly how far the uncovered gap extended.
The commander set her measuring rod on the ground. She showed them the gate angle she had taken at the breach, then the protected area they would lose here. A resident accused her of letting the human officer decide which danger counted. She repeated the officer’s argument, including the part Ilyan had challenged. Several people who had been willing to help folded their arms.
