Okatar snapped his binoculars to his eyes. “By the blood of our forefathers,” he thundered, “the smoke is covering the area completely.”
A noble shrugged at the news. “A Terran diversion. They cannot possibly get those lumbering vehicles of theirs across me hills in any time less than a day. There are no roads, and no trails wider than—”
“Sire, the Terran engineers are blasting out roadbeds through the area that our warriors have been driven from.”
Okatar roared something unintelligible and thrust the startled technician aside. He strode to the communications table and talked directly to the leader of the Komani under attack.
When Okatar straightened up and faced his nobles, his face was furious. ‘They’re seizing the hills and building an escape road through them. If we don’t stop them, they’ll be out of this valley before nightfall.”
“But how …”
“How did they know that those particular hills were held with only a skeleton force? Who told them?”
“Sire, we can find the traitors later. At the moment we must prevent the Terrans from escaping,”
“Contact the second and third waves of our attacking forces and order them to close the gap in our lines in those hills.”
“But—what about the main attack?”
“The first wave alone will have to do as much damage to the Terrans as it can,” Okatar said. “Have the warriors who made the original frontal attack join them.”
“What about the Shinarians?”
“Get them into the battle as quickly as they can get there. But I doubt that they will be in time.”
The oldest noble of the group, his facial hair grizzled and his back bent with years, spoke up. “Sire, you are condemning the brave warriors of the first attacking wave to certain death. They cannot destroy the Terran forces by themselves, without support.”