"Well…" Luke turned around, his eyes scanning the staggered rows of towers and enhanced cannons they had meticulously placed. He looked at the overlapping fields of fire from the many outposts, envisioning the kill zone they had created.
He simply shook his head, a newfound confidence grounding his voice. "They will die in a few minutes, tops. Nothing Mark sends on the ground can breathe in that corridor for long."
"That's right," Cissel nodded, her eyes flashing with a fierce, cold light. "That's why our presence here isn't actually needed for the defence. The defences John gave us will handle the heavy lifting. Instead, there is another place we need to be when the machines initiate their attack… And that's right there."
She kept her dagger pointed toward the den in the distance. Luke stared at the blade, then at the den, losing her meaning for a few seconds as he processed the sheer audacity of the suggestion. When the realisation finally clicked, his jaw dropped.
