"You look better than I expected," he said. "That’s already more than I had in mind."

Vaeren let out a short breath. "Same here."

Renn looked past him, up toward the sky.

Solenne’s ship was still there, high above, massive and quiet, something so far beyond anything this place had ever seen that it almost didn’t feel connected to the ground at all.

"That’s your way out?" Renn asked.

"It can be," Vaeren said. "If we move now."

Renn didn’t answer right away.

He turned instead, looking over the people gathering, the settlement behind them, the paths that led out into the open land.

When he spoke, his voice was clear and firm.

"Call everyone back," he said. "Get the outer workers in. Bring the children in from the ridges. Leave what you can’t carry. Take what matters and what you can move fast."

As soon as the order was given, no one questioned or debated it; instead, everyone moved without hesitation as they gathered the people and items they needed.

Groups split off, some heading out to call others back, some going into the settlement to gather what little they had. People moved quickly, not in panic, but with a kind of focused urgency.

They didn’t need explanations or promises, as they were satisfied as long as they had something that made sense.

Vaeren watched for a moment longer, then turned back toward the transport frame. This was why he had come here first.

If any place could move fast enough to get through something like this, it was here. And if they made it, others might follow.

But only if this worked.

The window was still open. It wouldn’t be for much longer.

As the settlement broke into urgent motion, Renn pulled him aside just enough to ask in a lower voice, "What happened to you after they took you?"

Vaeren gave him the short version because there was no room for the long one. He spoke of captivity, of being moved, of surviving by becoming useful, and then of Aurelian’s intervention, of a different kind of power entering the region, one that cut through the Kharov instead of bowing around them.

He did not make Aurelian sound saintly.

He made him sound capable.

That was enough.

When he finished, Renn let out a slow breath.

"So we are wagering our people on an ambitious outsider."

"We are wagering them against certain decay if we stay."

"That is what I thought."

Then Renn went to help gather the settlement himself.

Vaeren remained there only long enough to make sure the movement had truly begun.

The transport frames would return for them once the route was stable, and the combat teams near the perimeter were already securing the immediate approaches. Everything was moving as fast as it could.

Then the next complication arrived.

At first it looked like another frightened crowd gathering at the edge of the cleared route, hesitant but unwilling to stay away.

The machines near the perimeter shifted, weapons tracking automatically, but held fire because the figures coming forward were not armed in any meaningful way.

They were another local people.

Humanoid, but not the same as Vaeren’s own. Leaner in frame, with long ears angled back from the head and tails that moved sharply with tension.

Dust-colored fur marked parts of their faces and arms, and even from a distance it was obvious that fear had driven them forward harder than courage had.

One of them stood at the front, younger than Vaeren expected for a leader, though the set of his jaw made it clear no one there was treating him like a child.

He looked at the nearest combat frame with a kind of forced steadiness that did not hide how badly he was shaking.

Behind him, a younger woman hissed under her breath, "This is madness. They just destroyed the garrison. What if they kill us next?"

He did not turn around.

"And what happens if the Kharov return and find us begging them for mercy?" he asked. "At least this is a chance."

The machine, of course, did not answer.

There was no pilot inside for them to appeal to, no visible face, no obvious person controlling the weapon pointed in their direction. To them, it must have looked like pleading with a metal ghost.

Solenne received the feed and considered it in silence.

Her orders from Aurelian had been clear. Break Kharov local control. Extract useful populations where feasible.

Prioritize the people Vaeren had identified first. Maintain speed. Do not overstay in the system.

Those instructions were broad enough to allow judgment, but not broad enough to justify careless improvisation.

Taking in another population was possible. Taking in the wrong one without asking questions was not.

So she sent the matter to Vaeren.

By the time the message reached him, he was already helping direct his people toward the first loading point.

He frowned when the issue was explained. He had not expected this, though in hindsight perhaps he should have.

Worlds like this were rarely simple. The Kharov liked layered hierarchies of suffering. One broken people beneath them was never enough if they could fit three.

He found Renn again and asked quickly, "Do you know them?"

Renn wiped one hand across his forehead and followed Vaeren’s gaze toward the distant cluster waiting beyond the route.

"The dog people?" he said. "They were brought here later than us. Maybe twenty or thirty years ago. We haven’t fought much. Not because life is good here, but because everyone has been too busy surviving."

"What are they like?"

Renn thought for a moment.

"Hard-used," he said. "Hard fighters too, from what I’ve seen. The Kharov treat them worse than they treat us, which is saying something. If they are standing out there asking strangers for help, then they must know they have no chance if the Kharov recover."

That matched Vaeren’s own guess.

Still, guessing was not enough.

He sent back what little he knew, and Solenne considered it only briefly before deciding on the next step. They had room, but room was not the same as trust.