A lieutenant two positions down the line made the wrong choice to be seen.
He took one step into the lane and tipped his chin toward Sera like he was measuring the space she'd take if she were cargo instead of a person.
Rafael didn't lift his hand. He didn't need to.
The nearest top gun reached out and touched the man's shoulder with two fingers. The lieutenant looked at the hand, the gunner's flat eyes, and stepped back.
The loudspeaker rattled again. "Captain, confirm: you have secured the span and your market remains uncontested."
"Confirmed," Rafael answered.
"Then you'll do the General a favor. You will log that favor with your next tithe." Dry. Unbothered. The voice moved on before the echo hit the far rail. "Convoy moving through. Do not follow. Do not crowd. Keep the lane on my mark."
"Copy," Rafael returned, like it was the easiest promise he'd make all day.
The lead rig rolled.
It passed within a yard of Sera.
