Li Qingyu suddenly jumped up and lunged at the leader with his fists – no one expected this. The rebel got what he deserved; his legs had already stretched out. He was unconscious.
The other leaders drew their pistols and aimed their barrels at Li's back.
"Stop, stop!!"
"Cease! Immediately! Or we'll shoot!!"
"Guards, here!!"
Everyone shouted in unison, fingers already on the triggers.
Sen, seeing the aimed barrels, rushed forward and stood between them.
"Lower your weapons! Whoever dares to kill a guest on my land – will not live with me!"
The rebels, though from the same gang, were not monolithic among themselves – each was a prince unto himself. People of equal standing did not obey simply.
If a guest were killed on his territory, it would be the end for him. He would no longer sit at the table with the elders.
The commanders, seeing Sen in front, slowly lowered their weapons. Shooting under someone else's roof was more trouble than it was worth.
When everything quieted down, Sen rushed forward and grabbed Li from behind, trying to pull him away.
"Stop hitting, you'll kill him! Speak to the point, then you can sort it out!"
Li, hearing his voice, stopped, pushed off the body, and jumped back. He spat on the face of the defeated and shouted to the others:
"You flock of sheep! Use your brains for once! Do you think I'm your enemy? Or is your knowledge level no higher than a shovel?"
"Your lives are worth nothing! The Planetary Defense Forces wouldn't even waste bullets on you. If you're killed by the weapons of the Mechanical God – consider yourselves lucky!"
The leaders turned red at his words. Li Qingyu's caustic tongue knew no bounds – he unleashed the entire stock of Capital curses on them.
Everyone got it: women, ancestors, and even the dogs at the entrance. He acquired a hundred sons and a thousand grandsons in one speech.
The crowd turned red like cherries in the sun. Twenty barrels and forty blades gleamed in his direction. If not for Sen, Li would have already been cut into noodles.
The old man strained, appealing to reason: tomorrow the Planetary Defense Forces would attack, they needed to decide what to do!
But the argument flared up – the sides began to hurl insults again.
Sen couldn't stand it, stepped aside, clearing a passage between them.
A dead silence immediately fell. In the hut, one could hear the clink of a needle.
Sen trembled with rage, pointing his finger in one direction, then in another:
"Well, come on, fight! Bark further! I'll watch from the side!"
Everyone froze at once. As long as Sen stood between them, they were emboldened. But face to face, without a barrier – they quieted down.
Like dogs behind a fence: they make noise as long as there's a barrier, but remove it – and they're silent.
Sen snorted and ordered the guards:
"Lift the table, take Arum away, let him come to his senses."
A couple of minutes later, the overturned table was back in place, and everyone sat down. Silence for a change.
Sen chuckled:
"I repeat: it's noon now. Tomorrow the Planetary Defense Forces will come to burn us out."
"This is about our lives and the fate of all the people under our protection. Whoever wants a circus – get out of here!"
These words cooled everyone down, and there were no more questions about "spy or not."
Now the discussion turned to business: fight or flee?
No one wanted to flee. The base had already become a home: fields, houses, workshops, everything of their own.
If they retreated, the Planetary Defense Forces would burn everything. There would be nowhere to return to.
Each leader was like a local baron, with his own men and possessions. Lose the land – and you become nobody.
A warrior without power is a dead man.
Twenty minutes later, the argument subsided. They decided to fight.
First – evacuate the women, children, and the elderly. The rest – to their positions.
They united their forces: cavalry – one hundred and twenty, shooters – three hundred and fifty, infantry with cold weapons – seven hundred.
The numbers seemed large, but their faces were grim: the forces were unequal.
The Planetary Defense Forces had the latest weaponry, armor, and clever transporters – almost invulnerable.
And they had rotten iron, body armor, and old junk.
When it became clear that there were no ideas, Sen turned to Li Qingyu, who was quietly smoking in the corner,
"Mr. Collector, how should we conduct this battle? Do you have a plan?"