Zion's operatives had not retreated far. After falling back about a kilometer, they organized another defensive line.
This line was sturdier and more tightly knit than the last; they had had more time to prepare. Almost every high point was guarded, and the entire line stretched five or six kilometers. Even if Slavia's whole army pressed forward, they should be able to hold it off for a while.
But to cover such a long line, Zion had spread nearly all its operatives across it. Apart from a small mobile force, there was no one left to spare.
Looking at the line, Pan Long said worriedly, "This looks like it'll come down to a head-on fight."
"Not yet. We can delay them a while longer," Doctor, the commander-in-chief, explained. "The fighting will be fiercer than last time, but it hasn't reached that point."
He pointed behind them. Pan Long followed his gesture and saw large numbers of operatives reshaping the terrain and building a new defensive line.
"Those are mercenaries. They might not want to fight on a battlefield like this, and we might not feel comfortable sending them," Doctor explained. "So I assigned them to prepare the battlefield. It's hard work, but at least their lives aren't in danger."
"And we have a great many volunteers," he continued. "They all wield Psionic Power, and many are quite strong. But they lack proper combat training. Sending them in as Warriors would be irresponsible. Having them build defenses and provide logistical support is another matter."
"In terms of numbers, Zion doesn't lack people who can fight. What we lack is trained armed personnel."
Only then did Pan Long understand where his confidence came from.
Including the temporary settlements around it, Zion's population had probably passed three hundred thousand. Among so many people,