The table was covered in lists.
Real ones — not floating system windows. Roulan still liked handwriting her plans, neat block letters filling page after page with names, numbers, categories. Red ink for confirmed. Blue for uncertain. Black for dead.
Tang Wei stood on the far side of the room, one hand resting on the butt of her holstered knife, her jacket slung over the back of the chair beside her. She looked like she'd never really relaxed. Not once. Not even now.
"I say we keep the leadership line tight," Tang said, tapping a pen against the map pinned beside the list. "You, me, Roulan. That's it. Everyone else reports to one of us."
"Agreed," I said. "Qinglan should be included, or at least someone directly beneath me."
Roulan glanced up. "I'll handle logistics, rationing, food distribution, medbay rotation, and general inventory. Already have an interim schedule drawn for four days."
