The storm outside had passed, but tension lingered like static in the air.
Inside the base's narrow corridor, Ada adjusted the grip on her rifle. Vega walked just behind her, silent but close enough that Ada could feel her presence—a warmth she had grown used to.
They'd just finished distributing supplies to the civilians, mostly dehydrated rations and water filters. The infant from the restaurant had stabilized, though barely. Its cries echoed faintly through the halls.
"Another mouth to feed," Vega said, voice low.
Ada nodded. "And another reason to keep moving."
Their steps were in sync, boots landing on concrete with quiet precision. At the corner of the hallway, Ada paused. The map from her system projected a faint pulse in the air—something was moving outside the perimeter.
[UNRECOGNIZED SIGNAL. DESIGNATION: MILITARY FREQUENCY. DECRYPTING…]
A static-filled voice crackled in her implant: "Team Echo, respond. We are inbound."
Ada stiffened. Vega stepped beside her, brow furrowed.
"That's not ours," Ada said.
Vega's eyes narrowed. "Not anymore."
They returned to the command room. The surviving militia members—the three that had followed them from the outer zone—were clustered near the old console. One of them, Torres, looked up as Ada entered.
"We heard the signal," he said. "You think it's them?"
Ada didn't answer right away. She glanced at Vega, who gave a tiny nod. Trust, wordless and firm.
"I think someone's coming," Ada said. "And we need to be ready for more than conversation."
The day passed slowly.
Vega sat near the northern exit, cleaning her pistol in steady, rhythmic motions. Ada approached, crouching beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Neither moved away.
"You always get quiet when you're worried," Vega murmured.
Ada smirked faintly. "And you always start cleaning things."
They sat like that for a moment—leaning just slightly into each other, sharing the warmth that concrete and steel denied. A flicker of something stirred in Ada's chest—unspoken, uncertain, but present.
"You ever think about what comes after all this?" Vega asked suddenly.
Ada turned to her. "After what?"
Vega didn't look up. "After survival. After guns and alarms and system alerts. Just… what it means to stay."
Ada was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "Lately, yeah. Especially with you around."
Vega finally looked at her. The faintest smile tugged at her lips. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Their shoulders still touched.
And neither moved.
Evening fell, casting the base in amber shadows.
Ada checked the perimeter cams again. This time, the figures were clear—six, maybe seven, dressed in old-world combat suits, modified with scavenged tech. Their insignias were worn, but one patch was unmistakable: the Phoenix Division.
"Military remnants," Ada said. "And not the friendly kind."
Vega stepped beside her. "You recognize them?"
Ada's jaw tightened. "They were the ones who abandoned my last unit. Left us to die."
Vega's voice dropped. "So they'll expect us to follow orders."
Ada nodded. "They'll expect us to kneel."
From the cam feed, one of the soldiers raised a hand—and the others fanned out in practiced formation. They weren't here for help. They were here to take.
Vega leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed Ada's jaw. "So what do we do?"
Ada met her eyes. "We remind them who we are."
She reached for her rifle.
Vega did the same.
[NEW OBJECTIVE: DEFEND THE BASE.]
Outside, the first boot touched the outer gate.