The morning came without warmth.
Ada stood at the edge of the observation platform atop their reclaimed structure. The sky was smeared with crimson clouds, the sun a blood-orange smear behind dust-streaked glass. Far below, the fence buzzed faintly—repowered by their jury-rigged solar units.
But her focus wasn't on the fence. It was on the movement along the southern ridgeline.
She adjusted the lens of the battered scope. Five figures. No uniforms. No flags. But formation and bearing said military.
"Phoenix Group?" Vega's voice was soft behind her.
Ada didn't startle. She knew Vega's footsteps like her own heartbeat now.
"Could be. They're smart enough not to fly their colors until they're sure we're weak."
She stepped back as Vega came beside her. Their shoulders brushed—a light touch, brief, but grounding.
Vega tilted her head. "We've got maybe ten hours before they reach the perimeter."
Ada nodded. "Less if they're fast."
They didn't speak for a moment. The wind pulled at their jackets, cold and thin.
"Are you ready for this?" Vega asked. Her tone wasn't tactical. It was personal.
Ada looked at her. The woman who had saved her life, stood with her in tunnels and storm, who never flinched even when everything else did.
"I'm not sure ready matters," Ada said. Then, softer: "But I won't leave you behind."
Vega's breath caught almost imperceptibly. Her hand brushed Ada's for a second too long before withdrawing.
"Same," she murmured.
They moved quickly through the compound. Assignments were handed out with quiet precision. Barricades reinforced. Ammo checked. Sentries rotated.
Inside the command room, the lights flickered as the backup systems ran diagnostics.
Ada tapped the console. A map flickered to life.
"They'll likely come through the old utility road here. Narrow pass. We can funnel them."
Vega nodded. "And if they flank?"
"We collapse the corridor. I've rigged the charges."
A smirk flickered across Vega's face. "You're really not the type to bluff."
Ada gave a faint smile. "Didn't see the point in starting."
Their hands brushed again, over the map this time. Neither moved.
For a moment, the silence thickened—not tactical, but intimate.
Then the radio crackled.
"Scouts report drones incoming. Four klicks out."
The map flashed. Red dots swarmed across the southern quadrant.
"Looks like they're serious," Vega said, voice low.
Ada leaned in close, her breath brushing Vega's temple. "So are we."
As the sun dipped lower, shadows stretched across the compound.
Ada and Vega stood at the barricade line, weapons ready. The team behind them—seven strong—watched in tense silence.
Vega's voice reached her, low and sure. "You don't have to carry all of it alone."
Ada turned. "I'm not. Not anymore."
Their eyes held.
Then, the first drone screamed over the horizon.
Explosions lit the ridge.
The war had arrived.