Chapter 1.2 - “The Wrong Kind of Beach Day”

Cassidy Boone had decided that Horizon Atoll was conspiring to make her a responsible adult.

It was a deeply unpleasant development.

She hadn't agreed to this.

She distinctly remembered the character-selection screen offering her a wide assortment of firearms, several interesting infantry specializations, and the opportunity to become a Synthetic Infantry Asset in a military-themed virtual reality game.

She had selected a handgun.

Technically.

The handgun in question was a Smith & Wesson Model 500 chambered in .500 Magnum, configured with an exceptionally short snub-nosed barrel.

It was enormous.

It was unreasonable.

And it produced the kind of expression on other people's faces that Cassidy regarded as one of life's simpler pleasures.

She had expected to spend several days making terrible decisions with her friends.

Then the world ended.

Or became real.

Or did whatever it was that had turned their anticipated holiday into a permanent employment arrangement at a deteriorating naval base in the Pacific.

Now, thirty-seven days after the Crisis, Cassidy was sitting beneath a ceiling fan in the auxiliary infantry barracks, polishing a weapon she had already cleaned twice.

She considered this an insult to her personal character.

Across the table, Zofia Kowalska was lying facedown with her cheek pressed against a stack of training manuals.

The Polish girl's burgundy scarf had slipped halfway over her face.

Her ash-blond hair was an impressive disaster.

She hadn't moved for approximately six minutes.

Cassidy inspected the revolver's exterior.

Satisfied, she placed it on the cleaning mat.

Then looked toward her friend.

"Zofia."

No response.

"Zofia."

A muffled sound came from the manuals.

Cassidy leaned closer.

"Are you dead?"

Another muffled sound.

She considered the question.

Then nodded.

"Terrible loss."

Zofia slowly raised one hand.

Her middle finger extended.

Cassidy smiled.

"Ah. Signs of life."

"Go away."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"We live here."

Zofia made a noise that might have been a groan or the last desperate attempt of a dying animal to communicate its suffering.

Cassidy considered it.

Then looked toward the window.

Beyond the barracks, sunlight fell across the repaired roads of Horizon Atoll. A truck rumbled toward the maintenance district. Somewhere outside, somebody was arguing with a forklift.

The ocean glittered behind the warehouses.

Beautiful weather.

Warm breeze.

Bright sky.

A proper tropical paradise.

Except for the naval bureaucracy.

And the Blackwake.

And the possibility of being killed.

And the fact that Cassidy hadn't participated in an actual combat assignment since arriving.

She sighed.

"We should've picked something else."

Zofia lifted her head.

"What?"

"The classes."

Zofia blinked at her.

Cassidy nodded toward the revolver.

"Maybe something exciting."

The Polish girl stared.

Then slowly pushed herself upright.

"Cassidy."

"Hm?"

"You picked a revolver that looks like somebody cut the barrel off a small artillery piece."

Cassidy smiled proudly.

"Thank you."

"That was not a compliment."

"I accept it anyway."

Zofia gestured toward the firearm.

"You had hundreds of choices."

"Yes."

"And you chose that."

"Yes."

"Because you thought it would be funny."

Cassidy considered the matter.

Then nodded.

"Still do."

Zofia looked toward the ceiling.

"Boże, give me strength."

Cassidy grinned.

Their room wasn't particularly large.

The original auxiliary barracks had been intended to house a smaller security detachment, not twelve former players with wildly different firearms, equipment requirements, and personal habits.

Horizon had made accommodations.

Two additional rooms had been reopened.

The plumbing had been repaired.

The air-conditioning units had been coaxed back into service.

And the maintenance department had spent several days locating enough serviceable lockers to satisfy the group's equipment-storage requirements.

Most of VESPER's members now occupied neighboring rooms along the same corridor.

They shared a small common area, an equipment-cleaning room, and the extraordinary ability to generate noise at inconvenient hours.

The arrangement had become comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

Cassidy looked toward the calendar hanging beside the door.

Thirty-seven days.

Not merely a month anymore.

Thirty-seven days of morning inspections.

Weapons maintenance.

Physical training.

Emergency drills.

Range procedures.

Security assignments.

Medical examinations.

Communications exercises.

More inspections.

More drills.

More maintenance.

And the occasional exciting afternoon during which the entire group helped somebody move crates.

Cassidy had begun dreaming about crates.

She considered this grounds for filing an official grievance.

Zofia leaned back in her chair.

"I'm going to lose my mind."

Cassidy glanced toward her.

"Pretty sure you can back it up."

Zofia stared.

Then slowly smiled.

"Oh, you absolute—"

The door opened.

Morgan Reyes stepped inside carrying a clipboard and a bottle of water.

She looked at both of them.

Then at the training manuals.

Then at Cassidy's revolver.

Her expression became weary.

"What are you two doing?"

Cassidy answered immediately.

"Preparing for death."

Morgan stopped.

"...What?"

"Boredom. Terminal case."

Zofia nodded solemnly.

"Advanced stages."

Morgan stared.

Then sighed.

"You had physical training this morning."

"Yes," Cassidy replied.

"And weapons inspections."

"Yes."

"And the backup-system refresher."

"Also yes."

Morgan looked toward the ceiling.

"So how have you got nothing to do?"

Cassidy considered that.

"Because none of those involved going anywhere."

Morgan stared at her.

Then looked toward Zofia.

The Polish girl folded her arms.

"We've been here for over a month."

"I know."

"Doing nothing."

Morgan slowly lowered the clipboard.

"Nothing?"

Zofia hesitated.

Then corrected herself.

"Nothing interesting."

Morgan's expression became profoundly unimpressed.

She began counting on her fingers.

"We've helped reinforce the western checkpoint. We've assisted with warehouse security. We've run emergency evacuation exercises. We've spent hours learning what to do if somebody gets hurt. We've had live-fire qualifications. We've helped unload cargo. We've—"

"Exactly," Cassidy interrupted.

Morgan stopped.

Cassidy smiled pleasantly.

"Responsible adult activities."

There was a silence.

Then Morgan closed her eyes.

"You're both idiots."

Zofia nodded.

"Correct."

Cassidy smiled.

"Internationally certified."

Morgan looked toward the revolver.

"Please tell me you're finished cleaning that thing."

"Nearly."

"You cleaned it yesterday."

"Yes."

"And this morning."

"Yes."

Morgan stared.

Cassidy looked down at the stainless-steel handgun.

Then gently patted the grip.

"She gets lonely."

Morgan turned around.

"I'm going to find Alina."

Zofia sat upright.

"No!"

Morgan paused.

"Why?"

"She'll give us another assignment."

"Good."

"Traitor!"

Morgan left.

The door swung shut.

For a moment, Cassidy and Zofia sat in silence.

Then Zofia slowly lowered her forehead onto the manuals again.

Cassidy considered the situation.

"Well."

A muffled voice answered.

"What?"

"Could be worse."

Zofia didn't move.

"How?"

Cassidy smiled.

"We could've picked battleships."

The Polish girl lifted her head.

She stared.

Then burst out laughing.

 

The original plan had seemed entirely reasonable.

At least to Alina Morozova.

When the naval VRMMORPG opened its registration system, VESPER had spent several evenings arguing over where to establish themselves.

The more popular naval bases were attractive.

Modern facilities.

Excellent defenses.

Established supply routes.

Convenient access to higher-tier training infrastructure.

And enough other players to make finding assignments easy.

Unfortunately, those same advantages meant competition.

A great deal of competition.

Every major harbor attracted commanders attempting to secure the best starting positions.

Every convenient military installation filled rapidly.

Several members of VESPER had suggested joining one of the larger groups.

Cassidy proposed selecting whichever base had the most impressive ammunition stores.

Zofia wanted somewhere with opportunities for reconnaissance.

Greta Falk wanted proper defensive works.

Élodie Marchand wanted a location that wasn't crowded with people.

Lara Baumann wanted reliable medical facilities.

Morgan wanted somewhere that wouldn't require six hours of arguing every time the group attempted to organize a mission.

Darya Belova wanted working electrical infrastructure.

Nobody had asked Johanna Weiss what she wanted until she'd announced that she would prefer somewhere with a pleasant view, good tea, and fewer idiots.

Nobody had known how to respond.

Then Alina had found Horizon Atoll.

An old naval station.

Undervalued.

Partially neglected.

Not particularly popular.

But large enough to accommodate an auxiliary infantry detachment, with a functioning military administration and space for the group to establish itself.

She'd examined the location.

Compared the facilities.

Studied the starting conditions.

And declared that it would be sensible.

The other eleven had trusted her.

That was their first mistake.

Their second mistake had been assuming the station's condition was merely a temporary game mechanic.

The third had been assuming they'd be able to leave.

Now VESPER lived at Horizon.

And Alina was discovering that her friends remembered who had suggested the assignment.

Frequently.

Usually when they were unhappy.

Which, in Zofia's case, was becoming a regular occurrence.

Alina was standing in the shared common room when Morgan found her.

The Russian woman had arranged several documents across a table, with a cup of bitter coffee beside her.

Darya sat opposite, examining a portable electronics tester.

Lara was reviewing medical-support records.

Ingrid Solheim had claimed the comfortable chair by the window and was reading a book.

Natsuki Hoshino was writing something in a neat notebook.

Greta was cleaning an equipment component.

Johanna had somehow acquired a porcelain teacup.

Élodie stood by the far window, looking out toward the harbor.

Réka Varga sat on the floor beside an open toolbox, repairing a small electrical connector under Darya's supervision.

The common room was quiet.

Almost peaceful.

Morgan entered.

Alina looked up.

"Everything all right?"

Morgan sighed.

"Cassidy and Zofia are bored."

The room became silent.

Then Darya spoke.

"Again?"

Morgan nodded.

"Again."

Greta made a disapproving sound.

Johanna smiled into her tea.

Réka looked up.

"How bored?"

Morgan considered that.

"Cassidy says she's dying."

Réka nodded thoughtfully.

"Severe."

"Zofia agrees."

"Terminal."

Alina closed her eyes.

Lara looked toward Morgan.

"Did they finish their equipment inspections?"

"Yes."

"The manuals?"

"Mostly."

"The afternoon duty roster?"

Morgan hesitated.

"They were supposed to review it."

Alina opened her eyes.

"Supposed to?"

Morgan sighed.

"You know them."

For a moment, Alina looked toward the ceiling.

Then she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I knew Horizon was going to be quiet."

Darya glanced up.

"You said it would be practical."

"It was practical."

"You said we'd avoid unnecessary competition."

"We have."

"You said there would be opportunities for useful support work."

"There have been."

Réka grinned.

"She did not say the opportunities would be interesting."

Alina slowly turned.

Réka looked back with extraordinary innocence.

Johanna laughed softly.

Morgan dropped into an empty chair.

"Look, they're not wrong about everything."

Alina raised an eyebrow.

Morgan continued.

"We have been training a lot."

"Because we need training."

"I know."

"And because nobody wants to send us into a fight before we're ready."

"I know."

"And because—"

"Alina."

The Russian woman stopped.

Morgan smiled faintly.

"I agree with you."

Alina looked embarrassed.

"Oh."

"I'm just saying the others are getting restless."

Lara lowered her papers.

"Restlessness isn't the same as readiness."

"No," Morgan agreed.

Greta nodded.

"Correct."

Réka considered the discussion.

Then raised one hand.

Alina looked toward her.

"What?"

"I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"If we're not going anywhere, why did we spend three hours yesterday practicing emergency embarkation?"

Darya answered without looking up.

"Because evacuation procedures are useful whether or not you expect to use them."

Réka nodded.

"Yes."

A pause.

Then she added:

"But it would be nice to see a boat."

Greta looked toward her.

"We live on an island."

"A boat we're allowed to ride."

Élodie spoke from the window.

"An important distinction."

Johanna smiled.

"Quite."

Alina sighed.

Her friends were impossible.

They had always been impossible.

That was part of why she loved them.

But they'd become increasingly difficult to manage since the Crisis.

Not because they were deliberately disobedient.

Most weren't.

They attended their training.

Followed the station's safety procedures.

Maintained their equipment.

And worked alongside the native security personnel without causing serious problems.

But the waiting was beginning to wear on them.

A month was long enough for the first shock of the Crisis to fade.

Long enough for routines to develop.

Long enough for people to stop checking for a logout option every evening.

And long enough for the reality of their situation to become uncomfortable in quieter ways.

They had no classes to attend.

No jobs to return to.

No families they could contact.

No certainty about whether the world they'd left still existed in any meaningful sense.

They were here.

Their friends were here.

And outside Horizon's protective waters, people were fighting and dying.

Alina knew some of them felt guilty for being safe.

Others felt useless.

Cassidy and Zofia expressed those feelings through complaints about boredom.

Morgan expressed them by accepting more work than she should.

Natsuki studied until she was exhausted.

Darya repaired things.

Réka wandered around the maintenance district looking for something that needed attention.

Greta checked defensive positions.

Ingrid wrote in her journal.

Élodie watched the horizon.

Johanna prepared tea.

Lara tried to make sure everyone ate.

And Alina organized their schedules because it was the only thing she knew how to do when the world stopped making sense.

She looked down at the papers.

Then sighed.

"We'll find them something useful."

Morgan smiled faintly.

"Good luck."

Before Alina could answer, the common-room telephone rang.

Everyone looked toward it.

The sound was ordinary.

Unexpected, but ordinary.

Alina reached for the receiver.

"Auxiliary Infantry Barracks. Morozova speaking."

A familiar voice answered.

"This is Security Control. We have a directive from Operations."

Alina straightened.

"Go ahead."

"Commander Bher requests the full VESPER detachment report to the ground-operations room at thirteen hundred hours."

Alina blinked.

"Full detachment?"

"All twelve members. Equipment not required for the initial briefing."

She glanced toward Morgan.

The American woman was already sitting upright.

Alina listened as the operator continued.

"Piper's auxiliary team has also been called. Security Officer Mira will attend."

Alina's expression changed.

"Understood. Did the Commander specify a reason?"

A pause.

Then:

"Operational assignment briefing. Further details will be provided there."

Alina considered those words.

Operational assignment.

Not routine security duty.

Not another training session.

She glanced toward the room.

Every member was watching her.

Even Élodie had turned away from the window.

Alina nodded.

"We'll be there."

"Acknowledged."

The line went quiet.

She replaced the receiver.

Nobody spoke.

Then Réka slowly raised her eyebrows.

"Well?"

Alina looked toward the wall clock.

Twelve fourteen.

Forty-six minutes.

She took a breath.

"Everybody. Operations briefing. Thirteen hundred."

Morgan blinked.

"All of us?"

"All twelve."

Lara immediately began gathering her documents.

Darya closed her tool kit.

Greta rose.

Johanna placed her cup down.

And Réka grinned.

"Oh."

Alina looked toward her.

"What?"

The Hungarian girl smiled.

"Something interesting."

Morgan sighed.

"Don't start."

But Réka was already standing.

And down the corridor, Cassidy Boone was about to receive the most exciting news of her month.

 

Zofia's reaction was considerably less dignified than Alina would have preferred.

"FINALLY!"

The shout echoed down the barracks corridor.

Somewhere nearby, a door slammed.

A sailor on the other side of the building yelled something about people trying to sleep.

Cassidy leaned against the doorway, smiling.

"Good news?"

Morgan looked toward her.

"Operations briefing."

Cassidy considered that.

Then glanced toward Zofia, who was already grabbing her boots.

"Could be paperwork."

The Polish girl froze.

Slowly turned.

And stared.

"Don't."

Cassidy smiled.

"Could be another drill."

Zofia's expression became pained.

"Cassidy."

"Could be another lecture."

"Stop."

"Could be a surprise inspection."

Zofia pointed at her.

"I will throw you into the ocean."

Cassidy nodded thoughtfully.

"At least I'd get to go somewhere."

Morgan covered her face.

Alina, standing behind them, sighed.

"Both of you. Proper uniforms. No weapons required for the briefing. And please try to behave like responsible adults."

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Both considered the request.

Then Cassidy nodded.

"Reasonable."

Zofia smiled.

"Entirely."

Alina narrowed her eyes.

Neither looked trustworthy.

She decided not to waste time arguing.

They had thirty minutes.

And she wanted the entire group assembled before the Commander started wondering why an auxiliary detachment of twelve could not move through its own barracks without losing someone.

Unfortunately, that was a legitimate concern.

Réka had once disappeared during a scheduled equipment inspection.

They'd found her beneath a maintenance vehicle discussing a damaged suspension component with a mechanic.

She'd been offended that anybody considered her missing.

She had known exactly where she was.

The problem, as Alina had explained, was that nobody else did.

Réka had called this a communication issue.

Alina agreed.

Very strongly.

Now the group began preparing.

Not for combat.

Not yet.

For a briefing.

That distinction mattered.

They changed into appropriate uniforms.

Checked their identification.

Collected notebooks.

And ensured that the equipment they'd been told to leave behind remained secured.

Cassidy stood before her locker for a long moment.

Then looked at the enormous revolver resting inside its approved storage case.

She smiled.

"See you later."

Zofia glanced over.

"You're talking to it again."

Cassidy closed the case.

"She's a good listener."

"She has five chambers."

"Five attentive chambers."

Zofia groaned.

Then grabbed her scarf.

For the first time in several weeks, the trip to Operations didn't feel like another step in an endlessly repeating routine.

Something had changed.

They could feel it.

And neither of them knew whether that was good news.

The walk to the operations building took twelve minutes.

It took VESPER seventeen.

This was because Cassidy had insisted on stopping beside the motor pool to admire a newly repaired utility vehicle, and Réka had immediately begun explaining why its steering linkage had been installed incorrectly during the previous maintenance period.

The vehicle wasn't broken.

In fact, it was operating considerably better than it had a week earlier.

But Réka had noticed a detail she disliked.

Darya had agreed with her.

Then disagreed about the reason.

Within approximately thirty seconds, the two had begun a technical discussion that showed every sign of lasting until dinner.

Alina eventually intervened.

"Ladies."

Neither responded.

"Darya."

"One moment."

"Réka."

"Almost finished."

Alina glanced toward the clock on the maintenance building.

Then took a slow breath.

"We have an operational briefing."

Réka looked up.

"Oh."

Darya checked the time.

"Oh."

Morgan sighed.

Cassidy smiled.

"Professional organization."

Greta made a noise of disapproval.

Johanna looked toward Alina.

"Would you like me to fetch a rope?"

Alina stared.

Johanna smiled pleasantly.

"For keeping everyone together, naturally."

Zofia burst out laughing.

Ingrid shook her head.

Natsuki covered a smile.

Lara checked her watch.

Élodie looked toward the sky as though considering whether she might yet escape the conversation by leaving the atmosphere.

Eventually, they resumed walking.

The main waterfront road was busier than it had been when VESPER first arrived.

Several older buildings had been reopened.

The cargo district operated throughout most of the day.

A newly painted directional sign pointed toward the communications annex, while temporary fencing marked a section of damaged pavement awaiting resurfacing.

Near Warehouse Three, two dockworkers waved at the group.

Morgan returned the greeting.

Zofia waved enthusiastically.

Greta nodded.

The older of the two workers looked toward Cassidy.

"Afternoon, Miss Boone!"

Cassidy smiled.

"Afternoon!"

"Keeping out of trouble?"

"Professionally!"

The dockworker laughed.

Alina sighed.

They continued.

At the next intersection, they encountered Piper, Tamsin, and Ren.

The other three former-player SIA women had been summoned from their own barracks.

Piper carried a small notebook beneath one arm.

Tamsin looked faintly suspicious.

Ren appeared calm, although her eyes moved between the assembled members of VESPER with visible curiosity.

Piper grinned when she saw them.

"Hey!"

Morgan smiled.

"Morning."

"Afternoon," Lara corrected.

Morgan glanced toward the sun.

"Right."

Zofia approached Tamsin.

The two regarded one another.

Then Zofia pointed toward the other woman's empty hands.

"No Sten?"

Tamsin shook her head.

"Briefing."

"Sad."

"Very."

Cassidy stepped beside them.

"Nobody brought anything interesting."

Tamsin looked toward her.

Then smiled.

"I hear you've been cleaning yours again."

Cassidy nodded proudly.

"She deserves attention."

Tamsin laughed.

Ren looked toward Zofia.

"Do you know what we're being called in for?"

The Polish girl shook her head.

"No."

Piper grinned.

"Maybe we're finally going somewhere."

Alina looked toward her.

"Please don't encourage them."

Piper laughed.

"I didn't say it would be combat."

Cassidy considered that.

"Could be a field trip."

Réka smiled.

"To somewhere with broken machinery."

Darya nodded.

"That would be useful."

Greta folded her arms.

"Can we at least reach the briefing room before discussing imaginary assignments?"

Zofia looked toward her.

"You're no fun."

"Correct."

The group continued toward Operations.

Fifteen young women.

Different countries.

Different accents.

Different firearms.

Different experiences.

All former players.

All registered under the SIA military category.

And all beginning to understand that a summons from Horizon's Command wasn't necessarily a cause for celebration.

The base had been quieter than the front lines.

That didn't mean the front lines had stopped existing.

Piper seemed to recognize the shift in mood.

Her smile softened.

She glanced toward Alina.

"Do you think it's serious?"

Alina considered the question.

"Probably."

Ren looked toward her.

"Why?"

"Because they asked for all of us."

Tamsin nodded.

"And Mira."

"Yes."

They passed the infirmary.

A nurse was helping a wounded sailor down the entrance steps.

The man's left arm was secured in a sling.

He smiled at the nurse, said something they couldn't hear, and carefully climbed into a waiting utility vehicle.

Cassidy watched.

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Zofia noticed.

For all their complaints about boredom, they'd seen enough injuries during the past month to understand that Horizon Atoll was not a harmless place.

Several sailors from Breakwater's original convoy battle were still recovering.

Keelborn sometimes returned from routine exercises bruised, exhausted, or hurt.

Aster's mine incident remained a particularly vivid reminder that even supposedly safe waters could conceal terrible surprises.

And the regional casualty lists were growing.

The thought followed them toward the operations building.

Alina glanced over her shoulder.

Everybody was still there.

Twelve.

Plus Piper, Tamsin, and Ren.

She counted automatically.

Then caught herself.

Morgan noticed.

"Doing it again?"

Alina looked toward her.

"What?"

"Counting."

The Russian woman hesitated.

Then smiled faintly.

"Yes."

Morgan nodded.

"All present."

"For now."

The words escaped before Alina could stop them.

Morgan's smile faded.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the American woman gently touched her shoulder.

"Hey."

Alina looked up.

Morgan smiled.

"Let's hear what they want first."

Alina considered that.

Then nodded.

"Right."

The group reached the operations building.

Two native SIA security personnel stood beside the entrance.

One recognized Alina immediately.

"Morozova?"

"Yes."

"Ground Operations. Second floor."

"Thank you."

The security woman looked over the assembled group.

Then smiled faintly.

"All fifteen?"

Alina nodded.

"All fifteen."

The woman stepped aside.

"Commander is expecting you."

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

For once, neither made a joke.

They climbed the stairs.

 

Ground Operations occupied a renovated room in the eastern wing of the command complex.

Before the Crisis, Horizon's old station staff had used it for coastal security planning, civil-defense exercises, and the occasional emergency response involving the nearby shipping lanes.

The room had recently received a great deal of attention.

A large wall map covered most of its northern side.

A second board displayed the station's current security sectors.

The central table had been repaired and fitted with a new laminated chart surface.

Several portable displays sat beside the communications equipment, drawing power from the refurbished electrical network.

The air-conditioning worked.

Mostly.

A ceiling fan had been installed as insurance.

Kade Bher stood beside the main table, speaking quietly with Chief Fenwick.

Captain Daniel Mercer was seated near the window.

Mira stood beside the security board.

Irena Holt occupied one of the chairs along the far wall.

Corwin Hale was present, accompanied by a familiar expression of financial concern.

Aster stood near the map with Calla and Elsa.

Nadya sat beside them.

June was at the communications console.

Senko was not in the room, though a set of cargo-handling estimates bearing her handwriting rested beside the map.

Alina took all of that in before she'd finished crossing the threshold.

The personnel weren't gathered for a routine briefing.

There were too many specialists.

Too many folders.

And the chart on the main table did not show Horizon Atoll.

It showed an unfamiliar cluster of reefs and low islands surrounding an abandoned industrial harbor.

Kade looked up.

"Good afternoon."

The fifteen women straightened.

Alina spoke for the group.

"Commander. VESPER reporting as directed. Piper's team is with us."

Kade nodded.

"Good. Come in."

They entered.

Chairs had been arranged around the table.

Fifteen places.

One for each of them.

Cassidy noticed immediately.

She glanced toward Zofia.

The Polish girl raised an eyebrow.

Somebody had planned this.

Kade gestured toward the seats.

"Make yourselves comfortable. This may take a while."

Morgan sat beside Lara.

Greta took a chair near the end of the table.

Élodie chose a position with a clear view of the map.

Réka sat beside Zofia, who immediately began studying the chart.

Cassidy settled into a chair near Johanna.

Piper, Tamsin, and Ren occupied the remaining spaces.

Alina remained standing.

Kade noticed.

"Morozova."

"Commander?"

"You can sit."

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He waited until everybody was settled.

Then looked toward Mira.

"Everyone accounted for?"

The native SIA security officer checked the roster.

"Fifteen former-player SIA personnel. All present."

"Good."

Kade folded his arms.

Then regarded the group.

Most looked attentive.

Several looked nervous.

A few appeared positively excited.

Cassidy and Zofia fell into the last category.

He could tell.

The two were trying very hard to look professional.

Which, somehow, made their excitement more obvious.

Kade considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

"Before we begin, I want to make something clear."

The room quieted.

He looked from one end of the table to the other.

"This is a voluntary assignment briefing."

Alina blinked.

Cassidy tilted her head.

Zofia sat a little straighter.

Kade continued.

"Nobody in this room is being informed that they've already been assigned to a combat operation."

There was a pause.

"You are being offered an opportunity to participate in one."

The silence changed.

Morgan slowly lowered her notebook.

Piper's smile disappeared.

Tamsin looked toward the chart.

Élodie studied Kade.

And Cassidy stopped leaning back in her chair.

The Commander let the words settle.

Then nodded toward the map.

"Six days ago, Operations began reviewing reports of Blackwake activity around the Burnt Narrows."

Alina recognized the location from regional security notices.

So did several others.

Kade continued.

"At the time, we did not have enough information to authorize an attack. We approved reconnaissance and feasibility work instead."

He looked toward Calla.

The Atlanta-class girl stepped forward.

"Since then, we've received two additional patrol reports, a revised navigation survey, and aerial observations obtained through regional support."

She indicated the chart.

"There's an occupied industrial complex on the inner shore of the northernmost island."

A portable image appeared on the display.

The photograph was grainy.

Taken from a distance.

But the structures were recognizable.

An old industrial pier.

Several warehouses.

A small power building.

A low administrative block.

And a broad concrete facility surrounded by rusting pipes.

Black stains spread across the ground near several structures.

Some appeared to extend into the harbor.

Calla continued.

"Blackwake vessels have been observed entering and leaving the area. We're confident the site is being used as a forward support installation."

Kade nodded.

"That changes the assessment."

Zofia leaned forward.

Cassidy looked toward the map.

The Commander continued.

"We still don't know exactly what they've stored there. But we have confirmation that ordinary industrial machinery and captured cargo remain on site."

Corwin stepped forward.

He looked as though he would much rather be somewhere else.

"Based on the latest observations, there's a reasonable chance the warehouses contain usable mechanical stock."

He indicated the images.

"Power distribution equipment, steel components, repair machinery, and possibly packaged supplies captured from commercial shipping."

Darya's interest sharpened immediately.

Réka leaned forward.

Greta frowned thoughtfully.

Morgan looked toward the quartermaster.

"Are we going to recover it?"

Corwin hesitated.

"That's the intention, if circumstances permit."

Kade nodded.

"Recovery is a secondary objective."

The words made several members of VESPER look up.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

"Secondary?"

"Yes."

Kade indicated the harbor entrance.

"The primary objective is to disrupt the Blackwake support position and prevent it from threatening our shipping."

He looked toward the group.

"Removing recoverable supplies is desirable. Getting everybody home is mandatory to the extent that we can make it happen."

He paused.

"And we're not going to sacrifice people for cargo."

The room became quiet again.

Alina watched him.

He wasn't speaking like someone trying to excite a group of players about an upcoming mission.

He was speaking like an officer who expected them to ask difficult questions.

That helped.

More than she expected.

Kade looked toward Aster.

"Let's go through the naval portion first."

Aster stepped closer.

Her red ribbon moved slightly as she turned toward the map.

"Right."

She pointed toward the western approach.

"The outer waters are navigable for Keelborn, but the reefs make the inner harbor difficult for larger vessels."

She glanced toward Mercer.

"Especially certain very expensive ones."

The battleship captain smiled.

"Appreciate that."

Aster grinned.

"You're welcome."

Kade sighed quietly.

"Continue."

She nodded.

"We've selected the Keelborn group for the initial approach."

Calla indicated the first marker.

"Elsa will lead the primary surface group. I'll handle anti-aircraft coordination and maintain communication with the supporting vessels. Aster will cover the shallower approaches and assist with the closer survey."

Nadya leaned forward.

"I'll provide heavy support if the situation requires it."

Elsa looked toward the seated SIA women.

"June will remain with the supporting element and help cover the approach."

June nodded from the console.

The selections were deliberate.

Elsa, Calla, Nadya, and Aster were experienced Beta Testers already using proper class rigging.

June had improved considerably during her month at Horizon and had been assigned a role appropriate to her current qualifications.

The newest girls were not going.

Riko remained at Horizon.

Yuna remained at Horizon.

Emi and Mina remained in training.

The rest of the inexperienced Keelborn continued their assignments under the station's established readiness restrictions.

Kade had refused the suggestion that the operation could serve as a convenient practical examination for beginners.

He had also refused a proposal to bring Riko merely because she possessed the firepower of a Yamato-class battleship.

Her impressive guns were not a substitute for training.

And her Mk. I equipment was not suited to an offensive movement through uncertain coastal waters.

Cassidy listened to the explanation.

Then looked toward Mercer.

"And the battleship?"

The captain smiled.

"Breakwater will accompany the supporting force."

Zofia's eyes widened.

Cassidy slowly turned toward her.

Both wore identical expressions.

Mercer continued.

"We'll remain in water suitable for the ship's draft and operate under the assigned support plan."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Kade added, "Breakwater is not entering the reef."

The captain nodded.

"Absolutely not."

Aster looked toward Cassidy.

"She's a real battleship. She's not a destroyer girl."

Cassidy smiled.

"Well, obviously."

Kade continued.

"Her presence provides additional anti-aircraft capability, communications support, and heavy gunfire if circumstances make it necessary."

He paused.

"But we're not planning to bombard the industrial site simply because we brought a battleship."

Corwin nodded emphatically.

"Please don't destroy everything we're hoping to recover."

Mercer raised both hands.

"I promise the main battery won't be used for warehouse demolition without good reason."

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Both appeared disappointed.

Alina noticed.

"Don't."

They straightened immediately.

Kade saw.

His mouth twitched.

Then he turned toward Mira.

"Now we get to the reason you're here."

The native security officer stepped forward.

She indicated the buildings behind the main pier.

"The Keelborn can establish control of the sea approaches and suppress or destroy hostile naval threats."

She looked across the table.

"But they cannot safely inspect every room of an industrial complex using naval weapons."

Greta nodded slowly.

Darya studied the map.

Mira continued.

"Reconnaissance suggests the complex contains hostile personnel."

A silence followed.

Cassidy's expression changed.

"Personnel?"

"Yes."

Piper frowned.

"Human?"

Mira nodded.

"Some appear human."

Nobody spoke.

Then Ren raised one hand.

"Blackwake?"

Mira looked toward her.

"Blackwake-associated. The exact nature of their condition is uncertain."

She changed the displayed image.

This photograph showed a figure standing beside a damaged warehouse entrance.

The individual wore what looked like an old industrial work uniform.

Its posture was strange.

The face was obscured.

Dark organic material covered part of one arm and extended across the shoulder.

Another figure stood farther behind.

This one had the unmistakable shape of an SIA combat frame.

Its armor was damaged.

Something black and fibrous wrapped around its torso.

A third image showed several shapes moving through the loading district.

Some carried weapons.

Others appeared to be dragging cargo.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Zofia stopped smiling.

Cassidy leaned forward.

Alina's expression hardened.

Mira continued.

"The Blackwake have previously demonstrated the ability to contaminate, alter, or otherwise control human and synthetic personnel."

She paused.

"Some victims remain dangerous after the initial infection."

Lara looked toward Irena.

The medical officer nodded gravely.

"We don't know how many of the personnel at this location are recoverable."

The word mattered.

Recoverable.

Not targets.

Not obstacles.

People.

At least some of them.

Irena continued.

"Some may still be alive. Some may be beyond medical help. We don't know."

Cassidy looked at the photograph.

The dark material around the figure's arm was difficult to make out.

She'd heard stories.

Everyone had.

The Blackwake weren't merely enemy warships.

Their presence could change the places they occupied.

Ships.

Machinery.

Bodies.

Sometimes in ways that made ordinary distinctions between organic and mechanical structures difficult to maintain.

The image looked unpleasant.

Cassidy considered the possibility of encountering something like that inside a dark building.

For the first time all afternoon, she didn't feel particularly bored.

Mira looked toward the table.

"The proposed landing group would enter after the Keelborn establish the necessary security conditions."

Alina straightened.

Mira continued.

"Your tasks would include controlled inspection of selected buildings, identification of recoverable personnel, protection of technical assessment teams, and responding to hostile infantry or contaminated SIA threats that cannot be safely bypassed."

She looked toward the photograph again.

"Armed resistance is possible."

A pause.

"Close-range encounters are possible."

Another pause.

"Casualties are possible."

Nobody joked.

Kade stepped forward.

"And that is why this is an offer."

He looked around the table.

"I want everyone to understand exactly what we're considering before making a decision."

Cassidy swallowed.

Zofia folded her hands.

Piper glanced toward Ren.

And Alina realized that the meeting wasn't merely about giving VESPER something interesting to do.

It was about asking them whether they were ready to risk dying somewhere far from home.

For real.

Alina raised her hand.

Kade nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Commander, before anyone volunteers, I'd like clarification regarding our status."

Mira turned toward her.

Kade folded his arms.

"Which part?"

Alina hesitated.

Then looked toward her friends.

"All twelve of us are registered as SIA personnel."

"Yes."

"But we're not..."

She stopped.

The wording felt strange.

The room contained an actual synthetic person in Mira.

Alina didn't want to imply that being synthetic made somebody less real, especially after everything she'd learned during the past month.

Mira seemed to understand.

She spoke first.

"You're biologically human."

Alina nodded.

"Yes."

"Your SIA role classification is a separate administrative matter."

"Right."

Kade watched the exchange.

Alina continued.

"I'd like to know whether the same casualty-recovery procedures apply to us as they do to native SIA Dolls."

The question changed the room.

Lara looked up.

Darya stopped examining the photographs.

Morgan became still.

Several others glanced toward Irena.

Kade nodded slowly.

"Good question."

He looked toward Mira.

"Would you explain?"

The native SIA officer inclined her head.

"Of course."

She turned toward the group.

"As part of your registration and training, all fifteen of you have completed the standard SIA cognitive-backup procedure."

Cassidy shifted in her chair.

Zofia glanced toward her.

They remembered.

Very clearly.

The room where the procedure had been performed was in a secure annex behind Horizon's medical and technical departments.

It wasn't particularly impressive.

No glowing chamber.

No dramatic machinery resembling something from a science-fiction movie.

Just an examination chair, diagnostic equipment, a secured data interface, and technicians who had explained the process with the calm professionalism of people performing an ordinary military procedure.

The native SIA personnel used the system regularly.

Their cognitive records could be preserved in protected backup storage.

If a synthetic body was destroyed while a valid backup survived, a replacement frame could be prepared and the stored mind-state installed.

The reconstructed SIA Doll would awaken with memories and personality recorded up to the backup point.

Any experiences after that point could be lost.

And the destroyed body would remain destroyed.

For synthetic personnel, the procedure was familiar.

For VESPER, it had been considerably stranger.

All fifteen former players possessed their original biological bodies after the Crisis.

But their selected SIA roles had retained the specialized interfaces necessary to work with the backup system.

The technicians had examined that compatibility carefully.

More carefully than the newcomers initially expected.

Eventually, the station had authorized cognitive backups for the former-player SIA personnel.

The data could be preserved.

And the documented SIA restoration process provided a way for those records to be installed into compatible replacement synthetic frames if the original bodies were lost.

It did not regrow human bodies.

It did not reverse an injury.

It did not transport a dying person safely out of danger.

And it did not mean replacement frames were waiting in unlimited numbers.

Those distinctions mattered.

Mira continued.

"Your backup records are stored under the same protection protocols used for native SIA personnel, but your physical circumstances are different."

She indicated the group.

"You currently possess human biological bodies. If those bodies are killed, they cannot simply be repaired like a damaged synthetic frame."

The room remained quiet.

"A replacement SIA body would have to be obtained, inspected, fitted to your registered systems, and prepared for restoration."

Darya raised a hand.

Mira nodded.

"Belova?"

"What about the difference between our present bodies and the replacement ones?"

"A restored person would awaken in a synthetic frame."

Darya considered that.

"With the stored memories."

"Yes."

"And the registered personality data."

"Yes."

"But not necessarily everything that happened after the last successful backup."

"Correct."

Darya nodded slowly.

Then looked toward the table.

Lara spoke.

"What about the medical department?"

Irena answered.

"If one of you is wounded, my staff will treat you as a human patient."

She looked around the room.

"Because that is what you are."

Several women nodded.

Irena continued.

"We won't delay emergency treatment because somebody thinks your registration makes you interchangeable with a synthetic chassis."

She paused.

"And if one of you dies, the availability of a backup won't make that death less real for the people who witnessed it."

The words landed heavily.

Zofia looked down.

Cassidy's hands rested motionless on the table.

Alina watched Irena.

The doctor continued.

"There are also things the backup cannot preserve."

She glanced toward Mira.

"Your body. Your experiences since the recording. The days you haven't yet lived."

Mira nodded.

"And a successful restoration still depends on the backup remaining intact and the required replacement resources being available."

Kade stepped forward.

"Which brings us to another problem."

He looked toward Corwin.

The quartermaster grimaced.

Kade continued.

"We do not have fifteen spare SIA frames sitting in a warehouse."

Morgan raised her eyebrows.

Cassidy leaned back.

"Really?"

Corwin looked toward her.

"Miss Boone."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any idea what a complete military-grade synthetic frame costs?"

Cassidy considered that.

Then smiled.

"More than my revolver?"

Corwin's expression suggested that she had committed a personal offense.

"Considerably."

She nodded.

"Fair."

He looked toward the room.

"Replacement frames require manufacturing capacity, specialized components, transport arrangements, and authorization. They are not inexpensive."

Greta nodded.

"Understandable."

Corwin continued.

"The station has access to a limited repair inventory and emergency requisition channels, but I would strongly advise against developing a recovery plan based on the assumption that all fifteen of you can be replaced immediately."

Kade nodded.

"Exactly."

Alina took a slow breath.

"So the backup is a contingency."

"Yes," Kade said.

"Not a reason to take unnecessary risks."

"Definitely not."

Lara looked toward Mira.

"How current are our backups?"

The native officer checked her records.

"All fifteen completed the required refresh cycle yesterday. There were no reported failures."

Darya nodded.

"Good."

Mira continued.

"A final verification will be conducted before departure if the mission proceeds."

Cassidy raised one hand.

Kade looked toward her.

"Boone?"

She hesitated.

For once, the answer wasn't obvious.

"If..."

She stopped.

Then looked toward the Commander.

"If somebody's body gets destroyed, and the backup's used..."

The room became very quiet.

Cassidy's usual easy confidence had faded.

She looked toward her hands.

"Would they still be...?"

She didn't finish.

Nobody rushed to answer.

The technical system had procedures.

Records.

Restoration standards.

Decades of practical history.

Native SIA Dolls had returned from replacement-frame reconstruction and resumed their lives.

They remembered their friends.

Recognized their comrades.

Continued relationships.

Worked.

Laughed.

Grieved what they had lost.

But the question Cassidy was really asking went beyond whether a replacement frame could be made operational.

She wanted to know whether she would still be there.

Whether the person sitting in the chair would open her eyes again.

Or whether somebody else with her memories would have to live with the absence she'd left behind.

Mira looked toward her.

"I can tell you what restoration means to us."

Cassidy raised her eyes.

The native synthetic woman spoke calmly.

"I have known SIA personnel who were restored from their backups."

She paused.

"They returned to us as themselves. They remembered what their backups preserved. They continued the lives they had been living."

Cassidy listened.

Mira continued.

"But the loss of a body and the experiences following the last recording are not imaginary. Neither is the grief of the people waiting for restoration."

She folded her hands.

"I would never describe the process as harmless."

Cassidy nodded slowly.

"Right."

Kade looked around the table.

"That's the attitude I expect from everyone."

He gestured toward the roster.

"You're not carrying fifteen guaranteed extra lives."

Zofia glanced up.

He met her eyes.

"And I'm not authorizing you to behave as though you are."

She nodded.

"Understood."

Lara looked toward the medical reports.

Then spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

Kade returned the nod.

"You're welcome."

For a while, the room remained silent.

Then Cassidy cleared her throat.

"One more question."

Corwin looked exhausted already.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead."

Cassidy considered him.

"If I get a replacement frame, does it still get to be six feet tall?"

The silence lasted almost three seconds.

Then Morgan covered her face.

Zofia burst out laughing.

Darya stared.

Greta made a sound of profound disapproval.

And Cassidy smiled.

Mira considered the question with complete seriousness.

"Replacement frame dimensions depend on availability and compatibility."

Cassidy's expression changed.

"...Oh."

Kade folded his arms.

"There's your incentive to be careful."

Johanna laughed softly.

Cassidy looked toward her.

The German woman smiled.

"Imagine waking up shorter than Zofia."

Zofia's laughter stopped.

Slowly, she turned.

"Excuse me?"

Réka leaned back in her chair.

"Oh, that's cruel."

Morgan began laughing.

Even Élodie's mouth twitched.

Cassidy considered the horrifying possibility of losing twenty centimeters of height.

Then looked toward Corwin.

"Quartermaster."

He closed his eyes.

"Miss Boone."

"Can I submit a preferred replacement specification?"

Alina buried her face in her hands.

Corwin stared at Cassidy.

Then sighed.

"After the briefing."

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

"Thank you."

Kade looked toward Mara.

The chief was trying not to laugh.

He shook his head.

The room relaxed a little.

Not because the discussion had become less important.

But because the young women could still laugh together after hearing something frightening.

Kade understood the value of that.

He had no intention of taking it away from them.

 

The operational plan occupied another forty minutes.

Kade did not hurry through it.

Neither did Mira.

The purpose of the ground detachment was not to storm every building in the industrial complex or engage every possible hostile contact.

The naval force would first deal with enemy vessels in the approaches.

Only after Calla and Elsa reported that the required security conditions had been met would the infantry landing be authorized.

The landing group would approach the outer shore rather than attempt to enter the damaged harbor.

From there, it would proceed only into designated structures that had been assessed as accessible and relevant to the operation.

Their primary assignments were to protect technical personnel, identify hostile infantry threats, locate potentially recoverable people, and examine the selected industrial storage areas.

A secondary team would document machinery and supplies.

If the conditions became unsuitable, they would withdraw.

If the naval force lost control of the approaches, they would withdraw.

If significant enemy reinforcements appeared, they would withdraw.

And if the situation inside the buildings proved more dangerous than expected, Kade wanted the ground leader to understand that abandoning the inspection was not failure.

It was judgment.

Zofia listened.

She had spent the last month imagining how exciting it might be to leave the base.

Now she was staring at the map of an enemy-held industrial station while the Commander explained what could go wrong.

A great deal, apparently.

The list seemed practically endless.

Unknown hostile personnel.

Structural collapse.

Blackwake contamination.

Unstable machinery.

Possible hidden defensive positions.

Inadequate intelligence.

Limited evacuation routes.

The need to maintain communications with a naval force operating beyond a reef.

And the possibility that enemy vessels might arrive while the infantry group was still ashore.

Zofia slowly lowered her chin onto her hands.

Cassidy glanced toward her.

"Still bored?"

The Polish girl turned.

For a moment, she looked as though she might respond with her usual sarcasm.

Instead, she sighed.

"No."

Cassidy smiled faintly.

"Me neither."

They returned their attention to the briefing.

Mira was discussing the nature of the hostile personnel.

"Blackwake-infected humans and SIA frames have been encountered in other coastal installations," she explained. "Their behavior varies. Some attack immediately. Others appear confused, inactive, or focused on repetitive tasks."

Lara looked toward her.

"Can they be treated?"

Mira's expression became more serious.

"In some cases, contaminated personnel have been stabilized after recovery. In others, the damage was too extensive."

Irena nodded.

"We'll have a medical screening procedure for anyone recovered."

She glanced toward the group.

"But I don't want anyone assuming a person is safe merely because they look human."

Nobody argued.

"Nor do I want anyone assuming they must be killed merely because they show signs of contamination."

A quiet pause followed.

Kade looked toward the photograph.

"Exactly."

He turned toward the SIA personnel.

"If someone is an immediate threat, you're authorized to protect yourselves and one another."

He let the statement settle.

"But this is not a license to shoot every person who looks strange."

Mira nodded.

"Threat identification is essential."

Cassidy looked toward the image of the corrupted SIA frame.

The black material around its torso looked almost like thick cables.

Except cables didn't usually grow into armor joints.

She considered what it might feel like to meet one of those things inside a narrow corridor.

Her revolver was powerful.

More than powerful enough to be dangerous in a small room.

That was part of why she'd chosen it.

But now she found herself thinking about what might be behind the thing she was aiming at.

A wall.

Machinery.

A friend.

Someone who was still alive.

The thought wasn't amusing.

She looked toward Mira.

"Will we know which ones can be helped?"

The native SIA officer considered her.

"Not always."

Cassidy nodded.

"Right."

Mira continued.

"That's why the medical team and experienced security personnel will be involved."

She looked toward Alina.

"Your group's familiarity with one another is an advantage. But experience in simulated combat does not automatically qualify you to evaluate contamination cases."

Alina nodded.

"Understood."

"Do not improvise medical judgments."

"Yes."

"Do not separate from your assigned personnel without authorization."

"Understood."

"And do not assume a disabled SIA frame is safe to handle."

Darya raised one hand.

Mira looked toward her.

"Belova?"

"Because of potential remaining power systems?"

"Among other things."

Darya nodded.

"Understood."

Réka glanced toward her friend.

Then whispered:

"You were going to ask whether we could salvage parts."

Darya's expression became offended.

"I was not."

Réka smiled.

"Liar."

Darya looked away.

Alina slowly turned toward both of them.

They stopped.

Immediately.

Mira continued.

A small native security support element would accompany the landing group.

Mira herself would serve as its experienced field supervisor.

Alina would coordinate VESPER's assigned personnel.

Piper would oversee the smaller three-woman auxiliary team under Mira's direction.

The arrangement placed the inexperienced former players alongside somebody who actually understood the AU's security procedures.

It also avoided treating friendship as a substitute for military structure.

Kade wanted their existing teamwork preserved.

He did not want it to become an excuse for ignoring qualified instruction.

Once the roles were explained, he turned toward the map.

"The landing will be conducted from Breakwater."

Cassidy's head rose.

Zofia blinked.

Several others looked toward Mercer.

The captain looked remarkably pleased with himself.

Kade noticed.

He sighed.

"Captain."

Mercer smiled.

"Commander."

"Would you like to explain?"

"Gladly."

Kade closed his eyes briefly.

Something about the captain's enthusiasm made him uneasy.

Mercer approached the display.

He placed a photograph beside the operational chart.

It showed a low, boxy landing craft with a blunt bow and a forward ramp.

Its hull was painted a dull gray.

The design was unmistakable to anyone familiar with twentieth-century amphibious operations.

Zofia leaned forward.

Morgan stared.

Greta slowly raised her eyebrows.

And Cassidy smiled.

A very broad smile.

"No."

Mercer grinned.

"Oh, yes."

Kade looked toward the photograph.

Then toward the captain.

He'd already seen the boat.

He knew it existed.

He'd signed the inspection authorization.

He still wasn't entirely comfortable with how pleased Mercer looked whenever somebody asked about it.

The captain tapped the image.

"Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel. LCVP."

Darya tilted her head.

"A Higgins boat?"

Mercer nodded.

"Exactly."

Zofia stared at him.

Then looked toward Breakwater's silhouette on the other display.

Then back.

"You have a Higgins boat."

"Yes."

"On a battleship."

"Yes."

"An actual Higgins boat."

"An actual LCVP-pattern landing craft."

Cassidy slowly leaned back.

"Oh, that's beautiful."

Alina looked toward the captain.

"How?"

Mercer smiled.

Kade sighed.

There it was.

The question everybody eventually asked.

Mercer looked delighted to answer.

"One of our crew found an available landing craft through a surplus-support arrangement during the early days after the Crisis."

Alina blinked.

He continued.

"Several of the men are naval history enthusiasts. They wanted to preserve a compatible landing capability for auxiliary duties."

Kade folded his arms.

"That's one way to describe it."

Mercer ignored him.

"The craft needed repairs. We secured it, brought it aboard under a temporary transport authorization, and had Engineering inspect the hull, machinery, and lifting arrangements."

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"And nobody stopped you?"

The captain considered that.

"Several people asked questions."

Kade spoke.

"Many questions."

Mercer nodded.

"Yes."

"Very pointed questions."

"Also yes."

"From multiple departments."

Mercer smiled.

"We answered them."

Kade looked toward the ceiling.

He had first discovered the boat when the crew requested additional fuel and replacement engine components for an auxiliary craft that did not appear on the battleship's original equipment summary.

He had assumed they meant one of Breakwater's ordinary ship's boats.

Then Mercer had shown him the photograph.

Kade had stared at it for a long time.

Then asked why.

Mercer had answered:

Because we could.

Kade had informed him that this was not an acceptable logistics justification.

The captain had subsequently produced a twenty-page document explaining the boat's potential utility for personnel transport, emergency shore access, salvage work, and limited amphibious operations.

Several naval officers had reviewed it.

Engineering had verified the relevant handling equipment.

Corwin had complained about the cost.

And somehow, despite the universe's obvious sense of humor, the LCVP had remained in service.

Now it was being considered for an actual landing.

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Both were smiling again.

Alina noticed.

She frowned.

"Don't."

Cassidy raised her hands.

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking something."

"Many things."

Zofia leaned forward.

"Does the ramp work?"

Mercer nodded.

"Yes."

"Does it actually go down?"

"Yes."

"Like the old films?"

"Yes."

The Polish girl stared.

Then smiled so broadly that Alina experienced an immediate headache.

Kade stepped forward.

"Before anyone starts imagining themselves storming a famous beachhead, this is a transport craft."

Zofia looked toward him.

He continued.

"It's not invulnerable. It has a crew. It requires fuel. It has weight limits, sea-state limits, and machinery that has to function properly."

Mercer nodded.

"All true."

"And we're not going to use it until the boat-handling crew completes the scheduled rehearsal."

"Agreed."

Kade looked around the table.

"The landing will be from a controlled offshore position after the Keelborn secure the required approaches. Breakwater will remain in suitable water. The LCVP will carry the infantry group to the designated shore and return as directed."

He looked toward Zofia.

"Not a beach race."

She straightened.

"Yes, Commander."

He looked toward Cassidy.

"Not an opportunity to test your revolver against the landscape."

Cassidy looked offended.

"I would never."

Corwin made a quiet sound.

She glanced toward him.

"...Without authorization."

Morgan covered her face.

Kade sighed.

Then turned toward Mercer.

"How many rehearsals?"

The captain answered promptly.

"Two conducted with the boat crew. One full embarkation drill scheduled with the landing personnel."

"Weather?"

"Acceptable for the current planning window, subject to the final forecast."

"Engine?"

"Inspected."

"Ramp?"

"Inspected."

"Lifting arrangements?"

"Certified for the planned load."

Kade nodded.

"Good."

Mercer smiled.

"She's a fine little boat."

The Commander regarded him.

"Daniel."

"Yes?"

"Please remember she's a boat."

Mercer looked innocent.

"Of course."

"Not a historical exhibit you get to take sightseeing."

The captain laughed.

Zofia whispered to Cassidy:

"He's definitely taking it sightseeing."

Cassidy nodded.

"Absolutely."

Alina heard both of them.

She considered resigning from her unofficial leadership position.

Only briefly.

But sincerely.

 

The final portion of the briefing was quieter.

Kade dismissed the technical displays and turned toward the assembled personnel.

The map remained on the wall.

The enemy installation remained visible.

Nobody had forgotten why they were there.

He rested both hands on the table.

"Now."

The fifteen women looked toward him.

"I've told you what we know."

He glanced toward Mira.

"And what we don't."

The native officer nodded.

Kade continued.

"You'll have qualified supervision. You'll have naval support. You'll have a landing craft, medical arrangements, and a withdrawal plan."

He paused.

"But none of those things make this safe."

The room remained silent.

"I can't guarantee there won't be casualties."

Alina watched him.

There was no attempt to soften the statement.

No suggestion that the mission would be easy.

No promise that superior weapons or good teamwork would protect them from everything.

Kade looked toward the photographs.

"The enemy's behavior inside those buildings isn't completely understood. Some of the people you encounter may be infected human beings or damaged SIA personnel. You'll need to make difficult decisions."

He looked around the room again.

"And you'll have to live with them."

The silence deepened.

Kade took a breath.

"This assignment is voluntary because I am not prepared to order an inexperienced infantry detachment into its first real ground engagement merely because the roster says it's available."

Morgan glanced toward Alina.

The Russian woman remained still.

Kade continued.

"If you decline, you'll return to your normal training and security duties."

He looked toward Cassidy and Zofia.

"There will be no punishment."

Both straightened.

"No reduction in status."

A pause.

"And no one gets to call you a coward for deciding you're not ready."

Zofia looked down.

She hadn't expected that.

Not entirely.

A month ago, she might have thought refusing a mission was embarrassing.

Something that would make other players laugh.

A missed chance at a reward.

Now she was being offered the opportunity to enter a building where Blackwake-infected people might try to kill her.

The word coward suddenly felt much less important.

Kade looked toward Alina.

"Morozova."

She straightened.

"Commander."

"I don't want an answer for twelve people just because you're their leader."

Her expression changed.

He continued.

"Each person decides."

Alina nodded slowly.

"Understood."

He glanced toward Piper.

"The same applies to your team."

Piper nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Kade looked toward Mira.

"Security will provide the full briefing documents and answer additional questions. I want the volunteers medically cleared and qualified for the assigned tasks before final authorization."

Mira nodded.

"Understood."

"And if the conditions change before departure, the operation may be modified or canceled."

He looked around the table.

"Even if everyone volunteers."

Nobody spoke.

Then Cassidy raised her hand.

Kade looked toward her.

"Boone."

She hesitated.

For a moment, her usual easy grin disappeared.

Then she asked:

"If we go..."

He waited.

"...and somebody gets hurt..."

The words came more slowly than usual.

"Are we allowed to stop?"

Kade considered the question.

Then nodded.

"Yes."

Cassidy blinked.

He continued.

"If somebody needs help, you report it and act according to the emergency procedures. The mission doesn't take priority over an immediate threat to your own people."

She looked toward him.

"And if we can't finish?"

"Then we don't finish."

A silence followed.

Cassidy nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Kade studied her.

Then smiled faintly.

"Any other questions?"

Darya raised her hand.

"Equipment maintenance arrangements?"

"Already scheduled."

Lara asked about medical supplies.

Irena answered.

Greta asked whether the landing craft would provide enough space for her weapon and associated equipment.

Mercer explained the load calculations.

Johanna asked about the availability of specialized ammunition.

Corwin looked pained but provided the relevant figures.

Élodie asked whether her heavy rifle would be useful during the building inspections or whether she should remain with the supporting element.

Mira discussed the assignment limitations.

Ingrid asked about civilian personnel.

Irena reviewed the recovery procedures.

Natsuki asked what to do if a person appeared unarmed but infected.

Mira answered carefully.

Réka asked about the condition of the industrial machinery.

Dain's preliminary technical notes were produced.

Morgan asked about movement between the landing point and the selected buildings.

The security map was reviewed.

Piper asked how the three-woman auxiliary team would be integrated.

Mira explained.

Tamsin asked about communication failures.

June discussed the available alternatives.

Ren asked whether contaminated synthetic personnel could still be identified through their military records.

Mira explained the limitations.

And Zofia—

Zofia looked toward the Commander.

Then raised her hand.

Kade nodded.

"Yes?"

She hesitated.

Then asked the most important question she'd asked all month.

"Commander..."

He waited.

"Do you think we're ready?"

Nobody laughed.

Nobody teased her.

Alina looked toward the Polish girl.

Cassidy turned.

Kade considered the question.

He'd reviewed their training records.

Every one of them.

Their physical assessments.

Weapons qualifications.

Medical examinations.

Equipment inspections.

Performance during security exercises.

Strengths.

Weaknesses.

The group was not a veteran combat formation.

It wasn't even close.

But it had spent the past month training under qualified personnel.

And its members knew one another well enough to communicate through stress without falling apart immediately.

That was useful.

Kade looked toward Zofia.

"I think you're ready to be considered for a limited assignment."

She listened.

He continued.

"I don't think you're ready for everything."

She nodded slowly.

"And I don't think anyone should pretend otherwise."

The Polish girl glanced toward Alina.

Then back.

Kade smiled faintly.

"That's why we're offering this one with supervision and a clear withdrawal plan."

Zofia considered that.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

He returned the nod.

"Good."

For a moment, the room remained quiet.

Then Kade straightened.

"Take the afternoon. Talk among yourselves. Ask whatever questions you need."

He glanced toward the wall clock.

"I want individual responses before tomorrow's final personnel review."

Alina nodded.

"Understood."

The Commander looked around the room one final time.

"Dismissed."

Chairs moved.

Papers rustled.

The women began standing.

For the first time since receiving the summons, none of them hurried toward the door.

They'd wanted something to do.

Now they had been offered something.

And the offer was considerably heavier than they'd imagined.

The VESPER common room was unusually quiet that afternoon.

Nobody had ordered them to be quiet.

Nobody had imposed a restriction.

The silence had simply happened.

Cassidy sat on the edge of the table with her arms folded, staring at nothing in particular.

Zofia occupied the couch beneath the window.

Her scarf lay across her lap.

Morgan stood by the water dispenser.

Darya was looking through the briefing documents.

Réka sat beside her, examining one of the photographs of the abandoned industrial station.

Greta had taken the largest chair.

Johanna stood near the kitchen counter, preparing tea.

Ingrid sat with Natsuki.

Élodie leaned against the wall.

Lara had collected the medical forms.

And Alina stood beside the bulletin board, studying the duty roster as though it might contain the answer to a question nobody had asked aloud.

They had been together for years.

Some longer than others.

They knew how to spend time in silence.

But this silence was different.

Eventually, Cassidy spoke.

"Well."

Nobody answered.

She looked around the room.

"That was educational."

Morgan turned.

"Don't."

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Don't make a joke just because you don't know what else to say."

The American woman blinked.

For a moment, she looked genuinely surprised.

Then her smile faded.

"...Okay."

Morgan sighed.

"Sorry."

Cassidy shrugged.

"No. You're right."

Zofia looked toward the floor.

Alina turned away from the bulletin board.

"All right."

Everyone looked up.

She took a breath.

"We should talk."

Darya nodded.

"Yes."

Alina looked toward the group.

"Not as a unit."

A pause.

"As friends."

Johanna set the kettle down.

The quiet sound seemed strangely loud.

Alina continued.

"The Commander was clear. Nobody has to go."

Zofia opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Alina noticed.

"Zofia?"

The Polish girl hesitated.

"I want to."

Several people looked toward her.

She straightened.

"I do."

Morgan nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Zofia looked down at her scarf.

"I've been complaining for weeks because I wanted to do something."

Alina listened.

"And now there's something."

The Polish girl looked toward the table.

"I don't want to hide in the barracks while everyone else risks getting killed."

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Greta spoke.

"That is not the same as wanting to fight."

Zofia looked toward her.

Greta's expression was serious.

"Feeling guilty because others are in danger is understandable."

She paused.

"But it is a poor reason to volunteer for an operation you are not prepared to undertake."

Zofia considered that.

Then frowned.

"I'm not saying I want to get myself killed."

"Good."

"I'm saying I want to help."

Greta nodded.

"Then say that."

Zofia stared.

The older-looking German woman folded her arms.

"Don't disguise it as a competition."

For a moment, Zofia looked ready to argue.

Then her shoulders lowered.

"...Right."

Alina smiled faintly.

Greta could be difficult.

Stubborn.

Painfully direct.

But she had a talent for finding the distinction between what someone was saying and what they actually meant.

It was one of the reasons VESPER trusted her.

Cassidy slid off the table.

"I want to go too."

Morgan looked toward her.

Cassidy nodded.

"Not just because I'm bored."

The room remained quiet.

She considered that.

Then added:

"All right. A little because I'm bored."

Johanna smiled.

Cassidy continued.

"But mostly because..."

She hesitated.

Everyone watched her.

Cassidy looked toward the window.

"Because if somebody comes after Horizon, I don't want my first real fight to be right outside our barracks."

The words settled into the room.

Alina studied her.

Cassidy continued.

"I'd rather learn what I can do while there's a plan, people watching us, and a way to get out."

Darya frowned.

"A combat operation isn't a training exercise."

"I know."

"People can die."

"I know."

"The backup doesn't—"

"Darya."

Cassidy looked toward her.

"I know."

A pause followed.

Then her expression softened.

"I'm scared too."

Darya stopped.

Cassidy smiled faintly.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do possess a survival instinct."

Zofia snorted.

Morgan laughed weakly.

The tension eased.

Only a little.

But enough.

Alina looked toward Lara.

The Swiss woman was reviewing the medical forms.

"Lara?"

She raised her eyes.

"I haven't decided."

Nobody objected.

Lara continued.

"I think I could be useful."

Alina nodded.

"But I'm concerned about the infected personnel."

"Reasonable."

"I don't know whether I could examine somebody who was..."

She stopped.

Her fingers tightened around the documents.

"Like that."

Ingrid leaned forward.

"You don't have to decide immediately."

Lara nodded.

"I know."

For a moment, she looked relieved.

Then Johanna approached with the tea.

She placed a cup beside Lara.

The younger woman smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Johanna took a seat.

"Personally, I intend to volunteer."

Alina looked toward her.

"Why?"

Johanna considered that.

"Because I believe I can be useful in a protective role."

She paused.

"And because I trust the command structure enough to believe we won't be ordered to continue after the situation becomes unreasonable."

Darya raised an eyebrow.

"That's quite a statement."

Johanna smiled.

"Yes."

The German woman glanced toward the windows.

"I wouldn't have said it two weeks ago."

Alina considered that.

Then nodded slowly.

Nor would she.

Not entirely.

She'd spent the first several days after the Crisis worrying that the station would attempt to separate VESPER.

The AU's legal records described them as Synthetic Infantry Assets.

That designation carried restrictions.

Complications.

The sort of administrative assumptions that made people nervous when they realized the military might have authority over their daily lives.

But Kade hadn't treated the group as a collection of equipment.

He'd spoken to them.

Asked questions.

Given them work.

Allowed them to remain together where practical.

And when security personnel disagreed with his proposals, he listened.

Alina didn't believe the Commander was perfect.

She'd seen him make mistakes.

Everyone had.

He was eighteen years old.

Younger than almost everybody in VESPER.

The fact that he occupied a command position remained strange.

But he understood that authority didn't make an idea correct.

That counted for something.

Johanna continued.

"I also think Mira will be useful."

Greta nodded.

"Very."

Morgan smiled faintly.

"She's going to yell at us."

"Probably," Johanna agreed.

Cassidy considered the thought.

"She has a lovely yelling voice."

Lara sighed.

"Cassidy."

"What?"

"Please."

Cassidy smiled.

Then grew quiet again.

Alina looked toward the rest.

"Morgan?"

The American woman considered that.

Then nodded.

"I'll go."

"Why?"

Morgan looked surprised.

Alina held her gaze.

"Not because everyone else wants to."

Morgan hesitated.

Then looked down.

For a while, she said nothing.

Finally, she answered.

"Because I'm good at helping people keep moving when they're tired."

Alina listened.

"And because somebody's going to need that."

There was a silence.

Then Lara looked toward her.

"Morgan."

The automatic riflewoman glanced over.

Lara's expression was gentle.

"You aren't required to carry everybody."

Morgan's mouth twitched.

"I know."

"Do you?"

She hesitated.

Then sighed.

"...Trying."

Lara nodded.

"Good."

Alina turned toward Greta.

The German woman answered immediately.

"I will volunteer."

"Any reservations?"

"Several."

Alina raised an eyebrow.

Greta continued.

"The landing craft cannot be treated as a mobile fortress. My full weapon system is cumbersome, and carrying it into the industrial complex would create unnecessary difficulties."

She glanced toward the briefing map.

"I expect to remain in a suitable support position unless the mission requires otherwise."

Alina nodded.

"That would fit the proposed role."

"Yes."

Greta folded her arms.

"I dislike operations based on incomplete intelligence."

"So do I."

"But I accept that complete intelligence is rarely possible."

She paused.

"And the Commander has provided reasonable conditions for withdrawing."

Alina smiled faintly.

"All right."

Darya spoke next.

"I'll go."

Réka immediately looked toward her.

Darya frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're smiling."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

Réka grinned.

"Just wondering whether you're going to ask permission to dismantle the entire facility."

Darya looked offended.

"I would never."

Greta made a disapproving sound.

Darya glared.

"I would ask first."

Johanna laughed.

Alina rubbed her forehead.

Then looked toward Ingrid.

The Norwegian woman considered the question.

"I want to help identify anyone who might still be alive."

Alina nodded.

"And the reconnaissance work?"

"Yes."

Ingrid looked toward the map.

"Someone has to pay attention to the things that aren't obviously dangerous."

Réka smiled faintly.

"That's usually you."

Ingrid returned the smile.

"Usually."

Natsuki looked toward her.

Then spoke.

"I intend to volunteer as well."

Alina turned.

The Japanese woman sat very straight.

Her hands rested neatly on her notebook.

She looked nervous.

But determined.

Alina studied her.

"Are you sure?"

Natsuki hesitated.

Then nodded.

"I don't think I'll ever feel completely ready."

Nobody interrupted.

"But I've trained. I've passed the required assessments. And..."

She looked toward Ingrid.

"I think I can do something useful."

Ingrid smiled gently.

Natsuki's shoulders relaxed.

Alina nodded.

"All right."

Élodie answered without waiting to be asked.

"I'll go."

Cassidy looked toward her.

The tall Frenchwoman continued.

"My assigned role is suitable for the supporting element. If the operation requires observation and precision support, I would rather provide it than leave the others without that capability."

Alina nodded.

"Understood."

Cassidy raised one hand.

"Élodie."

The Frenchwoman turned.

"Yes?"

"You're very tall."

Élodie stared.

A pause.

Then:

"An extraordinary observation."

Cassidy smiled.

"Thank you."

"Was there a question?"

"Not anymore."

Morgan groaned.

Élodie looked toward the ceiling.

Alina almost laughed.

Then she turned toward Réka.

The Hungarian woman had been waiting patiently.

Suspiciously patiently.

Alina narrowed her eyes.

"Réka."

"Yes?"

"Your answer."

"I'm going."

"Why?"

Réka considered that.

Then shrugged.

"Because I want to see what the Blackwake have done to the machinery."

Darya nodded approvingly.

Alina stared.

Réka smiled.

"And because I'm good at noticing things."

"True."

"And because I can follow instructions."

Everyone looked at her.

A long silence followed.

Then Zofia began laughing.

Réka frowned.

"What?"

Morgan covered her mouth.

Greta closed her eyes.

Darya looked down.

Johanna smiled into her tea.

Alina slowly folded her arms.

"Réka."

The Hungarian girl sighed.

"Most instructions."

Alina nodded.

"Better."

Réka considered that.

Then her smile faded slightly.

"And because I don't want to wait here wondering whether everyone came back."

That quieted the room.

Alina looked toward her.

Réka glanced down at the red-white-green bracelet around her wrist.

For a moment, her expression was distant.

Then she shrugged.

"I know that's not a good enough reason by itself."

Alina nodded.

"No."

"But it's part of it."

"All right."

The Russian woman looked toward Zofia.

The Polish girl answered immediately.

"I'm going."

Alina raised an eyebrow.

Zofia sighed.

"Because I want to help."

"Good."

"And because I think I'm capable of the assigned work."

"Better."

"And because if Cassidy gets herself into trouble, somebody needs to tell her she's an idiot."

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

"Important duty."

Alina smiled despite herself.

Then looked toward Lara.

The Swiss woman had been quiet.

She studied the medical forms.

Then slowly set them down.

"I'll volunteer."

Alina blinked.

"Are you sure?"

Lara nodded.

"Yes."

She looked toward the others.

"I'm still frightened."

Nobody objected.

"But I would rather be there to help if someone needs me."

Morgan looked toward her.

Lara smiled faintly.

"And I think Mira and Irena have given us enough training to understand what we shouldn't try to do."

Alina considered that.

Then nodded.

"All right."

The group turned toward her.

Alina looked around the room.

Eleven faces.

Different countries.

Different personalities.

People she'd known through screens long before she met them in person.

Some had argued with her for years.

Some had only recently become close friends.

But all of them were here.

Waiting.

She took a slow breath.

"I'll volunteer too."

Morgan smiled.

Darya nodded.

Zofia looked relieved.

Cassidy grinned.

Alina raised one finger.

"Provided everyone passes the final medical and qualification reviews."

Zofia sighed.

"Of course."

"And provided the operation proceeds under the conditions discussed."

Greta nodded.

"Naturally."

"And if anyone changes her mind before embarkation—"

Cassidy raised both hands.

"We know."

Alina looked toward her.

Cassidy's smile softened.

"We know."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Johanna lifted her teacup.

"Well."

Everyone turned.

She smiled.

"To a sensible decision."

Zofia stared.

Then burst out laughing.

Cassidy shook her head.

"Sensible?"

Johanna looked innocent.

"Relatively."

Darya sighed.

Greta made another disapproving noise.

Morgan reached for her water bottle.

And Alina, for the first time since the briefing, allowed herself to relax.

Only slightly.

Only for a moment.

But enough.

The decision had been made.

Now all they had to do was live long enough to regret it.

 

Kade received the volunteer reports shortly before dinner.

All fifteen had indicated willingness to participate.

Nobody had been formally assigned yet.

Medical clearances remained pending.

Equipment checks were incomplete.

The final weather assessment had not been issued.

And the naval group still needed confirmation that the latest enemy-contact picture hadn't changed significantly.

Nevertheless, the result was encouraging.

He stood beside the ground-operations board, reading the individual responses.

Mara was seated at the communications desk.

Mira stood beside the map.

Irena had joined them after completing her afternoon rounds.

Kade looked toward the roster.

"All fifteen."

Mira nodded.

"Yes."

"Any concerns?"

The native SIA officer considered the question.

"Several."

He smiled faintly.

"Expected."

"Miss Boone's enthusiasm requires supervision."

"Naturally."

"Miss Kowalska's impatience also requires attention."

"Also expected."

"Miss Varga is curious about the enemy machinery."

Kade sighed.

"Of course she is."

Mira continued.

"Miss Belova has submitted six questions regarding the equipment's compatibility with our own technical systems."

He looked toward her.

"Six?"

"Seven, counting the additional memorandum."

Kade slowly closed his eyes.

Mara laughed.

Irena smiled faintly.

Mira continued.

"However, I do not consider those concerns disqualifying."

Kade opened his eyes.

"Good."

"The group works well together."

He nodded.

"And the three?"

"Piper's team has also volunteered."

"Readiness?"

"Acceptable for the proposed assignments with experienced supervision. Final assessments remain."

Kade nodded.

"All right."

He looked toward the list.

Fifteen names.

Not simply fifteen combat units.

Fifteen people.

Fifteen young women who had been living in his naval station for a little over a month.

Some loud.

Some quiet.

Some thoughtful.

Some impulsive.

All inexperienced in the ways that mattered most.

He turned toward Irena.

"You're comfortable with the medical arrangements?"

The doctor considered that.

"Comfortable isn't the word I'd use."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

She continued.

"I've reviewed the evacuation facilities and requested additional medical supplies. We'll have personnel prepared to receive casualties if necessary."

He nodded.

"But?"

She looked toward the list.

"But I don't like sending people somewhere they might need those arrangements."

Kade considered that.

Then nodded slowly.

"Neither do I."

Irena watched him.

He continued.

"Unfortunately, we may need to start doing more than waiting for the next attack."

She nodded.

"I know."

He looked toward the map.

The Burnt Narrows was not simply a potential source of supplies.

It was an active enemy support position near routes Horizon needed to keep open.

Allowing the Blackwake to strengthen it indefinitely carried risks of its own.

Those risks weren't as immediate as a landing.

They were easier to ignore.

But they were real.

Mara rose from her chair.

"The latest regional message arrived."

Kade looked toward her.

"Anything new?"

"Confirmation that an allied patrol observed no large Blackwake surface formation near the outer approaches this morning."

He nodded.

"Good."

"However, the report notes intermittent signals activity farther east."

His expression tightened.

"Classification?"

"Unresolved."

He looked toward Mira.

She nodded slowly.

Kade considered the information.

Unknown signals activity.

No large enemy formation observed.

A confirmed Blackwake support site.

And a short window in which Horizon might be able to strike without committing its entire defensive force.

It wasn't certainty.

There would never be certainty.

He looked toward the mission board.

Then turned to Mara.

"Continue the preparations."

The chief nodded.

"Yes, Commander."

"No departure until the final checks are complete."

"Understood."

Kade looked toward Mira.

"And if anything in the ground assessment changes, I want to hear about it."

"Of course."

He glanced toward the roster again.

Cassidy Boone.

Zofia Kowalska.

Alina Morozova.

Darya Belova.

Morgan Reyes.

Johanna Weiss.

Greta Falk.

Ingrid Solheim.

Natsuki Hoshino.

Élodie Marchand.

Lara Baumann.

Réka Varga.

Piper.

Tamsin.

Ren.

Fifteen people.

He closed the folder.

Then looked toward the harbor.

Breakwater stood beyond the windows.

The great battleship had been preparing for the operation throughout the afternoon.

Somewhere aboard it, a group of naval history enthusiasts was undoubtedly discussing the finer details of a landing craft that none of them had expected to operate in actual combat.

Kade sighed.

"What could possibly go wrong?"

Mara looked toward him.

The chief had served long enough to recognize a dangerous question.

"Commander."

He glanced over.

"Yes?"

"Please don't say that."

Kade considered her.

Then smiled faintly.

"Fair."

He returned to the map.

And began reviewing the withdrawal conditions again.

The Higgins boat was ugly.

That was Cassidy's first impression.

Not ugly in an offensive way.

Ugly in the way a well-designed piece of military equipment could be when nobody had wasted time trying to make it attractive.

Its hull was broad and boxy.

The bow was dominated by a large metal ramp.

The internal space was open and practical, with benches and handholds arranged to accommodate personnel and equipment.

A small protected control position stood toward the stern.

The engine gave off the unmistakable smell of diesel machinery.

The deck was functional.

The paint was weathered.

And the boat appeared to have been designed by somebody who had decided that elegance was an unnecessary complication.

Cassidy loved it immediately.

"Oh, she's beautiful."

Zofia stood beside her.

The Polish girl's eyes were shining.

"Look at the ramp."

Cassidy nodded.

"Look at the ramp."

"Look at the whole thing!"

"Glorious."

Morgan stood behind them.

She looked toward the boat.

Then toward Cassidy.

"You're both ridiculous."

Cassidy smiled.

"Thank you."

Zofia nodded.

"High praise."

The training session was being conducted in a sheltered section of Horizon's harbor.

Breakwater's crew had brought the LCVP alongside an approved embarkation platform where the landing personnel could practice boarding, equipment placement, and disembarkation without first having to lower the boat from the battleship.

The actual offshore launch procedure would be handled by the ship's qualified boat crew.

Captain Mercer had insisted on that distinction.

So had the chief engineer.

So had Kade.

The boat wasn't something the infantry personnel were expected to operate themselves.

Their responsibility was to embark safely, remain within the assigned load arrangement, follow the crew's instructions, and disembark without causing a preventable accident.

Apparently, that alone was enough to fill an entire morning.

Alina found this both reassuring and slightly depressing.

The group assembled beside the embarkation platform.

Mira stood at the front.

A Breakwater petty officer named Ellis waited beside the landing craft.

He was a broad-shouldered man in his late twenties with a weathered face, a practical manner, and the deeply patient expression of somebody who had already explained the same thing to several enthusiastic sailors.

He looked over the group.

Then at Cassidy.

Then at Zofia.

Both smiled at him.

Ellis sighed.

"Right."

The women straightened.

"Before we start, a few things."

He gestured toward the boat.

"This is a landing craft."

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

Zofia looked attentive.

"It is not an amusement-park ride."

Both expressions changed.

Morgan covered her mouth.

Ellis continued.

"The crew will control the craft. You'll follow the loading instructions. You'll secure your equipment properly. And you'll keep your hands and feet clear of moving machinery."

He looked toward the ramp.

"When that moves, nobody touches it."

Zofia nodded.

"Understood."

"Nobody leans over it."

"Understood."

"Nobody tries to jump off early."

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Alina slowly closed her eyes.

Ellis noticed.

He folded his arms.

"Something you'd like to share?"

Cassidy smiled.

"No, Petty Officer."

Zofia nodded.

"Nothing at all."

Ellis stared at them.

Then sighed.

"Wonderful."

Mira stepped forward.

"Carry on."

The petty officer began explaining the embarkation arrangements.

Greta's heavy MG08 required special consideration.

The assembled weapon system was not suitable for casual movement through a landing craft, and its support equipment occupied more space than the rest of the group's lighter firearms.

For the mission, her role had been adjusted to defensive support from an appropriate prepared position rather than general movement through the industrial buildings.

Her equipment would be transported and secured accordingly.

Élodie's Hécate II presented a different problem.

The rifle was long.

Heavy.

And awkward in a crowded boat.

She had already accepted that she would not be swinging it around inside the landing craft.

Mira had assigned her to a supporting observation position once ashore, subject to the conditions at the landing area.

The smaller weapons were comparatively easier to accommodate.

Lara's SIG P230.

Ren's MP7.

Tamsin's Sten.

Piper's M4A1.

Morgan's M27.

Alina's AK-101.

Darya's AK-107.

Réka's AMD-65.

Johanna's unusual drilling.

Zofia's Błyskawica.

Ingrid and Natsuki's historical rifles.

And Cassidy's snub-nosed revolver.

Ellis looked over the equipment manifest.

Then stopped.

He frowned.

Looked again.

Then raised his eyes.

"Who has the .500 Magnum?"

Cassidy raised one hand.

"Hello."

Ellis stared.

Then looked toward the weapon listed beside her name.

"Snub-nose?"

"Yes."

He considered that.

Then glanced toward Mira.

The native SIA officer remained expressionless.

Ellis looked back at Cassidy.

"Why?"

Cassidy smiled.

"Personal preference."

He stared.

She continued.

"Historical appreciation."

Another silence.

"Strong emotional attachment."

Ellis slowly lowered the clipboard.

"Right."

Morgan covered her face.

Zofia burst out laughing.

Cassidy looked pleased.

The petty officer sighed.

"All right. Just don't discharge it inside my boat."

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

"Fair request."

Mira looked toward her.

"Cassidy."

"Yes?"

"That is not a joke."

The American woman's smile softened.

"I know."

And she did.

The blast from her revolver was no laughing matter in a confined space.

The weapon was powerful, but power had to be used intelligently.

The same applied to Élodie's rifle, Greta's machine gun, and every other firearm aboard.

The boat was small.

Its passengers would be close together.

If fighting began while they were embarked, the circumstances would be dangerous.

Nobody wanted to discover the consequences through improvisation.

The rehearsal began.

Fifteen women approached the landing craft in their assigned order.

They boarded.

Found their places.

Adjusted their equipment.

Checked that nothing obstructed the crew.

Then waited.

Cassidy stood beside Zofia.

The Polish girl looked around.

A smile spread across her face.

"We're actually in a Higgins boat."

Cassidy nodded.

"Technically."

Zofia glanced toward the ramp.

"Can you imagine?"

"Yes."

"An actual landing."

"Also yes."

Morgan, standing beside them, sighed.

"Please stop."

Zofia looked toward her.

"What?"

"You're talking like tourists."

Cassidy smiled.

"Military tourists."

"That's worse."

The boat's engine started.

The hull vibrated.

The smell of diesel grew stronger.

Ellis called for attention.

Everybody stopped talking.

The craft moved away from the platform.

Slowly.

The harbor water slapped against its sides.

A small wake formed behind it.

Cassidy looked toward the shore.

Zofia did too.

For a moment, the two simply watched the distance increase.

They'd spent over a month on Horizon.

They'd seen the sea every day.

Heard it.

Smelled it.

Watched the Keelborn skate across it in their strange, powerful rigging.

But this felt different.

The boat moved beneath their feet.

The deck shifted with the water.

The wind carried spray across the open compartment.

It was a simple movement inside a protected harbor.

A rehearsal.

No enemy.

No danger beyond the ordinary risks of handling a small military vessel.

Yet Zofia felt her stomach tighten.

Cassidy looked toward her.

"You okay?"

Zofia nodded.

"Yeah."

A pause.

Then:

"Boat moves more than I expected."

Cassidy smiled faintly.

"Funny thing about boats."

Zofia glared.

Cassidy raised her hands.

"Sorry."

At the stern, Ellis monitored the craft.

The crew conducted the exercise exactly as instructed.

They approached the designated practice area.

The landing personnel remained in their places.

When the boat reached the training beach, the crew secured its position and prepared the ramp.

A mechanical sound carried through the hull.

Metal moved.

The ramp lowered.

Sunlight flooded the open bow.

Zofia stared.

Cassidy grinned.

The beach lay ahead.

Just a stretch of ordinary sand inside Horizon's training area.

A few temporary markers.

Several instructors waiting beside the shore.

Nothing dramatic.

But for a moment, the two young women forgot that.

Then Mira's voice cut through their excitement.

"Wait for the instruction."

Both straightened.

The crew confirmed the landing conditions.

The order came.

And the women began disembarking.

The first attempt was not particularly elegant.

Zofia moved too quickly.

Alina told her to slow down.

Morgan almost caught the butt of Greta's equipment case against her leg.

Réka stopped to look at something near the ramp and was immediately ordered to keep moving.

Cassidy had to adjust her footing when the water shifted beneath the boat.

Natsuki nearly apologized to the entire group for taking too long.

And Élodie discovered that disembarking with a long, heavy rifle while maintaining safe control of it required rather more attention than she'd expected.

Nobody fell.

Nobody was hurt.

But the instructors had plenty to discuss.

When the group reached the shore, Ellis looked toward Mira.

"Again."

Cassidy sighed.

Zofia nodded.

Morgan looked toward the sky.

Alina smiled faintly.

They re-embarked.

And did it again.

Then again.

Then once more.

By the fourth attempt, the movements had become smoother.

The group was beginning to understand the rhythm of the craft.

Not like a game.

Not like a rehearsed cinematic sequence.

Like something that required care.

Attention.

Patience.

And the willingness to repeat an unexciting procedure until it stopped being a problem.

When the final exercise ended, Cassidy stepped onto the sand and looked back toward the landing craft.

Her smile was smaller than it had been that morning.

But it was more thoughtful.

Zofia joined her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the Polish girl looked toward Cassidy.

"Still think it's funny?"

Cassidy considered the boat.

The ramp.

The crew.

The complicated business of moving fifteen armed people across a stretch of water without injuring anybody.

Then she smiled.

"A little."

Zofia laughed.

Cassidy continued.

"But I think I'm beginning to understand why people practiced this so much."

The Polish girl nodded.

"Yeah."

They watched the boat turn toward the harbor.

Its engine rumbled across the sheltered water.

For the first time, the approaching operation felt less like an exciting adventure.

And more like something they might actually have to survive.

 

The night before departure, VESPER's common room remained lit well past the ordinary quiet hours.

Nobody was playing games.

Nobody had started an argument about firearms.

Even Zofia was unusually subdued.

Their equipment had been inspected.

The ammunition issued.

The medical clearances completed.

The backup records verified.

The final load arrangements reviewed.

All fifteen had passed the required readiness checks.

The weather forecast remained acceptable.

The naval force had received authorization to proceed.

And the mission was scheduled to depart before dawn.

Cassidy sat beside her locker, examining the small identification card she had been issued.

Her actual name was printed across the top.

CASSIDY BOONE.

Beneath it was her SIA registration.

S&W MODEL 500.

The designation still looked absurdly large beside the name.

She smiled faintly.

Then turned the card over.

Emergency contact information.

Medical category.

Backup reference.

The last entry contained a verification date.

Yesterday.

Her mind had been recorded.

Her memories.

Her personality.

The relevant information that would be used if her biological body was destroyed and a compatible SIA frame became available.

It was a remarkable technology.

Also an unsettling one.

Cassidy looked toward the dark window.

Somewhere beyond it, the harbor lights reflected across the water.

She wondered what her mother would think if she could see her now.

Her daughter.

Twenty-two years old.

Sitting inside a naval barracks on a Pacific island in a world that should have been a game.

Preparing to board an actual battleship.

Carrying a ridiculous revolver.

About to participate in a military operation against an enemy that could infect human beings and synthetic soldiers.

Her mother would probably have several things to say.

Most of them unprintable.

Cassidy smiled weakly.

Then looked toward the identification card again.

A new frame.

A backup.

A second chance.

Maybe.

But not the same body.

Not the same heartbeat.

Not the same pair of hands.

She looked down at them.

Flexed her fingers.

Then slowly closed them.

For the first time in a long while, Cassidy wished she could call home.

Not to explain.

She had no idea how she would explain any of this.

Just to hear somebody familiar answer the telephone.

She sat quietly.

Then a voice came from the doorway.

"Hey."

Cassidy looked up.

Zofia stood there.

The Polish girl's scarf was draped around her shoulders.

Her expression was unusually gentle.

Cassidy smiled faintly.

"Hey."

Zofia stepped inside.

Then sat beside her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Zofia looked toward the identification card.

"Backup?"

Cassidy nodded.

"Yeah."

Zofia considered that.

Then looked toward her own wrist.

She wore her identification tag beneath the cuff of her uniform.

"I keep thinking about it."

Cassidy glanced over.

"What?"

"The new body thing."

Cassidy nodded slowly.

"Me too."

Zofia looked toward the floor.

"If something happens, and I wake up in a new frame..."

She hesitated.

"Would it still feel like me?"

Cassidy didn't answer immediately.

Then she smiled faintly.

"Probably complain about being short."

Zofia slowly turned.

Cassidy's expression remained innocent.

A long silence followed.

Then Zofia punched her lightly in the shoulder.

"Idiot."

Cassidy laughed.

Zofia smiled.

Then the smile faded.

"...I'm serious."

"I know."

Cassidy looked toward the card.

She considered the question.

Then answered quietly.

"I don't know."

Zofia looked at her.

Cassidy continued.

"I hope so."

The Polish girl nodded.

"Me too."

For a while, they sat in silence.

Then Zofia rested her head against Cassidy's shoulder.

Cassidy didn't move.

She simply let her.

Outside, the night wind stirred the trees.

Somewhere in the corridor, Morgan and Lara were speaking quietly.

A door closed.

A fan turned.

The barracks smelled faintly of detergent, metal, and the remains of somebody's evening tea.

Ordinary things.

Comforting things.

Zofia sighed.

"I was really bored."

Cassidy smiled.

"Yeah."

"All month."

"Yeah."

A pause.

Then Zofia whispered:

"I don't want to die."

Cassidy looked down at her.

The Polish girl didn't raise her head.

Cassidy's expression softened.

"Me neither."

They sat together for a while.

No jokes.

No boasts.

No grand declarations.

Eventually, Cassidy gently nudged her friend's shoulder.

"Hey."

Zofia looked up.

Cassidy smiled.

"Let's make a deal."

"What?"

"We both come back."

Zofia considered that.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

"And when we do..."

Cassidy paused.

Zofia waited.

"...we complain about how boring the base is."

The Polish girl stared.

Then laughed.

A real laugh.

Cassidy grinned.

"Deal?"

Zofia nodded.

"Deal."

They shook hands.

It wasn't a military oath.

It wasn't a guarantee.

Neither of them could promise the future.

But it made the night a little easier.

And for now, that was enough.

At four forty-five the next morning, Horizon Atoll was still mostly dark.

The eastern sky held a narrow line of gray.

The harbor lights shone across the water.

And somewhere near the auxiliary barracks, Zofia Kowalska was attempting to convince herself that her breakfast tasted like food.

It wasn't working.

She looked down at the plate.

Eggs.

Toast.

A little fruit.

Nothing wrong with it.

Eliza Ward had prepared an early meal for the departing personnel, and the kitchen staff had made certain nobody left hungry.

Zofia appreciated the effort.

She simply couldn't persuade her stomach to cooperate.

Cassidy sat opposite.

The American woman was eating calmly.

Too calmly.

Zofia watched her.

Then frowned.

"How?"

Cassidy glanced up.

"Hm?"

"How are you eating?"

Cassidy considered the question.

Then looked toward her fork.

"With this."

Zofia stared.

The American smiled faintly.

"Advanced technology."

Zofia groaned.

Cassidy's smile softened.

"Nervous?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

Zofia blinked.

Cassidy took another bite.

The Polish girl looked genuinely offended.

"You don't look nervous."

Cassidy swallowed.

Then shrugged.

"I contain multitudes."

Zofia stared.

Then slowly lowered her head.

"You're impossible."

"Frequently."

Alina approached with her tray.

She sat beside them.

For once, she hadn't brought paperwork.

Zofia noticed immediately.

"Where's your clipboard?"

Alina looked toward her.

"Put away."

Zofia blinked.

"Are you sick?"

Cassidy grinned.

Alina sighed.

"Eat your breakfast."

Zofia looked toward the plate.

Then sighed.

"I'm trying."

The Russian woman studied her.

Her expression softened.

"Nervous?"

Zofia nodded.

Alina reached across the table.

Rested one hand beside hers.

Then said quietly:

"So am I."

Zofia looked up.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Cassidy smiled.

"Well."

Both turned.

She raised her coffee cup.

"At least we're being emotionally responsible."

Alina laughed.

Zofia smiled despite herself.

Across the mess hall, the rest of VESPER occupied two tables.

Morgan was reviewing the departure schedule.

Greta had already finished eating.

Johanna was calmly drinking tea.

Darya and Réka were speaking quietly about the equipment inspection.

Lara had made Natsuki sit down after discovering that she'd been trying to review the medical forms while standing in the corridor.

Ingrid was eating slowly.

Élodie looked toward the windows.

Piper, Tamsin, and Ren sat nearby, speaking with Mira.

The native SIA officer had already completed her own equipment checks.

Her composure was reassuring.

It was also slightly intimidating.

Mira had years of service behind her.

She understood what combat could look like beyond the range.

She knew what panic sounded like.

And she had seen personnel return from operations missing pieces of themselves.

The fifteen former players possessed something different.

Months or years of online teamwork.

Familiarity with weapons.

A month of real training.

And the uncomfortable knowledge that none of those things was a guarantee.

Zofia finally managed another bite of breakfast.

It tasted better than she expected.

She looked toward Cassidy.

"Hey."

The American glanced up.

"Hm?"

"Deal still stands?"

Cassidy smiled faintly.

"Of course."

Zofia nodded.

Then returned to eating.

One thing at a time.

For the moment, that meant breakfast.

 

Breakwater was already preparing to depart when the landing group arrived.

The enormous battleship occupied much of the harbor's eastern view, its superstructure illuminated by the first pale light of dawn.

Smoke rose faintly from its machinery spaces.

Crewmen moved along the decks.

A launch carried equipment toward the ship.

And beside the aft handling area, secured in its transport cradle, sat the LCVP.

Cassidy stopped walking.

Zofia stopped beside her.

Both looked up.

There it was.

An actual Higgins boat.

On an actual battleship.

The arrangement still looked ridiculous.

It was also real.

The craft had been secured using inspected deck fittings and a handling arrangement suitable for the planned launch. Its crew had completed the necessary machinery and equipment checks, and the boat's load had been calculated carefully.

It was not a convenient vehicle that could simply appear whenever somebody selected an amphibious mission.

It took deck space.

Required maintenance.

Added work for the crew.

And introduced another mechanical system that could fail.

Kade had reminded Mercer of this repeatedly.

Mercer had agreed.

Then smiled every time somebody mentioned the boat.

The captain was standing near the gangway when the infantry detachment arrived.

He looked toward the assembled women.

Then nodded.

"Morning."

Alina stepped forward.

"Captain. VESPER reporting. Piper's team is with us."

Mercer smiled.

"Good."

He looked over the group.

Then toward Mira.

"Officer."

"Captain."

"Everyone cleared?"

"Yes. Medical and equipment checks complete."

Mercer nodded.

"Excellent."

He stepped aside.

"Welcome aboard."

The group began climbing the gangway.

Zofia looked up toward the battleship's enormous superstructure.

Her mouth opened slightly.

Cassidy noticed.

"Impressive?"

Zofia nodded.

"...Yeah."

The ship was different from anything they'd known.

Not a collection of naval statistics.

Not a three-dimensional model moving across a digital ocean.

Not a historical exhibit preserved for visitors.

A functioning warship.

The steel under their boots had weight.

The machinery carried heat.

The crew moved with the practiced urgency of people preparing an actual vessel for sea.

Sailors were checking equipment.

Officers were supervising their departments.

A repair team worked beside an anti-aircraft mount.

And far below, machinery waited to propel thousands of tons of steel beyond the harbor.

Zofia looked toward one of the fourteen-inch turrets.

Its barrels seemed impossibly large.

Cassidy followed her gaze.

"Okay."

Zofia looked toward her.

Cassidy nodded at the guns.

"That makes my revolver look a little small."

Zofia stared.

Then burst out laughing.

Morgan turned.

"What?"

Cassidy smiled.

"Nothing."

Greta looked toward the turret.

Her expression became almost approving.

"Now that is a proper defensive weapon."

Morgan sighed.

"Please don't start."

Johanna smiled.

Élodie examined the arrangement of the guns with quiet interest.

Réka, meanwhile, had spotted a deck fitting she wanted to ask somebody about.

Alina caught her sleeve.

"Réka."

The Hungarian girl looked back.

"What?"

"Stay with us."

"I was just—"

"I know."

Réka sighed.

Then smiled.

"Fine."

They proceeded toward the assigned staging compartment.

The crew had prepared an area where the SIA personnel could secure their belongings, check their equipment, and remain out of the way during departure.

The space was cramped compared with their barracks.

The deck was hard.

The bulkheads were steel.

And the ventilation carried the unmistakable warmth of a working ship.

Zofia looked around.

Then smiled faintly.

"This is so cool."

Mira turned.

The Polish girl straightened immediately.

The native SIA officer considered her.

Then said:

"Yes."

Zofia blinked.

Mira continued.

"It is."

For a moment, the two looked at one another.

Then Mira smiled slightly.

"Just remember where you are."

Zofia nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mira moved on.

Cassidy leaned toward Zofia.

"She thinks it's cool too."

Zofia grinned.

"I knew it."

 

Kade Bher watched Breakwater's departure from Horizon's operations room.

The battleship's silhouette moved slowly through the harbor under pilotage, accompanied by the necessary support craft and controlled through the station's established departure procedures.

Beyond the western approach, the Keelborn element was assembling.

Elsa moved across the water with the assured control of an experienced heavy cruiser.

Calla followed, her Atlanta-class equipment riding close to her body as she adjusted speed.

June maintained her assigned position.

Aster was farther ahead, skating over the water in the compact, responsive rigging of her Fletcher-class destroyer.

Nadya followed the formation with the deliberate movements of an older battleship.

No training pontoons.

No bulky primary stabilization frames.

These were girls who knew how to move with their equipment.

They had spent weeks helping Horizon's beginners learn the skills they themselves already possessed.

Now they were going into waters where those skills might keep them alive.

Kade watched the tracking display.

Mara stood beside him.

The communications staff monitored the departing force.

Corwin was already preparing a final logistics summary.

And Irena had the medical department on alert for any casualties that might return.

The base's ordinary work continued around them.

A cargo truck moved toward Warehouse Four.

The morning training schedule remained active.

The industrial repair teams were beginning another shift.

Riko was probably complaining about the remaining stabilizers on her Mk. I.

Yuna was preparing another aviation-handling lesson.

Hana was supervising the repair work.

Senko stood ready for a later recovery movement if the naval force confirmed that the industrial site was secure enough to justify sending her.

Nobody had permitted the transport to accompany the initial assault.

She'd accepted the decision.

Reluctantly.

Then spent two days preparing a cargo list that assumed the enemy installation contained everything Horizon had ever needed.

Corwin had described the list as ambitious.

Senko had described it as hopeful.

Kade considered both fair.

He looked toward the radio operator.

"Status?"

"Breakwater clearing the harbor, Commander."

"Good."

The operator continued.

"Keelborn formation reporting all stations ready."

Kade nodded.

"Maintain contact."

"Yes, sir."

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker.

"Horizon Command, Breakwater. Mercer here. Departure proceeding as planned."

Kade reached for the handset.

"Copy, Captain."

"Weather holding. Crew ready. Landing craft secured."

"Good."

"And, Commander..."

Kade narrowed his eyes.

There it was.

The tone.

He knew the tone.

"Yes?"

Mercer sounded almost cheerful.

"She's still a fine little boat."

Kade closed his eyes.

Mara covered her mouth.

The Commander sighed.

"Captain."

"Yes?"

"Please focus on the battleship."

There was a pause.

Then Mercer laughed.

"Understood."

Kade lowered the handset.

Mara looked toward him.

"He's enjoying himself."

"Far too much."

"Rather nice, though."

He glanced toward her.

"What?"

"Seeing the crew excited about something other than surviving the next patrol."

Kade considered that.

Then looked toward the screen.

Breakwater continued moving toward the open sea.

The ship's crew had volunteered to support the operation.

They'd trained.

Prepared.

And accepted the risks.

He nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Mara smiled.

He continued.

"Still wish he'd stop treating the landing craft like his favorite child."

The chief laughed.

Outside, the battleship passed beyond the repaired navigation beacon.

And the ocean opened before her.

 

For the landing group, the voyage began quietly.

That changed after the first hour.

The sea outside Horizon's sheltered waters was not particularly rough, but it moved differently from the harbor.

Breakwater's massive hull handled the swell with the heavy, deliberate motion of a capital ship.

The deck rose.

Settled.

Shifted again.

The movement was slow enough that the experienced sailors barely noticed it.

The former players noticed.

Especially Zofia.

She sat on a bench inside the staging compartment, looking toward the floor.

Cassidy watched her.

"You okay?"

Zofia nodded.

"Yes."

A pause.

Then:

"No."

Cassidy smiled sympathetically.

"Motion?"

"Yes."

Morgan looked toward them.

"Need anything?"

Zofia shook her head.

"Just..."

She took a slow breath.

"...I think I preferred the training boat."

Cassidy nodded.

"Fair."

The Polish girl glanced toward the bulkhead.

"It's a battleship. Why does it still move?"

Greta answered from nearby.

"Because the ocean is considerably larger than the ship."

Zofia looked toward her.

The German woman remained expressionless.

Cassidy smiled.

"Excellent explanation."

Zofia closed her eyes.

"I hate everybody."

Ingrid approached with some water.

"Here."

Zofia accepted it.

"Thank you."

The Norwegian woman smiled.

"Small sips."

Zofia nodded.

Across the compartment, Darya was examining the equipment telemetry permitted to the landing personnel.

Réka sat beside her.

The Hungarian girl looked entirely comfortable.

Darya noticed.

"You're enjoying this."

Réka smiled.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Boat."

Darya sighed.

"Technically, ship."

Réka considered that.

"Large boat."

Darya slowly closed her eyes.

Johanna laughed softly.

Cassidy looked toward the two.

Then toward Zofia.

The Polish girl had begun looking less miserable.

Good.

The voyage continued.

Several hours passed.

The group checked their gear.

Reviewed the assignment.

Rested when instructed.

Spoke quietly.

At one point, a sailor brought them additional water.

Morgan thanked him.

He smiled.

Then looked toward the assembled weapons.

"That's quite a collection."

Cassidy smiled proudly.

"Thank you."

The sailor glanced toward Greta's equipment.

Then Élodie's long rifle.

Then Johanna's drilling.

Then Cassidy.

His expression became curious.

"...What is that?"

Cassidy looked delighted.

Zofia groaned.

"Don't."

The sailor pointed toward the holstered revolver.

"Seriously."

Cassidy smiled.

"Smith & Wesson Model 500."

The sailor stared.

"That little thing?"

Cassidy's expression became deeply affectionate.

"She says thank you."

Morgan covered her face.

The sailor began laughing.

For several minutes, the compartment felt almost normal.

Then the radio speaker sounded.

"All personnel, this is the bridge. Approaching the designated support area. Landing element to prepare for further instructions."

The laughter stopped.

Zofia lowered her water bottle.

Cassidy straightened.

Alina rose.

Mira checked her watch.

The room became quiet.

Outside, Breakwater's engines continued their steady work.

The sea moved beneath them.

And somewhere beyond the ship's steel bulkheads, the Keelborn were approaching the Burnt Narrows.

The mission had begun.

The Burnt Narrows did not look particularly frightening from a distance.

That was the first thing Aster noticed.

The islands were low.

Green in places.

Brown and gray where vegetation had died.

A chain of irregular reefs curved around the old industrial anchorage, their edges marked by white surf.

Several abandoned structures stood on the northern island.

A rusted loading crane rose above the shoreline.

And farther inland, a smokestack leaned at an angle that suggested it had not been properly maintained in years.

Ordinary ruins.

The sort of place that might have appeared in a photograph accompanying an article about abandoned industry.

Except for the black shapes along the water.

Aster narrowed her eyes.

Her Fletcher-class rigging moved with her as she reduced speed.

The fitted propulsion machinery responded immediately.

There was no heavy training frame correcting her balance.

No broad flotation supports resisting the motion.

She shifted her weight, adjusted the machinery's output, and settled into a controlled glide.

The water passed beneath her boots.

Ahead, a dark shape moved behind the outer reef.

Not large.

Not fast.

But definitely moving.

She raised her radio.

"Elsa, Aster. I've got a contact near the northern channel."

The heavy cruiser's answer came almost immediately.

"Understood. Can you identify it?"

Aster adjusted her observation equipment.

The object moved again.

For a moment, its outline became clearer.

A narrow hull.

An irregular superstructure.

A gun mount that looked almost conventional, except for the dark organic material spreading around its support.

Blackwake.

Aster's expression hardened.

"Probable patrol craft. One visible. Searching for others."

"Copy."

Farther out, Calla was maintaining the formation's anti-aircraft watch.

Nadya moved with the support group, her older battleship rigging carrying its heavy guns and associated machinery with practiced steadiness.

June remained in her assigned position.

The Keelborn were moving carefully.

Not because they were afraid of their equipment.

Because they knew how quickly an apparently quiet approach could become dangerous.

Aster watched the contact.

The small Blackwake vessel slipped partly behind the reef.

Then emerged again.

Its hull was dark.

Its movements uneven.

And something beneath the waterline appeared to flex as it changed direction.

She disliked that.

A great deal.

The radio crackled.

"Aster, Elsa. Hold your assigned position. We'll confirm the contact."

"Understood."

Aster adjusted speed.

The motion was smooth.

Almost effortless.

A month earlier, she'd spent much of her time teaching Riko and Yuna how to do things that had become second nature to her during the beta.

Now she found herself relying on those same habits for a very different reason.

The sea was real.

The danger was real.

And somewhere behind her, fifteen young women were waiting aboard a battleship because she and the others had promised to clear the approaches.

Aster looked toward the dark patrol craft.

Then tightened her grip on the radio.

"All right," she murmured.

"Let's do this properly."

The small vessel turned.

Its gun mount shifted.

Aster noticed immediately.

Then came the flash.

A shell struck the water well short of her position.

Spray rose.

The noise carried across the reef.

Aster flinched.

Only slightly.

Then her training took over.

She changed course.

Accelerated.

And reported the contact.

"Hostile fire! Northern patrol craft confirmed Blackwake!"

Elsa answered sharply.

"Understood. Maintain separation."

Another shell splashed into the water.

Closer.

Aster felt the impact through the surface beneath her feet.

Her expression tightened.

She had fought during the beta.

She had practiced maneuvering.

She had trained under simulated fire.

But a real shell striking the water carried a very different kind of authority.

It was loud.

Violent.

And it did not care whether she had expected it.

The heavy cruiser's guns answered.

Elsa's Admiral Hipper-class rigging recoiled against its fitted supports as the turrets fired.

The sound rolled across the water.

Aster watched the shells cross the distance.

One struck the hostile craft near its bow.

Another burst against the dark material surrounding its superstructure.

The vessel lurched.

Black water erupted around the hull.

For a moment, it continued moving.

Then the structure folded inward.

The ship rolled.

Something long and dark thrashed briefly above the surface.

Aster grimaced.

The remains disappeared behind smoke and spray.

The firing stopped.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Elsa's voice returned.

"Target disabled. Maintain watch for additional contacts."

Aster exhaled.

Only then did she realize how tightly she'd been holding the radio.

She loosened her grip.

"Understood."

Farther out, Calla continued scanning the sky.

June maintained the assigned communications watch.

Nadya held her position, ready to respond if something larger appeared.

There was no cheering.

No celebration.

One small enemy vessel had been destroyed.

The naval approach was not yet secure.

And the people aboard the Blackwake craft—whatever they had been before becoming part of that fleet—were gone.

Aster looked toward the settling smoke.

Then returned to her assigned course.

There was more work to do.

 

Breakwater received the contact report several minutes later.

Mercer stood on the bridge, listening as the communications officer relayed the details.

One Blackwake patrol craft disabled.

No friendly casualties.

The outer approach remained under observation.

The captain nodded.

"Good."

Adrian Cole, his executive officer, stood beside the chart table.

He studied the updated positions.

"Still clear beyond the northern reef?"

"Nothing confirmed."

Cole nodded.

The ship was holding its assigned support area.

Far enough from the dangerous shallows to avoid risking the battleship unnecessarily.

Close enough to provide support if required.

The LCVP remained secured.

Its crew waited beside the handling equipment.

The infantry group was prepared to embark when the naval element confirmed the required conditions.

Mercer looked toward the chart.

Then toward the open water.

The situation was developing as planned.

That did not reassure him as much as it once might have.

He'd learned that an operation could follow its planned sequence right up until something nobody expected occurred.

He looked toward Cole.

"How's the boat crew?"

"Ready."

"Equipment?"

"Checked."

"Landing group?"

"Standing by."

Mercer nodded.

"Good."

The bridge radio crackled.

"Breakwater, this is Calla. No hostile air contacts observed. Continuing area watch."

Mercer reached for the handset.

"Copy, Calla."

He looked toward the chart.

Then asked:

"Status of the inner approach?"

A pause.

Elsa answered.

"Primary surface threats in the designated approach have been suppressed. Aster is confirming the shallower water. No additional patrol craft observed at present."

Mercer nodded.

"Understood."

Another pause.

Then Aster's voice joined the channel.

"Approach sector inspected. No immediate naval contacts in the landing lane. Recommend maintaining close observation."

Mercer looked toward Cole.

The executive officer nodded.

The captain considered the report.

Then contacted Horizon Command.

"Horizon, Breakwater. Naval element reports the designated landing approach provisionally secure. Requesting authorization to proceed with the infantry phase."

Several seconds passed.

Then Kade's voice answered.

"Breakwater, Horizon Command. Confirm all required conditions before launching. Ground element remains under Mira's authority once landed."

Mercer nodded.

"Understood."

The final confirmations followed.

Weather.

Visibility.

Boat machinery.

Communications.

Medical readiness.

Naval support.

Landing site.

Withdrawal arrangements.

Each report was checked.

Each uncertainty recorded.

And when the required conditions had been satisfied, Horizon transmitted its decision.

"Breakwater, Horizon Command. Infantry landing authorized. Maintain the withdrawal option. No deviation beyond the approved mission area without clearance."

Mercer raised the handset.

"Copy, Commander."

He glanced toward Cole.

Then smiled faintly.

"Well."

The executive officer looked at him.

"Captain?"

Mercer nodded toward the aft handling area.

"Time to see whether that boat was worth all the paperwork."

Cole slowly closed his eyes.

"Daniel."

"What?"

"Please."

The captain laughed.

Then returned to business.

"Signal the landing group."

 

The LCVP descended toward the sea with fifteen former players aboard and a native SIA officer watching them carefully.

Cassidy found the sensation unpleasant.

She had enjoyed the training.

She had enjoyed boarding the boat.

She had even enjoyed listening to Mercer explain its historical design.

But suspended above open water while the battleship's handling crew lowered the craft was an experience she had not anticipated.

The machinery creaked.

The sling remained taut.

The boat moved gently.

Below, the ocean waited.

Zofia stood beside her.

Her face had gone pale.

Cassidy glanced over.

"Still like boats?"

Zofia swallowed.

"Ask me later."

Cassidy nodded.

"Fair."

Mira stood near the crew's assigned position.

Her expression remained calm.

The other women held their places.

Alina watched the group.

Morgan kept one hand near a secured equipment case.

Greta was studying the boat's movement with intense concentration.

Darya had stopped asking questions.

Réka had gone unusually quiet.

Even Élodie appeared entirely focused.

The descent continued.

Then the boat touched the water.

The sensation changed immediately.

The hull settled.

Rolled.

Rose slightly with the swell.

For a moment, Cassidy felt her stomach move in a direction she would have preferred it not explore.

Then the crew completed the release procedures.

The boat was free.

Its engine rumbled.

And the vast steel side of Breakwater began moving away.

Zofia stared upward.

The battleship towered over them.

Its armor belt rose from the water.

The superstructure seemed impossibly high.

And the great turrets looked down over the little craft like the heavy machinery of another world.

Cassidy followed her gaze.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

Then the boat turned.

Breakwater's hull began slipping behind them.

The sea opened ahead.

And the shore appeared between the reefs.

Zofia looked toward it.

A low strip of sand.

A broken seawall.

Blackened buildings behind it.

The remains of an industrial district.

Somewhere beyond the visible structures, the Blackwake installation waited.

She swallowed.

Cassidy glanced toward her.

"Hey."

Zofia turned.

The American smiled faintly.

"Still with me?"

Zofia nodded.

"Yeah."

"Good."

A pause.

Then Cassidy added:

"Because if you throw up on my boots, we're going to have a disagreement."

Zofia stared.

Then laughed weakly.

"You are awful."

Cassidy grinned.

"Consistently."

The boat continued.

Its engine worked steadily.

Spray struck the bow.

The hull rose and settled with the swell.

The crew watched the approach.

Mira monitored the communications.

Alina checked her friends.

All present.

All accounted for.

The Keelborn moved across the water beyond them.

Aster passed along the outer side of the approach, her Fletcher-class rigging moving smoothly over the sea.

She raised one hand toward the landing craft.

Zofia saw her.

Then waved back.

Aster's voice came over the radio.

"Landing element, Aster here. Approach remains clear on my side."

Mira acknowledged.

"Copy, Aster."

Aster continued.

"And, uh..."

The native SIA officer waited.

"Good luck."

Mira's expression softened.

"Thank you."

The Fletcher-class girl accelerated away.

Zofia watched her go.

Fast.

Confident.

Her proper rigging was compact and responsive, far removed from the bulky assisted frames worn by the newest Keelborn at Horizon.

She skimmed across the water with the ease of someone who understood how to move.

For a moment, Zofia felt a strange kind of envy.

Not of the weapons.

Not of the power.

Of the confidence.

Aster looked as though she belonged on the sea.

Zofia was sitting in a noisy landing craft, clutching her equipment and hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself before they reached shore.

Cassidy noticed her expression.

"Thinking about something?"

Zofia considered that.

Then nodded.

"Yeah."

"What?"

The Polish girl glanced toward the distant destroyer.

"She's good."

Cassidy followed her gaze.

"Aster?"

"Yeah."

The American smiled faintly.

"She is."

Zofia looked down.

"I want to be that good at something."

Cassidy considered her friend.

Then smiled.

"You are."

Zofia looked up.

"What?"

"Being annoying."

There was a silence.

Then Zofia punched her lightly in the arm.

Cassidy laughed.

And just like that, the shore was closer.

 

The landing craft struck the sand with a dull, jarring impact.

Not hard enough to injure anyone.

Hard enough to remind every passenger that this was not a smooth docking maneuver inside Horizon's protected harbor.

The engine continued working.

Water moved around the hull.

The crew called for attention.

Cassidy felt her heart begin racing.

Zofia gripped the handhold beside her.

Alina straightened.

Mira checked the shore.

Then the ramp began lowering.

Metal moved.

The opening widened.

Sunlight fell across the wet sand.

Beyond the beach stood a ruined concrete road and the remains of a small cargo shed.

No welcoming committee.

No dramatic enemy charge.

No immediate gunfire.

Just a deserted shoreline.

Cassidy stared.

For a moment, she found the quiet more unsettling than noise would have been.

Mira gave the order to disembark.

The group moved.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

Not like the heroic charges Zofia remembered from old war films.

Like fifteen young women trying not to trip over their own equipment while leaving a small boat on an unfamiliar beach.

Their boots struck wet sand.

Water washed over the lower part of the ramp.

The air smelled of salt, diesel, rotting vegetation, and something unpleasant from the industrial buildings.

Aster remained offshore.

Calla and Elsa were farther out.

The naval force watched the approaches.

The landing craft stayed under crew control.

And the infantry detachment moved toward the designated assembly area under Mira's supervision.

Zofia reached dry sand.

Stopped.

Then looked back.

The Higgins boat rested against the shore.

Real.

Solid.

Its crew waiting to support the withdrawal.

Behind it, beyond the reef, Breakwater's silhouette remained visible.

The old battleship was enormous even at that distance.

Cassidy stepped beside her.

"Well."

Zofia glanced over.

The American smiled faintly.

"Beach trip."

Zofia looked toward the ruined industrial buildings.

Then toward the dark stains creeping across the concrete near the cargo sheds.

Her smile faded.

"Not the kind I wanted."

Cassidy nodded.

"Same."

A breeze moved across the shore.

Somewhere inland, metal creaked.

Then came a sound that didn't belong.

A distant impact.

Not a gunshot.

Not machinery.

Something heavy striking a wall.

Once.

Then again.

Zofia turned.

Mira raised one hand.

The group stopped.

Every eye moved toward the industrial district.

The sound came again.

A low, irregular thumping.

Then silence.

Alina felt her heartbeat quicken.

Mira listened.

Waited.

Then spoke quietly.

"We proceed only as far as the assigned inspection point."

Nobody argued.

Not even Zofia.

The group moved toward the first structure.

Behind them, the landing craft remained on the beach.

Beyond it, the Keelborn continued guarding the water.

And ahead, somewhere inside the abandoned industrial complex, something was moving.

The first building smelled of rust and seawater.

Cassidy noticed immediately.

She'd expected something worse.

The photographs from the briefing had shown dark organic growths spreading across concrete, machinery, and metal.

She'd imagined an overwhelming stench.

Rot.

Decay.

The sort of horrible smell that would announce the Blackwake's presence before anything became visible.

Instead, the loading shed smelled mostly like a building that had been abandoned for a long time.

Wet concrete.

Old machinery.

Salt.

Dust.

And a faint, unpleasant sweetness that she couldn't identify.

She disliked the last part.

A great deal.

Mira stood beside the entrance, listening to a report from the supporting personnel.

Alina remained nearby.

The former players were quieter now.

Nobody wanted to draw attention.

The ruined industrial district stretched beyond the loading shed.

Old machinery stood between damaged warehouses.

A section of overhead piping had collapsed across one road.

Several buildings showed evidence of more recent activity.

The marks were unmistakable.

Scraped concrete.

Disturbed dust.

Tracks.

Something had been moving equipment.

Something heavy.

Réka noticed one of the marks immediately.

She crouched beside it.

Darya joined her.

Both examined the damage.

Then Réka looked toward Mira.

"Somebody dragged machinery through here."

Mira approached.

The Hungarian girl pointed.

"Recently, I think."

Darya nodded.

"The surface underneath is cleaner."

Mira considered the observation.

Then reported it.

Alina watched the exchange.

She'd been worried about Réka's curiosity.

Still was.

But this was exactly the kind of useful detail the Hungarian girl could notice when she remembered to involve everyone else.

The security element continued its inspection.

Behind them, the landing craft remained available.

Communications with the naval force were stable.

The operation was proceeding cautiously.

Then Ingrid spoke.

"Wait."

Everyone stopped.

She stood near the side of the loading shed.

Her rifle remained secured.

Her attention was fixed on the building's interior.

Mira looked toward her.

"What is it?"

Ingrid hesitated.

Then pointed.

"That door."

The native SIA officer followed her gaze.

An old steel door stood at the far end of the shed.

Its paint was peeling.

The frame was corroded.

Nothing about it appeared unusual.

Except for the marks around the handle.

Fresh scratches.

Scraped paint.

A dark streak across the metal.

Somebody had been using it.

Recently.

Mira nodded.

"Good observation."

She contacted the assigned security personnel.

The group held its position.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then the sound came again.

A heavy impact.

This time, from beyond the door.

Cassidy felt her stomach tighten.

Zofia looked toward her.

Neither smiled.

Another impact.

Then silence.

Mira listened.

The building seemed to hold its breath.

And from somewhere beyond the steel door came a low, broken sound.

Not quite a voice.

Not quite machinery.

Something in between.

Lara's expression changed.

She looked toward Irena's medical notes in her mind, remembering the briefing.

Human victims.

Synthetic personnel.

Some recoverable.

Some not.

Mira spoke quietly.

"We have a possible contact."

The report went out.

Then the door moved.

Not much.

A small vibration.

The handle shifted.

Cassidy's hands became cold.

A dark substance began seeping through the gap beneath the door.

It looked almost like oil.

Except it moved against the slope of the floor.

Zofia stared.

"...Oh."

Cassidy swallowed.

"Yeah."

The substance thickened.

Extended.

Then stopped.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then something struck the door from behind.

Hard.

The entire frame shuddered.

Morgan flinched.

Natsuki's breathing quickened.

Alina looked toward Mira.

The native SIA officer was already making an assessment.

Then a voice came from the other side.

"Help."

Everyone froze.

It was faint.

Distorted.

Almost lost beneath the low mechanical noise.

But it was a word.

Human.

Understandable.

"Help..."

Lara's eyes widened.

Mira became very still.

She listened.

Then answered through the door.

"Can you hear me?"

A pause.

The dark substance shifted.

Then:

"...Yes."

Cassidy stared.

Zofia slowly looked toward her.

The voice continued.

"Don't..."

Something scraped against the steel.

"Don't open..."

The words were broken.

Painful.

"Don't..."

A second voice suddenly erupted.

Louder.

Harsh.

Not from the same place.

A metallic shriek rolled through the passage beyond the door.

Then the steel panel buckled outward.

Once.

Twice.

Mira shouted for everyone to move clear.

The group reacted.

The door gave way.

Not completely.

One hinge tore loose.

Metal twisted.

A dark shape forced itself through the opening.

Cassidy saw an SIA body.

Or what had once been one.

The frame was humanoid.

Armored.

Its original uniform hung in torn pieces around its torso.

Black organic growths spread across the limbs and into the mechanical joints.

One arm hung at a strange angle.

The other moved too quickly.

Its faceplate was cracked.

Something behind it glowed faintly.

And through the damaged armor, Cassidy could see machinery moving in ways no properly maintained synthetic frame should move.

The thing lunged.

Not toward a weapon.

Not toward the exit.

Toward Lara.

The Swiss woman had been closest to the doorway when the metal gave way.

She stumbled backward.

For one awful instant, Cassidy saw the dark arm reaching for her.

Saw Lara's eyes widen.

Saw the distance between them collapse.

And something inside Cassidy's mind became very quiet.

The laughter disappeared.

The jokes.

The boredom.

The absurdity of her weapon choice.

Everything.

She moved.

Her hand found the revolver.

The enormous snub-nosed handgun came free.

And the sound that followed was nothing like the manageable noise of a training range.

The shot struck the enclosed industrial space with brutal force.

A violent flash.

A deafening crack.

A shock that seemed to hammer the air itself.

Cassidy felt the recoil drive through her arms despite her practiced grip.

The muzzle blast scattered dust.

Her ears rang.

The infected frame staggered under the impact.

Its movement broke.

Then it crashed against the damaged doorway.

Metal struck concrete.

The dark growths spasmed.

The frame collapsed.

And the loading shed became silent except for the ringing in Cassidy's ears.

For several seconds, she couldn't hear properly.

She stared at the fallen SIA body.

Then at the revolver.

Her hands were shaking.

Someone was shouting.

She couldn't make out the words.

Morgan reached her.

Touched her shoulder.

Cassidy flinched.

Then turned.

Morgan's face was pale.

She was saying something.

Cassidy blinked.

"What?"

Morgan leaned closer.

"Are you hurt?"

Cassidy stared.

Then shook her head.

"I..."

Her voice sounded strange.

Too distant.

"...No."

Morgan looked toward the fallen frame.

Then back at her.

"Okay."

Cassidy swallowed.

The absurd thought arrived suddenly that she'd finally used the revolver in exactly the sort of situation she'd once joked about.

A huge snub-nosed handgun.

Close range.

An enemy appearing in front of her.

The punch line was supposed to be funny.

It wasn't.

Not even slightly.

Cassidy looked toward the damaged SIA frame.

The black growths had stopped moving.

She lowered the revolver.

Slowly.

Then realized that Lara was kneeling nearby.

Alina had reached her.

The Swiss woman was breathing hard but appeared uninjured.

Mira was checking the immediate area.

The other security personnel had responded to the sudden contact.

Zofia stood beside the wall.

Her face was white.

Her eyes were fixed on the broken frame.

Cassidy looked toward her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Zofia whispered:

"That was..."

She stopped.

Cassidy nodded.

"Yeah."

Her hands continued shaking.

Morgan gently placed a hand over one of them.

Cassidy looked down.

Then slowly lowered the weapon into its approved safe handling position.

The ringing in her ears began to diminish.

She could hear voices again.

Mira was speaking over the radio.

"Ground Element to Naval Support. Hostile contaminated SIA contact inside the first inspection building. Threat stopped. No confirmed friendly casualties. Continuing assessment."

Aster's voice answered from offshore.

"Copy. Do you need assistance?"

Mira checked the group.

"Stand by. We are assessing."

Cassidy stared at the doorway.

Then looked toward Lara.

The Swiss woman slowly rose.

She approached Cassidy.

For a moment, the two stood facing one another.

Then Lara reached out.

Took Cassidy's hand.

And squeezed it.

"Thank you."

Cassidy swallowed.

Her mouth was dry.

She tried to smile.

The expression didn't quite work.

"Yeah."

Lara's eyes were wet.

Cassidy looked down.

Then whispered:

"You're okay?"

Lara nodded.

"I'm okay."

Cassidy released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Good."

For a moment, that was all she could manage.

Then a voice came from beyond the damaged doorway.

"...Help."

Everyone turned.

The sound was weak.

Human.

Not mechanical.

Not the same distorted shriek as before.

"...Please."

Mira looked toward the opening.

The broken SIA frame lay motionless beside it.

Beyond, the passage was dark.

Something moved farther inside.

A shadow.

A person.

Then a pale hand appeared against the wall.

Fingers trembling.

A figure leaned into the dim light.

A human woman.

Older than most of VESPER.

Maybe thirty.

Maybe forty.

Her work clothes were stained and torn.

Black veins spread across one side of her neck.

Her left arm was wrapped in something that looked like dead seaweed fused with dark cable.

She was shaking.

But her eyes—

Her eyes were human.

Terrified.

Aware.

She looked toward Mira.

Then toward the young women standing behind her.

"...You're..."

Her voice broke.

She swallowed.

"...You're not them."

Mira approached cautiously.

"We're from Horizon Atoll. Can you tell us your name?"

The woman stared.

For a moment, she seemed unable to understand.

Then her eyes filled with tears.

"Horizon..."

She looked toward the floor.

Then whispered:

"They said nobody was coming."

Nobody moved.

The woman began crying.

Quietly.

Exhaustedly.

Then she reached toward them with her uninjured hand.

"Please."

Lara took a small step forward.

Mira raised one hand, signaling caution without rejecting the woman.

The infected worker looked toward the damaged SIA frame.

Her expression crumpled.

"...That was Mara."

The name settled over the room.

Cassidy went still.

The woman continued.

"She was trying..."

Her voice broke again.

"...trying to keep us safe."

Mira looked toward the fallen frame.

Then back at the worker.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

The woman closed her eyes.

Tears ran down her face.

"They changed her."

A pause.

"She kept saying she could still hear us."

Cassidy stared at the broken synthetic body.

The revolver felt impossibly heavy in her hand.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Then the woman whispered:

"They changed everyone."

Beyond her, deeper inside the industrial complex, a heavy mechanical sound began.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

Like machinery waking after a long period of inactivity.

The woman looked over her shoulder.

Her expression changed from grief to terror.

"No."

Mira turned toward the passage.

The sound continued.

Metal moving.

Something heavy shifting.

Then a low, distant voice echoed through the building.

Not entirely human.

Not entirely mechanical.

A string of words repeated with the precision of a recorded announcement.

"Personnel recovery..."

A pause.

"Personnel recovery..."

The woman backed toward Mira.

Her hands trembled.

"...It's coming."

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

The Polish girl stared back.

Their deal from the previous night suddenly seemed very far away.

Outside, the Keelborn continued securing the water.

Breakwater held its support position.

The Higgins boat waited at the beach.

And inside the first building, the fifteen former players of Horizon Atoll discovered that the Blackwake installation contained something far more complicated than stolen steel and ammunition.

Mira reached for her radio.

Her voice was steady.

But every person in the loading shed could hear the urgency beneath it.

"Ground Element to Horizon Command. We have a living contaminated civilian requiring medical recovery. Possible additional personnel inside the complex. Requesting immediate medical guidance and authorization to revise the inspection priorities."

Static hissed.

For several seconds, no answer came.

Then, across the sea, back at Horizon Atoll, Kade Bher heard the report.

He looked toward the operations board.

Toward the original mission objectives.

Toward the industrial supply list that had brought them here.

And toward the casualty and recovery protocols he'd spent the past month trying to improve.

He reached for the handset.

His answer came without hesitation.

"Ground Element, Horizon Command. Medical recovery takes priority over salvage. Maintain your withdrawal option. Do not pursue an unknown contact deeper into the complex without reassessment."

Mira acknowledged.

"Understood."

Kade continued.

"Get that woman somewhere safe. We'll adjust from there."

The radio fell quiet.

Inside the loading shed, Mira turned toward the frightened worker.

The woman was staring at the damaged frame.

Cassidy was too.

For the first time since arriving at Horizon Atoll, Cassidy Boone understood something that had never been part of her original plan.

She had chosen the S&W Model 500 because she thought it was funny.

She had wanted to go somewhere because she was bored.

And now she was standing in an enemy-held building with a dead synthetic soldier at her feet, a terrified woman in front of her, and the knowledge that a single decision had changed somebody's life forever.

Possibly ended it.

She looked toward Lara.

The Swiss woman met her eyes.

Neither spoke.

Then Cassidy took a slow breath.

One.

Then another.

Her hands steadied.

Not completely.

But enough.

She looked toward Mira.

"Officer."

The native SIA woman turned.

Cassidy's voice was quieter than usual.

"What do you need us to do?"

Mira considered her.

Then nodded toward the injured worker.

"Help me get her to safety."

Cassidy nodded.

"Okay."

No joke.

No grand statement.

Just one word.

And this time, she meant it.

Back at Horizon Atoll, the operations room had gone quiet.

Kade stood beside the main table with the handset still in his hand.

Mara Fenwick watched the updated contact report arrive.

One hostile SIA frame disabled.

One contaminated civilian alive.

Additional contacts possible.

No confirmed friendly casualties.

The original purpose of the operation had been straightforward enough.

Disrupt the Blackwake installation.

Secure the approach.

Inspect selected warehouses.

Recover useful supplies if doing so proved practical.

Now there was a frightened woman inside one of those warehouses, and her testimony suggested other people might still be alive.

Kade set the handset down.

Mara looked toward him.

"Commander?"

He studied the chart.

The black markers representing suspected enemy positions.

The blue symbols representing their own personnel.

Fifteen young women ashore.

Mira supervising them.

A landing craft waiting on the beach.

A naval force holding the approaches.

And a possible group of living prisoners somewhere inside the installation.

Kade reached for the mission folder.

Then drew a line through one entry.

PRIMARY GROUND PRIORITY: INDUSTRIAL INSPECTION.

Beneath it, he wrote:

RECOVERY OF SURVIVING PERSONNEL — SUBJECT TO SECURITY AND MEDICAL ASSESSMENT.

He wasn't going to send the infantry blindly deeper into the complex.

He wasn't going to pretend one rescued worker justified losing fifteen more people.

But he wasn't going to ignore her either.

Not while there was still a chance.

Mara read the revised priority.

Then looked toward him.

"Do you want Senko placed on standby?"

Kade considered that.

"Not forward. Keep her at Horizon until we know whether there's a safe recovery route."

"Understood."

"And have Irena review what we can do for Blackwake contamination before anyone brings a patient into the general infirmary."

"Already contacted her."

He smiled faintly.

"Good."

Mara watched him a moment longer.

Then glanced toward the map.

"The original supply mission is becoming something else."

Kade nodded.

"Yes."

"Unfortunate."

He considered the dark little island on the chart.

The stolen cargo.

The ruined industrial buildings.

The people who might still be trapped there.

Then he sighed.

"We knew the plan could change."

Mara nodded slowly.

"We did."

He picked up the radio again.

Beyond the windows, Horizon's workshops continued operating.

Its Keelborn trainees continued learning.

Its older personnel continued repairing a base that had spent years being neglected.

And on a distant island, a group of young women who had once complained about boredom were learning that being useful could be much more frightening than having nothing to do.

Kade looked toward the communications officer.

"Keep the channel open."

"Yes, Commander."

He studied the positions one final time.

Then spoke quietly.

"Nobody gets forgotten in there."

The operator raised the handset.

Outside, the ocean stretched toward the Burnt Narrows.

The Keelborn held the approaches.

Breakwater watched the sea.

The Higgins boat waited for its passengers.

And inside the abandoned industrial station, something continued repeating the same words.

Personnel recovery.

Personnel recovery.

Personnel recovery.

Whatever the Blackwake meant by them, Horizon Atoll had a very different understanding.