Dawn broke over the crystalline landscape of Sirius Prime, and Noah stood at the edge of the civilian camp watching three hundred people who should have been traumatized refugees organizing breakfast distribution like they were running a corporate cafeteria.
Something was wrong with the picture. These people had supposedly been hiding in fear for days, but they were coordinating sanitation schedules and work rotations with the kind of efficiency that made Noah's analytical mind start cataloging inconsistencies.
"Sir," Maya Melendez approached with her usual professional bearing, but Noah could see the tension in her shoulders. "We've got a situation."
'Of course we do. Because nothing about this mission has been straightforward so far,'
"What kind of situation?" Noah asked, pulling on his gear harness and checking the Ravager rifle's power indicator out of habit.
