Hiro sat on a rusted munitions crate, meticulously cleaning the lens of a new tier-two optic scope. Near the weapon racks, Kikaru executed a deep lunge, pushing the stretch until her carbon-fiber leg brace hummed quietly. Iharu stood by the supply crates, aggressively slamming a fresh drum magazine into a modified scatter-gun. At the tactical table, Vice-Captain Iris Calder sorted through a stack of digital debrief reports.
Caleb stepped into the light.
Hiro stood up so fast he dropped his cleaning cloth onto the gravel. Kikaru stopped mid-stretch, balancing her weight on her braced leg. Iharu shoved the scatter-gun against his hip, his face flushing dark red. Iris heard the shift in the room's noise and looked up from her datapad.
Caleb looked at them. He saw fresh mud caked on Iharu's boots and dark circles lining the skin under Iris's eyes. They looked like people who had spent the last forty-eight hours running search grids.
