#helldivers fic

If he hadn't been tasked with maintaining the flank…

What really scraped his plates, though, was the fact that Bolo wasn't wrong. On any count. That single, unaugmented human had put out his optic while he was moving, in the dark, with a basic standard-issue rifle. If he hadn't closed the distance before she could get off a second shot, he knew that she could very well have finished the job.

And she had apologized for that, and for wounding his pride.

And the scrawny little thing had proven that she was, actually, capable of keeping up with them and pulling her weight.

(For the most part, anyway. Hatchet had looked ridiculous carrying her for half the night while she'd slept, but no amount of suggesting that they just leave her had gotten through the Devastator's thick faceplate.)

It was like sand in his gears, damn it, and he was going to have to deal with it until either the human jumped ship, or Hatchet handed her off to one of his CyOp contacts.

So, yes, he was sulking, even if he wasn't going to admit to it to that smug little rustbucket brother of his.

"…Come on," speak of the devil and he might just run his vocoder, "just admit it…"

"Admit what," he ground out flatly.

"You like her, too." Bolo sounded entirely too smug, and it took all of Adze's self-control to not throw something at his head.

"I do not. I am tolerating her!" He hissed, "and you only like her because she shot me!"

"It was an impressive shot," his brother just shrugged, "buuuut she's also nice now that she's not scared out of her mind."

"She's a snarky little pest, is what she is."

Bolo laughed in response to that, and all Adze could do was quietly fume to himself. To his brother's credit, he at least realized that he might be toeing the line a bit, and dropped the teasing.

And for a while, everything felt almost normal again, with the steady rhythm of their march and the low undercurrent of quiet conversation. Even Hatchet's conversation with his human, that he couldn't help but tune in to, listening in as they discussed the current situation with the planet's human population and the danger SEHC posed to them - at least, until he got a sharp ping over his receiver, and immediately knew he'd been caught eavesdropping.

[Don't you have a job to do, nosy little brother?]

[…Sorry, Hatchet. It won't happen again.]

[I know you better than to believe that. If you want to be part of the conversation, then come back here and participate, but don't eavesdrop.]

The connection was cut with a burst of static, and Adze let his shoulders slump, taking a moment to nurse his smarting pride. And then he straightened back up, and let himself fall in line with Hatchet.

"How nice of you to join us, little brother," the Devastator greeted him, earning a grumbled reply in return.

He did his best to ignore the human's insufferably smug little smile. Little pest.

"We were just discussing the evacuation," she said all too sweetly, like she knew he'd just gotten scolded; "I'd always had a sneaking suspicion that there was something fishy about Super Earth's stories, but this kinda blows all my suspicions out of the water."

"How nice, to finally have your eyes opened," Adze scoffed, "you're cleverer than most Helldivers, at least."

"Well, that's not exactly a high bar to clear, but I'll take a compliment wherever I can get one." The human shrugged, letting her rifle slip down to hang at her hip. "But… yeah, it - well, it isn't nice to have my eyes opened, as you put it, but I guess it's… vindicating? In a way? To know that we weren't the only disposable assets in SEHC's eyes."

He almost felt pity for her, then - the briefest twinge, that he promptly stifled.

"…Gotta admit, though," she continued, her voice lowering further, "I wasn't expecting to hear that SEHC used us SEAF regulars to do the dirty work. I mean, I probably shouldn't be surprised, considering some of the rumors from the Terminid front, but…"

"It would be far from the first false flag operation carried out by the High Command," Hatchet nodded solemnly. "Their self-victimization is the only way they can justify their eternal war."

"They wouldn't be able to sustain it if their people stopped cooperating with it," Adze's tone was curt. "They are all complicit, not just High Command."

"Hey, ease the fuck up, Two-Tone!" The human's rebuke was lightning-fast, and the glare she shot him was as sharp as the Commissar's blade. "You don't know the first thing about what it's like to live in that hellhole! When you've grown up with a not-so-figurative fucking gun held to the back of your head, then I'll care about your opinions on civvies and the regular military. Until then? Stifle it."

"At ease, Z," Hatchet gently cut in, before turning his attention to him; "Adze, do I need to give you a refresher on not needling allies, too?"

"No," he replied, pointedly looking away.

"Good," Hatchet turned his optics forward once more. "We must always remember that we are not so different from one another. There are cruel Automatons, just as there are cruel humans, and there are moral humans, just as there are moral Automatons. We stand apart only in the fact that we have never been made to fear those who made us."

The discussion tapered off after that, but Adze found himself reluctant to resume his position, opting to stay close to Hatchet… and the human… for the time being.

"…You are half right, though," Z finally spoke quietly, after a few long minutes of silence; "SEHC wouldn't be able to sustain this if civilians didn't cooperate. But everyone - and I mean everyone - is scared, and I don't mean of you and the bugs. People do… crazy, stupid things when they're scared."

"You would know," he muttered in return, earning a derisive snort from her.

"I would," she agreed with a laugh, "I mean, I was scared to death of fighting you and now look at where I am, walking right next to you instead."

Somewhere off to his right, he could hear Bolo snickering; all he could do was scoff, squaring his shoulders and looking straight forward. "You should have been scared. If Hatchet hadn't wanted you alive, I would have finished you off and not thought twice about it."

"Aww, I don't hate you, too, Two-Tone," she replied with that infuriating mock-sweetness of hers, drawing an angry stuttering from him.

"Stop calling me that, pest!"

"Okay, prick."

"Vermin-!"

Bolo was openly laughing now, and Hatchet just rumbled in exasperation.

They sat with each other in silence for what felt like hours, just basking in the warmth until she couldn't take it a moment longer.

"…Hey, K?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"?" Z looked up, and they were standing at the base of a black sandstone monument. Bodies littered the ground around them, and blood poured down his face, over sightless cloudy eyes as he raised his sidearm to her chest.

"For democracy," he whispered.

"No-!" Lurching awake, she sat bolt-upright - a move that nearly sent her toppling from her perch on Hatchet's forearm, and had her flailing for something to hold on to in a sudden panic. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase before curling around the edge of an armor plate, and she yanked herself closer, breathing hard as she willed her heartbeat to calm down.

Just a dream. It was just a dream. You're fine, it's fine, it's-

"!!" Reality snapped back into place around her and she realized who she was clinging to. Pushing herself away, she snatched her hands back and vaulted to the ground.

"All in working order?" Hatchet asked; if she didn't know any better, she might have sworn there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"All in working order," she affirmed, running her fingers through her hair to smooth it back into place; "…how long was I asleep?"

"Six hours. I was surprised, you couldn't have been comfortable."

"You'd be amazed at just what kind of places I can fall asleep in." Rolling her shoulder, she tried to adjust her satchel strap to be less irritating, but couldn't get it to settle in an more agreeable spot.

"…Are you sure everything is in working order, little sister?"

"I'm sure, this is just annoying me. I got it." Unslinging the satchel, she unclipped one end of the shoulder strap and slipped it around her waist. Then, slipping the free end through the brass loop on the bag's body, she pulled it snug and fastened it with an anchor bend. Satisfied that it wasn't going to slip free, Z straightened the hem of her coat and rolled her shoulders. "Much better."

Beside her, Hatchet just chuffed softly, and she got the feeling he was laughing again.

Funny, only the day before, that had aggravated her, but now it just… warmed something in her chest.

It was a feeling she almost recognized, but it had been so long that it felt foreign to her.

But you do remember it. You remember when K came to the ward, when you were eight and he was eight and a half and you latched on to each other like velcro.

You remember having a friend for a few short years, before the propaganda got to him and you knew you couldn't trust him anymore. Not the way you used to.

You were almost happy, for a little while.

The warmth in her chest threatened to twist into something painful; Z just did what she always did, and shoved it back down, covering up the sudden discomfort with yet another smile.

It would fade, eventually. It always did.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally took the opportunity to have a look at their surroundings - not that there was much to see. The sky was still heavy and gray, and the ground was still blanketed in thick, freezing fog - but she could still tell that the terrain was different.

Makes sense, we have to have gone, what…? 300 kilometers since we left yesterday evening?

"…Hey, Hatchet?"

"Yes?"

"Where are we going, exactly?"

There was a short pause before he answered. "All forty listening outposts have been recalled to the primary forward operating base in this region."

"And how far is that?"

"Approximately nine hundred kilometers from our current position."

Z had to stifle a groan at that; it wasn't that it wasn't undoable, she'd done long hauls before, but it was absolutely going to be a miserable slog, especially in the second half. Especially with the terrain shifting from flat to hilly…

"…Is something wrong, little sister?"

"Hm? Oh, no," she smiled, clasping her hands behind her back; "I'm just having second thoughts about this hike, is all."

There was another amused chuff from Hatchet, but it was Adze who chimed in. "It's not too late for you to leave."

"Sorry, brother, but you're stuck with me," Z replied sweetly, "not even a team of Helldivers could drag me away."

"Ahh, bak ne yaptın, onu cesaretlendirdin," Bolo scoffed from his position on the other side of the column; "artık ondan asla kurtulamayacağız."

"I may not know what you're saying, but I know you're talkin' shit, Bolo!"

The other Trooper just laughed, a stuttering electronic sound quite unlike Hatchet's mechanical chuffing.

The rest of the column gradually "woke up" after that, shrugging off the blanket of silence that had covered them through the night by twos and threes, until the chilly air was filled with the low hum of quiet chatter. Binary tones, mechanical sounds, garbled words in varying degrees of clarity, even the harsh snarling of the Berserkers - it was all a welcome reprieve from the deathly stillness and, in spite of herself, Z found it almost relaxing in its strange familiarity.

It was easy to fall into the old rhythms, so deeply-ingrained now that they bordered on instinct.

And yet she still couldn't shake the crawling sensation under her skin. "This is treason, you know," K's voice whispered in the back of her mind.

And she knew. She knew it was treason. Had lost track of the number of times she'd committed it over just the past twenty-four hours. Knew that, no matter how many times she justified herself, if the SEAF (or worse, SEHC) got their hands on her now, she was as good as dead.

The shiver that crept up her spine then had nothing to do with the cold, and she found herself moving a step closer to Hatchet for reassurance.

"Z?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you're all right."

"…No," she finally, reluctantly admitted with a wry smile; "I am the furthest thing from all right right now, but it's fine. It's fine, I just - everything's happening so fast, and it's a lot to process, and my brain isn't as good at that kind of thing as yours is."

She felt the weight of his hand settle, with surprising lightness, between her shoulders, just for a moment.

"You have plenty of time, take as much of it as you need," he rumbled softly.

"I… thanks. I'm gonna need it," Z sighed, lifting one hand to run her fingers through her hair. "This… isn't what I imagined slipping the leash was gonna feel like."

"How did you imagine it?"

"Fuck if I know, honestly," she exhaled sharply, watching her breath cloud up and dissipate into the air. "Like disappearing when my team wasn't looking. Just dropping everything and walking away. I dunno, I guess I thought it would feel lighter, but this is…"

"Heavy?"

"A lot fuckin' heavier than I expected, for sure, and I don't know what to do with it."

"Take it one step at a time, little sister. That is all you can do."

"Yeah…"

They passed the rest of the morning in comfortable quiet, just listening to the sounds of electronic chatter as it filtered back to them. If she paid close enough attention for enough time, Z idly mused, she thought she might be able to start to understand at least one of the languages being spoken. For now, though, it was just an oddly pleasant background noise, something that made the fog feel a little less oppressive and claustrophobic.

Just a little.

"Why didn't they just send dropships, I wonder?" She quietly mused, turning her eyes skyward. "Wouldn't it be easier?"

"The base's dropships are being otherwise employed, and likely will be up until Helldivers are on the ground," Hatchet replied, his voice just as quiet.

"What are they doing that's more important than retrieving all of you?"

"Evacuating civilians."

"…No one ever mentioned any settlements on this planet."

"I imagine there is much that Super Earth High Command doesn't tell you."

Ultimately, she decided to forego scavenging new armor - much of it was damaged, and she didn't want to waste time piecing together a complete kit. Plus she figured it would just be extra weight and an unnecessary heat sink in the cold. All she needed was the coat, a satchel, a rifle, and some spare ammunition. Not all, or even a lot, thankfully - if things played out the way she knew they would, there would be plenty of other, better gear and weapons ripe for the picking once the action started.

Helldivers were notoriously wasteful, after all.

Although her standard uniform wasn't exactly cut out for the wintry temperatures, Z still found herself shedding the bloodstained jumpsuit she wore over it. That was just another thing, she thought, that would bog her down and interfere with her movement. The pilfered coat and some physical exertion would be more than enough to keep her acceptably warm.

(And for someone as used to being chilly as Z was, "acceptably warm" was a surprisingly low temperature.)

Once everything was said and done, she took stock of what she had.

K's coat, the CO's satchel and handgun, M's rifle (unfired, the poor bastard) and a handful of extra ammunition… It wasn't much, but it would be enough. It would get her to the starting line, at least.

And from there… we'll see.

For a few long moments, she leaned against a black sandstone boulder, taking everything in one last time.

Then, with a resigned sigh, she committed herself to dragging the bodies to the same location, lining them up, and resting their arms on their chests. It was no burial, but… it seemed better than just leaving them sprawled where they'd fallen. They may have been selfish bastards, the whole lot of them, but they deserved that much respect, at least.

Even if they never would have given it to me.

Especially since they never would have given it to me.

With that last macabre task done, Z shrugged into the coat, gathered up her gear… and started back towards the outpost.

It was almost funny - she should have been afraid, seeing those walls looming up out of the fog, hearing the sounds coming over them and knowing what waited behind them. She should have wanted to run, should've taken advantage of the opportunity to run...

Instead, she just felt… calm. Committed to the path that had been laid out before her, even if it meant walking it with people who had been her enemies only the day before. Who had been painted as her enemy since the first moment she'd ever known of their existence, even, and she was about to learn for herself how many, if any, of the accusations leveled against them were true.

And speaking of truth…

Just as Hatchet had promised, the gates stood open, waiting for her. Z paused, hesitating one last time… and then stepped through.

Keeping a low profile, she followed the exterior wall around the main building, zeroing in on the raised voices she'd heard. She'd been sure that one was the big Devastator's - and she was relieved to see that she'd been right.

She was a little less relieved to see the two Berserkers.

The feeling seemed to be mutual, as they both stopped the work they were doing to snarl menacingly in her direction as she jogged over to where Hatchet stood, clutching her rifle strap in a white-knuckled grip.

"Ah, welcome back, little sister," he said softly - and did he sound a little smug, too? - as he gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, before turning his attention to the Berserkers; "Siz ikiniz, durun şunu, o artık sizin kız kardeşiniz!"

"I feel so welcomed," Z murmured, standing as close to Hatchet as she dared as a piece of the radio tower came crashing down nearby.

"Don't pay them any mind, they want to fight everyone, even each other," he scoffed quietly, looking on as a handful of Troopers set to further breaking down the scrap. "Did you find everything you needed?"

"Mmh, more or less, yeah."

"Is there something you're missing?"

"I, uh, well…" Z hesitated, fiddling with her rifle strap. "…I'm guessing you had to get that ration pack from somewhere, right? Were there any more?"

"…Ah, I see. Yes, there is a cache in storage. If it hasn't been sent to the incinerator yet, you're more than welcome to it. Adze!"

Oh, no.

One of the Troopers looked up from his work.

"Kız kardeşine depo alanını göster, birkaç şeyi alması gerekiyor."

"Neden bunu yapmak zorundayım?!"

"Çünkü sinir bozucuydun. Şimdi git." There was a finality to Hatchet's voice that even she could hear, and the Trooper - Adze - couldn't argue with. Letting his shoulders slump, he muttered something uncomplimentary-sounding, and started towards the doors.

"Go on," the Devastator said, almost fondly; "he will sulk, but he won't bite."

"…Thank you." Z offered a small smile at that, before hurrying after Adze, who didn't seem inclined to wait on her.

Unfortunately for him, she was all too accustomed to keeping up with - and outpacing - jackasses who would gladly leave her behind. The irritated sideways look he gave her when she came up alongside him in the otherwise-empty corridor only made her feel smug.

"Pest," he snipped, focusing his attention forward once more; "I don't know what he sees in a runt like you."

"Dunno, maybe I'm just special," Z just hummed flippantly and shrugged, jamming her hands into her coat pockets. Then, "…and you're the guy who damn near split my head open."

"You shot out my optical assembly."

"Yeah, well… self-preservation instincts kicked in. Sorry about that."

She was sure that Adze's scraping metallic reply meant something mean-spirited, but chose to ignore it, and let the rest of their "walk" pass in silence.

The area he eventually led her to was, indeed, mostly empty, and for a moment she almost feared that what she was after had already been disposed of - until she spotted the familiar casing half-hidden in the very back. She bolted for it with an excited little "ahah!", moving so quickly that she heard Adze recoil in surprise; part of her half-expected him to make a grab for her out of reflex, but he kept his hands to himself, if not his opinions.

"Helldiver garbage," he muttered, standing aside as Z dug into the cache.

"I mean, you're not wrong," she replied as she looked through the contents and picked out the ones that sounded most appealing; "this stuff is all junk, but it's better junk than they feed to the rank-and-file, so I can't complain."

"Tch. No wonder you are so small, then."

"And lemme guess, you're snippy because you didn't get a full recharge."

Adze grated out something angry-sounding; Z just snorted out a laugh, which only wound him up further.

"I have work that isn't being done because I am baby-sitting Hatchet's new pet," he snarled.

"Chill out, Two-Tone, I didn't ask you to hang around. Besides," she finished packing her satchel and yanked the zipper shut, "I've got what I need. It didn't even take that long."

"Two-Tone?!" Adze's voice pitched up and stuttered, like his vocal track was slipping.

"Yeah? Because your, uh," she motioned at her eyes as she got back to her feet, "they don't quite match."

"Let me say, I was being nice," Bolo replied, earning a scoff from his brother.

"You were being ridiculous."

Z rolled her eyes, scouting out another scurrying shadow, drawing a bead… and getting nothing when she pulled the trigger.

"Fuck," she breathed, "well, whatever, I'm out of ammo and it's really starting to heat up out here. Can you two argue inside?"

Adze ground out something she didn't quite catch, slinging his rifle behind his shoulder and hopping over the edge of the casemate roof without waiting for any further input. Before Z could follow suit, though, Bolo caught her arm.

"Not so reckless, yenge," he stuttered amusedly, even as a salvo of bullets pinged off the concrete wall overhead.

"BUNU DUYDUM!"

Bolo stuttered out another laugh, helping Z over the edge to where Adze waited to boost her back into the casemate; only when she was secure did the two brothers clamber in after her. Turning to kneel at the embrasure, they proceeded to lay down another salvo of blistering laser fire while she scrambled to reload her own rifle.

Part of her wondered where Hatchet and the others were.

Part of her realized that they almost certainly had roles to play outside. The officers would be directing troops and managing logistics, and the troops themselves would be, well… doing what she was doing.

More hellpods rained down from the waiting destroyers, their impacts a steady percussive beat behind the chattering rapport of gunfire.

At least the snow is clearing up for now, she thought as she joined Adze and Bolo at the embrasure. Visibility was still shit, but it was better than it had been, and it was easier for her to pick out the small moving targets crossing the desert floor.

Still, she would have preferred to be down there, herself. She had excellent aim - had earned an embarrassing nickname for it, even - but there was nothing quite like charging into the middle of a swarm, guns blazing…

"…I don't know how to tell you guys this," she said after a moment, "but either I'm gonna need a new rifle here in a bit, or I'm gonna need to go out there and get up close and personal."

"No."

"The fuck you mean, no?" She glared at Adze from the corner of her eye as she fired off another salvo.

"Hatchet would kill us," he replied flatly. "No."

"So are you at least going to get me a replacement gun."

"If any are available. Be patient, pest."

"I am being patient, but I didn't walk all this way just to take a few potshots and then get sidelined-"

"Ah-"

Bolo's brief warning came only a moment before the shrill whistle of an inbound rocket reached her ears; looking up, she caught the briefest glimpse of red-orange flame before she was dragged to the floor.

A split-second later, the world quite literally exploded into chaos.

Z was no stranger to long falls; she'd taken more than her fair share while hunting bugs, in fact.

That didn't make the experience any more enjoyable.

Someone - she couldn't tell if it was Adze or Bolo - had hold of her for the first half of the fall, doing their level best to shield her from the worst of it. But at some point, they'd hit an obstacle, and she found herself tumbling free, the world whirling into a nauseating blur as she desperately tried to slow her fall or at least shield her head and then she'd slammed into something with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs and she was airborne for a few sickening seconds and then -

A nearby locker door slammed with a BANG!

"…Well, if it isn't the motherfuckin' Dragon Slayer, herself." A familiar voice came from behind her as she was stowing her gear, causing something in her chest to tighten. "What the hell, Z, how've you been? It's been years!"

"First off, I don't call myself that, it's embarrassing," she turned to face K, plastering a practiced smile across her face and shoving the uncomfortable feeling back down as she playfully punched his shoulder. "Second, when the hell did you get tall, K? What the hell have they been feeding you, and where can I get some? God damn."

He just laughed, catching her up in a tight hug.

Not knowing what else to do, Z returned it, hoping that her awkwardness wasn't too obvious.

"Word around the scuttlebutt has it that you shot down forty Shriekers and rode a Titan on your last mission," K grinned when he finally pulled back. "Pretty impressive for a shortstack like you, if you ask me."

She snorted and lightly elbowed him in the ribs for that. "Whoever said that was exaggerating. It was more like fifteen Shriekers, and I didn't ride a Titan, I just got really fuckin' lucky with a grenade and a high vantage point."

"Ah, you're too modest, Z. You need to let people hype you up, you know, to drive home how badass and unbeatable Super Earth is!"

Her smile turned tight; she hid it by turning away to shove the rest of her gear into its storage locker and closing the door. If she spun the lock a few times more than was necessary, who would notice?

"You know me," she forced a laugh, "I prefer to keep my head down. If the COs thought I was too competent, they might actually expect things from me."

"They might recommend you to the Helldiver Corps."

"My point exactly," she snickered, "that's the worst possible thing that could happen to someone like me. Let's face it, K, I'm just not cut out for all the public-facing work that job entails."

He gave her a curious, almost disbelieving look that lasted just long enough to grow uncomfortable… then he laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. "You're funny, Z. C'mon, we both know you'd be a natural at it - just look at how great you already are in the regular military!"

"Naaah…"

"No, really! C'mon, you should fill out the application! I sent mine in before I got transferred, hopefully I'll have heard back from them by the time we get back. If you fill one out tonight, you should be getting a reply around the same time! We could even be on the same team! It would be just like when we were kids again!" K gave her a pleading grin, gripping her shoulders and giving her an insistent little shake. "Wouldn't that be great?"

She had to look away. Had to take a moment to smother the twisting sensation in her chest, to take a moment to reapply that same old stage smile, to make sure she was still firmly in the role of the Dutiful And Patriotic Soldier.

When she managed to look back, it was as if she wasn't acting at all.

"…Sure, okay, you convinced me to put my name in for a promotion."

"Great! Awesome!"

"If I get in, dinner's on you, though."

"That won't be a problem."

…Something nudged her shoulder, and Z let out a pained groan. Everything hurt, and her brain felt scrambled… head trauma? Probably. Probably a dozen other traumas, too…

"Hey! She's still alive! D, gimme one of your stims!"

What the hell…?

"Why my stims?"

…Retreating back in through the embrasure…

"Because you still have all three and haven't needed a resupply, now hand one over."

…Arguing with Adze…

"Ugh, fine, but you owe me.*

…The rocket…

"Sure, whatever."

…The fall.

There was the faint click of a stim injector being uncapped, followed by a gloved hand on her forehead as someone tilted her head to the side and pressed the needle to her exposed neck.

And then there was the all-too-familiar pain, burning through her veins like fire as what felt like a very extensive catalog of injuries were knitted back together.

Of course she screamed, and kicked, and swore until the blistering pain subsided and she could think clearly again.

"Son of a fucking bitch…!" Coughing and spitting out leftover blood, Z rolled to her knees and scrubbed at her face with her sleeve; it came away red with even more blood. "Urgh, motherfucker, god damn it…"

"Ma'am?"

Z waved a hand dismissively, pretending to need a moment to catch her breath.

She needed to get into character.

"Thank fucking liberty you guys showed up when you did," she breathed, letting the nearest Helldiver help her to her feet; the way her knees wobbled wasn't an act. "I was sure I was gonna die in there…"

"Ma'am, what happened to you?"

Z just shook her head, stooping a bit to rest her hands on her knees as her entire skull began to buzz from the stimulants and nausea washed over her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to ignore the disturbing amount of blood coloring the snow as she drew in a slow breath.

"No time to explain. When's your Pelican due for extraction?"

"Uh…" The three Helldivers - they must've lost one and not had a chance to reinforce yet - exchanged glances; "not for another half an hour, ma'am. Are you -"

"I'm fine. I just need a gun, I can hold my own for thirty minutes."

"I don't think-"

"Super Earth doesn't pay you to think, Helldiver." Straightening up, she locked gazes with the man who seemed to be taking the lead and stared him down; he was a full head taller than her, but she could see him hesitate. "They pay you to follow orders, and I am a senior officer giving you an order. Do I have to file a report with your Democracy Officer and tell them about how you left me defenseless on the battlefield?"

"I, uh -" The man faltered, fumbling his words, then held a hand out; "D! Peacekeeper, now!"

"What?! Why me again?!"

"Because you're annoying me, liberty damn it! I already said I'd pay you back so quit stalling!"

Muttering something under his breath, the second Helldiver unholstered his sidearm, checked the ammunition, and handed it to the first Helldiver who, in turn, handed it off to her. Z made a show of doing a second once-over, then nodded in approval.

"Good. Cool. Now, let's take care of business, yeah?"

"Right, uh, yes ma'am. And don't worry, we'll make sure those clankers don't lay another rusty hand on you, I swear it."

She smiled; the expression was taut and tense. "I appreciate it."

The three Helldivers took point, laying down cover fire as they followed the base of the plateau; Z hung back a pace, making herself inconspicuous out of habit.

Thirty minutes. She had thirty minutes to extricate herself from this situation.

Fear, resentment, and resolve all warred within her as she stared at the Helldivers' unguarded backs. They didn't know the truth of why she was here, couldn't possibly know, and yet…

If they DID know, they would shoot you where you stand.

For a moment - just a moment - she wondered if she could actually shoot them, though. It was tempting to just slip away and go back to look for Adze, or Bolo, while the Helldivers were looking elsewhere… it certainly would have been easy enough.

But then she thought of Hatchet, with his soft voice and gentle hands, the first person to ever treat her as a person and to show her empathy and compassion. She thought of Bolo and his easygoing nature and companionable chatter. Even Adze and Gi, the prickly bastards, who still afforded her respect when no one else in her life ever had.

She thought about the possibility of losing them.

Or worse, being taken from them.

And the fate awaiting her the moment she set foot on one of those Super Destroyers.

Her resolve won out.

Raising the pistol, she drew a bead on the nearest Helldiver's neck. She gave no warning before pulling the trigger.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

The other two started to turn, startled by the sudden gunshot; she dropped a second Helldiver with two shots through their visor.

That just left "D," who was in the process of raising his rifle - when a bolt of red energy vaporized half of his head. Suddenly slack, like a puppet with cut strings, he dropped to his knees, his rifle tumbling to the ground, before falling on his face in the snow.

With a sharp exhale, Z looked in the direction the last shot had come from, and spotted a Trooper limping in her direction.

His slightly-mismatched optics immediately told her who it was.

"Took you long enough, Two-Tone," she breathed, running a hand through her hair - and wincing when she felt how sticky it was. Her fingers came away covered in clotting blood, and she distantly wondered how close she'd come to not waking up again.

With a grimace, she tucked the Peacekeeper into her belt and took a moment to scoop up a handful of snow, scrubbing it between her hands until the blood was gone and her fingers stung. For a few moment, she was almost oblivious to the not-so-distant sounds of gunfire - until Adze was there and pulling her back to her feet, wordlessly urging her forward.

"H-hey-!" She barely had the presence of mind to catch the strap of D's rifle with her foot, kicking it up so she could catch it with her free hand. "What the deal??"

"Are you forgetting that Hatchet will kill me if anything happens to you," he ground out, "and that something has already happened."

"First off, no, he wouldn't kill you." She extracted her arm from his grip, "second, if you feel guilty for being too distracted to see that rocket until it was too late-"

"I don't-"

"-There are better ways of dealing with it than being a dick-"

A volley of bullets buzzed over their heads, hitting the rock wall in a series of rapid-fire cracks that sent splinters of stone flying in every direction. A handful rattled off of Adze's armor as he grabbed a handful of her coat and yanked her close, all while bringing his gun to bear and returning fire.

Z squeaked and staggered, off-balance for a heartbeat, and then she was shouldering her own gun - it was shaped strangely, not at all like the Liberator she was used to, and it took her an uncomfortable moment to find the proper grip - and pulling the trigger as well.

The near-lack of recoil surprised her. The laser bolts that spat from the muzzle surprised her even more.

"Oh, shit-!" She let out an incredulous laugh, sparing a downward glance at the rifle before resuming fire; "…hah! I think I could get used to this! Uh, Adze…?"

"What, pest?"

"You can let go of me now."

"…" Letting go of her coat, he snatched his hand back and immediately shifted to a two-handed grip on his gun.

[I know, I can feel it, too,] the Commissar replied thoughtfully. [War will be crossing our threshold soon, there's no denying it.]

[Shall we give them something to focus that energy, then?]

There was a brief pause, in which he knew the three Commissars were conferring with one another. Their decision must have been unanimous, because a moment later the call to sound off rang out.

"TWENTY-NINTH, SOUND OFF!"

"READY AND WAITING, COMMISSAR!"

"THIRTY-FIRST, SOUND OFF!"

"READY AND WAITING, COMMISSAR!"

"THIRTY-SECOND, SOUND OFF!"

"READY AND WAITING, COMMISSAR!"

Dozens of voices rose up in unison, accompanied by the rattling of armor as every last Automaton present snapped to attention. Z briefly looked confused, inching closer to him, but when it became clear that there was nothing wrong, some of the tension eased out of her shoulders although she remained alert.

And then three voices called out from the front of the column.

"DIVER SCUM! HOW ARROGANT! LET US GO-"

"-ON TO WAR!" The voices of the column roared back, completing the call-and-response.

Thus the back-and-forth went on for some time, with the Commissars leading the call, and the rest following with their response. And, after a while, Hatchet noticed Z silently mouthing the words, as well, fingers tapping the cadence's rhythm against the barrel of her rifle.

Reaching out, he gently nudged her shoulder with the back of one knuckle, then beckoned her up; curious, she climbed up to perch on the proffered forearm and leaned in close to better hear him.

"If you want to sing, little sister," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the steady roar, "then you need to put your lungs into it. No one can hear you when you mumble."

In spite of the controlled chaos all around them, she smiled, amiably thumping his pauldron with her fist. "Nobody will get mad about a human singing along?"

"Of course not, you are one of us now. Take pride in it!"

She seemed to chew it over for a moment, her expression distant and cryptic - but then she rose up to stand on his forearm, bracing herself against his chassis, and when the cadence's refrain came back around, she lifted her voice up alongside his in it. Her own voice was very nearly lost in the roaring tide, but she shouted the words at the top of her lungs anyway, throwing a defiant fist into the air as she did.

There you are, little sister, he thought proudly. We will make a proper Automaton out of you yet.

Late afternoon gave way to early evening, and the leaden sky began to drift groundwards in swirling white veils, and soon enough, they could hear the faint echoes of their marching cadence from other columns. Even without visual contact, their thunderous rapport rolled across the frigid desert to greet their siblings and comrades-in-arms. We are here, they said to one another, we are all marching towards the same goal.

You are not alone out here.

And then the forward operating base's ramparts and turrets were rising up from the gathering gloom, their red lights bright against the low slate-gray clouds. A sense of anticipatory relief seemed to wash over the column at the sight, and Hatchet could not blame them one bit. Those lights signaled the end of a long journey, and a chance to rest, refuel, and regroup in relative safety, after all.

The base proper was a sprawling complex, built atop - and into - a low plateau that rose up from the desert floor. At nearly twenty-five meters, its height afforded it more security than was typically enjoyed by Automaton outposts, and the steep walls, casemates, and soaring turrets only added to that.

Of course, its height also meant that reaching it involved scaling a series of steep, narrow switchbacks cut into the rock face; here was where any defenders would be most vulnerable, but it would also bottleneck any offense that made it past the redoubts at ground level. It was, at once, the base's finest and most frustrating feature.

"We've really got to go all the way up there?" Z asked, hopping down to stand beside him as the column drew to a halt. Her tone indicated a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the prospect.

"Indeed, little sister," Hatchet replied. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"If she is, she can stay down here with the tanks," Adze snipped over his shoulder.

"Adze, I swear to god I'm gonna stick my boot in your CPU-"

"You would have to reach it first, runt."

"Give me two and a half seconds."

"…Are they always like this?" One of the Twenty-Ninth's Hulks asked over his shoulder; Hatchet just sighed.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You have my condolences."

"They're greatly appreciated, brother."

Passing between the twin redoubts, they joined the coalescing legion as it began its ascent, making the long, slow climb to the gates. The steady rhythm of hundreds upon hundreds of mechanical footfalls filled the air, underscoring the hum of countless conversations.

It was comfortably familiar, and also devastatingly painful, knowing that many of the assembled - to say nothing of their newly-minted reinforcements - likely weren't going to survive the "liberation" of this world.

He tried not to dwell on it for too long.

One catastrophe at a time. One battle at a time. One enemy at a time…

The brush of Z's shoulder against his forearm was a welcome distraction from the chaos and worry. She shadowed him closely, rifle clutched tight in subtly-trembling hands as she kept her focus on Adze's back, only occasionally glancing up at their destination as it drew inexorably nearer.

"Worried, little sister?" He asked, voice just loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise.

Blinking out of her trance, she gave her head a little shake, dislodging some of the snowflakes that had settled in her black hair.

"A little," she reluctantly admitted; "can you blame me, though?"

"Not at all. I can only imagine how unsettling this must be."

Z adjusted the vise grip she had on her rifle, freeing one hand to briefly, tentatively rest it on his forearm before returning it to the gun.

"…It's not as bad as it could be, I guess." Her smile was tense and uncertain, but genuine nonetheless. "I mean, I've got my big brother with me, right? That helps."

Once more, pride bloomed in his chest.

"I am honored that you think so, little sister."

He couldn't keep her by his side forever, though.

They finally passed through the gates and into the base proper, and the assembled columns began to break up. There would be a reorganizing later, once battle plans were drawn, but the next few hours would be for rest, refueling, and maintenance.

For the troops, at least; the officers still had work to do.

Including him.

"Z," he gently nudged her shoulder to get her attention, "stay close to Adze and Bolo, help one another with whatever you need and try to get some rest. I will come find you soon."

"Where are you going?" The tension returned to her shoulders, and he rested one hand lightly on her back in reassurance.

"To join the rest of the officers for a debriefing. Hopefully, we won't be long."

Z hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line as she frowned… then, with a heavy sigh, she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay, but I can't be held responsible for what I do if Adze annoys me enough."

Hatchet chuckled softly. "Try not to damage him too badly."

That tense, uncertain smile returned, accompanied by slender fingers gripping his forearm for a moment before she finally slipped away to join the two Troopers and, together, they vanished into the milling crowd.

[Keep her safe, you two,] he commed, waiting for their chirps of assent before he, too, slipped away to join Gi and the other officers in the primary bunker.

"Greetings, Peacemaker," the base's senior Devastator - a battle-scarred Rocket unit that referred to themself as Bombardier - greeted him as he stepped through the doors. "How nice of you to join us; I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it after all."

"Save your gibes for later, you old warmonger," he scoffed, though his voice lacked any real hostility; "what sort of situation are we facing?"

"An advance fleet of two hundred and fifty supercarriers, likely with more on the way. Commissar Antares has the full details." Bombardier fell into step beside him, folding their arms behind their back. "Ah, but I forget, you have an incoming message waiting. She was very firm on speaking to you, first."

"She?" Hatchet turned his attention to the comms station, the other officers moving out of the way as he approached.

"That's a fine way to greet your sister, especially when I come bearing good news" a familiar voice came over the line. "Tell me, are you still going by that old callsign of yours?"

"You know that I swore off taking a proper name until Cyberstan was freed, Tomahawk." He rested his hand on the console. "Why?"

And then the Ministry of Truth's embedded Redactors would finish the job, executing the SEAF regulars and even any accompanying Helldivers who had participated in the killing, before retreating back to the stars. SEHC's propaganda machine would do the work from there.

A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought.

"Z?" Hatchet's voice cut through her thoughts, and she realized that she'd stopped; snapping back to attention, she jogged to catch back up to him.

This time, when he offered her his arm, she didn't even try to argue, wearily climbing up to settle in the crook of his elbow.

"Sorry," she murmured as she leaned into his side and the heat radiating from his chassis; "I got a little distracted for a minute."

"You're worried, it is understandable," came his soft reply, underscored by the clicking of his arm's joints locking. "Try to rest for now, though. It's been a long day."

"Mmh."

With a long sigh, Z pulled the hood of her coat down over her face and pushed herself a little more firmly against Hatchet's side. An amused little rumble rose up in his chest at that.

"Comfortable, little sister?"

"Kinda," she mumbled, voice slightly muffled; "you're warm."

Hatchet laughed softly in reply.

For what felt like a long time, she just rode along in silence, half-asleep. Unlike the previous night, however, it was hard to shut her brain all the way off and fully sleep; there was just too much churning through her mind, keeping her awake.

Eventually, she gave up, pulling her hood back down with a defeated sigh. "Ah, fuck it…"

"Something wrong?"

"No, my brain just won't stop… buzzing. It's keeping me awake."

"That sounds like something is wrong, little sister."

Z scoffed softly and heaved another sigh, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "It's fine. I'm fine, I just can't stop thinking, is all. This is the first actually quiet day I've had in a long time, think my brain's just freaking out a little."

"Would you care to talk about it? It might help."

"I…" She faltered for a moment.

She'd been faltering an awful lot over the past couple of days.

"…I don't actually know how to describe it," she admitted at length, "I've never done that before. Not since I was little, anyway…"

Despite the bulk of his chassis being in the way, she could still feel his scrutiny; it left her feeling uncomfortably open.

"I think I am starting to better understand you," Hatchet's voice was almost too quiet to hear; "I have never met a human like you, and I am beginning to see why."

"What's that mean?"

"You've been isolated for some time, haven't you?"

"…I, well… sort of?" Ever since I had to start holding K at arm's length… "It's. Complicated."

"Perhaps not as complicated as you believe." Z could never quite get used to the gentleness of the big Devastator's voice, or how vulnerable it made her feel. "Humans are… fragile. Without interpersonal connections, you wither and fade. Become despondent, desperate, fearful, and easy to control."

Z bit her lip, turning her eyes back towards the stars.

"Ah, but you," he continued, "you are full of rage and hurt, too, all hidden under a mask of indifference - a mask that cracks under the pressure of that underlying desperation, your need for the kindness and companionship you've been denied."

"…Read me like a Major Order, why don't you." She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, and her vision blurred for a moment. The heel of her hand came away wet when she reached up to scrub at her eyes, and she stared blankly at it for a moment.

If Hatchet noticed, he didn't draw attention to it.

"You haven't made it terribly easy, but the clues were there. I am glad I took the time to start to piece them together, rather than simply going with my first impression."

"And what was that?"

"Your highly atypical fear response initially led me to believe that you were… perhaps somewhat insane."

That caught her off-guard, and she found herself burying her face in her coat sleeves to muffle her sudden laughter. "Oh my god."

"But, as it turns out, all you needed was a little compassion and a chance to not be so afraid." Now she was absolutely sure that he was being smug about something. "I have always prided myself on never being wrong, but I am glad that I was, just this once."

"You say that like you have a habit of picking up stray humans," she mused, leaning into him once more; "and here I thought I was special."

"You are, little sister. You're the first I've opted to keep, rather than forwarding to a CyOp recruiter."

"Well when you say it like that it sounds like I'm your pet." Z nudged him with her elbow, barely holding back another laugh even as he chuffed softly in amusement. Then, "…what, exactly, is a CyOp?"

"Ah. It will be my pleasure to explain…"

Maybe it was the rhythmic marching pace, or maybe it was the even, low tone of his voice, but eventually Z found herself lulled to sleep, her mind finally quiet. The last thing she remembered was nestling into his radiant heat as she listened to him recount how he'd singled out his most recent likely CyOp candidate… And the next she knew, the gray light of dawn was peeking past her hood, while electronic chatter filtered back through the column.

She was sure that there were more voices than there had been previously.

Stirring drowsily, she pushed her hood out of her face and squinted past the sudden brightness of daylight. When her eyes adjusted, she could see that there were, indeed, more Automatons marching alongside them - almost forty more, she guessed at a glance.

"Hatchet…?"

"Outposts Twenty-Nine and Thirty-Two converged on us earlier this morning," he explained quietly.

"Oh… which outpost were you?"

"Thirty-One."

"So where's Thirty?"

"Their crew included three tanks," his tone turned dry, "they made significantly better time."

Z couldn't help the way she snorted at that, even as she took stock of the new day's situation. The sky had clouded over once more, with thick low clouds that threatened snow. The dense fog that had engulfed the past few days remained conspicuously absent, replaced by a thin, gauzy haze that hung over the horizon like a veil. Gone was the sand of the foothills, replaced by firm, gravelly dirt and bare swaths of that familiar black sandstone, on which grew sparse, coarse brownish grass and a few short scrubby plants.

It almost reminded her of a few planets where she'd been sent bug-hunting, and she had to consciously refrain from looking for signs of Terminid infestation.

Old habits die hard.

"Hey, uh… these new guys aren't going to get cagey about me being here, are they?" Her voice was quiet and uncertain as she leaned in close to Hatchet.

"No," he replied, just as quietly, "but stay close, some may not be so watchful about where they step."

"So noted."

Her dismount was… significantly more graceful than the previous morning's had been, even if her still-aching feet protested, and she hit the ground focused and determined to see the rest of this trip through - as well as appropriately wary of their new companions. Particularly the three new Devastators and two Hulks that now brought up the rear alongside her and Hatchet. Z gave each of them a brief glance-over, making note of their positions before looking forwards once more… and stepping a bit closer to Hatchet.

Only a few more hours… it should only be a few more hours…

"Your human has a mouth on her!"

Ah. "Yes, most of them do. It's part of their anatomy."

"You know what I mean!!"

He scoffed, turning Adze around and giving him a nudge back towards his assigned task. "I do know what you mean, and I'll deal with the matter. You go burn off that energy doing something useful."

Growling to himself, the Trooper directed one last glare towards Z, then stalked off to rejoin his brothers.

"…All in working order, Z?" Hatchet asked after a moment, glancing down to find the human huddled in a crouch with her arms wrapped around her knees and that now-familiar steely glare fixed on Adze. At his voice, though, she blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever trance held her.

"Ah, yeah, everything's fine. He's not the scariest thing I've ever outrun."

He studied her closely for a moment, then deliberately turned his attention elsewhere. She was already rattled, he didn't want to spook her further. "Your previous team… you don't seem especially broken up by their loss."

"Mmh." She half-shrugged, not giving any indication if she noticed the redirection; "they wouldn't've cared if it'd been my brains getting vaporized, so, no. We weren't much of a team, to be honest."

"So I gathered." Taking a step back, Hatchet knelt down beside her. "I think you will find that this unit isn't so dysfunctional. You can rely on your brothers here, little sister, but first you must be willing to work with them, and not needle them."

Her brow furrowed in a frown and she glanced away, but didn't argue; reaching out, he lightly rested his hand on her back.

(He also noted how she didn't tense up nearly as much as she had the first two times he'd touched her.)

"You came back here for a reason, Z. You were free to leave, and do as you pleased, but you came here. Why?"

"To be the 'instrument of my own wrath,' wasn't that how you put it?" She answered, her voice distant but her expression softening. "I've got a lot of wrath to give out, I guess."

"So I've seen," Hatchet chuffed softly. "It will be much easier to carry out that wrath if you could bring yourself to see your brothers as valued allies, rather than as obstacles, don't you think?"

Z's shoulders heaved in a weary sigh. "I know. I know I'm going to have to, it's just… hard. After everything."

Ducking her head, she growled wordlessly to herself - then exhaled sharply and stood so quickly she almost caught him by surprise. Dropping her gear and shedding her coat, she pushed her uniform's sleeves up, and strode purposefully across the gravel yard to where the Troopers were gathering up the disassembled scrap for disposal. Rising back to his own feet, Hatchet watched her single out Adze and nudge him with her elbow; whatever was said between the two was lost to him but, as Z proceeded to haul a piece of the debris to her shoulder and accompany Adze and Bolo towards the incinerator, he could see that the posturing between the two lacked the tension that had been present only a few minutes before.

She is uncertain, even frightened, but she is still brave. That will serve her well in the coming days.

And as he oversaw the final stage of the decommissioning, Hatchet found himself ruminating; he had dealt with many dissident humans over the course of his life, but none had been like Z. While all had been broken in one way or another by the carelessness of SEHC, her wounds were oddly unique, and every interaction with her only served to further convince him that she would be most effectively employed by keeping her close.

Because, while she was cagey and suspicious, she was still lucid and fearfully sharp - but she had also been left completely and utterly unmoored by her life experiences, and had clearly gotten used to keeping herself afloat by any means necessary.

She was quite good at it, all things considered, but it had grievously hampered her to have nothing solid to hold on to.

She was wasted on SEHC and the SEAF.

And so he would not send her back to them.

Z would learn what it was to have the unyielding support of brothers who were invested in her safety and success, and she would learn to rely on them as the relied on her, and she would flourish. Hatchet was sure of it, now even more than he'd previously been.

The SEAF had forged her into a blade, effective but crude.

He would refine her into a warrior.

The dim gray of the afternoon had darkened to a gloomy steel blue by the time the decommissioning process was finished, and the outpost was little more than an empty shell.

It was a lonely feeling, alleviated only by the presence of his brothers and sister as they assembled at the gate.

The sixteen of them were hardly a force to be reckoned with, but they would soon be rejoining other, larger outposts en route to the main base - and the front lines of yet another battle.

It's so very tiresome…

Z looked almost comically small, standing next to him where he brought up the rear of the column, but she carried herself with pride. Pride that didn't waver, he noted, when Guillotine faltered in his inspection with a disbelieving scoff - if anything, she almost looked smug.

"I told you she would come back," Hatchet rumbled softly, amused.

"And you're never wrong, I know," Gi replied with his characteristic curtness. "Don't let her fell behind, I won't hold the column up for her sake."

"Of course, Commissar."

"I don't think he likes me much," Z whispered once Guillotine had stalked away.

"He is very… particular about who he allows to see his good side," He replied, "but there is no better Commissar on this side of Cyberstan."

"What did he say?"

"Only that you should make sure not to fall behind."

"Oh, that's all? Sounds easy enough."

"It won't be."

The signal to move out came from the lead, and the column began its solemn procession - Guillotine and his four Troopers, followed by the two Berserkers, the six Troopers tasked with carrying the select pieces of hardware deemed too important to destroy, with Adze and Bolo flanking them, and then Hatchet.

And Z.

She followed along at his side, expression focused as she kept pace with him. With her rifle cradled in her arms, she looked every bit the soldier, despite her diminutive stature. If she had reminded him of a caged predator at the start of the day, now she reminded him of a stalking predator - and wasn't that what humans had evolved to be, after all? Persistence predators that walked their prey to death.

And wasn't that what we were made to be, as well?

For a time, they made their way through the fog in silence, with only the sounds of sand-muffled footsteps and servo motors to mark their passage. Steel blue evening gave way to indigo twilight which, in turn, faded to the inky black of night; the planet's moons hadn't yet risen, and only their optic lights illuminated the fog in shades of vivid crimson.

And, in little increments as the night progressed, he noticed Z starting to lag. By the time the moons had risen, she was half a dozen paces behind him and hadn't moved to catch up yet.

Even human stamina had its limits.

"Eh, hey," Hatchet paused and held his hand out to her, beckoning her closer; "come on, up."

She regarded the outstretched hand with something almost like wariness, then looked away again to hide a yawn, adjusting the rifle strap across her shoulders.

"I don't need to be carried," she scoffed, "I'm not a child."

"No," He acquiesced, "but you are tired, and you'll fall behind if you keep being stubborn. You recall what I said, about relying on us, yes?"

Z scowled, then sighed, and turned to clamber up and settle into the crook of his elbow - though she also made a show of sulking about it, crossing her arms over her chest and all but hiding her face in her coat.

"There, see? Not so bad, is it." He adjusted his pace to catch back up to the rest of the column. Then, "there is no shame in accepting help from your brothers, little sister."

"Yeah, well… that's not the lesson I learned, growing up…"

"I am sorry for that, and I hope you will let us show you a better way, going forward."

"…I'll try."

She fell silent after that, and Hatchet felt the tension slowly drain from her taut shoulders. Soon, the rest of her body followed suit, sagging against his side even as her breathing slowed and evened out.

If he could have smiled, he would have the moment a soft little snore reached his audio receivers.