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By the time the first hints of deep night fully settled across the ruins, the work continued. Lanterns flickered in rows, highlighting reinforced walls, soldiers guiding settlers, medics tending to the last of the wounded. Beyond the perimeter, the Commandos moved silently, their patrols weaving a net of vigilance that Sico knew would hold until morning.
The first pale light of dawn crept slowly over the horizon, casting a faint, silvery glow across the battered ruins of Starlight Drive-In. The night had passed quietly, if not uneasily from every shift of wind through the broken walls, every rustle from the distant trees had been met with vigilant eyes, alert rifles, and quiet commands from Sico's patrolling Commandos. Though the darkness had been unbroken by attack, the vigil had been unrelenting. Soldiers, settlers, and medics alike had worked through exhaustion to maintain the progress made the previous evening, stabilizing walls, securing temporary barricades, and ensuring that no corner of the settlement remained exposed.
Sico walked slowly along the northern perimeter, the first light illuminating the jagged edges of splintered wood and bent steel. He could see the results of the previous night's effort: the walls were no longer merely remnants, but held structure, reinforced with careful craftsmanship and disciplined labor. Temporary braces had been strategically placed along weak points, and soldiers were performing final inspections with measured scrutiny. Medics had reoriented the injured to safer locations, and even the settlers who had stayed behind through the night were helping as some hauling lighter debris, others offering water and tools to the crews.
He paused atop a small ridge, giving him a full view of the horizon. And there it was: a line of trucks cutting across the open wasteland, moving with steady purpose toward Starlight. Five in total, massive and loaded, each groaning under the weight of supplies, timber, steel beams, and tools with the lifeline Sico had requested from Magnolia. The convoy had arrived right on schedule.
A subtle smile touched his features, rare in the midst of constant vigilance. Relief surged through him, not because the battle was won, but because the tools of survival with the building blocks of tomorrow were here. He knew, however, that supplies alone did not rebuild a settlement. They required hands, coordination, and determination.
Turning, he spotted Rick near the center of the settlement, directing a group of settlers who were already sorting debris and preparing for the day's labor. Sico approached him, the morning light casting his shadow long across the cracked asphalt. "Rick," he said, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of activity. "The convoy has arrived. Five trucks, fully loaded, thanks to Magnolia. We'll need every capable pair of hands to unload, organize, and distribute the supplies efficiently. Your settlers will be essential."
Rick's eyes widened slightly as he took in the approaching convoy, its sheer bulk casting a stark contrast against the fragile structures of Starlight. A flicker of awe and determination passed over his face, tempered by the steady weight of responsibility. "Understood," he said. His voice had gained a firmness overnight, molded by the stress and leadership demanded in the aftermath of the battle. "I'll call the settlers together. We'll organize teams immediately."
Sico nodded, his gaze sweeping over the northern perimeter once more. Soldiers were still inspecting the walls, Commandos were returning from their early patrols, and medics were checking on the last of the injured before resuming work with the uninjured. "Good. Make sure to assign teams for each task: some hauling beams, others unloading supplies, and some guiding them into storage or staging areas. We can't afford confusion or wasted effort."
Rick glanced toward the gathering of settlers, their eyes still red-rimmed from fear or lack of sleep, yet shining with the faintest spark of hope as they recognized the convoy approaching. "I'll rotate teams," he said, "so no one is overworked, and we'll make sure the more experienced hands supervise the new volunteers. Everyone will know exactly what to do."
Sico exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his chest ease for the first time since the Behemoth had fallen. "Good. Keep everyone calm and focused. There's no rush, but there's also no time to waste. Every beam and plank moved now is a life secured tomorrow."
The first truck rumbled to a stop near the northern wall, dust billowing from its tires, settling over the repaired barricades and scaffolds. Sico approached the convoy cautiously, his eyes scanning for any signs of tampering or damage during transit, though he trusted Magnolia's network implicitly. Soldiers flanked the area, ensuring that nothing could interfere with the unloading process.
Rick raised his voice to the settlers, who had now gathered near the truck. "All right! Everyone, listen up! We have five trucks of supplies here to rebuild Starlight. We need strong arms and careful hands. Organize yourselves into teams with haul, carry, organize. And remember, safety first. Don't rush, don't crowd each other. Follow instructions from the soldiers and me."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, fear tempered by the promise of action. Slowly, settlers began to form teams, some of the younger and stronger individuals taking the heaviest loads, while others assisted in guiding beams, passing tools, or steadying materials as they were lifted from the trucks.
Sico watched as Sarah joined the scene, clipboard in hand, issuing concise instructions to settlers working alongside soldiers. "Team A," she called, pointing toward a group of men and women, "you take the lumber to the northern wall. Reinforce the existing braces. Team B," she indicated another cluster, "haul steel beams to the staging area near the gate. Ensure every beam is placed securely. Team C, handle tools and smaller materials. Keep them organized and accessible. Rotate if necessary. No one should be exhausted or left idle."
Settlers nodded, moving with growing confidence as they followed her directions. Even those who had been hesitant the night before now took their places in the rhythm of rebuilding, the sheer presence of organized leadership giving them a sense of purpose.
Preston approached Sico, wiping sweat from his brow as he assessed the unloading operation. "We've got soldiers assisting each team. We can move supplies efficiently, but we'll need coordination to avoid chaos. Some of these beams are massive as lifting them improperly could cause injuries."
Sico's gaze swept across the area. "Then make sure soldiers are stationed at every critical point. Hands on the ends, eyes on balance. Communicate constantly. And keep an eye on morale as people need encouragement, not panic. This is as much about confidence as it is about strength."
The convoy drivers began opening the trucks, revealing the sheer volume of supplies inside. Timber planks, steel supports, nails, tools, and sacks of materials tumbled out under the careful guidance of soldiers and settlers. The sound of metal against metal, wood against earth, and shouted instructions filled the air, but Sico could sense the rhythm forming with a coordinated effort, a growing order from the chaos of survival.
He walked along the line, offering advice, adjusting the placement of a steel beam here, signaling for extra hands there. Every interaction was measured, purposeful, and human with acknowledging exhaustion, encouraging caution, and reinforcing the importance of every life within the settlement.
Sarah moved among the teams like a conductor, directing traffic with precision and care. "Balance the loads," she called to a group of young settlers struggling with a particularly heavy beam. "Work together, count to three, lift. Watch your footing. And breathe, keep steady."
A small cheer rose from the workers as they managed to set the beam into place securely, the weight distributed evenly by the combination of trained soldiers and determined settlers. Sico allowed himself the faintest smile, the spark of pride flickering in his chest. This was what would keep Starlight alive.
Meanwhile, Robert and MacCready circled the perimeter, rifles slung, eyes sharp. Their patrols had now shifted to a watch-and-guide role, ensuring that nothing threatened the convoy or the workers. Occasionally, a rustle in the distant trees would prompt a silent alert, a shift in stance, or a slow, deliberate scan before they returned to their duties. They were the unseen guardians of the settlement's lifeblood, the quiet shadows moving methodically around the perimeter.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, burning away the fog of night and illuminating the labor of rebuilding in harsh clarity. Sweat gleamed on the foreheads of soldiers and settlers alike, dust clung to their clothing, and the air was thick with the mixed scents of wood, metal, and human effort. Yet progress was undeniable. Walls rose, temporary supports were replaced with solid beams, and the gate began to take form, ready to withstand forces that had previously smashed it to ruin.
Sico, moving from group to group, occasionally bent to assist a struggling settler, or to steady a plank as it was lifted into place. His presence was more than leadership as it was reassurance, a visible commitment to the lives he had vowed to protect. Settlers responded with gratitude, nodding, smiling faintly despite the strain, buoyed by the knowledge that someone who could take command was here beside them, not above them.
By midday, the trucks had been unloaded completely. Supplies were organized into designated staging areas, sorted by type and priority. Lumber and steel were stacked securely near the wall sections they would reinforce. Tools were distributed to teams, and extra hands were positioned for rotating work crews to prevent fatigue.
Sico finally allowed himself to step back, surveying the scene with satisfaction. The northern wall now had structure, resilience, and promise. The gate, though not complete, had begun to take shape, supported by beams braced against the earth, each piece carefully measured and positioned. And all around, soldiers, settlers, and medics moved in a rhythm that, though exhausting, signaled that Starlight Drive-In was alive, holding, and prepared for the future.
He caught Rick's eye across the staging area. "Good work," Sico said, voice carrying over the bustle. "Keep the teams moving, rotate where necessary, and make sure everyone gets water and a short break. The work isn't done, but it's looking strong. Remember, it's not just the walls that protect people but it's confidence, discipline, and cooperation. You've got both here. Keep it up."
Rick nodded, a faint smile breaking through the dirt and exhaustion on his face. "Understood. We'll keep the momentum going."
Sico allowed himself a brief pause, listening to the mingling sounds of the settlement with the rhythm of rebuilding, the quiet hum of generators, the occasional burst of laughter or encouragement and realized, finally, that this day, unlike the battle, would be won not by sheer force, but by persistence, unity, and willpower.
Sico didn't linger in one place for long. Once the trucks were fully unloaded and the supplies sorted into their designated stacks, his attention shifted back to the bones of the settlement itself. Materials meant nothing if they weren't put to use properly, and experience had taught him that the difference between a wall that looked strong and one that held under pressure came down to oversight, patience, and the discipline to do things the hard way instead of the fast one.
He moved toward the northern stretch of the perimeter where Preston had already gathered soldiers and able-bodied settlers into coordinated work crews. The wall there had taken the brunt of the Behemoth's assault. Even reinforced overnight, it still bore the scars with deep gouges in the wood, twisted metal braces, cracks where raw force had tested its limits. It was standing now, but Sico wanted more than standing. He wanted it unyielding.
Preston spotted him approaching and straightened instinctively, wiping his hands on his fatigues before stepping closer. "We've got three crews rotating here," he said without waiting to be asked. "One reinforcing the lower supports, one replacing damaged planks, and one laying in the steel braces from the convoy. No one's been on the line longer than an hour at a time."
Sico nodded, his eyes already scanning the work. Soldiers braced beams while settlers hammered planks into place under careful supervision. Every few seconds someone called out a count on one, two, three, before lifting together. The sound of metal striking metal rang out in steady rhythm, not frantic, not rushed.
"Good," Sico said. "Keep it that way. Walls fail when people get tired and stop talking to each other."
He crouched near the base of the wall, running a gloved hand along a newly placed steel support. It was solid, properly anchored, the bolts tightened evenly instead of forced. He looked up at the soldier working above it. "Did you stagger the braces?"
"Yes, sir," the soldier replied. "Every other support overlaps the next section. If one fails, the load transfers instead of collapsing inward."
Sico gave a short nod of approval. "That's how you keep people alive."
He moved down the line with Preston beside him, occasionally stopping to correct a measurement, adjust the angle of a brace, or quietly remind someone to drink water. He didn't bark orders unnecessarily. He didn't need to. His presence alone carried weight, and the workers felt it not as a pressure, but as assurance. Someone was watching. Someone cared enough to make sure this was done right.
At one section, a settler that struggled to keep a plank steady while a soldier hammered it into place. Sico stepped in without a word, bracing the wood himself.
"Take a breath," he said quietly. "You don't need to rush."
The man swallowed, nodded, and steadied himself. Together, they held the plank firm until it was secured. When it was done, the settler looked at Sico with something close to disbelief.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Sico met his eyes. "You're rebuilding your home. That matters."
He left Preston to continue managing the wall crews and turned his attention toward the center of the settlement, where Rick had gathered the remaining workers around the ruins of the old gate. What had once been a functional, if crude, entrance was now nothing more than splintered wood and twisted hinges scattered across the ground. In its place, Rick had marked out a wider, stronger frame using chalk lines and salvaged metal stakes.
Sico approached just as Rick was explaining the plan.
"We're not rebuilding what was here," Rick was saying, his voice steady but loud enough to carry. "We're building something better. Thicker beams, reinforced hinges, and a double-lock system. One manual, one internal. This gate doesn't just close as it will holds."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the workers.
Sico stopped at Rick's side, watching as teams began lifting the first of the heavy vertical beams into position. These weren't just doors as they were barriers meant to stop momentum, to break charges, to buy time when time was the difference between life and death.
"You've thought this through," Sico said.
Rick exhaled, wiping his brow. "Had all night to think about what went wrong."
Sico nodded. "That's how leaders are made. Not by winning clean fights, but by surviving the ugly ones and learning from them."
Rick glanced at him, a mixture of pride and pressure in his eyes. "I won't let it happen again."
"You won't," Sico said. "Because you're not doing it alone."
The gate construction was slower than the wall repairs, and Sico expected that. Precision mattered here more than speed. Hinges had to be aligned perfectly. Supports had to bear weight evenly. If the gate sagged, stuck, or failed under pressure, it could doom the entire settlement.
Sico stayed close, watching Rick work alongside the others rather than directing from a distance. Rick hauled beams, measured joints, and took correction without defensiveness when soldiers pointed out structural concerns. That alone told Sico everything he needed to know.
At one point, a younger worker misjudged the balance of a beam, and it tipped dangerously. Instantly, hands reached out as the soldiers and settlers are together on catching it before it could crash down.
"Easy!" Rick called. "No one gets crushed today. Reset and lift again."
No shouting. No blame. Just correction and continuation.
As the hours stretched on, the settlement took on a different energy. Where the previous day had been soaked in fear and grief, today carried something steadier. People talked while they worked. Quiet jokes slipped through the noise. Someone passed around a canteen without being asked. Children peeked from behind reinforced barriers, watching walls rise higher than they remembered.
Sico noticed everything.
He checked back in with Preston on mid afternoon. The northern wall was nearly complete, its reinforced sections now uniform, layered with steel and wood that covered with cements in deliberate patterns. Weak points had been eliminated, and firing gaps had been integrated with a small, defensible openings that allowed soldiers to return fire without exposing themselves.
"We'll finish this section by sunset," Preston said. "Then I want to start reinforcing the eastern corner."
Sico considered the layout, then nodded. "Do it. That corner funnels movement. If anything comes again, that's where it'll probe."
Preston hesitated, then spoke more quietly. "Morale's holding, sir. Better than I expected."
Sico allowed a faint smile. "That's because people are doing something that matters."
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in muted golds and reds, Sico returned to the gate. It was taking shape now as two massive reinforced doors mounted on thick hinges, supported by crossbeams and internal braces. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't polished. But it was strong.
Rick stood back, studying it, hands on his hips. "Still needs the locking mechanisms," he said. "But it'll hold."
Sico stood beside him. "It already has."
Rick looked at him, confused.
"You rebuilt it," Sico said. "That's what matters most."
The first lock slid into place just before dusk, metal scraping against metal with a satisfying finality. A small cheer went up from the workers, tired but proud. The gate wasn't finished entirely, but it stood. And standing was enough for tonight.
The night settled gently over Starlight, not with the suffocating dread that had clung to the ruins before, but with a tired, earned quiet. Fires burned low in steel drums. Guards rotated shifts with practiced ease. The newly rebuilt gate stood closed for the first time, its silhouette thick and solid against the dark, like a promise given form. People slept closer to the walls now, closer to each other, trusting the work they'd done with their own hands.
And for once, nothing came.
By the time dawn returned, it did so without screams or alarms.
The next day began the way survival demanded it always begin: with work.
Hammers rang out again not long after first light, echoing across the cracked asphalt of Starlight Drive In. The smell of dust and cut wood mixed with cold morning air as teams returned to their stations. The gate wasn't finished yet the internal locking bars still needed to be seated properly, additional steel plating had to be bolted into place, and Rick wanted a secondary brace installed that could be dropped into position from inside if the hinges ever failed. No one argued with him.
Preston had already reassigned wall crews before the sun crested the horizon. Soldiers and settlers took their places with fewer words now, movements efficient, familiar. The work no longer felt like desperation. It felt like routine. Hard, exhausting routine but one rooted in confidence rather than fear.
Sico watched it all from the command platform for a few minutes, mug of bitter coffee warming his hands. He took it in quietly: the way people moved without needing to be told twice, the way soldiers corrected mistakes without shouting, the way settlers trusted those corrections. This was what a settlement looked like when it started to believe it might last.
But walls alone didn't keep people safe.
You had to know what was moving beyond them.
He handed the mug off to a passing commando and turned toward the motor pool area near the old screen tower, where engines were already coming to life.
Robert stood beside one of the Humvees, checking a mounted machine gun with methodical care. He moved like someone who had done this too many times to ever treat it casually. Nearby, MacCready leaned against the hood of another vehicle, helmet tucked under one arm, squinting at the horizon as if daring it to try something.
The Sentinel tank sat just beyond them, squat and menacing, its armored hull still scarred from previous engagements. It looked almost out of place beside the settlement, but Sico knew better than to apologize for strength in the wasteland.
He approached as Robert finished securing the weapon mount.
"Route?" Sico asked.
Robert glanced up, surprised for half a second, then nodded in acknowledgment. "Wide sweep. North and east first, then arc back south toward the old rail junction. We'll check the treeline, the ridges, and the low ruins near the creek. Nothing fancy."
MacCready smirked. "Translation: we scare the hell out of anything dumb enough to be watching us."
Sico allowed himself a faint huff of amusement. "Good. I want to know who's out there before they decide to come knocking."
Robert hesitated. "You're coming with us."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Sico said simply. "Preston and Rick have the build under control. Sarah's coordinating logistics. I'd rather be useful where uncertainty still lives."
MacCready straightened a little at that, respect flickering across his face. "Guess that means I gotta behave. Boss is watching."
"Don't strain yourself," Sico replied.
The Commandos assembled quickly as two squads split between the Humvees, another riding escort on foot near the tank until they cleared the settlement perimeter. Radios crackled with short, clipped confirmations. Fuel levels were checked. Ammo was counted. No one rushed, but no one lingered either.
As the gate opened, its new mechanisms groaning softly under the strain of movement, Sico paused for a brief moment at the threshold. Beyond lay the open wasteland that quiet, sunlit, deceptively calm. Behind him, hammers still rang, voices still called measurements, life still pushed forward.
He stepped through without looking back.
The convoy rolled out in a controlled formation. One Humvee in front, the Sentinel tank behind it like a steel shadow, the second Humvee bringing up the rear. Dust rose beneath their tires, curling into the morning air before settling back onto cracked earth and dead grass.
For a while, they drove in silence.
The land around Starlight was deceptively peaceful in daylight. Low hills rolled gently, dotted with skeletal trees and rusted remains of pre-war vehicles half-swallowed by time. Birds lifted from branches as the convoy passed. Somewhere in the distance, a brahmin lowed.
MacCready broke the quiet first. "Almost feels normal," he muttered over the open channel.
"That's when it's dangerous," Robert replied calmly.
Sico watched the terrain pass by, eyes constantly moving. He wasn't just looking for enemies as he was reading patterns. Broken brush. Tracks too fresh to be animals. Places where something big might move unseen. The Behemoth hadn't come from nowhere. Something had driven it close enough to Starlight to become a threat, and that something hadn't vanished with its death.
The convoy slowed as they approached the treeline north of the settlement. The Sentinel tank pivoted slightly, turret adjusting with a low mechanical whine as its sensors swept the area.
"Movement?" MacCready asked.
"Negative," Robert replied. "But we stop here."
The vehicles came to a halt, engines idling. Commandos dismounted smoothly, spreading out in practiced arcs. Weapons stayed lowered but ready. Sico stepped out last, boots crunching softly against gravel and dead leaves.
Up close, the forest felt different. Thicker. Older. The air smelled damp, layered with rot and moss and something faintly metallic. Shadows clung stubbornly beneath the canopy despite the rising sun.
Sico knelt near a patch of disturbed earth, fingers hovering just above it. "Tracks," he said quietly.
Robert joined him, crouching low. "Super mutant?"
"Old," Sico replied. "Days, maybe more. Heavy, but not recent."
MacCready scanned the treeline through his scope. "So they were around. Just not anymore."
"That's not comforting," one of the Commandos muttered.
Sico rose to his feet. "It's information. That's always better than fear."
They pushed deeper along the patrol route, stopping at vantage points, checking ruins, scanning ridgelines. At one collapsed farmhouse, they found signs of scavengers which means human this time. Campfire remains, empty cans, footprints heading west.
MacCready nudged one with his boot. "At least someone else is dumb enough to think this area's quiet."
"Or desperate," Sico said.
They marked the location on their maps and moved on.
By midmorning, the sun was high enough to burn away the last of the morning chill. The patrol reached the old rail junction with a tangle of rusted tracks and overturned freight cars that had long been a blind spot. The Sentinel tank rolled forward cautiously, its weight making the ground tremble.
"Hold," Robert said suddenly.
Everyone froze.
Sico followed his gaze to a distant ridge. At first, there was nothing. Then a movement. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just watching.
Through binoculars, Sico saw them: a small group. Three, maybe four figures. Too far to identify clearly. They weren't charging. They weren't hiding. They were standing just inside the edge of cover, silhouettes sharp against the sky.
"Scouts," MacCready murmured. "Human, I think."
"Not Brotherhood," Robert said. "Too loose. Too curious."
Sico lowered the binoculars. "We don't engage."
MacCready blinked. "Seriously?"
"They're measuring us," Sico continued. "Let them see exactly what we are."
The Sentinel tank shifted slightly, turret rotating with deliberate slowness. One of the Humvees repositioned to flank. Commandos remained visible, calm, armed.
After a long moment, the figures on the ridge turned away and disappeared into the rocks.
No shots fired. No blood spilled.
"Message received," Robert said quietly.
"Good," Sico replied. "That's one we didn't have to write in corpses."
The patrol completed its route without further incident, looping back toward Starlight as the afternoon wore on. From a distance, they could already see the settlement changing as the walls taller, cleaner lines, the gate now reinforced with additional plating that caught the sunlight dully.
The Humvee slowed as it crossed the final stretch of cracked asphalt leading back into Starlight Drive In, tires crunching over loose gravel and powdered concrete. Dust rolled up around the convoy one last time before settling, hanging briefly in the warm afternoon air like a fading veil. The Sentinel tank rumbled in behind them, its engine lowering to a steady idle, heat shimmering above its armored hull.
Sico watched the settlement come back into focus through the windshield.
It looked different.
Not just repaired, not just patched together in that desperate, temporary way settlements usually managed after an attack. It looked intentional. Walls stood straighter. Lines were cleaner. The gate that once shattered are now stood thick and solid, its reinforced plating catching the sunlight in dull flashes. People moved with purpose, not panic. There was noise from hammering, voices, the clatter of tools, but it was the noise of construction, not survival.
The Humvee came to a full stop near the command platform.
Sico pushed the door open and stepped down, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. The air smelled of metal filings, sawdust, sweat, and something else beneath it all, relief. Not comfort. Not peace. But the knowledge that they had endured another day.
MacCready hopped down from the passenger side, stretching his back with a low groan. "Well," he said, scanning the settlement, "if this doesn't warm your heart just a little, you might actually be a synth."
Robert exited more quietly, already assessing the perimeter, his eyes instinctively tracking movement along the walls and the gate.
Sico didn't respond right away. He just stood there for a moment, taking it in.
Then he started walking.
He headed first toward the northern wall, where he could already see Preston. The Minuteman stood near the center of a long stretch of reinforced barricade, surrounded by a mixed group of soldiers and settlers who were clearly just finishing up. Tools were being set down. Gloves were pulled off. Someone leaned against the wall, breathing hard, sweat streaking through the dust on their face.
The wall itself was impressive.
Layered timber reinforced with steel braces, cement packed into gaps that had once been fatal weaknesses. Firing ports were evenly spaced, angled just enough to allow coverage without exposing the shooter. The base supports were thicker now, sunk deeper into the ground, the kind of work that didn't look glamorous but made all the difference when something big decided to test it.
Preston noticed Sico approaching and straightened immediately, fatigue still clinging to his posture but pride sitting right beside it.
"Sir," he said, then quickly corrected himself with a small shake of his head. "Sico. You're back."
Sico nodded. "Patrol's done. Area's quiet for now." His eyes moved along the wall as he spoke. "Looks like you didn't waste the time."
Preston followed his gaze. "We finished the last section about ten minutes ago. Ran a full check after. No loose supports, no rushed joints. We replaced every compromised beam instead of patching over them." He paused, then added, "I didn't let anyone argue with me about shortcuts."
Sico crouched, pressing a gloved hand against the lower section of the wall, testing it with a firm shove. It didn't budge. He nodded once.
"That's good leadership," he said. "People argue when they're scared or tired. Someone has to decide when the argument ends."
One of the soldiers nearby that young, face still smeared with dust was spoke up hesitantly. "We, uh… we also reinforced the corner you mentioned yesterday. The funnel point. Took longer, but it's solid."
Sico looked up at him. "You did it right?"
"Yes," the soldier said, a little more confidence in his voice now. "We checked load distribution twice."
Sico stood and met his eyes. "Then it was worth the time."
The soldier smiled, just briefly, before looking back at the wall like it might disappear if he didn't keep watching it.
Preston exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that came after hours of holding tension in check. "People held together better than I expected," he admitted. "Some of them were shaking at first. But once they saw the progress, once they realized it wasn't just busywork…" He gestured around them. "They believed in it."
Sico looked along the wall again, then out beyond it, toward the open wasteland. "Belief keeps hands steady," he said. "You did well."
Preston's shoulders eased slightly at that. Praise was rare currency, and he didn't take it lightly. "We'll keep rotating patrols along the wall tonight," he added. "Just in case."
"Do it," Sico said. "Quiet doesn't mean safe. It just means waiting."
Preston nodded, then hesitated. "Rick's finishing up the gate. I think you should see it."
Sico was already turning.
The gate dominated the southern entrance now, no longer a weak seam in the settlement's defenses but a statement. Two massive reinforced doors stood mounted within a thick steel-and-timber frame, their surfaces scarred not by damage but by labor with weld marks, bolt heads, overlapping plates that spoke of strength built layer by layer.
Rick stood in front of it, flanked by a handful of workers. Some leaned on tools. Others sat on crates, chests rising and falling as they caught their breath. Everyone was dirty. Everyone was exhausted.
And everyone was smiling.
Rick turned as Sico approached, and for a split second his expression held something like nervous anticipation. Then it settled into something steadier.
"It's done," Rick said. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just final.
Sico stopped a few paces away, eyes taking in every detail.
The hinges were massive, seated deep into reinforced mounts that disappeared into the gate frame. A thick internal crossbar sat ready just inside, its locking grooves cut clean and precise. Secondary braces rested along the interior wall, designed to drop into place if the gate ever took a direct hit. Even the ground beneath had been leveled and reinforced to prevent shifting under pressure.
Rick followed his gaze. "We tested it," he said. "Opened and closed it ten times. Loaded weight against it. No sag. No binding."
"Locks?" Sico asked.
Rick stepped aside and nodded toward one of the workers. "Show him."
The worker who is a woman with grease-streaked hands and tired eyes are reached inside the gate and pulled a lever. Metal slid into place with a deep, resonant clack. Then another. And another. Each sound was solid, confident.
She looked back at Sico. "Manual locks first. Internal bar second. Emergency drop braces last. You can still open it fast from inside if you have to."
Sico stepped closer, placing his hand against the gate. It was cool under his palm despite the sun, the kind of cold that came from density and strength.
"This will hold," he said.
Rick let out a breath he'd clearly been holding since the last bolt went in. "It better. I don't want to rebuild it again."
A few of the workers chuckled quietly.
Sico turned to Rick fully now. "You didn't just rebuild it," he said. "You improved it."
Rick shrugged, but there was pride there, unmistakable. "We learned."
"That's the point," Sico replied. "Survival isn't about pretending nothing breaks. It's about making sure it doesn't break the same way twice."
Rick glanced back at the gate, then at the settlement beyond it with the walls, the people, the movement. "They feel safer," he said. "You can see it."
"Yes," Sico said. "And they should."
For a moment, none of them spoke. The wind moved through the open space beyond the gate, carrying distant sounds of the wasteland as nothing threatening, just life continuing elsewhere. Inside the walls, someone laughed. A hammer rang once more, then stopped.
Sico finally stepped back, nodding once to Rick, then to the workers around him. "You did your jobs," he said simply. "All of you. Get some rest. Rotate out. Eat something."
A murmur of gratitude rippled through the group. Tools were set aside. People began to drift, some toward fires, others toward shaded spots where they could sit and let the ache settle into their bones.
Rick lingered.
"So," he said quietly, "what did you see out there?"
Sico looked toward the horizon again. "Scouts," he said. "Humans. Watching."
Rick's jaw tightened. "Threat?"
"Potential," Sico replied. "Not today. But they know we're here. And they know we're not weak."
Rick nodded slowly. "Good."
Sico studied him for a moment. Rick was tired. Everyone was. But he stood straighter now than he had days ago, shoulders squared not by fear but by responsibility.
"You're doing well," Sico said.
Rick met his gaze. "So are you."
Sico didn't respond to that. He turned instead, looking back at the gate one last time as the sun dipped lower in the sky. It stood closed now, solid and unyielding. And for the first time since the attack, Starlight Drive-In felt like it was to be.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-