"Where the hell is my beef stew?" Asher held his last MRE in his hand, staring at the label like it personally robbed him. Jalapeño Pepper Jack. Again. He flipped it once, twice, scowling. "Disgusting." Across the fire, Ryvak suddenly found his boots very interesting. Asher raised the pouch halfway, just enough to catch Ryvak's eye. "You are accusing me of stealing your food now?" Ryvak said. He didn't deny it. Just went straight to defense. That said plenty. Asher didn't bother answering. He let the silence sharpen around them. Beth laced her boots tighter without looking up. Her glance flicked to Asher—fast, cold, calculated. Thorne sat apart, arms crossed, spine locked, face unreadable. Didn't move. Didn't blink. Just sat there like his bones forgot how to bend. No one spoke again as they packed up. The sun hit hard. Heat waves rippled over the sand, turning the horizon to haze. Asher stuck to the rear, eyes sharp, thoughts jagged. He didn't trust them. Not anymore. His hand brushed the grip of his blade. Just in case.
That's when he saw it. Movement. Far off on the ridge. A shadow. Still. Holding what looked like a rifle. No insignia. No signal. Empire scouts would've made contact. Whoever or whatever it was, they weren't here to help. Asher didn't say anything. He just kept walking. Ten minutes later, Thorne stumbled. Barely noticeable. Just a twitch in his hand. A slow blink. But Asher caught it. "There it is," he thought. "That power in him? Eats water like a starving dog." Thorne dropped to one knee. Beth rushed to him. "You okay?" He didn't answer. Ryvak hovered nearby, watching like it was a show. Asher pulled out his canteen and handed it over. Not out of kindness. Cold logic. Thorne was still their strongest. And strength bought survival. Thorne drank deeply. Gave a small nod. They moved again. The day passed slowly. Miserable. No one spoke. No one joked. The air between them turned brittle. Night fell fast. Beth divided the watch schedule. Thorne and Ryvak took the first shift. Asher rolled onto his back, half asleep. He heard Thorne mutter something about checking the ridge. A few minutes later—footsteps. Asher opened one eye. Ryvak moved past the firelight. Careful. Too careful.
Asher followed. Silent. Watched as Ryvak dropped behind a rocky outcrop. Dug something from the ground. A transmitter. Ryvak stared at it, then smashed it against the rocks. Again. Again. Until it was nothing but bent metal and loose wires. He buried the pieces fast. Sloppy. Asher slipped back into the dark like he belonged there. When Ryvak returned to camp, Beth was already standing—arms crossed, staring into the night. "Where's Asher?" she asked. "I thought he was on shift," Ryvak said. "You were supposed to wake me," Beth snapped. "That was the deal." "Needed to piss," Ryvak shrugged. "Figured you needed the sleep." Beth didn't answer. Her hand hovered near her weapon. "Where's Thorne?" she asked. That's when Asher stepped back into the light. Didn't talk. Just stared at Ryvak like the answer was written on his forehead. Beth drew her weapon instantly. "Where is he?" she demanded. "What?" Asher asked. "Thorne. Where is he?" Her voice cracked. "I didn't touch him," Asher said. "You disappeared," Ryvak added. "That's twice tonight." "Talk," Beth said. Asher looked between them. "I followed him. Ryvak. He found a transmitter. Smashed it."
Beth blinked. "What?" "I saw it." Ryvak's face turned hard. "You spying on me now?" "You destroyed the comms," Asher shot back. "And I'm the one under suspicion?" "You were next to the antenna when it broke," Ryvak said. "Explain that." Beth slowly turned her weapon toward Asher. "It was broken when I found it," he said. "No one else touched it," Ryvak pressed. "You expect us to believe it just snapped itself?" The fire popped. Then Thorne stepped into the circle. His shirt hung open, skin beneath lit up in low pulses—dull orange veins twitching where his heart should be. "What's going on?" he asked. "Asher," Ryvak said, "broke the comms. Maybe he's the target. We cannot take the chance of him running wild in our sleep." "No, What!? The target? You mean the assassin," Asher hissed. Ryvak's face reddened. "You were an unknown from the start," Thorne said. "The mission's turned ever since." "You think I wanted this?" Asher barked. "I think command will sort it out," Thorne said. "Structure exists for a reason." Beth's weapon lowered slightly. "Where did you go?" she asked. "Someone's tracking us," Thorne said. "I tried to intercept. They vanished."
Asher looked at Ryvak. "He's hiding something." Ryvak sneered. "So are you." "He found a transmitter in the dirt and smashed it up." Thorne and Beth looked at Ryvak. "Is this true?" Thorne asked. "Yeah," Ryvak said, scratching his neck. "Saw something when we made camp. Figured the heat was messing with my head. Didn't want to cause a panic over a dirt mound. I ignored it. Didn't think it was a damn transmitter." Either he was honest... or he was damn good at pretending to be. Later, everyone settled in. Sort of. Beth curled near the fire. Ryvak leaned against his pack, eyes half-closed. Asher sat alone. His spine ached. Not from the march. From the weight in the air between them. He pressed his fingers to his back. "Who was it?" he whispered. No answer. "I know you're there. I know you feel what I feel." Nothing. His hand dropped. "What if this was never about the others? What if I've been the crack in the foundation all along?" He stared into the flames. A shuffle. Ryvak again. Crawling toward the packs. Dug out an MRE—beef stew. Asher's stomach twisted. Ryvak tucked it away, slunk back, closed his eyes like nothing happened. Asher waited. Counted to thirty. Then got up. Returned quiet. "Where were you?" Beth stirred. "Stretching my legs." "Your shift's next." "Yeah." He didn't sleep. Not because of guilt. Because he didn't trust anyone anymore. Not Ryvak. Not Beth. And not himself. The fire gave one last spit and curled low like it was sick of the conversation too. And the Stone stayed silent.