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The Behemoth's massive form lay in a crater where the final coordinated attack had brought it down. The ground trembled faintly with the residual energy of the battle, debris scattered in all directions. But the walls, the commandos, and the soldiers had held firm. The Freemasons had not only defended Starlight as they had turned it into a fortress of survival, a statement that even the fiercest threats of the Commonwealth could be met with unity, strategy, and unflinching courage.
The battlefield had begun to quiet, but quiet did not mean peace. Quiet meant breathing room. Quiet meant the sound of boots crunching through debris, the hiss of sparks from broken generators, the soft groans of injured soldiers being carried toward makeshift medical tents. It was a fragile silence with thin, trembling, stretched over the carnage like a tarp that threatened to tear at the slightest strain.
Sico stood at the center of it all.
Smoke curled around him, drifting past his shoulders like a fading storm. His armor was streaked with dust, blood that some his, most not and the faint shimmer of sweat that had dried on his skin. The adrenaline in his veins was finally settling, leaving behind a deep, heavy clarity. The kind that forced him to see everything, to absorb every cost of the victory they had clawed from the jaws of death.
He inhaled, tasting ash and metal.
Then he exhaled, steady and controlled, and turned toward the people he trusted most.
"Preston," Sico called, his voice low but unwavering.
Preston, who had been directing two soldiers to refill the Humvee ammo crates, turned immediately. His face was streaked with grime, and the fresh bruise along his jaw spoke of shrapnel that had come too close. But his eyes were sharp, focused and still in command mode.
"Yes, sir?" he responded, stepping closer.
"I need numbers," Sico said quietly, though the heaviness in his tone made the words land like stone. "Count the wounded. Every single one. And…" He paused that not from hesitation, but from the weight of the next words.
"…and the KIA. I want an exact list. No names left unspoken."
Preston nodded once, deeply. "Understood," he replied, voice steady. But Sico saw the flicker of pain in his expression. Counting the wounded was painful. Counting the dead was worse. Especially when you knew many of them by name.
"Get the squad leaders to assist," Sico added.
"Already on it," Preston said, then sprinted toward the formation of soldiers beginning to gather injured comrades onto stretchers.
Sico watched him go, then turned toward Sarah. She stood a few meters away, directing medics as they established triage stations. Her armor was scuffed, a long diagonal scrape across her chest plate still smoking faintly from where a mutant's blade had struck too close.
"Sarah," Sico called.
She turned quickly, wiping soot from her brow with the back of her glove before crossing the distance between them. Her breath came out in small bursts, controlled but heavy.
"Yes, sir?" she answered.
Sico looked her directly in the eyes. "I want your count as well. Wounded, KIA, missing if any. Confirm every Soldier's status. We need clarity before nightfall."
Sarah nodded immediately, jaw tightening with determination. "I'll assemble the squad captains and get the numbers. We'll have a full report."
"Good," Sico murmured. "No one gets forgotten out here."
A soft gust of wind pushed through the ruined settlement, carrying the scent of burning wood and blood. It brushed the loose strands of Sarah's hair that had slipped free from her tied-back braid, and despite the devastation around them, she held herself straight, unbroken, unwavering.
"I'll get it done," she said quietly.
"I know," Sico replied.
She jogged off, calling out for the captains, already beginning to organize the task with her signature iron precision.
Then Sico turned toward Robert and MacCready. The two commandos stood side by side near the fallen Behemoth, their silhouettes outlined against the crater's jagged edges. They were quieter than usual that not by fear, but by the solemn weight that often followed a battle where commandos were put in the line of fire first and hardest.
Sico walked toward them.
Robert was the first to notice him approaching. He straightened his posture, though exhaustion tugged at every movement. MacCready turned next, rolling his shoulder slightly as if working out a lingering ache from recoil.
"Sir," MacCready greeted, voice low but steady. "Glad you're still on your feet."
"Would take more than a Behemoth and a pack of hounds to put me down," Sico replied, though his tone carried no humor, just fact.
Robert nodded toward him. "How're things looking?"
"We're still assessing," Sico said. Then he exhaled, the breath slow and deliberate. "And I need your numbers."
Robert's jaw tensed, and MacCready's eyes darkened with the understanding that only soldiers who had lost comrades could truly recognize.
"Tell me," Sico continued. "How many Commandos are KIA?"
Robert swallowed hard before speaking. His voice was usually firm, crisp, decisive. Now it carried a hollow undercurrent.
"We're working through it," he said. "Some of the squad leaders are confirming IDs. But…" His throat tightened. "We lost some good people today."
MacCready glanced down at the broken asphalt between them, his fingers tightening around the strap of his rifle.
Sico didn't push, not yet. He knew what it meant to ask men to say the names of the fallen before they were ready. But he did need the numbers.
"I need an accurate count," Sico said gently, but firmly. "As soon as you can give it."
"We'll get it," Robert said with a slow, painful nod. "We'll make sure every fallen Commando is accounted for. No missing. No one forgotten."
MacCready lifted his gaze. "We'll start gathering them now. Bodies, armor tags, everything. You'll have the final list."
Sico nodded once, deeply. "Good. Do it with respect. And I want to be notified the moment you have names."
"Of course," Robert replied.
MacCready wiped a line of sweat mixed with soot from his eyebrow. "Hell of a fight out there," he muttered. "Feels like we just went toe to toe with hell itself."
"We did," Sico answered quietly. "And we pushed hell back."
A gust of hot wind rolled across the settlement, scattering ash like snowflakes. The sun, dimmed behind smoke, cast long orange rays through the gaps in the broken structures. The battlefield looked almost peaceful now, almost.
The quiet stretched.
Then Robert cleared his throat softly. "We also have three seriously injured commandos. They're being stabilized."
Sico nodded. "Get them transferred to triage. Make sure they get priority treatment."
"They're already on their way," MacCready replied. "Medics are doing everything they can."
"Good," Sico murmured again.
He turned his gaze toward the rest of the settlement. Soldiers moved slowly, carefully, stepping over rubble, dragging supplies back to centralized points, carrying wounded comrades on stretchers fashioned from broken door frames and torn canvas. Medics knelt beside groaning men, opening trauma kits, barking for morphine or blood packs.
The tanks sat in a protective semi-circle, engines still humming, barrels smoking. The Humvees were parked nearby, their turrets lowered, gunners wiping sweat from their faces after hours of nonstop fire.
Through it all, Sico stood at the center. Watching. Listening. Calculating.
This was the price of victory.
And it was his responsibility to face every part of it.
He turned back to Robert and MacCready. "Go," he said softly. "Do what needs to be done. I'll be waiting for your report."
Both men nodded. "Yes, sir."
Then they moved off toward their squads, calling for their surviving commandos to assemble, their voices carrying across the battlefield.
Sico remained where he was for a moment longer, letting the silence settle around him. He felt the weight of the battle sinking into his bones, not physically but emotionally—like sand filling a vessel one grain at a time.
He wasn't done. Not even close.
But he allowed himself just a few breaths. Slow. Deep. Controlled.
A tradition of sorts. Not for himself, but for those who would not be taking any more breaths at all.
A few minutes later…
The triage area had grown. What began as two small tents had now expanded into a makeshift field hospital. Tables made from scavenged planks held medical tools, stimpaks, purified water, bandages, blood kits, and morphine. Lanterns hung from hooks and broken support beams, casting a warm glow over the tired medics moving from patient to patient.
Sico walked toward the area, wanting to see the wounded with his own eyes.
Soldiers lay on cots, some groaning softly, others staring blankly at the sky. A few were unconscious, their chests rising and falling with labored breaths. Medics stitched wounds, applied pressure to bleeding arteries, set broken bones, and injected stimpaks to stabilize those on the brink.
Sarah moved between the rows, tablet in hand, voice firm as she recorded information from squad leaders.
When she saw Sico approaching, she straightened. "Sir," she greeted, breath slightly heavy. "We're gathering numbers now. The injured list is already long."
"How many?" Sico asked.
"So far, fifty seven wounded," Sarah said. "Twenty three critical. The rest stable."
Sico nodded slowly. "And KIA?"
Sarah lowered her voice, almost reverently. "Preliminary count… thirty four soldiers confirmed killed in action."
The words hit like a stone dropped into a deep, dark well. Heavy. Irreversible. Still falling.
Sico closed his eyes briefly. Not long, just enough to mark the gravity of it. Enough to acknowledge those nine souls who had fallen to protect the settlement and the lives within it.
"Continue the count," he said softly but firmly. "Make it exact. Every soldier deserves to be recognized."
"Yes, sir," Sarah replied. Her expression held sadness, but also resilience with a soldier's strength honed through countless battles just like this one.
As she moved on, Sico stepped closer to the wounded. One young man, barely older than nineteen, lay with his arm wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. A deep gash cut across his brow, but his eyes were open.
When he saw Sico approach, he tried to sit up. "Sir!"
"Easy," Sico said gently, placing a hand on the soldier's shoulder. "Rest. You did well."
The young man swallowed hard. "Did we… did we win?"
Sico nodded once. "We did."
The soldier let out a shaky breath, sinking back into the cot, tears forming at the corners of his eyes with relief, pain, exhaustion all colliding.
Sico stayed a moment longer, then moved down the line. Another soldier, missing part of his leg, stared at him with hollow eyes.
"Did my squad make it?" he whispered.
"We're counting now," Sico said, voice steady. "You'll know soon."
The soldier nodded, lips trembling.
Sico placed a firm hand on his shoulder, anchoring him. "You fought bravely. Your sacrifice won't be forgotten."
He left the field hospital with a tightening in his chest.
Then he saw Robert returning across the rubble, expression grim. MacCready followed a few steps behind, his face pale beneath layers of soot.
They reached Sico.
Robert swallowed before speaking.
"We've counted the Commando casualties," he said quietly.
Sico braced himself.
"Fifteen Commandos killed in action," Robert finished.
MacCready added softly, "four more critically injured. They're fighting for their lives."
Fifteen.
Fifteen highly trained, highly trusted fighters who had stood beside Sico in countless battles.
Sico bowed his head.
"Get their names," he said softly. "I want to know each one. And I'll speak to their squadmates personally."
"We already have the tags," Robert said, pulling a small metal pouch from his belt. He held it out.
Dog tags clinked faintly inside.
A sound that always cut deeper than any blade.
Sico accepted the pouch with both hands.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The wind carried the scent of smoke and blood past them. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the battlefield. The settlement walls stood damaged but intact, a testament to the lives spent defending them.
Finally, Sico lifted his chin.
"All right," he said quietly, but with the weight of a commander who would never falter. "Let's gather everyone. Soldiers, Commandos, medics, tank crews, everyone who can still stand."
Robert nodded. "For what?"
"For honoring the fallen," Sico said. "Before we rebuild, before we rest, before we move on and we acknowledge the cost."
MacCready's eyes softened. "That's the right call."
Sico looked around at the battlefield one more time from the shattered ground, the smoke curling upward, the exhausted soldiers moving quietly through the ruins.
The soldiers, commandos, medics, and tank crews assembled in the center of Starlight Drive-In, forming a rough semi-circle around the crater where the Behemoth had fallen, its massive bulk now reduced to an inert, smoking heap. The air was thick with the remnants of battle from smoke, dust, and the faint coppery tang of blood, but amidst it, the people of the Freemasons Republic moved with a solemn rhythm, their movements guided by grief, respect, and the quiet relief of survival.
Sico walked slowly to the center, his boots crunching over broken asphalt and shards of debris. The sun hung low, casting long shadows that stretched across the shattered settlement. For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to feel the enormity of what had just occurred. It wasn't just the fighting; it was the lives lost, the sacrifices made, and the heavy responsibility of leadership that weighed on him like armor heavier than any he wore.
He stopped near the front, facing the assembled soldiers. His eyes swept over every face, taking in their exhaustion, their injuries, their sweat-streaked armor, their dirt-smeared uniforms. He saw men and women who had run headlong into chaos and emerged alive, some carrying wounds that would leave scars both visible and hidden. He saw those who would never stand again, and the shadows of their absence pressed heavily against the living.
"Today," Sico began, his voice low but clear, carrying across the broken lot, "we faced monsters. Real monsters. And we fought them, shoulder to shoulder. Each of you held the line. Each of you pushed forward when the world seemed ready to crush you. You fought not for glory, not for medals, but for each other and for Starlight."
A few soldiers shifted uncomfortably, some lowering their heads, others brushing dust and grime from their uniforms. The weight of what he was saying sank in.
"Some of our brothers and sisters didn't make it," Sico continued, voice steady, refusing to flinch from the truth. "Fifteen commandos, thirty-four soldiers. Names, faces, courage, sacrifice. They stood for us, and now it's our responsibility to honor them, to remember them. Every action we take from this moment forward carries their spirit."
He walked slowly to the crater where the Behemoth had fallen, gesturing toward the lifeless mass of muscle, armor, and shattered debris. "This battlefield is our proof," he said quietly, almost to himself, "that unity and discipline can overcome even the most overwhelming force. But it is also a reminder that victory is never free. Every inch of ground, every step forward, every life saved or lost is paid for with sweat, blood, and courage."
Sico fell silent for a moment, letting the soldiers absorb his words. Then he stepped back and looked toward Robert and MacCready. The two commandos nodded, understanding immediately. They moved to gather the surviving Commandos into a tighter formation, ordering them to stand at attention, heads bowed, as the soldiers followed suit. The medics and tank crews joined, forming a larger semi-circle that encompassed the field, the crater, and the remnants of the fight.
Sico took a deep breath, letting the cool wind wash over him, carrying the smoke and dust away in faint currents. "We will honor the fallen," he said, his voice firm, "not just in words, but in deeds. We survive, we rebuild, and we ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain. We are the Freemasons Republic. And today, we endured. Today, we prevailed. But we will never forget."
There was a moment of silence. A heavy, respectful silence, filled with grief, relief, and unspoken understanding. Slowly, soldiers began to lower their heads, murmuring prayers or words of remembrance. Some touched the dog tags of fallen comrades, others knelt in quiet reflection. Medics gently laid blankets over those who had been carried away, and the commandos held their posture, silent and solemn.
Sico lingered a moment longer, letting the gravity of the moment settle. The sun dipped lower behind the horizon, painting the ruins of Starlight in muted shades of orange and gray. The shadows seemed to stretch infinitely, yet within them, there was a sense of endurance with a fragile promise that the Freemasons had not only survived the battle, but that they would continue, no matter the cost.
Once the honor ritual had concluded, Sico signaled to Robert and MacCready to fall back. "Stay with your units, ensure the injured are secure," he said. "I'm going to check on the settlement itself."
The two commandos nodded, slipping back into the crowd of soldiers and medics who were already beginning the first steps of recovery: checking barricades, distributing water and rations, and tending to minor injuries.
Sico made his way toward the center of the settlement, where Rick, the newly appointed leader of Starlight Drive-In, waited. Rick was younger than most of the Freemasons Sico had seen in command, but his eyes were steady, determined, and weary from the demands of both leadership and survival. Dust and soot clung to his clothing, his arms were streaked with scrapes from defending barricades, and his jaw was tight with the stress of the battle he had just endured alongside his people.
"Sico," Rick said, his voice low but carrying a measure of authority. "Glad to see Starlight still standing. Thanks to you and your people, we're alive."
"Rick," Sico said, nodding, "first, I need to ask, where is the previous leader I put in charge? Is he—" He stopped, the unspoken word hanging in the air.
Rick's expression faltered for the briefest moment, then hardened. "He didn't make it," Rick said quietly. "During the initial assault. He fought bravely, held the line as long as he could, but the hounds and mutants overwhelmed the outer barricades. I… I took the reins after he fell. That's why I'm standing here."
Sico absorbed the weight of the statement, letting the silence stretch just long enough to honor the man who had given his life. "I see," he said finally, his voice quiet but measured. "And you did well. You held what you could, rallied the survivors, and kept the settlement from falling."
Rick nodded, shoulders stiff, gaze flicking toward the distant remnants of battle. "It wasn't easy," he admitted. "We lost a lot. People I knew, people I trained with. But we survived. Your team made sure of that. And I won't forget it."
Sico's eyes softened slightly, the faintest trace of empathy flickering through the stern mask he wore. "Good. That's what counts. Survival, unity, leadership under pressure. You've done what few could. Now tell me, how is the settlement holding up?"
Rick gestured toward the perimeter walls, some of which bore gaping holes from the Behemoth's assault, splintered wood, and scorch marks. A section of the main gate lay completely destroyed, torn from its hinges and smashed beyond repair. "Some of the walls need repair," he said, voice tight. "The gate is gone. We'll need to build a new one, stronger than before. The settlers, they're scared. Even after everything we've told them, they fear another attack. It's hard to convince people to feel safe when they've seen what those mutants can do."
Sico nodded, his mind already moving through the calculations of manpower, resources, and strategy. "Understood. We'll help. The walls can be reinforced, the gate rebuilt. Fear can be managed, but preparation is essential. We'll make sure the settlers know they are protected. This settlement will be a fortress, Rick. A safe haven in the Commonwealth. And we'll make sure no one doubts it again."
Rick exhaled slowly, relief flickering across his features. "Thank you, Sico. We'll need your people to help with the repairs and to reassure everyone. The survivors, they need to see strength, not just words."
"Then that's what they'll get," Sico said firmly. "We'll organize work squads, repair teams, and rotating patrols. No one will feel unprotected again. The Freemasons Republic doesn't abandon its allies. And Starlight will survive because we make it survive."
Rick's gaze softened, a mixture of respect, gratitude, and cautious hope. "Then let's get started," he said. "There's a lot to fix, and people need to know that life can continue here. That the attack was the worst it will ever be."
Sico placed a hand briefly on Rick's shoulder. "We'll do it together. Step by step, brick by brick. But first, make sure everyone is accounted for, every wounded stabilized, every survivor has someone to rely on. Then the work begins. You've got leadership, and now you've got support. Starlight Drive-In won't fall again, not while we're here."
Rick nodded, swallowing hard, and looked toward the remaining walls. "It's going to take time, but we'll rebuild. Stronger. Safer. And the settlers, I think they'll start to believe that soon enough."
Sico exhaled, feeling a faint weight lift from his shoulders as he glanced over the damaged but resilient settlement. The battle had been won, but the war for survival was never-ending. The Freemasons had done what they came to do—wipe out the super mutants, defend Starlight, and honor the fallen, but the real challenge was ensuring that the settlement would hold, that hope could be restored, and that the people would learn to stand tall again.
He turned back toward the perimeter, toward the soldiers and medics working in quiet determination, and toward the future that waited behind the smoke and rubble. The walls would be rebuilt, the gate reforged, and the survivors that terrified though they still were, would once again know what it meant to be safe.
Sico's hand brushed against the hum of his comms, the familiar vibration a reminder that leadership never stopped, even in moments of fragile peace. He looked at Rick one last time. "Lead them," he said, voice firm. "Guide them with purpose. Protect them. The Freemasons will back you, but you hold the heart of this settlement. Don't forget that."
Rick nodded, eyes resolute. "I won't."
Sico took a deep breath, scanning the horizon. The sun was nearly gone now, bleeding its last orange rays across the ruins, painting the shattered asphalt and broken barricades with light that felt almost like a promise. Somewhere in the distance, a few survivors began to whisper, sharing news of their victory, of the protection afforded to them, of the monsters that had been vanquished.
The horizon darkened with a deep indigo, the first hints of night settling over the ruins of Starlight Drive-In. Shadows stretched long across the broken asphalt, the jagged remnants of barricades, and the splintered walls, their edges outlined against the dying light. Smoke still curled faintly from scorched timber, lingering like a stubborn memory, but the oppressive chaos of battle had dissipated. The air, heavy with ash and the faint coppery tang of blood, now carried a quieter cadence with the shuffle of boots on debris, the soft murmur of survivors tending to the wounded, the distant hum of tanks idling in formation.
Sico exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Victory had been hard-fought, and the cost had been steep, but it was a victory nonetheless. And victory, he knew, meant more than surviving the fight as it meant ensuring the settlement could endure what came next.
He turned to Rick, who still stood a few paces away, surveying the broken walls. "Rick," Sico said, his voice firm but calm, "the battle is over, but the work has only begun. We need to stabilize this place, make it a true fortress, and ensure your settlers feel safe again. Step one is organization. Step two is fortification. Step three is vigilance."
Rick nodded, running a hand through his dirt-streaked hair, a shadow of exhaustion lining his face. "Understood. The walls, the gate, everything was shattered. We can rebuild, but it will take time and manpower."
Sico allowed a small, measured nod. "Time is something we have to buy with preparation. And manpower is something we'll supply. I need order, I need structure, and I need everyone focused. Right now, that means delegating responsibilities."
He turned slightly, his gaze sweeping across the soldiers and medics still moving among the wounded and shattered barricades. The hum of activity was almost comforting as a reminder that even in destruction, there was life, persistence, and the steady pulse of survival.
"Sarah," Sico called, his tone authoritative but layered with trust. The young lieutenant immediately stepped forward, wiping soot from her armor as her eyes locked on his. "You're with me. We'll stabilize the settlement. Coordinate with the squad leaders, medics, and repair teams. Make sure that every corner of this place is accounted for. No blind spots. No weaknesses. We secure the heart of Starlight first."
Sarah's gaze sharpened, her jaw tightening with determination. "Understood, sir. I'll move quickly and methodically. We'll make this place defensible again before nightfall."
Sico placed a firm hand on her shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of the trust he placed in her. "Good. Lead the teams, but don't overextend. Lives come first. Stabilize, then reinforce."
Turning to Preston, who had been helping redistribute ammunition and supplies to soldiers still reeling from exhaustion, Sico's tone shifted slightly, more commanding now, though still calm. "Preston, I want you to take the soldiers. Reinforce the defenses, start repairs on the walls immediately. Every plank, every beam, every barricade that can be restored, do it. And do it with discipline. Make sure the settlers know you're working for them, and that they can move safely around the settlement while you work."
Preston's eyes flickered with a mix of exhaustion and resolve. He straightened, nodding sharply. "Yes, sir. Soldiers are ready. We'll patch the walls, rebuild the gate, and fortify every weak point. They won't feel unsafe again while we're here."
Sico's eyes narrowed as he considered the periphery. The open expanse beyond Starlight's walls was still dangerous. The battle might have been won, but threats lingered, hidden in the darkness beyond the glow of the campfires and lanterns. "Robert, MacCready," he said, addressing the two commandos who had remained vigilant near the crater, their posture stiff, eyes scanning the horizon. "You take the Commandos. Patrol the surrounding area. Sweep it. Make sure nothing survives the battle unnoticed. I want perimeter security tight, no surprises. Keep rotating squads from day or night, I don't care. Protect Starlight, protect the settlers, and don't let your focus waver."
MacCready gave a firm, approving nod, his jaw set. "Understood, sir. We'll start patrols immediately. Nothing's getting past us."
Robert's eyes, grim beneath the layers of dust and grime, met Sico's. "We'll make sure the perimeter is secure. Any threat that's left standing gets neutralized."
"Good," Sico said. His voice was low but carried over the hushed murmurs of the settlement. "Coordinate with Preston and Sarah. Reinforce the walls, secure the wounded, and patrol the outskirts. Starlight survives because of vigilance, not luck. Make that clear to everyone."
The three nodded in unison, understanding the weight of the tasks ahead. Sico allowed himself a moment to watch them move off, Sarah leading teams to stabilize key points inside the settlement, Preston coordinating soldiers who began hauling debris, reinforcing wall sections, and gathering spare lumber and metal from nearby ruins, while Robert and MacCready organized squads for the first of several sweeping patrols around the perimeter.
Sico took a deep breath, scanning the settlement. The smell of smoke lingered faintly, the soft groans of the injured were being quieted by medics moving between stretchers, and the orange glow of lanterns reflected off steel and wood alike. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease marginally, replaced by the clarity that only came with purpose and direction.
He began walking toward the remaining walls, stepping carefully over broken boards and rubble. Every step was measured, every glance intentional. The damage was extensive, but repairable. Sections of wall were completely splintered, the gate obliterated beyond recognition, but the foundations held. It would take the combined efforts of soldiers, medics, and survivors to restore Starlight to a defensible state, but Sico knew it could be done.
As he approached the wall's northern section, he called out to a group of soldiers already working on reinforcing a collapsed barricade. "Check every joint. Make sure nails and supports are secure. Don't rush as structural integrity is more important than speed. If this wall holds, it keeps the settlement alive."
A soldier, exhausted but resolute, looked up and nodded. "Yes, sir. We're reinforcing it now."
Nearby, Sarah directed a team to stabilize the settlement's medical tents. "Spread the canvas tighter, secure all poles," she instructed, "and make sure the injured are moved to areas that are safe from falling debris. We can't afford accidents now."
Sico moved to the makeshift gate, where Preston had begun supervising soldiers who were salvaging steel beams and wooden panels from the wreckage. "The new gate must be functional and strong," Sico said, crouching to examine a beam. "No gaps. No weak points. If another attack comes, we'll hold them off here, not let them breach the settlement and risk lives inside."
Preston's hands tightened around a plank. "We'll make it strong enough to withstand anything. Reinforced steel, multiple locks, the works. They won't get through."
Satisfied, Sico straightened, eyes scanning the horizon once more. The darkness beyond Starlight's walls was almost tangible, an empty expanse that had to be watched. He saw Robert and MacCready leading their squads on patrol, moving like shadows along the perimeter, checking corners, ruins, and distant tree lines for any signs of lurking threats. Their discipline was precise, their movements silent but deliberate.
Sico allowed himself a brief moment to feel the hum of the settlement around him with the soldiers' steady efforts, the medics' quiet efficiency, the commandos' vigilant patrols. Each movement was a note in the complex symphony of rebuilding and protection. Even in the aftermath of carnage, life persisted, stubbornly refusing to yield to fear.
He walked toward Rick once more, who was coordinating a group of settlers moving supplies and helping clear rubble. "Rick," Sico said, voice calm but authoritative, "organize these settlers into work squads. Lumber, metal, and debris then divide it and distribute tasks. Everyone contributes. No one stands idle. Safety comes first, but action comes second. People feel empowered when they can help rebuild."
Rick nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'll assign teams. Some will help repair walls, some will help with the gate, and others will assist in fortifying the main structures. We'll get them moving efficiently."
"Good," Sico replied. "And rotate them. Exhaustion is the enemy. You'll need to monitor them, make sure no one is overworked, and rotate in soldiers to guide them. This is as much about morale as it is about defense. Keep the settlers confident that this settlement is alive and protected."
A gust of wind stirred loose dust and ash around them, brushing against Sico's face like a reminder of the chaos that had just passed. Yet in that wind, he sensed determination with the stubborn persistence of people who had survived against impossible odds. The Freemasons had shown them that, and now it was his job to ensure that confidence remained.
Sico's gaze shifted to the horizon once again. Darkness crept closer, swallowing the broken roads and distant trees in its inky blackness, yet the lights of Starlight with the glow from fires, lanterns, and medical tents that stood defiantly against it. The settlement was fragile, yes, but it was alive. And Sico knew that vigilance, preparation, and leadership would turn that fragility into resilience.
He checked his comms again, sending concise, deliberate updates: Sarah overseeing stabilization, Preston leading wall repairs and reinforcement, Robert and MacCready commanding patrols.
Sico lingered for a moment, letting the hum of activity settle in around him. Fires flickered in the evening breeze, lanterns swung gently from makeshift hooks, and the faint clatter of hammers and scraping metal echoed from teams working tirelessly to stabilize the walls. Every motion told him the same story: people were resilient, stubbornly determined to survive and rebuild, even when the weight of fear pressed heavy against their shoulders. But he knew instinctively that what they had here with scattered timber, salvaged steel, and dwindling resources that wasn't enough to repair the settlement entirely. Not after the Behemoth had ripped through the northern wall like a tempest, or after the gate had been smashed to kindling under the brute force of mutants and feral hounds.
Sico pulled a small, weathered radio from his belt, its surface scratched and worn from years of field use. He adjusted the frequency, feeling the comforting click of the dial, the slight static crackling in the earpiece. Sanctuary. Magnolia. If there was anyone who could supply what they needed, it was her and the settlements she commanded.
He pressed the transmitter button and spoke, his voice low but precise, carrying both authority and familiarity. "Magnolia, this is Sico. Do you copy?"
A faint crackle, then her warm, steady voice came through the static. "Sico! I hear you loud and clear. Sounds like Starlight's seen hell today. How bad is it?"
Sico allowed himself the smallest grimace, though his tone remained calm. "Walls are compromised, gate destroyed. Settlers are shaken, but they've survived. Medics and soldiers are on site, stabilizing what they can, but we'll need more materials to properly reinforce the settlement. Lumber, metal beams, supplies that enough to rebuild the wall and secure the perimeter."
There was a short pause, then Magnolia's voice carried a note of quiet determination. "Understood. I'll mobilize a convoy. How many trucks do you need?"
Sico considered for a moment, tallying in his mind the volume of debris, the number of soldiers, and the urgency of the repairs. "Five trucks, fully loaded," he replied. "Building materials, structural beams, supplies with everything you can spare. We need to ensure Starlight can withstand another attack if it comes."
Magnolia's voice was steady, practical. "Copy that, Sico. I'll assemble the convoy tonight. They'll depart at first light and arrive tomorrow. You'll have your materials and support. We'll make sure Starlight stands."
Sico felt a wave of relief ripple through him, a subtle but tangible easing of the tension in his shoulders. "Understood. I'll coordinate with Preston and the soldiers here to prepare a staging area for unloading. Make sure nothing is wasted and nothing left unattended. Time is precious."
Magnolia chuckled softly, a sound tinged with both reassurance and quiet pride. "You worry too much, Sico. But I'll make sure it's ready. Convoy arrives tomorrow. You'll get your reinforcement."
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Thank you, Magnolia. Keep me updated if anything changes."
"Always. Stay safe down there. I know you've got it under control, but keep your head down anyway."
Sico pressed the button to close the transmission and slipped the radio back onto his belt, the faint hum of static dying away. He exhaled slowly, letting the reassurance settle into him, grounding him. Supplies would come, walls would be reinforced, and the settlers would see once more that Starlight could endure.
Turning back toward the northern wall, Sico surveyed the ongoing repairs. Preston barked instructions, his voice sharp but steady, directing soldiers to fit beams, reinforce weak sections, and construct temporary supports. The settlers followed suit, lifting planks, hauling steel, and passing tools in coordinated motions that spoke of growing confidence, despite the terror etched into their eyes.
Nearby, Sarah knelt beside a sagging support post, examining the joint where timber met metal. "This support will hold if we reinforce the beams across," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I'm going to have two more teams focus here while others stabilize the tents and med bays."
Sico stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on her armored shoulder. "Good. Make sure each post is checked, double-checked if necessary. Safety first. This wall, these beams, they're more than wood and metal. They're protection for every life in this settlement."
Sarah nodded, her expression fierce with determination. "Understood, sir. We'll hold them up."
As night fell fully, the orange glow from fires and lanterns began to mingle with the rising moonlight, casting an ethereal silver across the walls, debris, and moving figures. Shadows danced along the repaired sections, as though the very night itself recognized the effort being made. Soldiers and settlers alike moved with care but purpose, hammering, lifting, and welding, the rhythmic clang of construction merging with the soft chatter of instructions.
Sico walked along the outer perimeter, stopping every few steps to inspect the work and offer guidance. Every plank, every brace, every welded joint was scrutinized that not for perfection, but for practicality, resilience, and life saving necessity.
He caught sight of Preston, sweat streaming down his face beneath the grime, shouting instructions over the clang of hammering. "Hold it steady! Get the brace under the right beam, don't let it wobble!"
Sico approached him, voice low but firm. "Preston, make sure you rotate the teams. We can't have exhaustion breaking concentration. A single mistake tonight could be deadly tomorrow."
Preston wiped his brow, nodding with acknowledgment. "Got it, sir. I've got runners bringing fresh squads every thirty minutes. No one overworked, no one cutting corners."
Satisfied, Sico continued along the northern stretch until he reached where Robert and MacCready had stationed their Commandos on patrol. The night was silent beyond the flickering lights, a stillness that seemed almost unnatural after the chaos of the day.
Robert shifted slightly, eyes scanning the tree line. "All clear in this sector, sir. We're moving clockwise. Nothing's getting past us."
MacCready adjusted his rifle sling, scanning further into the darkness. "There's a stillness out there, too quiet. But it's clear. For now."
Sico's eyes narrowed, studying the black expanse beyond the perimeter. "Keep it tight. Move in patterns. Sweep everything in and around the settlement. Don't underestimate the survivors of this battle as they're smart, they're fast, and they won't make the same mistake twice."
"Yes, sir," Robert replied, voice firm. "We'll keep the loops continuous, night and day if needed."
Sico turned and began walking back toward the settlement's interior, where Sarah and Preston coordinated the largest portion of reconstruction. He observed the settlers moving in careful lines, carrying materials under the watchful eye of soldiers. Children had been moved to temporary shelters in the center, away from construction, while elders kept to safer zones, observing the rebuilding effort with cautious hope.
He paused beside one group lifting a heavy steel beam into place. "Careful," Sico warned. "Balance, control, and communicate. If one person falters, everyone can get hurt."
The settlers nodded, grimacing but steady, placing the beam securely with help from soldiers. The wall began to take shape again, jagged at first but steadily forming a barrier that promised protection.
Sico moved to a makeshift command post, a table set atop a stack of crates, illuminated by a swinging lantern. He crouched over a rough map, marking areas of wall collapse, potential weak points, and supply staging areas for the incoming convoy. The moonlight reflected off the map, highlighting the careful lines and notations that represented both danger and hope.
He touched his comms again, sending a quick check to Magnolia. "Convoy expected tomorrow at first light. Prepare unloading zone near the northern wall. Keep it secure. We'll have soldiers assist with logistics."
Her voice crackled through almost immediately, tinged with warmth. "Copy that, Sico. Trucks will arrive fully loaded. I'll coordinate security at the staging point as well. You'll have everything ready when they reach Starlight."
Sico nodded to himself, the familiar weight of responsibility settling comfortably into place. Supplies would come. Reinforcements would arrive. Starlight's walls would rise, and the people inside would be safe and not just for tonight, but for the days and weeks to come.
He exhaled, listening to the symphony of the settlement from hammering, welding, shouted instructions, the occasional laughter of a settler encouraged by the presence of disciplined soldiers, the low hum of generators powering lanterns. Every sound told him one thing: people were holding, and they would continue to hold.
As he looked across the settlement, Sico allowed a faint, fleeting sense of hope to settle into him. The night was far from over, the work would be grueling, and danger still lurked beyond the perimeter, but for the first time since the battle had begun, he allowed himself to believe in a future. Not an easy future, not a perfect one but a future nonetheless.
And tomorrow, when the convoy arrived with supplies, when walls rose higher than before, and when gates could finally be rebuilt strong enough to keep any threat at bay, that future would be closer than it had ever been.
Sico adjusted his armor, brushing ash and soot from his shoulders, and began walking along the settlement again. He checked on the medics, nodded at the soldiers, reassured a few frightened settlers, and moved through the settlement with purpose. Every step was measured, deliberate with an unspoken promise that as long as he was here, as long as the Freemasons Republic stood, no one in Starlight would ever face a threat alone.
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.
________________________________________________
• 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:-