The reconstruction began before dawn.
Heavy machinery—hundreds of units—swarmed across the city like living metal. Tower cranes unfolded from underground storage bays, locking into place with hydraulic bangs that echoed through the ruins. Gigantic mechanical arms swept debris aside, shredding cars and collapsed buildings into molten scrap that was instantly repurposed.
For the first time since the apocalypse began, the city grew, instead of died.
Kane stood atop a half-finished parapet as the dome framework expanded outward like a mechanical flower blooming over the skyline. Steel ribs arched into the sky, curving and locking together with magnetic snaps. Drones zipped through the air, weaving energy membranes between the metal skeleton.
The dome's first layer was forming.
The survivors—those who chose to stay—watched in stunned awe.
Some whispered.
Some prayed.
Some simply stared, unable to process the transformation.
The humanoid androids moved among them, guiding them toward their first tasks: temporary housing, ration collection, and registration for training.
Kane's voice echoed through the worksite:
"From this moment on, you are citizens of New Bastion."
A name once buried in his future memories—now born early.
A woman approached, clutching her young son's hand. "Commander… is this really going to protect us?"
Kane looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"From zombies? Yes."
He paused.
"From what's coming? It's a start."
---
Inside the New Training Grounds
The survivors chosen to stay marched into the repurposed stadium—now a fortified training sector ringed with holographic barriers and automated instructors.
Their first shock came immediately.
As they entered, another group exited through the opposite gate.
Not androids.
Not machines.
Humans.
But changed.
Faster.
Sharper.
Eyes glowing faintly from controlled mutation injections—trace amounts harvested and stabilized from the virus samples Kane collected.
A man whispered, "What… what did he turn them into?"
Kane, watching from a raised platform, answered them:
"Not monsters. Not soldiers."
He folded his arms.
"Survivors built for the world that's coming."
The training instructors—both androids and enhanced humans—demonstrated combat routines with fluid precision. Gunfire echoed through the chamber as drones launched attack patterns survivors would one day face outside the dome.
"Training begins in one hour," Kane announced. "Your limits won't matter. They will be broken."
Some survivors looked inspired.
Others terrified.
But none walked away.
---
The City Takes Shape
Throughout the day, the dome's structure expanded, sealing district after district. Solar membranes unfurled along the arching ribs, capturing energy from even the smothered sun. Shield generators powered up, casting protective hums across the city.
Below, the streets transformed:
Barricades replaced broken vehicles.
Defensive turrets emerged from rooftops.
Bio-scanners were installed at every entrance.
Underground farms activated, their artificial sunlamps glowing like captured stars.
Humanoid androids carried steel beams and laid power grids with impossible precision. Combat units patrolled from above, their shadows sweeping across fresh construction.
Kane inspected everything.
Not as a leader.
As an architect of survival.
"Progress?" he asked the AI.
"Dome at 18% completion. Internal systems at 42%. New civilian housing at 33%. Predicted full operational readiness: six days."
Kane nodded. "Begin phase alignment for outer districts."
"Yes, Commander."
Then the AI added:
"Alien probe signal has increased in frequency."
Kane's jaw tightened.
"Let them watch."
---
The Departing Citizens
At the far western gate—now reinforced with towering steel barriers—the group of civilians who chose to leave prepared for departure.
Humanoid android escorts stood ready with supply crates and anti-zombie weapons.
Kane personally oversaw the activation of their convoy vehicles—armored transports strengthened with repurposed plate metal.
A man from the departing group approached him nervously.
"Why are you letting us go? Most people in power wouldn't."
Kane didn't answer right away. He stared at the burning horizon, where distant cities still crawled with infected.
"Because people forced to stay become liabilities," he finally said. "You made your choice. That makes you predictable."
The man swallowed hard, but nodded.
Kane turned to the androids.
"Get them to the military shelter. If anything threatens them, erase it."
"Yes, Commander."
As the convoy rolled out, one small girl pressed her face to the rear window, staring back at the dome city rising behind her.
A sanctuary born from disaster.
A fortress preparing for war.
---
The Baby and the Unseen Plan
Deep underground, the child Kane rescued slept in her climate-controlled nursery. The specialized caretaker androids—programmed with human warmth and protective aggression—monitored her day and night.
The AI approached Kane privately.
"Her immunity markers are accelerating. The controlled environment and your stabilized virus samples are enhancing her natural resistance."
Kane stared at the sleeping child on the screen.
"She will be the key," he whispered.
"To what?"
"To surviving the aliens."
The AI paused.
"You are prioritizing her above the other citizens."
"No," Kane said calmly.
"I am prioritizing humanity's future."
The android caretakers adjusted blankets around the child gently—unaware that Kane had designed them with one secret directive:
Her life outweighs all protocols.
---
The Alien Signal Grows
That night, while the dome rose another 7%, Kane stood atop a high scaffold, staring at the clouded sky.
A faint blue streak passed overhead again—slower this time.
Scanning.
Watching.
Judging.
The AI chimed urgently.
"Commander… triangulation complete. That was no simple probe."
"What was it?"
"A pre-invasion scout."
Kane's expression hardened like steel.
"Then we build faster."
The machines below intensified, their lights blazing brighter as the dome city took shape around them.
The world thought the apocalypse had been the end.
But for Kane Mercer—
It was only the beginning.