The moment we passed through the huge steel gate, the rules of our survival fundamentally changed. The Citadel was an environment of intense, rigid control. The first things we noticed were the silence—not the deathly silence of the outside world, but the enforced silence of discipline—and the blindingly clean air, stripped of dust and decay. We were immediately segregated into a decontamination area.
The two guards, their faces impassive behind their helmets, efficiently disarmed us, taking every piece of gear, including our cherished walkie-talkies. We were then subjected to a rigorous physical and medical screening. Jesse and Lexi, along with the rest of the Humboldt Column, were processed first. As I waited my turn, the feeling of vulnerability was unnerving. Without my weapons, without my comms, and without Lexi immediately by my side, I felt exposed and strangely weak.
When it was my turn, I was stripped of my ragged, travel-stained clothes, put through a powerful decontamination wash, and given a fresh, neutral gray uniform—the uniform of the Citadel. It felt strange and heavy, a symbol of my new, regulated status.
The final stage of the entry protocol was the Interrogation and Assessment. I was led into a small, brightly lit room where Valerie sat at a metal table facing a woman whose authority was palpable. This was Commander Elise, a stern, silver-haired woman in a crisp uniform, flanked by the deep-voiced man I recognized as Citadel Command from the radio.
Commander Elise didn't waste time on pleasantries. Her questions were sharp and targeted: my skills, my knowledge of the Rot, my involvement in the Humboldt Column's survival, and, most critically, my relationship with Lexi and Jesse.
"Your team exhibited remarkable coordination and competence under duress, James Seray," Commander Elise stated, folding her hands neatly on the table. "Your comms skills and Ms. Manning's logistics were vital in bringing the Column through Viper territory. However, the Citadel's security requires absolute loyalty and integration. You arrived as a highly cohesive, independent unit. We require loyalty to the Citadel first."
I maintained my composure, sticking to the blueprint Lexi and I had prepared. "My team's loyalty is to the goal of survival, Commander. Our effectiveness is maximal when we operate as a cohesive unit. Jesse's medical skills, Lexi's logistics, and my reconnaissance are a vital package. We are more valuable to the Citadel working together than separated."
Commander Elise studied me for a long moment, a slight, calculating look in her eyes. "Ms. Manning is already showing an impressive understanding of our current inventory shortfalls. Mr. Jaytor is needed immediately in the Infirmary. We will separate you to assess your individual commitment."
The threat was immediate and real. I felt a spike of panic, but I held my voice firm. "Commander, my expertise in long-range communications and external threat assessment is tied directly to the field operations Lexi understands. Splitting us compromises the efficacy of both roles. We respectfully request assignment as a Field Operations Core, reporting directly to your Command, or at least a placement that ensures immediate operational cohesion."
The negotiation was tense, a battle of wills and politics. I was fighting for my future and for the preservation of my relationship with Lexi. Commander Elise finally gave a sharp nod. "Very well. Your audacity is noted. You will be temporarily housed together. You and Ms. Manning will be assigned to the External Security Division for a probationary period. Your performance will determine your permanence here, James. Failure to comply with any order will result in immediate separation."
We had won the first, crucial battle. We were together, and we were integrated into the Citadel's core operational branch. As I was led away, I caught Lexi's eye across the crowded reception area. She gave me a tiny, almost imperceptible nod—the silent acknowledgment of our first victory inside the walls.