"Commander, you need to see this."
The voice came from the doorway of the TOC. Albert look up immediately.
Sergeant Vega stood there, headset around his neck, tablet in hand, posture halfway between formal and urgent.
Albert stepped away from the map table. "What's wrong?"
"It's about one of the survivors," Vega said. "Patient Ten. Doctor Ishikawa requested your presence at the med bay."
Ward, who was leaning over a logistics display, glanced up. "That's the one you spoke with."
"Yeah," Vega said. "She's awake now. Fully conscious. Talking. Ishikawa says you should hear it yourself."
Albert exchanged a look with Ward. It wasn't relief they felt. It wasn't even hope.
It was readiness.
They'd pulled fifteen women out of hell. Every one of them was fighting a different battle now—and some battles were worse than the ones fought with rifles.
"Let's go," Albert said.
He grabbed his helmet, clipped it to his vest, and exited the TOC with Ward falling into step beside him.
