With that, he handed the clipboard back to Sophie and stepped away, watching as the squads began to disperse into their new leadership clusters—some speaking, some moving silently into formation.
Soon fifteen minutes passed by, and the sun was now high enough to gleam off the steel of weapons, helmets, and vehicle panels. The flags of their squads—recently stitched, barely worn—fluttered in the wind like they belonged there all along.
A final clang of the loading ramp echoed across the compound, sharp and decisive, as the last transport vehicle sealed shut. Crates of supplies, reinforced cases of spare communication gear, fuel canisters, water tanks, and compact medical units had been double-checked and locked in.
Around them, the steady hum of awakening engines rippled through the compound, sending brief tremors through the packed earth beneath their boots. The convoy was ready.
