Ronnie brought David to their table that night, and they both had news to share. Their guests would be staying another few days, particularly because there had previously been several earlier scattered reports and sightings that sounded like the same organization. By way of 'flipping' Seb, capturing a sizable amount of their gear, and winning two engagements with their forces, the Broadway folks had confirmed the group's identity and gathered the largest intel haul to date.

The visitors would be setting up a small operational camp / motor pool in a parking lot just outside the east gate — Broadway had already been preparing it as a layover for the other occasional caravans. Their folks who were off duty would be setting up sleeping arrangements sheltered under the bridge, except for a few specialists who were squeezing in to the larger of the interior residential spaces to be as close as possible to their local counterparts. There was also talk of stationing two to three personnel onsite long term to help with security and collaboration. Rufus was unsurprisingly popular, trading morale benefits for productivity slowdowns in his vicinity.

Ronnie and David did most of the talking during the evening, with Bex and Sam mostly only chiming in with the occasional question. Everyone hung around for a while when Trent's transitioned from a diner role to its evening bar identity, and while both young women were comfortable in the current-and-former-military-dense environment, the conversations gradually became more unintentionally foreign feeling, and the two of them were tired.

As they were preparing to exit, Sam caught Rebecca's arm. "Hey, Sparky. It's okay if you don't want to, but... I was kind of hoping you might stay with me tonight? I'm not... trying to get frisky on you, but would really like you to be there."

Bex was surprised, but smiled. "Oh! Uh... of course. That sounds nice."

Oddly, Sam seemed more relieved than excited. "Okay. How about I take Rufus topside for a bedtime pee, and you can get whatever you need?"

**

Sam's workshop was in the same underground set of rooms as the mess, Lassart's, and a number of the other shared sleeping chambers. Rebecca arrived feeling like a kid going to a slumber party, with a change of clothes in a day pack and her bedroll and pillow lashed to that loosely. Sam called for her to enter after a light knock, and Rebecca closed the door behind her as gently as she could.

Rufus was working on a rawhide treat near the door, but his pace was definitely winding down. Several glowing power indicators faintly illuminated a workbench along the right wall, and she could make out the shadowy edges of one of Broadway's handful of functioning laptops, a soldering station, and an assortment of test equipment like Sam's multimeter and an oscilloscope.

The middle third or so of the room was occupied by a wooden project table, with power cables draped down from above in orderly bundles. One of those lines must have been feeding the battery charger blinking away in the dark. The left wall was concealed by a row of storage cabinets and stacks of heavy duty tote bins until the rear corner, where two whiteboards gave Sam some brainstorming space, though the writing was illegible in the low light.

The only significant illumination was spilling through an opening in the fabric screening off the rear of the room, from the edge of the whiteboard to the right wall, as private space. Appropriately, Bex noticed it hung from repurposed electrical conduit as she made her way past the faintly ticking battery charger.

She poked her head through the drapes with a quiet "Knock knock!" and found Sam facing away from her, shaking a sleeping bag out across the floor, wearing loose blue pajama shorts and a grey tank top that probably ended just below her navel. As Bex looked around the rest of the space, she noticed the delightfully squishy carpet and kicked her shoes off, nudging them back onto the concrete floor. She was enjoying wiggling her toes in it briefly when Sam stood back up and turned to face her.

Solace & TaprootsWhere stories live. Discover now