The silence in the base was sharp.
Sector 2 was burning.
Smoke spiralled upward in slow, bitter coils from the demolished gate, and the air was thick with the sting of scorched metal and the faint, coppery tang of blood.
Civilians who had gathered near the walls to watch the chase unfold were now scattered, murmuring, clutching children.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, swallowed by the rumble of emergency vehicles and the clipped shouts of soldiers trying to restore order. Emergency lights bathed everything in flashing red.
They'd seen it all.
The flash of the truck barreling toward the gate.
The bursts of gunfire that echoed through the base.
A few stunned medical techs worked swiftly under emergency floodlights, setting up triage tents for the injured.
Adrian sat on the edge of a medical cot, shirt peeled back, his thigh wrapped and shoulder freshly stitched.
