"Squad Leader — this is the 'leader's' private stash."
Shortly after Bryan finished dealing with the troublemakers, Kim Seong-min emerged from one of the buildings carrying a large bag, which he presented with a smirk.
Bryan looked inside. Firearms, some medical supplies — nothing extraordinary. "Anything else?"
"That's it."
Kim surveyed the golf course's existing structures and the makeshift shelters built around them. "I figure the only things of real value here are the crops and that fishing boat by the lake. Their 'pharmacy' is all expired stock. I picked through it — bandages, rubbing alcohol, the basics. Everything usable is in that bag."
"Fair enough." Bryan didn't push it. For a settlement of fewer than a hundred people, this was actually a decent haul.
As they spoke, Norman led Andrea's group and the freed prisoners out of the building — some walking under their own power, others being carried.
Bryan handed the bag back to Kim with a theatrical grin. "Go on then. Patch them up."
"Sure. You're the boss."
Kim rolled his eyes but accepted the bag without complaint. He walked over to the injured, had them line up, and got to work dressing wounds.
Bryan's attention drifted back to the kneeling crowd. A dilemma. Part of him considered the cleanest solution — eliminate them all, the way he'd handled the fighters. Pull the problem up by the roots.
They looked pitiful enough right now. But the people they'd caged in that dungeon were just as pitiful. And the travelers they'd murdered — they'd been someone's family too. Lives upon lives.
After a moment's deliberation, Bryan decided against it. Their fate could be left to someone with a better claim to pass judgment.
He turned to Wade and Norman. "Lock them all in the basement cells. We'll figure out what to do with them after everything else is sorted."
"Yes, sir."
The two soldiers herded the crowd toward the building, one leading, one trailing.
Once they were gone, Bryan found Andrea — still hovering anxiously over her injured companions — and tapped her shoulder. "Walk with me. We need to talk."
He didn't wait for a response, heading toward an open area away from the group.
Andrea glanced at the ongoing medical treatment, then followed. A smaller figure trailed silently behind her.
Bryan found a protruding rock and sat. He noticed Hannah shadowing Andrea but didn't comment. His eyes found the lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. "Have a seat. You know, this place actually has a nice view."
"You had something to say?" Andrea wasn't in the mood for scenery. Her people were in unknown condition, and idle chat felt obscene.
Bryan's lip twitched at her directness, but he got to the point. "Three things. First — you have a traitor in your group."
"A traitor?" Andrea's reflex was immediate. "That's impossible."
"Nothing's impossible." Bryan had expected the denial. "One of the prisoners told me. Someone named Dick — said he didn't want to go to the QZ, wanted to stay here. He's been feeding them information the entire time. Your people got captured because of him."
Andrea stared at Bryan, searching his face for any sign of deception. But she knew he had no reason to lie. The image of Ford — tortured to death on that cross — flashed through her mind. Her fists clenched so hard her knuckles went white, and she ground out each syllable through gritted teeth:
"That... son of a... bitch."
Hannah moved to her sister's side instantly, taking her hand, trying to soothe the fury. But beneath her own composed exterior, a cold light flickered in the girl's eyes — the look of someone already calculating how to kill.
Bryan noticed. He studied Hannah with renewed interest. This girl — young as she was — possessed an unusual combination of skill and emotional discipline. A gifted archer who knew how to keep her head when everything around her was on fire. Stronger than her sister in several crucial ways. Still raw, still developing — but given time, she could become formidable.
Once both sisters had calmed, he continued. "Second — the survivors locked in the basement. That's your call."
"Our call?" Andrea blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what you think it means."
Bryan read her thoughts instantly and gave her a you-guessed-it look. "We don't have any personal grudge against these people. We killed a few, took some supplies — but they're the ones who imprisoned and tortured your people. One of yours died down there. So their fate is yours to decide. Saves me the trouble."
Andrea and Hannah exchanged stunned looks. No personal grudge? Just killed a few people? He'd dismantled their entire operation and called it nothing.
"Anyway — that's settled."
Before Andrea could object, Bryan raised a hand. "Third thing. Most important. Do you still want to go to the Quarantine Zone?"
The question caught Andrea off guard. "Of course. We traveled all this way specifically to get there."
Bryan rubbed his fingers together thoughtfully, silent for a long moment. "Since fate brought us together in this little town, I won't sugarcoat it. The QZ isn't what you think it is."
Andrea sat down heavily on the ground and simply watched him, too overwhelmed by the flood of information to speak anymore. She'd wait until he was done.
Bryan obliged. He laid out the current state of the Quarantine Zone — the corruption, the Firefly insurgency, the daily tensions, the curfews, the rationing. He omitted classified details, but the broad picture was bleak enough.
"So — knowing all that, do you still want to go?"
Andrea lowered her head, expression shifting between light and shadow. The QZ she'd imagined — a safe haven, walls keeping the horrors out — now looked more like a pressure cooker with its own brand of danger.
But after a long silence, she shook her head with a weary smile. "Where else would we go?"
Bryan's lips curved. He'd been waiting for that. "You could stay here."
"...Here?"
"Think about it." He took a sip from his flask and gestured at the compound around them. "We came out with three vehicles — we can only take half of what's here. The rest would just sit and rot. This place has solid defenses, existing buildings, and established crop fields. For a group that just wants to live in peace, you could do a lot worse."
Andrea looked around — the walls, the structures, the green fields — and felt a genuine pull. No food shortages. No fighting for scraps. No waiting for the next Firefly bombing.
"Why are you helping us?" The question came with a sharp edge of suspicion. Why would a QZ soldier go this far for a small, insignificant survivor group?
"Relax." Bryan waved dismissively. "I like you people, that's all. Consider it making friends. More friends means fewer enemies."
Andrea held his gaze for a long beat, then dropped it. "I need to discuss this with my group. I can't give you an answer right now."
"No rush. We leave tomorrow. Just let me know by noon."
Andrea nodded and turned to go, then paused. "My other people — the ones still at the school. If they could—"
"Stop right there." Bryan cut her off before she could finish. "My convoy has limited capacity. I can't take passengers who aren't part of the mission."
Andrea's mouth opened, then closed. The flat indifference on his face told her everything she needed to know. With a quiet sigh, she took Hannah and left.
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