It was early morning. Gavin drove his morning patrol, watching the sun climb over the valley ridge and spilling gold across the scrub hills. The drills were hard at work, impossible to miss, and even from a distance, they made his skin crawl. Massive structures, cwing at the ground with metal teeth, day and night.

  And he wasn't too proud to admit it—they freaked him out. What if they broke their human-coded limits? What if they kept drilling? What if they went deep enough to crack the moon just to stop working? He'd spent too many long hours patrolling empty stretches. His mind went pces, conjuring up worst-case scenarios that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  But at his core, Gavin was just a tired, hungry teddy bear with bad knees and too much time to think. A gruff exterior hid a gentle soul, one that still carried the weight of past traumas and lingering guilt. He drove out a little further than normal, his truck kicking up dust as he ventured off the beaten path. He usually looped around Virelli's Farm, though there hadn't been a reason in years. It was long abandoned, the charred remains of the homestead a grim reminder of the tragedy that had befallen the family. Anything of value had been destroyed in the fire, or so he thought, the memories of that night still seared into his mind like a brand.

  He stuck to the high ridges, like he had during recon runs in the war. Easier to track movement, and harder to be seen. His cybernetic eye flickered and zoomed as he scanned the nd—and caught something. Movement, as the mountain rock opened. What the hell? There was a seam in the stone that didn't belong, one he'd never noticed before.

  Then she stepped out of it, Mia Virelli emerging from what seemed like the very rock itself.

  "Huh..." Gavin pulled to a complete stop, stepped out from his hidden vantage point, and moved a little closer, his boots crunching on the dusty terrain. He watched as she adjusted her sleeves, brushed her hair from her face, and walked into the sunlight like she owned it, like this hidden pce was simply another part of her domain.

  Wherever she came from had been built directly into the canyon wall, seamlessly integrated. It wasn't on any registry or blueprint. When he first nded on this moon with Dane, he made a point of learning its nooks and crannies, studying every map and surveying the ndscape. Or at least, he thought he had. This pce was new, unknown to him.

  He didn't know what the building was, but if he had to guess, it was some kind of fallout shelter. A safety room, constructed with the same meticulous care as the rest of the Virelli homestead, but hidden from view. Caelen and Jeren had been former soldiers, after all. He'd skimmed their military public files out of curiosity. Her mother had been a pilot—a good one, decorated for her skills. And though her father's record was more vague, the nickname "Bonesaw" that Moozy used hinted at a darker past, one earned through the brutal necessities of war.

  He could appreciate wanting a protective, hidden shelter after the horrors they'd witnessed. Those two had come back from combat with a child to raise, Mia, their precious legacy. They would have done anything to keep her safe, even building an entire concealed sanctuary into the rock itself.

  Carefully, he walked the ridge, tracing along the edge of her property line, his cybernetic eye scanning every inch. With his augmented vision, he spotted more - proximity sensors, motion detectors, an old drone rigged into a scanner system. She'd fortified the pce, ringed it with security measures. Smart, considering she lived next to a town that barely tolerated her presence, that had turned on her family years ago. She'd hidden them well, camoufged into the very nd itself. He only spotted them because of the eye's enhanced capabilities.

  Quietly leaving, he climbed back into his beat-up truck and headed toward town, still thinking about Mia's hidden shelter. He pulled into the back lot of the sheriff's office, the tires crunching on the gravel. The streets were waking up slow, the morning haze just starting to burn off. There was a windstorm rolling in, supposed to nd sometime next week. The kind that rattled windows and tore at the power grid, making the old tech groan.

  He'd used it as an excuse to check the Virelli property, but truth was, he worried about her. Dane had told him she only had a sleeping bag, some clothes, and light provisions when she first returned. He was relieved she had the fortified shelter to fall back on, even if it raised more questions than answers.

  Still left him with questions about what she was really up to, why she had come back after all this time. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside for now as he headed to The Rook's—the best, tavern on the moon. Not that there was competition for that title. Hal gave him a grunt in greeting as he stepped inside, the familiar scents of stale beer and old wood filling his nose.

  Hal had been a mentor to him when he and Dane first arrived in this dusty town years ago. Gavin had the cybernetic arm since the war, but the leg was new back then—repcing the one he lost protecting Dane and Elian from that disastrous ambush. He didn't regret it, not for a second, but adjusting to the leg had been rough in those early days.

  Hal got it, though. The older man had four limbs repced with machine parts, his body more metal than flesh at this point. A quiet, stoic presence who said little but commanded respect. Buzzed hair, scruffy beard the color of burnished steel. All warlines, burns, and bulk. A walking fortress, unshakable.

  The smell of fresh bread wafted in as Moozy poked his head through the doorway separating the bakery and the tavern. At some point, Hal had punched a hole between the two buildings—people were always bringing Moozy's food in to pair with their drinks anyway. Moozy made the best baked goods this side of the gaxy, the fky crusts and sweet fillings absolute perfection. Hal's specialty was his famous meaty stew, thick and hearty, the perfect fuel for cybs like them.

  "You hungry?" Moozy hollered, his booming voice echoing through the tavern.

  Hal gave Gavin a look, one eyebrow arched. Of course he was. Gavin was always hungry, his cybernetic body burning through calories at an astonishing rate. Moozy ughed, the sound deep and rumbling from his barrel chest, and left to get loaded up with enough food for three grown men.

  Gavin tossed a well-loved rope toy to Moozy's shaggy mutt, the dog happily gnawing on it as he scratched behind the ear of one of Hal's dozen "not-my-cats" that lounged zily around the tavern. The calico purred contentedly, arching into Gavin's calloused palm.

  Hal was polishing the bar with practiced, efficient strokes, prepping the worn wood for the shuttle workers that'd arrive in a few hours looking for a stiff drink and a hot meal. He surprised Gavin when he spoke up, his gravelly voice a low rumble.

  "Heard the Virelli girl is back. She gonna be trouble?" Hal rasped, not looking up from his work.

  Gavin shrugged, his cybernetic shoulder whirring softly as he continued petting the demanding calico. "Not a fucking clue. She's quiet. Keeping to herself out there in that old homestead." He kept his tone casual, asked, "What's the vibe been since she rolled back into town?"

  Hal wiped the counter again with the same methodical strokes. "No spike in drinking. Everyone just waitin' and watchin'," he grunted.

  Gavin nodded, unsurprised. Moozy came up behind him then, holding out a bulging sack of food, the scents of fresh bread and savory stew wafting from within. Gavin thought about asking the old baker about Mia, the girl he used to dote on, but caught the stiffness in Moozy's broad shoulders and the tightness around his eyes, and let it go.

  With a two-finger salute to Hal, he took the food and headed back to the sheriff's office, his mind churning.

  Dane was out. His office door stood open. Gavin could hear loud snores echoing from the cell. Setting his bag down, he peeked in—same drunk from his own patrol a few nights ago. Dane must've picked him up on night shift.

  At his desk, Gavin pulled up Mia's old property records and dug through the blueprints. Between spoonfuls of mystery meat stew, he muttered, "Those Virellis were smart. Damn smart." The canyon was technically part of the Virelli property. Unregistered additions weren't uncommon. Technically illegal. But not worth hassling a veteran family who just wanted to survive. He made a few notes on his datapad, updating his patrol map. Mia's pce was now a permanent checkpoint.

  He would keep to the ridgelines, to make sure he wouldn't trip her sensors. His cybernetic eye could detect most tripwire signals, but he didn't want to risk it. Not yet. He didn't think she was dangerous, at least not anymore.

  To him, she'd paid her debt. That was why the system was there, to punish, to detour future crime, and to let people pay their debt for breaking ws. Far as he could tell, she just wanted to live her life in peace.

  It was too early to say for sure—it'd only been a few days—but she was a woman hurting. Dane didn't see it. He had expected breakdowns, hysterics. But that wasn't Mia. She moved with a quiet determination, a strength that Gavin recognized from the war. He could respect that she just wanted to be.