We started moving again, the creek bed angling closer to the outpost with every step. I could hear the orcs talking—guttural sounds and rough laughter. Normal conversation, which meant they still didn't know about the rescue.

  Fifty yards. The injured kid made a small sound of pain as Brian and Emily maneuvered him around a fallen log. I held my breath, but the orc conversation continued without pause.

  Forty yards. Harvey started to wander toward the bank. Jayden caught his arm, guided him back. Becky was moving better now, fear giving her strength she didn't know she had.

  Thirty yards. We were almost past when one of the orcs stood up, stretching and looking around casually.

  Twenty yards. His gaze swept over our position and kept going. We were invisible in the streambed's shadows, just shapes that could have been anything.

  Ten yards. Clear. We were actually going to—

  Evan's splinted leg caught on a root and he cried out. Not loud, but loud enough.

  Both orcs turned toward the sound, alert now, weapons coming up. I had maybe two seconds before they started shouting.

  My Remington was already in my hand. First shot took the standing orc center mass, the mana-infused round punching through his chest and dropping him off the platform. The second orc was scrambling for a horn when my second shot caught him in the head.

  Silence. Then the sound of bodies hitting the ground.

  "Move. Everyone move, now."

  We hustled past the outpost, and I couldn't help but notice the dice still scattered on the platform, the game interrupted mid-roll. Two orcs who'd been playing dice one second, dead the next. System-spawned or not, they'd been laughing about something. Having fun between guard shifts.

  Did that matter? They were monsters. Dungeon spawn, probably. But they played dice. They laughed. They—

  I pushed the thought away. No time for that rabbit hole. Not now.

  We'd been moving for another hour when Tommy finally called a halt in a thick grove of trees. Three miles from the orc settlement. Far enough to rest, close enough that we weren't safe.

  "How's everyone holding up?"

  "Evan needs proper medical attention," Brian reported, his face drawn with exhaustion. "I've done what I can, but that leg needs more intensive healing I can't do on the run, or he'll never walk right again."

  "Becky's doing better," the woman said. The teenage girl was sitting against a tree, still pale but more alert. "Just exhausted."

  "What about him?" I nodded toward Harvey, who was staring at nothing with empty eyes.

  "Harvey was a teacher before... before all this," the woman said quietly. "They made him watch things. Made him do things. I don't know if he'll ever come back from that."

  The weight of what we'd taken on was starting to hit. This wasn't just about getting people to safety. Some of these people might never really be safe again, not in their own minds.

  "We need information," Tommy said gently. "About the settlement, how it's organized, how many people they're holding."

  The woman nodded. "I can tell you what I know. But it's... it's bad."

  I settled in to listen, though part of me wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. Sometimes knowing made things worse. Sometimes you had to know anyway.

  "My name is Linda Morrison." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I was taken from Gray Prairie, maybe twenty miles north of here. Three weeks ago? Time gets... fuzzy." She stopped, breathing hard. "They came at night. Becky here was from the same place. They took anyone between fourteen and forty. Killed..." She choked on the word. "Killed the rest."

  Becky made a small sound, and Linda reached over to squeeze her hand with shaking fingers.

  "The settlement. It's not just orcs." Linda's eyes were unfocused, seeing something we couldn't. "There are humans there too. Most of them prisoners like us, but... some of them don't fight anymore. They just do what they're told."

  "How many people are they holding?"

  "I don't know exactly. They keep us separated. But from what I've seen, heard... maybe sixty? Seventy? And they're always bringing in more."

  Seven saved. Sixty-something condemned. Not because I chose it, but because that's all we could manage without dying ourselves.

  Dad's voice in my head: "You can't save everyone, son." Except it wasn't really his voice anymore. Just what I thought he'd say. Six months since he died and I was already forgetting how he actually sounded.

  The math was simple. The math was killing me anyway.

  "Hey." Emily's voice, quiet beside me. "You're doing the thing."

  "What thing?"

  "The thing where you try to carry the whole world and blame yourself when you can't."

  She was right. She was always right. But knowing that didn't stop my brain from showing me those faces we'd leave behind. Didn't stop me from wondering which of them had kids. Which of them had almost made it to safety before the orcs came. Which of them still thought someone might come for them.

  "There's something else." Linda's voice dropped even lower. "They're not just making us work. They're experimenting. Trying to figure out how the System works. How to make humans do things they can't do themselves."

  "What kind of things?"

  "Building. The orcs forced enough of us together to form a village—twenty people in one place. Once the System recognized it as a settlement, they started experimenting with the village interface." She was shaking now. "They make people operate it for them, try different things. Building structures, managing resources. They're learning how the System works by using us as... as tools."

  My brain started putting pieces together. That's how they were managing all that systemized construction we'd seen. They had enslaved people operating settlement controls while orcs directed the work. Like having prisoners run the quest system for them.

  "Did you see what they're building?"

  "Military structures mostly. Barracks, armories, defensive walls. But there was something else. Something they kept heavily guarded. A building that looked different from the rest. More... complicated."

  "Command center?" Tommy suggested.

  "Maybe. Or something worse." Linda was hugging herself now, lost in memories. "They made us watch sometimes. When people tried to escape. When people wouldn't cooperate. They made us watch what happened to them."

  Randy had been quiet during the whole debriefing, but now he spoke up. "The torches. They're moving away from us, heading south."

  I looked through the trees and could see distant lights moving in the wrong direction. Either they'd lost our trail, or—

  "It's a search pattern," Tommy said quietly. "They're being systematic. They'll find us eventually."

  "How long until dawn?"

  "Maybe three hours," Tommy replied. "We should reach the edge of their territory by then if we keep moving."

  "Can everyone handle three more hours?"

  Linda looked at the others, then back at me. Something had changed in her eyes during the telling. The hope was still there, but harder now. More real.

  "We can handle it. We've made it this far."

  Becky nodded, and even Harvey seemed more present, like hearing Linda's voice had pulled him back from wherever he'd gone.

  "Then we keep moving. Tommy, lead the way home."

  As we packed up to leave, Emily fell into step beside me. Her hand brushed mine—deliberate, not accidental.

  "You did good back there. The decision to take everyone, even when it got complicated."

  "We're not home yet."

  "No, but we will be." She squeezed my hand once, then let go. Professional. We had civilians watching. "And when we get there, we'll have seven people who are free instead of enslaved, plus intelligence that could save the others."

  She was right, but I couldn't shake the image of those dice scattered on the platform. Two dead orcs who'd just been playing a game. Seven rescued people who might be too broken to really save. Sixty more still in chains.

  The orc kingdom wasn't just a threat to trade routes or isolated settlements. It was a systematic operation designed to exploit the UDS itself, using enslaved people as tools to build military infrastructure. And now they knew we were watching.

  As we moved through the darkness, Becky stumbled and I caught her arm, steadying her. She looked up at me with eyes too old for her face.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "Even if we don't make it. Thank you for trying."

  "We're going to make it," I told her, and tried to make myself believe it.

  Behind us, the torches kept searching. Ahead, the darkness stretched on, and somewhere beyond it was home. Columbia. Safety. A council that would want to know everything we'd learned and what we planned to do about it.

  Yellen had wanted reconnaissance. We'd brought back refugees and intelligence that changed everything. The orcs weren't just raiders anymore. They were empire builders, and they were using our own people to do it.

  The math was simple and terrible. Seventy prisoners we knew about. Probably more we didn't. A systematic operation that turned human suffering into military advantage.

  And us—six fighters who'd barely managed to save seven.

  But seven was better than zero. Seven people who would see the sun rise as free humans tomorrow. That had to count for something.

  Even if it wasn't nearly enough.

  Chapter 15: UDS Day 198

  The knocking started soft—like whoever was on the other side was having second thoughts about waking someone who might shoot them. Fair. After hauling civilians through orc territory, my nerves were shot to hell and my trigger finger had opinions about unexpected visitors.

  I groaned and tried to become one with my pillow. Every muscle screamed. The scratches across my ribs burned like someone was tracing them with hot wire. The knock came again and my whole body jerked, brain still thinking patrol before remembering I was in a bed, not pressed flat against cold ground watching orcs pass ten feet away.

  I'd crashed hard last night—face-first into bed, still wearing trail clothes that smelled like fear-sweat, orc camp, and that metallic stench that clung to everything near their settlements. Should've cleaned up. Should've done a lot of things. My body had other opinions.

  Knock knock knock.

  More urgent now. Official urgent.

  "Caden?" Young voice through the door. "Are you awake? It's important."

  Joshua. Wesley's kid. Which meant—shit. This wasn't a social call.

  I made a sound that might've been "yeah" or might've been a dying moose.

  Knock knock knock knock.

  "Caden? I really need to talk to you."

  I managed to get "Just... gimme a..." out of my mouth. The words tasted like I'd been chewing on my own socks. The dirty ones.

  The door creaked open because of course I'd forgotten to lock it. I'd barely managed to aim for the bed before passing out.

  Joshua stepped in, took one look at me, and got that expression kids get when they realize adults are just barely-functional disasters pretending to have their shit together.

  "You look terrible," he said, with all the tact of a nine-year-old who'd been given an important job.

  "Feel worse," I croaked, finally managing to sit up despite my body filing several formal complaints with management. Joshua was doing his best Wesley impression—good clothes, hair actually combed instead of doing that electric stick-up thing. Kid was trying so hard to look official it hurt.

  "Baron Parsons requests your presence for lunch," Joshua said, the words tumbling out in this rehearsed rush that told me he'd been practicing in the hallway. "He said to tell you it's about the mission report and... and other matters of regional importance."

  Other matters of regional importance. That was Wesley-speak for "shit's complicated and probably about to get worse."

  "Did he say anything else?" My voice sounded like I'd been gargling gravel.

  Joshua nodded, and I swear the kid puffed up like he was delivering state secrets. "He said to tell you that Mr. Connolly rode in from Fort Point this morning, and Ms. Lockhart will be joining you for the discussion." He paused, and his voice got smaller. "And that if you were planning to spend time with Ms. Emily today, those plans might need to wait."

  My stomach dropped. I'd been looking forward to sleeping until noon, then finding Emily, then maybe—just maybe—having ten minutes that weren't about who was trying to kill us this week. The stuff other people got to do when they weren't constantly volunteered for suicide missions.

  Yesterday, walking back, she'd gotten this look. The one that said she was tired of being understanding about never getting to just be together. And I'd had exactly zero good answers for her.

  Now duty was calling. Again.

  "Thanks, Joshua," I said, attempting to stand without looking like an old man with joint problems. Failed completely. "Tell your dad I'll be down in fifteen minutes. I need to change into something that doesn't qualify as a biohazard."

  "Actually," Joshua said, straightening up again like someone had yanked his spine with a string, "he wanted me to escort you down. To make sure you got the message properly."

  Kid was taking his job seriously. Had to respect that. Wesley was training him right—responsibility matters, even the small stuff.

  "Give me five minutes to become vaguely human again," I said.

  Joshua nodded solemnly and stepped back toward the door. "I'll wait outside."

  I looked down at myself and immediately regretted it. The trail clothes had become something that probably violated health codes. Stiff from dried sweat and things I didn't want to think about. That metallic orc-settlement smell had soaked in and bonded with my skin.

  Five minutes later, I emerged wearing clothes that only smelled like regular teenager instead of post-apocalyptic warfare. My hair was still doing whatever the hell it wanted, and I probably needed a shave, but at least I wouldn't clear a room just by entering it.

  I ran my hand over my face. The scratchy stubble was trying real hard to be a beard. My upper lip had actual visible hair now—not much, but enough that Emily couldn't tease me about dirt on my face when she knew damn well what it was. Six whole chin hairs. Cheeks still peach-fuzz. Progress. Jayden couldn't give me as much shit about a baby face anymore.

  "Ready," I said.

  Joshua actually smiled, first time he'd looked like a kid instead of Wesley's mini-me, and gestured toward the stairs. "This way."

  The main tavern area was doing its usual lunch thing. Tiffany Ferguson's iron-spatula rule in full effect. Conversation, clinking dishes, laughter. The smell of whatever Tiffany was cooking versus tavern old wood and spilled ale.

  Wesley was at the family table in the corner, looking more relaxed than I'd seen him in days. Tasha beside him, little Ruth attacking what looked like the remains of something that had once been food before she'd gotten to it. Normal family stuff. The kind of thing we bled for.

  "Caden!" Ruth called out when she spotted me, waving what might've been chicken. "Tell us about the adventure!"

  "Ruth," Tasha said, in that mom-voice that could stop a charging orc. "Let Caden sit down first."

  Wesley looked up and that easy dad-relaxation in his shoulders didn't go away, but something sharpened in his focus. Same Wesley, just... paying attention now. Like when a teacher hears the tone that means someone's about to say something that matters. His eyes found mine with that steady weight that had gotten us through everything from the hospital dungeon to barony politics.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  "Like I got trampled by a pack of dire wolves, but I'll live," I said, dropping into a chair that creaked under even my skinny ass. "The civilians we brought back—how are they doing?"

  "Brian and the other healers are keeping an eye on them. Physically, they're recovering well. Emotionally..." He shook his head. "It's going to take time. Linda Morrison's been helpful getting the others settled, but they've all been through hell."

  Tasha's eyes flicked to him with that look. The "watch your language in front of the children" look that somehow communicated an entire lecture in half a second. Wesley caught it and had the grace to look slightly sheepish.

  Tasha materialized a plate in front of me—meat stew with actual fresh bread that smelled like heaven had opened a bakery. My hand hesitated on the spoon. Yesterday I'd watched Linda Morrison's hands shake so bad she couldn't hold water without spilling it. Now here I was, eating stew while Ruth chattered about some game and the disconnect made my head swim. How was this the same world?

  "The orc settlement," Wesley said carefully, his eyes flicking to the kids who were definitely listening even while pretending not to, "was it as bad as your preliminary report suggested?"

  I took a bite, buying myself time to figure out how to answer without giving Ruth and Joshua nightmares for the next forever.

  "Worse," I said finally. "We managed to help some people who were in trouble."

  Understatement of the century. "In trouble" was what you called it when you locked your keys in your car. Not when you were chained to a work gang building fortifications for the creatures that had enslaved you. But the kids didn't need those images in their heads.

  Joshua looked up from his plate, his eyes serious. "Were you scared?"

  "Yeah," I admitted. "Being scared keeps you alive. But we had a good team, and we knew what we were doing."

  "Did you fight any orcs?" Ruth asked, her eyes going wide like this was story time and not a debriefing-disguised-as-lunch.

  "A few," I said. "But mostly we were trying to avoid fights. Sometimes the smartest thing is to not get into trouble in the first place."

  Which was technically true. We'd avoided fights whenever possible. Of course, "whenever possible" had only been about thirty percent of the time, but she didn't need to know that.

  Wesley caught my eye and nodded—the universal parent signal for "good answer, don't traumatize my children."

  The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, carefully protecting Ruth and Joshua from the harsh realities, when the UDS had thrown me into combat before I'd turned fifteen. Over the past seven months, I'd seen more violence and made more life-or-death decisions than most adults in the pre-UDS world ever would. The System had looked at everyone fourteen and up and said "congratulations, you're an adult now, here's a weapon, try not to die."

 

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