Blastwave Striders

With skies this clear, the Hawk practically flies itself, gliding smoothly across the firmament. Keris feels the comfortable silence take a turn toward the soporific, and pours herself some coffee.

"Hey," she says, "How much longer?"

Hayes doesn't even have to check. "Ten minutes out."

So much of this journey takes place over long stretches of nothing. Dead air on the sensors, not a power spike for miles. It's always a relief to see the Farm coming into view on the instruments.

The Farm's denizens are still piecing together plans with the Vanguard: working out whether they can convince a few Guardians to take a post out here for a while, discussing permanent fortifications.

Keris's part in all this is simple: she and Hayes get the supplies out to those who need them, and that's that. The politics are well beyond her.

"Look at that," Hayes murmurs.

Keris looks at the panels, and sees it: dotted constellations of energy signatures, worming through the neighboring hills and valleys. Stretching out for miles.

"Guess they got that solar cell network going," she says.

"Guess so."

She forgets about the coffee.