SHILOH

As soon as the mechanical sliding door shuts behind her, Shiloh's entire body sags, and she has to stop herself from leaning back against it. The door will shift, if she does that. Gavin will hear it. And he will know. If he doesn't already.

The truth is, she isn't strong. She isn't confident. Capable, even. Not to the degree she pretends to be. That she needs to be.

She stood up to him in that room, in her own way. But she has no idea where that assertiveness came from, or if she can summon it again. Whatever it is, it's not real. It's just a bunch of hot air, lifting her up, making her seem bigger and stronger than she actually is. Now, she just feels deflated.

A fan in the air vent on the wall to one side of the door cycles on, wafting in a stream of cool, fresh air that ruffles Shiloh's hair. She takes a deep breath, summoning focus and determination from some unknown reserve.

The open part of the mechanical bay is empty now, except for her. But that could change. And the last thing she needs is for someone to walk in and find her in this state, hunched in on herself, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves.

Pull yourself together.

One last, big breath. Then she makes herself tall—tall as someone who's five-foot-five can be—with her head high and shoulders back. Feeling a little tight, she rolls her neck until there's an audible crack.

There. Better.

Where was she?

Right. The hacking equipment.

She walks the length of the open bay, slipping through a wide doorway and down the hall. The ceiling lights here cast a grey and dusty glow. A couple in the line of overhead lamps have a tendency to flicker, now and then. Shiloh can't remember the last time these lights were replaced. Possibly never, but definitely before her time.

Not the only thing that needs replacing, around here.

She should have done something about Gavin a long time ago. No—her father should have. But that ship had sailed, of course. And there was no point in blaming him, or her own past self.

The fact of the matter is that there's no way her father could have predicted her current predicament. Gavin had changed. He had always been self-important, and headstrong, and entitled. He'd believed he was the best, and that he deserved the best. And somewhere along the line, he'd got it in his head that Shiloh was just that. To him, she is his future trophy wife. She is the reward, the ultimate acknowledgement of all that he is.

He already has everything else. He's well-liked and well-regarded. The community respects him. In all likelihood, he could have his pick of any one of the eligible young ladies in this place. But he wants Shiloh. And so far, he's not going to take no for an answer.

Even if it means dismantling the entire system to get her. Or, at the very least, taking it over for himself.

He's already implied he can do it. That was more or less what he told her, moments ago.

Given the right opening, and the right push, the people were more likely to follow Gavin. Shiloh knew he was right about that. She just didn't know what to do about it.

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This pattern of behavior, of belittling her and undermining her publicly and in subtle ways, was fairly new. And it had started, in earnest, after the good scientist Darvin, Shiloh's father, had died. Shiloh had been in shock, anxious and unsure of the future. She hadn't been as strong as she'd needed to be. Hadn't done what she'd needed to do. And far from getting bored and moving on, Gavin was only getting worse.

The conversation they just had—it's the last straw.

He thinks he has her in a corner, and that she's not going to do anything about it. And that might be his first real mistake.

She has to cross the Cloister's main hall to get to Salvage. Though they all call it the main hall, as it's where community meetings and most public activities are held, it's technically a cargo bay. There used to be massive cargo doors along one wall of the space. In a sense, they're still there, but they've been sealed over with multiple layers of steel and concrete.

If there's one tenant the community adheres to, it's that the outside world is death, and everyone is better off in the Cloister. Shiloh takes no issue with this, but she does take issue with the way people seem to venerate the Watch. There's nothing godlike or superhuman about them. They're just outfitted with the right tech to survive out there for extended periods. Anyone with the right survival tools can do the same, as long as they stay smart and safe.

But people don't see it that way. When the Watch suits up to head out into the open world, they might as well be superheroes, off to defend earth from an alien threat. In reality, their role is to perform routine scouts and checks. Sometimes they scan for natural resources or salvage. But the materials they return with are used to bolster this hideaway; this old, rundown facility. The Cloister is a place to hide, to survive. Not to fight, and certainly not to reach out, or to expand. It is a place for the community to nestle in and slowly die. Not over the course of a lifetime, or even two, but over slow, successive generations of inevitable in-breeding.

The goal of Shiloh's father, who they called Darvin, was not just to survive, but to become powerful enough to fight back. For years, he sought the location of the facility to the south. He'd always claimed it existed, even when few people believed it. Finding and excavating it had been a dangerous proposition, and he'd garnered little support for the effort, despite being the patriarch of the community.

The people of the Cloister are a wary, fearful, and insular group. They believe mankind's sins are the reason for the war, and the collapse. They believe that if they have faith, and confess their sins, and pray, that one day God will turn things back to the way they used to be. Back to the time of distant past, when the world was green, and humans were the apex of creation.

Shiloh believes that God helps those who help themselves. They can't stay holed up in the Cloister forever. As long as they do, nothing will ever change.

She activates the metal sliding door leading to the storage room where they keep the smaller electronic stuff. She gestures to two boys moving some boxes on a dolly. They're brothers, the two of them, Ezra and Liam. Thirteen and fifteen years old. Ezra's as tall as Shiloh, and Liam is taller, despite being four and six years younger than her. Their father is Benjamin Rivers, an old friend of Darvin and Shiloh both.

"Whatcha up to, boys?"

Liam sets the dolly down and faces Shiloh, leaning with one elbow resting on the top box. Beads of sweat cling to his brow. He takes off one of his work gloves and wipes his forehead with his sleeve.

"Same old. Hey, is it true what they're saying about that Biodroid?"

"What are they saying?"

Liam opens his mouth, but Ezra cuts in. "One of the Ruster's tried to break in and Gavin shot it down."

Shit. This is what's going around?

She needs to get a hold of the optics of the situation, before things start getting weird. Panic is contagious, and the last thing Shiloh needs, in the middle of all of this, is for the public to start acting erratically. Things could get dangerous.

People are easier to control when they're afraid. Half the community already sees Gavin as some kind of messiah. If they decide he's the only thing between the Cloister and a full-on Biodroid invasion...

I need to talk with the members of the board. I need to get ahead of this thing.

"They're wrong," Shiloh says. "But I can't get into it right now. Ezra, I need you to go to Seamus and have him call a public meeting in one hour in the main hall. And tell him we need to have a board meeting between now and then. Can you do that?"

Ezra nods eagerly, clearly excited at the novelty of the situation, as well as the prospect of his routine of manual labor being disrupted. He takes off down the hall at a jog.

"Liam, I need you to take that dolly and help me get some electronics over to the mechanical bay."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Shiloh points out the equipment to Liam, she has to remind herself to keep breathing normally. To stay calm. If she panics now, it'll be exactly what Gavin wants.