I woke slowly,

  a low grunt escaping as my body shifted on the cot. My eyes opened to a pale, slightly yellowed canvas stretched overhead, the seams running in straight lines. The lights were off, and sunlight filtered through a small rectangular window cut into the tent wall, dust motes drifting lazily in the beam.

  For a moment, I didn't know where I was.

  Then the smells hit me, antiseptic, canvas, and caffine and memories slid back into place.

  FOB Salerno. Medical holding.

  I was safe.

  I tried to sit up.

  My body protested immediately as I pushed on my elbows, feeling tightness in my chest and soreness everywhere else, but I wasn't in pain.

  I looked down.

  My smaller cuts and scrapes were cleaned and dressed, neat white plasters covering abrasions on my arms and shoulder. An IV line was still taped into my forearm, tubing leading to a half-empty saline bag hanging from a stand beside the bed.

  I flexed my fingers and legs.

  I felt fine.

  Good.

  At the far end of the tent, a nurse looked up from a small folding table stacked with charts. She took a moment to assess me, then walked over with practiced calm.

  "Good morning, Specialist," she said, her tone neutral and professional. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like hell," I replied honestly. "But… better."

  She nodded, checking my wristband and then the IV line. "Your vitals have been stable throughout the morning. You slept well."

  "I noticed."

  She smiled faintly, then reached for the IV. "I'm going to remove this. You're medically stable for now."

  She worked quickly and cleanly, peeling tape, withdrawing the needle with practiced motion, and pressing gauze to the spot. I barely felt it.

  "You're cleared from medical hold," she continued. "I'll let the First Sergeant know you're cleared medically; he'll be along shortly with further instructions."

  That landed heavier than the IV needle.

  Before I could ask anything, she reached under the table and handed me a folded bundle of fabric.

  "Fresh ACUs," she said. "These should be your size. I'll close the blind so you can change."

  She stepped back and pulled the canvas partition around the bed, giving me privacy.

  I exhaled slowly and swung my legs off the cot.

  It felt nice changing out of the gown, pulling on clean uniform pants, pulling over a fresh shirt. Fresh boots were already waiting by the bed. It was like stepping back into normalcy after walking through hell barefoot.

  When I finished, I sat back down on the cot for a moment longer than necessary.

  I closed my eyes, breathed in, and felt.

  The Codex was still there, metaphorically in my chest, quiet and dormant. But when I focused, I sensed it responding, like a tool waiting to be picked up. I knew instinctively that I could heal myself further if I wanted to. Adjust bone density. Reinforce muscles. Push my body closer to something… else.

  It would take practice.

  And pain.

  A lot of pain.

  I let the thought go.

  I heard the tent flap rustle and quickly opened the blinds as the First Sergeant stepped in.

  I was on my feet immediately.

  "Sir!" I said, snapping to attention and saluting.

  The nurse did the same.

  "At ease," he said, returning the salute casually. His voice was low and authoritative, carrying the weight of someone who'd been doing this longer than I'd been alive.

  "Follow me, Specialist," he added. "You'll be debriefed now."

  I clenched my jaw, nodded once, and followed him out of the medical tent.

  The base looked bigger in the sunlight, a repurposed complex thrown together from concrete blocks, Hesco barriers, and multiple tents for various uses. Dust hung in the air as soldiers moved through the complex with their morning routines.

  We passed through a short corridor of prefab structures, then into an old building. We walked through an old door, then through a narrow hallway, and stopped at a door guarded by a pair of MPs. They nodded him through.

  Inside was a small, quiet room divided by a tent partition. A folding table sat in the center with four metal chairs. A coffee pot hummed quietly on a side table, and I could smell the strong scent of caffeine.

  Two people waited inside.

  One wore officer's insignia, Major or Captain, hard to tell at a glance. He sat at the table with a calm demeanor.

  Beside him sat an NCO with a notebook already open, pen poised.

  The officer stood as I entered.

  "Specialist Calderon," he said, his voice even and controlled. "I'm Major Smith, SERE reintegration team. This is Sergeant Jones; he'll be taking notes, and you already know First Sergeant Ramirez," pointing to the sergeant next to me.

  He gestured to the chair across from him. "We're glad you're safe. This is a reintegration debrief. Everything here is to help you process and get you home. You're not in trouble."

  I sat in the indicated chair, and so did the sergeant.

  He poured a cup of coffee and slid it across the table toward me.

  "Coffee?"

  I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

  I took the cup, my hands shaking slightly as I wrapped them around the warmth.

  Major Smith continued. "This conversation is confidential except in cases of immediate security threats or legal obligations. Nothing you say here is punitive."

  He leaned back slightly, giving me space.

  "Take your time," he said. "Walk us through everything, from the ambush onward."

  The room stayed quiet.

  I need to be careful.

  I stared into the coffee, took a silent breath, schooled my face, then lifted my eyes and fixed them on a spot just past Major Smith's shoulder.

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  "Yes, sir," I said. "The convoy hit the IEDs. All our vehicles were hit and turned over. I… remember hearing some shots being fired."

  I paused, just long enough to feel natural.

  I didn't remember much; I think I hit my head and blacked out.

  Sergeant Jones's pen scratched softly.

  "I came to some time later," I continued. "Mr. Stark was gone, and everyone around me was… dead."

  Sergeant Jones, looking, a little too suspicious, leaned forward. "How did you survive?"

  When the others didn't?... went unsaid

  "There were bullets… caught in my plate," I said slowly.

  He nodded once, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  Major Smith's voice cut in, softer. "What did you do next, Specialist?"

  "All the vehicles were inoperable, and the radios were either taken or inoperable. I treated myself as best I could," I said. "Opened injuries first. Sealed what I could. Then scavenged supplies from the convoy: water, food, ammunition. Collected all dog tags."

  First Sergeant Ramirez's jaw tightened at that. He didn't interrupt.

  "I moved north into the tree line," I went on. "About eight hundred meters upslope. Figured air support would be inbound once the convoy missed a check-in. I holed up in the trees, rested, and stayed concealed."

  They didn't reply to my statement.

  "How long were you there?" Sergeant Jones asked.

  "Nearly a day," I replied after thinking for a moment. "I was tired and needed to recover before moving again."

  Sergeant Jones exchanged a glance with the Major.

  "You didn't see any air contact during that time?" Jones asked.

  "Negative, sir," I said. "No air support. No drones. No recon. Nothing."

  Did I miss something?

  Reyes leaned forward now, elbows on the table. "And that didn't concern you?"

  "It did," I said evenly. "But it didn't change my options."

  Major Smith nodded slightly. "Go on."

  "The next day," I continued, "I assessed the situation. I didn't have any communications, and the nearest village was south. I didn't know if it was occupied by terrorists and wasn't certain if I'd find any way to communicate. Mr. Stark was the VIP. We were ordered to prioritise the VIPS safety at all times. Tracks pointed northwest toward the Safi area. I made the call to follow the track."

  Smith raised an eyebrow. "You were wounded. Alone. Behind enemy lines."

  "Yes, sir."

  He hummed as I met his gaze, not blinking.

  "I moved at night on high ridgelines avoided the local roads"

  The room stayed still.

  Major Smith studied me for a long moment. "How did you link up with Mr. Stark and the foreign national?"

  "Followed truck tracks," I said. "Then came across a smaller camp unloading Stark Industries crates from our convoy. I hid and watched. Saw a supply truck load up with the crates."

  Jones's pen paused.

  "I waited until the coast was clear," I went on. "Snuck into the truck bed under tarps. The truck then took me straight to the main cave complex."

  Major Smith leaned back slightly, skepticism clear now. "You're saying you infiltrated an enemy supply convoy alone?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And survived."

  "Yes, sir."

  Jones shook his head faintly. "You spent how long outside the cave system?"

  "About a day," I said. "Scouting, looking for an opening."

  "And then?" He prompted.

  "I saw a man who didn't fit," I said. "Didn't move or dress like them. I initiated contact with him; he was able to inform me that Mr. Stark was alive and had a plan. He told me to wait."

  Eyebrows were raised immediate.

  "You trusted a complete stranger that fast?" Major Smith asked.

  "Gut call, sir," I said. "He knew Stark's medical condition and that he was building something to escape."

  He exhaled slowly, looking straight into my eyes. "That's a hell of a gamble, soldier."

  "Yes, sir."

  He held up a hand gently. "Continue."

  "I infiltrated the encampment early the next morning," I said. "I secured a truck; Stark came out of the cave with armor and was able to fight off the enemy combatants."

  I swallowed once and continued.

  "I backed Stark up, and we then made our way out of the area."

  Sergeant Jones leaned forward sharply. "And the call?"

  "Yinsen picked the SAT phone, and we called in for extraction. I stayed on the line until air support arrived," I said smoothly.

  A flicker of something crossed Major Smith's face before he smoothed it away.

  The room was quiet again.

  Jones finally stopped writing.

  Major Smith leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "Specialist Calderon… your account is, frankly, extraordinary."

  "Yes, sir."

  "It also has gaps," He added calmly. "You survived an incident that should've killed you. You navigated hostile territory for days without detection. You linked up with a billionaire engineer in the middle of a terrorist stronghold."

  I nodded once. "Yes, sir."

  Jones studied me for a long moment. "And you're telling us this is all luck, training, and good judgment?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Another pause.

  Major Smith finally nodded. "All right."

  He closed the folder in front of him.

  "For now, that's enough. You'll remain under observation. There will be follow-ups."

  He met my eyes directly.

  "But you did your job, Specialist. And you brought people home."

  He finally spoke, his voice rough. "You did good, soldier."

  I felt something loosen in my chest at that.

  I nodded once, holding my posture steady.

  "Sergeant Ramirez will take you to your temporary holding."

  I stood quickly, saluting the man and following the sergeant out of the room.

  That went better than expected...

  But I knew this was only the beginning.