Holding Ground

Stiffness left my joints. My chest settled, steady. Four white-armored figures stood locked in front of me, blasters raised, frozen in mid-stride. I did not flinch. My right hand tightened its grip on my blaster, testing the balance. Firm. My left boot pressed down into the dry ground beneath the green moss, finding solid traction. The overgrown solar panel behind me offered clear cover. None of them moved. I lowered my center of gravity, squared my shoulders, and held the perimeter line.