The buses arrived in waves.
Aiden was on the east line when the first convoy rolled in three battered gray transports, a fuel truck, two Humvees with gunners.
The recruits already in training paused without being told.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was instinct now.
New arrivals meant more bodies, more noise, more mistakes.
Mistakes got people killed.
Staff Sergeant Markham walked the perimeter.
He didn't waste volume anymore.
"Imani, you take intake. Reeves, Holt pull security on the line. Nobody wanders."
Aiden and Reeves moved without question.
Two days ago Aiden would've stared at the sky.
Today he stared at people.
The first bus hissed open.
A handful of men and women stumbled out like they'd been kept underwater and finally allowed to breathe.
Their clothes didn't match.
Some wore jeans, some wore office slacks, one guy had a pizza place hoodie under a new-issued vest that didn't fit.
A few carried little duffel bags like they were going on vacation, not to a war.
Aiden saw it in their eyes right away the kind of shock that hadn't become useful yet.
Behind them came the rest.
Dozens.
Then another bus.
Then another.
"Line up!" Imani's voice snapped across the unloading zone. "Single file. Keep your hands visible. Move your feet."
Aiden watched the new recruits try to obey.
Some did.
Some didn't hear.
Some stared at the tents and barriers and broken ground and the scorched patch where the camp had burned.
One woman mid-thirties, athletic build, hair tied back in a rushed knot stepped down and immediately looked for an exit route like she couldn't help it.
Aiden recognized the type someone who'd spent her life being competent and hated not understanding what was going on.
A young guy jumped off the second bus and froze.
He kept staring at the blackened hull of a Humvee pushed to the side of the lane.
"Holy…," he whispered.
Reeves shifted his weight beside Aiden. "They still think this is a deployment."
Aiden didn't answer.
The kid's face was pale, and he looked like someone who'd been told a story and just arrived at the part where the story turns real.
Imani began issuing orders like she was reading from a script written in violence.
"You step forward. Name and age. You medical. You eyes on me. Nobody sits until I tell you."
The new recruits flinched at her tone.
A few bristled.
Most just complied.
Aiden watched one man try to argue about paperwork.
He had a stiff posture and the kind of confidence that came from thinking systems always worked.
"I'm not on the list," the man said, holding up a phone with a broken screen. "My notification says..."
"Your phone doesn't matter," Imani cut in. "Your list doesn't matter. Your country doesn't matter. If you're standing here and you can hold a rifle, you're in the line."
The man opened his mouth again.
Reeves took one step forward, not threatening, just present.
The man shut up.
They processed for nearly an hour.
Names. Ages.
Conditions.
Allergies.
Skills.
Anything useful got tagged medical, engineering, communications.
Everyone else got the same thing uniform, boots, a rifle, and a schedule that was less a schedule and more a warning.
When the last group was finally herded toward the temporary barracks, Markham approached Aiden and Reeves.
"Keep them together," he said. "No wandering. No hero tours. If they want to stare at the burn site, they can do it while running laps."
"Yes, Staff Sergeant," Reeves said.
Markham looked at Aiden for half a second longer than necessary, as if measuring something.
"Holt. You're steady."
Aiden didn't know what to say to that.
He settled for, "Yes, Staff Sergeant."
Markham's gaze flicked away. "Steady people keep others alive. Don't waste that."
Then he was gone, walking with that controlled limp like pain was just another administrative task.
Reeves exhaled. "Congratulations. You've been promoted to 'not a liability.'"
Aiden almost smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
They escorted the new recruits across camp.
Aiden heard whispers as they walked.
"Is this really Fort Carson?"
"I thought the base was secure."
"My brother said the fleet stopped behind the moon."
"No, I heard they pulled back."
"They don't pull back. They're aliens."
Aiden kept his eyes forward.
They reached the tent cluster and Reeves barked, "Drop bags. Stand by your cots. If you don't have a cot, you do now."
The new recruits hesitated, then complied.
The tent smelled like sweat and wet fabric and boot leather. It felt cramped even with only half the beds filled.
Aiden turned to leave, but a voice caught him.
"Hey...excuse me."
It was the woman who'd scanned for exits. Up close her eyes were sharp, not panicked, but angry.
She stepped forward with the confidence of someone used to asking questions in rooms where answers mattered.
"You're already trained, right?" she asked.
Aiden looked at her. "Trained enough."
"That's not what I mean." She lowered her voice. "You've been here longer than us. People are saying things. About the governments. About coordination. About… warnings."
Aiden felt Reeves tense beside him.
"Don't..." Reeves started.
Aiden shook his head slightly, telling him to let it happen.
The woman continued, her words coming out faster now. "I'm from Denver. Two days ago I was in a shelter, watching the sky burn. Then the draft notice came. But the way the announcement happened..the way everything was already arranged..like routes, like centers, like plans… it didn't feel like improvisation. It felt like it was waiting."
Aiden said nothing.
The woman's jaw clenched. "That doesn't happen. Not in real life. Not across the entire world. People don't just...agree."
Reeves muttered, "They don't agree. They comply."
The woman ignored him.
Her eyes locked onto Aiden's. "So tell me. Were we warned? Or is everyone just making up stories so they don't lose their minds?"
Aiden hesitated for a moment.
ot because he didn't know.
Because he knew exactly how this sounded to someone who hadn't grown up under it.
He kept his voice low.
"We were warned," he said.
The woman blinked once, like she thought she misheard.
"What?"
Aiden didn't elaborate right away.
He didn't feel like narrating the universe.
He just said the next piece as if it was a fact everyone should already have filed away.
"The signal."
Her face tightened. "What signal?"
Reeves shifted as if he wanted to shut this down.
Aiden didn't.
This wasn't a secret in camp. It was only a secret from civilians.
Until now.
Aiden glanced around. The tent was full of ears. People had gone quiet without realizing it.
"It started over a year ago," Aiden said. "Deep space. Same pattern everywhere. Math-heavy. No language. Not a broadcast for us. More like… a stamp. A notice."
The woman's mouth parted slightly. "You're serious."
Aiden nodded.
A young recruit a few cots away leaned in, voice shaky. "I never heard anything about that."
"Because you weren't supposed to," Reeves said flatly.
The woman looked at Reeves. "Who was supposed to?"
"People who had clearances," Reeves replied. "People who'd keep their mouths shut. People who wouldn't crash the economy because they saw a weird graph on a screen."
The woman's anger flared. "So they kept it secret."
"They kept it controlled," Aiden corrected.
Her eyes snapped back to him. "Why?"
Aiden didn't answer with philosophy. He answered with the simplest truth.
"Because the warning didn't come with a date."
Silence.
Aiden continued, careful, specific. "You tell eight billion people 'something is coming' with no timetable, you don't get readiness. You get collapse. Panic. Riots. Nations turning on each other. Everyone trying to run from a planet you can't run from."
A recruit near the back whispered, "So they just… sat on it?"
Reeves barked a humorless laugh. "They didn't sit. They built plans. Quietly."
The woman's hands curled into fists at her sides. "And the proof?"
Aiden saw the shift in her face as she said it. She wanted to believe this wasn't real. She wanted to believe it was rumor. But she also understood that you don't move the world like this on rumor.
Aiden nodded once. "There was proof."
"How?" she pressed.
He breathed out slowly. "A satellite classified went dark near lunar orbit. Not 'lost signal.' Not 'failed.' It transmitted for thirty seconds while it… came apart. Like something was taking it apart."
A few people in the tent sucked in breath.
Aiden kept going, still calm. "A week later, an object was tracked moving through space like physics didn't apply. It didn't attack. It didn't land. It just… showed what it could do."
The woman stared at him like she was trying to decide if she hated him or needed him.
"They knew," she said, voice rough. "And they just… lived thier life."