Trust. (2) Brother.

The guards had fortified the space with makeshift barriers, mounted turrets, and crates hastily repurposed as cover. The air was thick with tension as they braced for the inevitable.

"Sir! The militia defensive forces have been overrun!" One of the guards shouted, the panic creeping into his voice. "Scouts report that the invaders are heading straight for us. Do you think they know the command room is here?"

The captain of the guard, a grizzled veteran with a robotic eye, stood firm, his plasma rifle resting across his chest. "It doesn't matter if they know or not. It's standard enemy tactics to target the command center. All that matters is we hold this position."

He gestured toward the barricades. "This is the choke point. If they want to get to the command room, they'll have to come through us first. So hold the line, no matter what!"