Inside, Sam tossed a handful of kindling and another chunk of lumber scrap into the barrel, checking the level of the pot of water and replacing the lid. It was still warm enough for her to bring out almost all of the mugs they owned and their collection of various teas, cocoa packets, and powdered cider, and ladle out polite offerings while Rebecca brought an armful of blankets and sleeping bags out from the bedroom.

Christine and Patrick settled on a large beanbag that they liked to share when they visited (as usual, Rufus climbed up between them), and Rebecca and Sam abdicated their small Ikea couch to Epstein and Amira. (They'd felt awkward taking furniture from a nearby townhome when they disassembled it, moved it in, and reassembled it in their living room, but leaving an apologetic note somehow helped a little bit, even if they knew deep down nobody was likely to ever come home to it.) After Rebecca and Sam felt like they'd been sufficient hosts, they settled on a pair of barstools by the kitchen breakfast bar.

They'd already made small talk on the way upstairs about how the drive over had been (Chris and Pat were starting to memorize where each remaining uncleared vehicle obstructed part of the road, and there hadn't been too much black ice), and how Broadway was faring (well enough, they relayed greetings from various acquaintances), so now that everyone was cozied up, Sam and Rebecca looked to their guests with politely expectant faces. Chris and Pat seemed to turn to Epstein, who apparently felt he had the most explaining to do.

"Thank you for the literally warm welcome, ladies." He held a lightly steaming cup between now-gloveless hands and smiled congenially. "As you can imagine, the L-T sends his regards. He was also the one who suggested the Councilwoman..." (Rebecca noticed the slightest flicker of an eye-roll from Amira.) "...come along to meet you. Captain Tierman thinks her involvement is key to reconstruction efforts in the area."

Amira's reply was curmudgeonly, but gradually became charmingly so. "Pfft. Please. I am merely the only surviving relic of municipal government the captain and her industrious legions could dig up to add a sense of legitimacy to their plans. It seems they are concerned with how their actions will be perceived by others, both immediately and in the future." She paused to take a sip of the tea Sam had provided. "As if anyone is really paying attention to Posse Comitatus. Still, I admire their dedication to their principles, and if there are so many like your good sergeant on the rooftop who are taking up their mantles of service again, it would be boorish of me to sit upon my ass and refuse to do the same, when my primary task is to argue with people, not be shot at by idiots who don't want help."

Rebecca still wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but the sassy older woman was growing on her. While Amira was talking, Rebecca got her first good look at her with her hat off and coat open. She was somewhere in her fifties, her face showing both crow's feet at the sides of her eyes and smile lines in her cheeks, and the hint of a furrow in her brow that implied she'd spent nearly as much time frowning intently as smiling kindly. Her thick dark hair was tidily brushed, with only a mere few grey strands, and spoke of a certain lushness Rebecca was sure she'd enjoyed a few years ago — either from youth or yet-uncollapsed civilization.

Amira waved her hand like she was dismissing a nearby flying creature. "Regardless of my opinion of my involvement, the captain is correct, further progress is going to require some big steps, and even in times like these, some people just seem to oppose change to the status quo and accuse its heralds of ulterior motives. So, I suppose I am also figuratively 'along for this ride' in the long haul, not just being chauffeured around by the gallant young man here."

When she paused to take a longer drink, Epstein took up the conversational baton. "That really is the long and short of it. The captain, the L-T, they're aware many survivors might not look kindly on federal powers right now. Either because they were witnesses or subjects of questionable extreme measures, or we just remind them of the overarching powers-that-be... well, powers-that-were... that failed them so utterly. We don't want to be seen as imposing our will at gunpoint, especially not by the people we're supposed to be protecting. Miss Stanton said she explained a little about why we're here?"

Christine spoke up. "Just at a high level... focusing supplies here, trying to use it as a hub." Rebecca nodded in her direction.

Epstein nodded too. "That sells it a little short. Right now, the big blocker to regrowth that the captain sees is the ever-present need to forage. Even with communities producing some of their own food, subsistence level agriculture isn't enough to survive long term. Winters come, or people get sick or hurt. Thank god the water district has been such a bunch of rockstars, but every little group is scavenging for preserved food, medicine, fuel, clothing, anything they need that they can't make themselves... and even the most industrious groups are forced to generalize. I mean, here... you're building up farming capability. Growing food. Building defenses. Scavenging for tools and parts, whatever fuel you need that we can't supply — more on that in a minute — basic off-the-grid power." He nodded at Sam, knowing full well she had a metaphorical big hand in both Broadway's and the Garden's lights turning on. "Spread that thin, it limits how much scale and elevation can be achieved in any one of those needs."

Rebecca followed him so far, but... "Where do we come in?"

He gestured around at the apartment walls and ceiling around them. "Centralization. Going to the store used to let us get everything we need in one or two places at once. Right now, it's like back when everyone was out plowing their own fields, chopping down their own trees. If we can gather the things everyone needs into a few locations, they can obtain them there, and spend the time and energy they save getting us back out of the dark ages."

Sam tilted her head. "So... you want to turn us into Mad Max and the Costco-dome?"

Amira snorted in amusement and Epstein took a second to close his mouth and reply. "That... is not the worst description ever. The amount of space you have here... plus the respectable defendability of the location, residents who could help staff a facility in exchange for their share of the goods..."

Rebecca mulled over his words, but began to worry. "Lance... Doug... that much resources here... that'll make us a really juicy target. We've got kids here, one in a wheelchair... a pregnant woman. Some nice hardware, but only one professional soldier. Defense is really more her wheelhouse, but I've picked up enough to be concerned." Sam's brow crinkled, like she was arriving at the same thoughts. Rebecca looked over to her friends on the beanbag.

"Chrissie, Pat... I can't picture Lassart sticking his neck out for others. What's Broadway's position on all this?"

"You're not wrong, Bex." Christine still used the name she'd originally gotten in the habit of addressing her with. Not really a problem usually, Ronnie still did too sometimes, especially on duty. "They don't have the space, or the quality of leadership, that you... we, do here."

Rebecca sat back in the stool for a moment, her thoughts withdrawing and the quiet crackle of the small fire capturing her attention for some reason. Imagine if Jaime had known where coming here would lead... She realized she was fiddling with the chain on her neck when Sam reached over to touch her other hand, knowing what general direction that meant her thoughts had gone. Rebecca replied by smiling tenderly at her, wanting to communicate gratitude and that she'd be okay.

Sam stifled a passing urge to give Christine a dirty look over the "old" nickname, thinking it made Rebecca think of Jaime. Chris was generally pretty nice, and Sam didn't want to be seen as "that" girlfriend, so she let it drop.

Epstein resumed speaking, unaware of the exchange and Sam's internal debate. "We're... sensitive to the increased risk that would bring you. Captain Tierman believes, not just here but philosophically, that consolidating what she has to protect will allow her to make bigger commitments where we need to. We wouldn't be spread so thin either. In your case, that includes offering to station a small garrison team here if you'll have them, and the lieutenant suggested making this a forward operating base for regional patrols too, providing both area security and increasing our onsite presence."

Sam took the lead for a minute, wanting to give Rebecca a moment to settle her feelings. "That might help... but given Black Tusk's focus on you last time, doing that might draw undesired attention too. Still, it's worth discussing, when Ronnie can join us. If we table the tactical stuff for now, what about logistics? Christine's side of things. Procurement. Where would it all come from?"

Epstein nodded to acknowledge shift in topic. "Some of it from our own reserves and supply chain, like the occasional aid distributions we bring around, but streamlined, because we could deliver it to fewer destinations. But... we're not at the point we can just reboot the entire economy with wishful thinking. In this situation... consolidating everything here, or wherever, means doing a lot of the gathering and scavenging for people, but en masse, before they can come to it all here. Like, rolling up to warehouses and loading what's left into a truck, emptying stores of whatever's left and bringing it all to the hub, or hubs.."

"Ah." Rebecca rejoined the conversation. "Now I see why you're worried about being unpopular." Epstein nodded, seeing she understood, while she continued. "You can practically count on some people seeing that as taking it all for yourselves, the jack-booted imperialists coming in to steal their food and screw everything up again. 'We're from the government, and we're here to help'."

"Yes. Even if we tell them it's to be shared, and where to come get their slice of it, and even other resources they didn't have access to yet..." He shrugged impotently.

Rebecca remembered Amira's words from earlier. "Ulterior motives, and people who don't want to be helped." Amira inclined her head towards Rebecca approvingly, like she'd figured out the answer to quiz question. The slight toasting motion with her mug was a nice touch.

"And hence the need for legitimacy," Amira said smoothly. "If they try to make me acting mayor or something, the first official thing I'll do is quit. But none of us can afford for our friends in camouflage to be perceived as power-mad looters. Their hope is positioning themselves as supporting a reanimated city government, providing the heavy lifting for our local emergency measures, will separate people's opinions of them from their reactions. Hopefully letting the reluctant see past their emotions and realize that the new way of life they're trying to push out is at least A way of life!"

Her involvement definitely was making more sense now. "Well, I guess every apocalypse needs its zombies, now we know where to get ours."

Amira made that same guttural amused noise as before. "Dear, ponderous, lethargic, asthmatic brainlessness is a pretty accurate description for government BEFORE the end of the world. I should know." (Rebecca wondered for a moment if she'd encountered Lassart back in the day?) "But, perhaps when we rise again, we can do it as those more energetic, alacritous undead your generation seems to prefer in your fiction."

Yeah, okay. Rebecca was getting to be pretty sure she could work with this lady. "Maybe." She looked back at Epstein. "But you mentioned trucks... and all this stuff is going to be pretty spread out..."

Sam nodded next to her. "Yeah, I hope you're not expecting me to somehow charge up that many electric vehicles. We'll die of old age waiting for enough solar and wind power." (Sam had built a small prototype windmill on the roof, and was toying with ideas of some kind of hydroelectric setup, either gravity fed with their own water usage or out in the river.)

Rebecca resumed. "Right, and with just the little bit of fuel you can spare for us every once in a while..." She paused and tilted her head. "Chris, why are you smiling like you know what I'm getting for my birthday before I do?"

"Because I do." Christine was clearly gloating at her, and Patrick was fighting to suppress his amused reaction.

"Heh. Maybe I should get to that part." Epstein cut in before Rebecca's urge to throttle Chris could grow too much. Sam reconsidered her earlier decision, while Rebecca looked back to Epstein with a raised eyebrow. "Have you heard of the Plantation and Colonial pipelines?"

"No, but they sound old."

Amira laughed, a sharp barking one. "Hah! I'll try not to be offended. They were built after World War II, but most of the big spills that made news were probably before you were out of diapers, young lady."

Rebecca couldn't help but smile as she replied. "I'll try not to be offended." She hoped her read on Amira was right, and the woman would respect a little sparring, not take umbrage with it.

Epstein's voice pulled her attention back before she could watch for a reaction though. "So, there are no big refineries around here anymore. Instead, the pipelines transported various petroleum products from the Gulf up through the coastal states. We're assuming they're shut down now, but there were storage facilities attached to them. The biggest terminal around here is down at Norfolk. But... like you were just saying, too many resources in one place gets a lot of attention. Even if Black Tusk, or someone else, even a friendly, hasn't taken it over already, it's definitely on their radar and they might down the road. Captain Tierman had her eyes on the smaller Plantation terminal in Newington instead, maybe setting up a base and a QRF at Davison, Belvoir, or even Quantico. But it looks like those jackasses made a push up the Potomac to DC a while back, and we've picked up radio chatter about them taking over the airport. It only makes sense to assume they hit the bases along the way or left a presence behind. We also think that's what our little run in with them was about last year."

A ripple of frowns and scowls passed through the room, and Epstein let it subside before continuing. "There is some good news, though. We pivoted to start small, build capability without overreach... and found a small commercial terminal just off the river, with both propane and fuel distribution companies literally across the street. Both substantial stock and delivery capability in the same spot."

Rebecca sat up. That wasn't unreasonably far away. "I didn't know we were allowed to have that kind of good luck. How much is there?"

"It's not full, but... it gives us a little over a half million gallons of various fuels."

She found herself clutching Sam's hand to steady herself, and saw the mischievous twinkle in Christine's eyes. "That... Jesus. Holy shit."

Epstein nodded. "And if anyone wants to try and get their hands on it, they'll need to get past the four amtracs we literally just drove up the river from Fort A.P. Hill."

Sam sought to clarify his remark, which Rebecca was wondering about too. "I'm assuming you're not talking about trains? What am I missing?"

"Sorry. Amphibious assault vehicles. They sorta look like giant chubby alligator with a fifty and a grenade launcher on top. They're no tank, but they apparently make for a hell of a roadblock. So, a small facility, not too much ground to cover, low profile, and 'light' armor protecting it." (He air-quoted the adjective with his fingers.) "Without more coming in, it won't last forever. But for now..."

Rebecca was still boggled by the numbers. "... it's a hell of a lot more than we had, what we were stringing along on in shoestring survival mode."

Epstein nodded. "Yup. We can get the big vehicles going again when we need them, run generators to charge up recon drones or keep the lights on in a field hospital, up our patrol tempo, do more scouting. It's the first big break we've gotten since you ladies rolled up the PMC and some of the satellite networks woke back up a little before Christmas."

Sam slid off the stool and stood near to Rebecca, sliding her arm around her back. "Remy... with that much gas..."

Rebecca's reply was just as quiet. "Yeah... we could check on our families. Holy shit."

Amira must have been well practiced at wrapping up meetings when she wanted to. "Well, Mister Epstein. We seem to have given them a lot to think about. Ladies, I'm sure you will want some time to consider things, to talk to your friends and neighbors. Perhaps we should adjourn for a little while, get settled in, have the right conversations with the right people at the right times..."

Rebecca pulled herself back into focus. "Right... that sounds good. Pat, Chris, your place is right where it was a few weeks ago. Leonard left some firewood at your door when he heard you were coming, and I'm sure everyone around here will be eager to see you. Doug... uh, since our fuel supply apparently just became much more replenishable, you know where the big visitor RV is, right? Maybe you and Ms. Zaman... sorry, Amira, would be most comfortable there once you fire up the heater? There's clean sheets in one of the cupboards if you look around."

Amira started to shift to extract herself from the blankets on the couch. "Sheets? You spoil me, my dear." She rose, and passed her mug to Sam when she reached for it. "Thank you again for the tea. You're proving to be quite the hostesses in these times."

"If this all works out, maybe next time I can have some cookies ready too." Rebecca's mind was still rapidly enumerating possibilities the morning's revelation seemed to unlock.

Amira smiled, and Epstein was excited as he collected Chris and Patrick's mugs and relayed them to the counter.

"Oh yeah, now you've got my attention." He looked to Amira. "Ma'am, believe me, she made an impression on an entire platoon's worth of us with the only homemade cookies we'd had, and have had, in months. I don't think Lieutenant Fairbanks has that on his list of potential benefits yet, but I bet he'll add it posthaste once I point it out."

Dismay was starting to creep onto Rebecca's face, but Patrick reassured her as he passed with Christine. "Don't worry, we'll help stir the batter and all that."

That lightened her mood. "Well, thank you. We'll need to calculate how much dough pilfering will impact our yields as more people get involved though. Probably double if Chris is there."

Patrick laughed as he held the door open for Christine, who didn't even bother trying to argue as they exited, the last ones out. "Yeah, alright. I can't deny that."