Of the forty Air Force personnel who inhabited the complex on Apocalypse day, twenty six airmen had survived to meet Allistor, and three of those were now dead.  With three more staying behind, an even score accompanied him back to the Mall.   He drove his ranger truck with Helen and Fuzzy riding along.  Behind him were two dark blue vans with the Air Force logo on the side.   He led them out of the Silo’s gates, which he set to close remotely, and across Cheyenne to the Mall.   He honked his horn as soon as the gates closed behind him, and Dean’s survivors emerged to greet them.

He left the introductions to Andrea, who knew everyone in both groups.  They all retired inside to the food court, where there was seating for everyone to chat, and plenty of sunlight for the airmen who’d been underground for weeks.    They talked about the Apocalypse and their different experiences since.  A few of the airmen told the story of clearing the lower levels, and their battle with the drake.  The discovery of the dragonling eggs caused quite a stir.

After an hour or so, Allistor pulled Dean, Andrea, and Helen aside, leading them into one of the unused storefronts and shutting the door behind them.  Fuzzy sat outside, guarding the door.  Which meant he plopped down on his belly and idly chewed gently on the Fibble doll.

“I wanted to speak to you about leadership.” Allistor got straight to business.  He was anxious to get back to the Warren, but he wanted to make sure things were stable here before he left.  “As far as I’m concerned, you three are among my most trusted.  Any one of you would make good leaders for our people.  So my first question for each of you is: Are you willing to take on that responsibility?”

Dean was first to ask.  “What kind of responsibility are we talking about, here?”

“Well, I’m about to turn this place into a Citadel.  Which means it’ll hopefully have a decent population of survivors, eventually.  We can set up a democratic system of government, with some kind of town council or something for each Stronghold or Citadel.  They can handle things like planning decisions, whether or not to charge yourselves taxes and how to spend them, assignment of available shops, that kind of thing.  But there needs to be one person who has the final word.  The person who says whether new survivors found out there are a good fit, and if they get to stay or have to go.  Who is the ultimate authority in disputes?  And who makes sure everyone is doing their part to grow and strengthen the community.”

“So, like a Mayor,” Helen suggested.

“Or a Commander,” Andrea added with a grin.