Madeleine spread her mentor's stained notebook across the salvaged metal table, tracing the faded aquifer lines with one claw. The coordinates all pointed southwest, past the old mining camps into territory most considered too dangerous to cross. She'd already tested three water sources from these maps, nearly dying on the third run, but each confirmation brought her closer to what she'd promised to find—the legendary seed vault her mentor believed could feed hundreds. The refugees she secretly supplied through her agricultural network needed more than smuggled grain and rotting vegetables. They needed hope that grew from the ground. She closed the notebook and tucked it inside her jacket, feeling its weight against her chest like a promise she couldn't break. The rebuilt Vault-Tec recruitment center sat empty most days, which made it perfect for her real work. She'd claimed it three months back, telling the local traders she needed storage space for agricultural equipment. The tile roof kept the place cool, and the thick walls meant nobody heard what happened inside. She'd set up her research station in the back room, away from the windows. Maps covered one wall. Supply manifests covered another. Everything she needed to find the vault and keep her refugee network running. The military radio transceiver crackled to life as she twisted the dials. She'd salvaged it from a bunker two years ago, spending weeks getting it operational. Most nights she swept through old frequencies, hoping to catch prewar broadcasts that still looped on automated systems. Agricultural facilities had emergency protocols. Some still transmitted. She'd found two greenhouse locations this way, both picked clean decades ago. But the seed vault would be different—deeper, better hidden, worth protecting with automated defenses that might still broadcast maintenance signals. The radio hissed static, then locked onto something. A repeating tone, three short bursts. She grabbed her notebook and started triangulating. The signal came from the southwest, exactly where the aquifer maps pointed. Cricket's report about condensation on greenhouse panels matched the area. She marked the location, checking it against the weathered survey post coordinates her mentor had sketched near the back pages. The lines intersected. Her tail twitched. This was it—the next location to search, the next step toward keeping her promise and turning her secret supply routes into something that could actually feed people long-term.