If the space under the tray on the little robot had been claustrophobic before, it was doubly worse this time. Sarge was squeezed tight into the space beside me. His body was jammed up tightly against me and his buttocks were uncomfortably close to my head. If he broke wind I’d probably suffocate in an attack that would definitely violate the Geneva Convention.

He'd insisted on coming along to help with the setup. It was obvious that he didn't want me going off on my own in case I went rogue and did something spontaneous again. I didn't particularly appreciate having a chaperone any more today than I had as a teenager.

The journey through the hallways, although uncomfortable, was uneventful and thankfully odor free. We were alone in the corridors, and after only a few minutes, the trolley rolled into its parking space within the storage unit.

"We're here." I stated somewhat unnecessarily as the trolley jerked to a halt, and I spilled out onto the floor. Stretching my limbs felt good after being cramped up. The crick in my neck had been driving me mad.

"We're on a schedule," Sarge reminded me. He jerked a hand towards the glowing screen in the corner. "Is that the control panel?"

"Yeah, give me a minute." Instead of using the panel itself, I pried at its edges with my knife. There was a sharp crack as one corner came free. I checked the screen. Thankfully, it was still unbroken and working.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sarge didn't try and stop me, but his voice was raised in annoyance and concern.

I didn't stop working as I replied, wriggling the display until it was loose enough that I could peer behind it. "Have you heard of a remote control?"

Sarge looked puzzled, "They're the new-fangled things that Zenith has been making for lazy people. They change channels on the television. Never saw the point in them." He finished with a humph. I was impressed Sarge had heard of them. He didn't seem someone who liked progress … or change for that matter.

There were no wires attached to the console, that boded well for my hope that I could detach it from the wall. A few more wriggles and the other edge snapped loose, leaving me with a small glowing tablet. I grinned.

"Well, here is our remote control for the carts." I acted cocky, feeling it best not to mention that this could all go horribly wrong, the power in the tablet might go off, it might not work properly once I removed it from the room. 

But hey, why tempt fate, it'd probably be fine - right?

"Alright, let's get back to base and send one of these crates out to greet the Orcs. "Sarge's tone was wholly unenthusiastic.

Hesitating a second, I coughed nervously.

"What is it, kid?" The older man sounded increasingly grouchy, and I felt more and more like a kid asking for candy.

"We can just send the cart out the door and wait for an explosion." I paused, watching Sarge’s face carefully as I waited for his reaction.

"Or what, we don't have all day. Just spit it out."

"We've got a remote control now, we can direct the carts, but we can't see around corners." I paused dramatically but quickly resumed talking as Sarge glared at me. Perhaps I was pushing the theatricals a little? "What if we could see what the cart sees?"

"The cart is an object, kid. It doesn't see anything. Enough of this stupidity, we're leaving." Sarge started to compact his large frame beneath the cart.

"A camera," I clarified quickly, realizing I was in danger of losing my audience. "What if we could rig a camera to the cart?"

Sarge poked his head back out, "Where would we get one? It's not like they have a Macy's here."

"The armory was well stocked. There might be one there?"

"A camera isn't a weapon, kid." Sarge stated, but he didn't sound quite as antagonized now. I had him where I wanted him.

"Might be worth checking out. If we can get one, it'd make a huge tactical difference. Besides, you might want to check out their ordnance?" All boys love playing with toys, I figured. I mentally crossed fingers that this might help ease the old man down the road I wanted to travel.

A second or two later, the old man caved. "Alright, we'll detour via. the armory before heading home. I want us to take two carts, though." That I didn't object to, more space for equipment, I nodded, and we saddled up once again, each taking a separate cart. I liked Sarge, but not that much.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The armory was as I remembered it, packed to the gills with weaponry. What I didn't expect was Sarge's reaction. The man's eyes shone in excitement. He was like a kid in a playground.

"There must be an inventory system somewhere for this? Did you see a catalog or perhaps another tablet?"

That was a good point and something I really should have thought about during my first visit here. I shrugged noncommittally and helped Sarge search through the shelves. He eventually located a dusty display in the far corner, it lit up brightly as soon as his finger touched it. "Over here!"

Moving the old man out of the way, I tapped on the display, inputting searches with increasing irritation. 'Super8' hadn't brought up anything useful. Neither had 'Camera.'

I racked my brain for other terms. "Damn it," I complained.

Sarge had been watching me patiently. The older man asked, "You're putting in words to try and find the Camera, yeah?"

I nodded. Working with Sarge was frustrating. It wasn't that the man was slow. He just tended to state the obvious and confirm the ground rules before he committed to anything. The by-product of carrying his squads lives in his hands, I supposed.

"Try terms along the lines of what you want to do instead of earth specific words?"

"Like what?"

"We'll be sending the Unit out on a Surveillance mission, try 'Surveillance.'"

Apparently, while he takes his time getting there - the man is a bloody genius.

Eagle Eye Stalk Mounted Optical Surveillance Unit

This Stalk Mounted Optical Surveillance Unit is repositionable and can transmit to any connected device within a half-mile radius. It will automatically connect to the nearest compatible device when turned on.

A picture appeared next to the text. It looked suspiciously like the stalked eye that had checked out the trolley on the way into the armory.

"Shelf 226 C, Sarge."

Nodding, Sarge returned a few minutes later with a large box, which I presumed contained the camera.

"Anything else before we head back?" I enquired.

Sarge grabbed a selection of mines, more ammunition for the guns we'd previously acquired, and then paused in thought. "Well, I thought I'd take one of these with me. You can never have too much firepower." Sarge had hauled a huge weapon off one of the shelves. This gun was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Instead of a single barrel, it had a flower petal design with five separate barrels that rotated around a solid middle. That was strange enough in itself, but the barrels themselves were a good inch wide. 

The name on the side told me why it had attracted Sarge's attention, 'Dinistr Portable Rocket Launcher.' I didn't even bother to pull up more information about it. The name said it all. I'm not sure what Sarge thinks we might need to hunt in the future, but if something needs killing with a gun that large, I'd prefer just to stay away from it.

Robinson and Westcott were still watching the door when we arrived back. 

“Man am I glad to see you guys,” Robinson exclaimed as we rolled in. “Mister Doom and gloom here was convinced you’d all died a horrible death.”

Westcott hadn’t looked over towards us, focussed entirely upon the closed doorway. His eyes looked slightly bloodshot and he shook slightly, I didn’t think he was in a good place.

“Stand down, boy.” Sarge indicated moving over to where the kid squatted gun held tightly in his slightly shaking hands. “We’ll take the watch for a while.” 

Westcott crumpled, sinking to the floor as tension drained away from him. I was surprised he hadn’t burst into tears in all honesty. The kid looked a mess.

“It’s going to be alright.” Sarge said, sounding almost like a kindly parent, “Go and help Peters with his new toy, I’ll take over the watch.”

Thanks for nothing Sarge, combining baby sitting with dangerous devices. Sounds like a great concept. 

Westcott hovered over me, I had already surrounded myself with numerous pieces of metal and hundreds of nuts and bolts. All of them belonged to the ‘Aries Perimeter Defender’ that I’d begun to assemble. Well I was attempting to assemble it. The instructions were bloody complicated. Assembling things together wasn’t really my strong point. Then again if you asked my father, all I was good for was talking too much and reading fanciful stories. Neither of which was particularly useful in my current circumstances.

“I think that you’re doing that wrong.” Westcott offered helpfully.

“What?” I asked, sounding more than a little aggravated. 

Westcott winced and shied away from me, like I’d threatened to kick him Shit.

“Sorry kid, we’re all having a bad day.” I apologized, “Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

Westcott moved cautiously forward and squatted beside me, I passed him Part A-1C and Part B-33, he discarded the latter and picked up another nearly identical piece. The two slotted instantly into one another without any of the effort I’d been applying to force them together. 

“See?” Westcott offered.

I passed the instructions to him, “Alright I know when I’m beat. You’re in charge of this now, consider me your assistant.”

It took nearly half an hour before the gun was assembled. The matt black machine gun looked majestic sitting on its tripod. It had no ammunition at present which was just as well because when I’d first turned it on, the weapon had rotated automatically towards me and clicked repeatedly as it attempted to remove me from existence. 

I’m starting to understand that sometimes reading the manual beforehand is the best approach. Anyway with Robinsons help we lifted the tripod onto the cart and lashed it into place with whatever tie downs we could find.

The camera had been mounted in a similar fashion to the front of the vehicle and connected to my tablet. 

It looked like something thrown together for a highschool science project. It wasn’t a tank, but we had a potentially formidable weapon at our disposal.

“Well, what do you think?”

Westcott grinned proudly, “It’s amazing!”

Sarge nodded approvingly, “The proof is in the pudding kid, lets see how she handles out there.”

Time to send it out to meet our Greenskin neighbors.