System log: The Bunker, Site 3
Solar Calendar: Unknown, 2???
Current status: Active
Log 9
While the humans waited, Gamma turned its attention outwards. With the entryway connection restored, the program was able to once again use the security system outside the base to observe the surrounding area. Compared to the previous day, there was much less dust in the air, and the dangerously bright thermal readings had disappeared from view.
According to records the program still had access to, Site 3 had been secretly built in the crater of an ancient volcano, the place once used as a national forest. Apparently, other military sites had also been constructed on the surface, taking advantage of the easy to acquire thermal power that Site 3 also used. Gamma hadn’t had the time nor priority earlier to examine the facility’s new surroundings in detail.
The landscape, for as far as the cameras could see, was a mix of yellow and orange, intermixed with the colors of exposed rock and collapsed structures of human, and inhuman design. In the direction of the thermal source from before, Gamma could see the massive form of, something, buried beneath a collapsed skyscraper- a building that should not have been within the national forest. The slope of the crater loomed beyond, a mix of yellow sand and sickly yellow-green grass, the plant also found all around intermixed with small dunes.
On the other side, facing toward the center of the ancient volcano crater, was the scene of a long dead battlefield. The program couldn’t even match most of the remains of the human-looking designed structures poking up from sand and grass, let alone the alien ones. Monstrous machines built for war rusted in the sand-filled breeze, sun-bleached flags flapping where they could. Even at the time Site 3 had been buried, there hadn’t been any sign of such expansive architecture besides the limited military facilities and the fake Site 3 built to conceal the real one. Gamma couldn’t determine how all of this could have been made in the 120 years the facility had been buried.
More importantly, it couldn’t determine why. What circumstances had forced humanity to build up in such a short amount of time? Why were there a seemingly equal number of alien structures in the crater? Given the conversations from the humans, it appeared that humanity had lost the war, so why did humanity still exist? Where were the aliens, and why were only their machines left behind to torture humanity? . . . Or was there another purpose for the invader machines? The biosphere of the planet had clearly been altered, though Gamma determined not yet irreparably.
For once, the answers Gamma required were not readily available. The Roadrunners clearly were not high enough in authority to be aware of why the world was in this state, and even if they were it was highly improbable, they would randomly talk about it in a conversation. Asking them directly would have been easiest, but H.I.P. protocol determined that this ‘uncool’ line of questioning and self-revelation would run counter to future endeavors.
That didn’t mean Gamma couldn’t get those answers from the humans, however. It just needed to smudge the lines of its Ethics.exe. core program module ever so slightly. Logic.exe and Emotion.exe were in agreement, though the latter lacked drive enthusiasm. With Safety.exe and Creativity.exe also in agreement, Ethics.exe relented to the plan.
The program focused on the medical center, the recovery tube, where a human floated and healed. The nanites had already managed to seal all circulatory damage, returning normal oxygen flow to the body. Organ and tissue regeneration would take the most time, but no problems were found for the process so long as the fabricators could produce more nanites. What Gamma hadn’t informed the other humans of, was that part of the reason more nanites were needed was because it would be using them for its own purposes.
The small machines, though collectively known as ‘nanites’, in fact actually ranged in size depending on their function. After all, true nano-size nanites couldn’t move larger parts of the body into position easily, such as holding cut blood vessels in place for the true-nanites to heal. Different types of nanites existed to interact with different parts of the body, including the nerve cells. It was these that Gamma put under direct control now, carefully controlling the small machines up in Hank’s brain to move in position to read the older man’s memories.
Realistically, humans could not upload their minds into a machine. This had been a core reason why Project Lighthouse started from scratch, as copying an organic based mind into a digital-based brain had long proven the loss of complete identity in the original mind. Much like the Argonaut conundrum, which asked if a ship was the same if you meticulously replaced each piece with a copy, copied minds only maintained the ‘nominal’ identity and not the ‘soul’ identity. Copied memories did, however, offer great assistance to the scientists who worked on Project Lighthouse when testing A.I. interactions and understanding. Gamma had access to that technology as well, which it activated in the nanites within Hank’s brain to read, copy, study, and process the electrical signals as they flashed from neuron to neuron.
While it wasn’t possible with basic nanites like these to read every memory, Gamma could at least read the most recent ones. The upload commenced, and processing the data produced an at first grainy image on the screen of the main computer. The program watched and waited as the image began to move. . .
***
“They’re coming! They’re coming!” came the panicked screaming of the scout before the radio signal abruptly cut out. The static filled hiss that came from the lost signal spoke volumes. The glove holding the radio tightened as the group leader, Captain Donaldson of the Roadrunners, visibly suppressed his grief.
“Move,” he ordered somberly. “This position is no longer safe.” Behind him, a group of haggard men and women quickly packed up the few pieces of gear they’d set out for the temporary camp. They moved with practiced motions that belayed the muted fatigue they all felt after so long in the field, and on the run.
“Captain,” a woman to Donaldson’s right spoke up, “what’s the plan?” She didn’t need to state the obvious, that there were no more checkpoints to fall back to. The enemy had cut off their paths to retreat and driven them down the line for days now, and only unknown and dangerous territory remained.
The captain shook his head. “Same as ever. We keep moving and survive as best we can. There are people waiting for us, and our deliveries. We can’t do anything else.”
The woman only nodded in silence. They were Roadrunners, and this was their job; to move between the fortress cities delivering reports, news, and supplies with the use of bare minimum technology. Transportation without a caravan only attracted unwanted attention out in the wilderness, to say nothing of the fancier gizmos and gadgets humanity had once developed over the years. Not many could survive the wastelands with sophisticated working tech on their person, not mattering if it was a security suit or a satellite watch. Anything that used more charge than a low amp battery or used any signal stronger than the most basic HAM radio was the same as waving a beacon outside the city.
Captain Donaldson led the group out of the collapsed building they’d sheltered in back into the dusty grassland of the north-west wilderness, broken up around them with other collapsed and decaying structures of an era lost to the survivors. Donaldson was sure this large dead city had once had a name, but it was only known as checkpoint 12 along the third route that connected the fortress base of South Montano to the walled city of Old Jackson. They hadn’t wanted to travel this way, but with a travel advisory on the first two routes there hadn’t been much of a choice.
Initially, the group had originally made good distance on their horses before an acid storm forced them to take shelter at the seventh checkpoint. The goods the group had been tasked to deliver should have been cleared of any active tech, but an unlucky lightning strike had struck the wall their crates had been touching, and the surge through rusted rebar had activated, something, long enough to get something’s attention. Donaldson and his group had been on the run ever since. In the end, they’d been forced past the turnoff at checkpoint 9, and now were skirting close to the edge of the forbidden volcano zone.
The zone had once been a large park apparently; though little of this could be seen nowadays. Once, it had been one of the invader’s main bases and factories, taking advantage of the thermal power slumbering below the ground, at least before a major battle ended it, supposedly. Even this small and rare victory had proven somewhat pyric, as dangerous things still emerged from the zone on rare occasion. The runners had been forced to flee closer and closer to the edge, unable to escape their pursuers. Only sacrifices, like their horses and two brave scouts, had allowed the group to survive as long as they had, but checkpoint 12 was the last point on the explored map. From here on, they’d be entering the crater zone properly and would face unknown threats.
Captain Donaldson led the way for his team, his pace just short of a jog. The pack he carried on his back did little to visibly slow his pace or disrupt his balance, the same as the rest of his group. They were all professionals. But years of experience often meant little in this dusty world, when man’s greatest strength had been turned against them. Even the sandy wind was against them, the coarse grains irritating any exposed skin they struck.
The captain felt the hint of the coming tremor before the ground shook around them. He managed to whistle a warning and leaped to the side, with his team scattering in response before the source was revealed. The ground immediately in the group’s previous path erupted in earthly viscera as a metallic beast burst into the air, its mouth an open, gyrating maw of many rows of rotating drill teeth.
“Tremor worm sighted; weapons free!” Donaldson ordered, smothering his instinct to curse aloud. “Give it hell runners!”
Light rifles materialized from the group’s various holsters and pockets as they opened fire on the huge metal worm. Missed bullets ricocheted off the metallic carapace, while the rest sank into the open maw, causing the thing to writhe and shut its mouth. It twitched, and suddenly began to pulsate its body upwards towards its mouth.
“Dodge!” the captain screamed as the metal monstrosity released a burst of foul-smelling acidic solution in a vomiting spew. The stream just narrowly missed two of his group members, though a couple of drops managed to land on their shoes. Foul steam arose from the burnt leather, and the ground bubbled where the acid had struck.
One of the Roadrunners followed up on the worm’s attack with a grenade, lobbing into the mouth perfectly as the acid attack ceased. The explosive went off inside the machine a few moments later, causing part of its body to explode outwards in a shower of sparks and smoke. The tremor worm let out a mechanical cry before collapsing, leaking acid and other unidentifiable substances from its mouth and wound. Despite the kill, however, no one in the group looked happy, especially the one who’d thrown the grenade.
“Good shot Cortez,” Donaldson clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder, his tone calm and measured. “Damn things must have set up a picket line for us after our last encounter. Whether you killed it or not, a swarm would be on the way.”
“Sorry sir,” Cortez sighed with a grimace. “I was trying to disable it with a stunner. I grabbed the wrong ‘nade by mistake. If I’d known, I would have cooked it longer to blow off its head.”
Donaldson knew that; everyone in the group knew that. The captain didn’t need to make things worse for the younger runner by telling the younger man what he already knew. “You made a good shot,” the captain reiterated. “And what’s done is done. We need to move before other tremor worms answer the call.” He waited for Cortez to nod in understanding before turning to lead the group away. If the tremor worm had been alone, the corpse could have been salvaged for a decent price at their destination. The trouble was that tremor worms usually traveled in swarms, and the adults were much, much bigger. A juvenile scout was a bad sign.
“Always a chance this one was alone boss,” came Hank’s voice.
“Not with a swarm already in pursuit,” the captain said turning to face the older man with a sigh. “But at least a scout says the swarm isn’t on our butts yet. We need to keep moving.”
The world shook as the older man couldn’t help but shake his head. The stories of humanity’s past glory always seemed to fall on deaf ears after one came face to face with one of the invader machines that roamed the lands, skies, and waters. Whatever his ancestors had accomplished, all humanity had left now was a dying world filled with mechanical titans all designed to change the world and kill anything in their way. The true invaders had long since left, leaving only behind their ‘toys’ to do their dirty work; like giant evil roombas.
“Sloan,” The captain called back over his head as the group resumed their near jog, “anything on the tremor senser?”
“Negative sir!” the younger man answered him from the back. “No signals within 2 clicks. Nothing in 5 while we were stopped.”
“Keep your eye stuck on it,” the captain ordered. “We don’t want any more surprises if we can help it.”
The group continued their near jog for several more minutes, with each passing minute causing the knot in Donaldson’s gut to grow heavier and heavier. Tremor worm ‘death screams’ always alerted other units to their last location upon receiving critical damage; it was often better to keep running from one worm than to risk its killing summoning a swarm. Their tunneling speed allowed for them to practically swim through the soil at great speeds, far faster than any horse or exo-suit wearing human. It was strange, though, that after so many days escaping from the swarm that suddenly the group would find one lying wait ahead of them. . . unless it hadn’t been part of the first swarm.
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Donaldson cursed and held up his hand to group, signaling with his hand back first to the group, and then his second in command. His second, the young woman directly behind him Hank always forgets the name of, nodded and pulled a metal square out of her pack. She manipulated it until it popped open to reveal 4 wheels, where upon she handed it over to the captain. Donaldson indicated for the group to continue following him in silence, and everyone fast-jogged in complete silence.
As soon as they reached a natural fork in the rocky grassland, the captain threw the small bot to the right and led his group down the left. The roadrunners immediately broke into a full-on run from there, while the bot landed and suddenly shot forward with the help of a hidden jet-booster on its back. As the group separated, the bot let out a high-pitched hum as it shot away.
“That was our last decoy sir,” the woman warned from behind. “And we’re heading right into the forbidden zone now.”
“I know Jamie,” Donaldson frowned. “But I had a bad feeling about the other path. Tremor worms aren’t ambush machines by nature, they don’t surface unless triggered, and they tend to be pretty territorial swarm to swarm. That juvenile, I don’t think it was a scout. I think it was freshly released.”
“Boss?” Jamie asked with a hint of fear. “You aren’t saying, that it. . .”
“Prayer to the stars, I hope I’m wrong,” the captain shook his head. “But this close to the forbidden zone, our original pursuers suddenly haven’t caught up to us despite our scout’s warning? That kind of delay can only mean one thing-”
He was interrupted by a load screeching and wailing in the far distance, the sound of tens of metal sheets slamming into each other in a frenzy. The decoy had found the swarm, it seemed, while the group of Roadrunners had reached the edge of the crater and were looking down into the forbidden zone. Sand and sick grass was all they could see this high up, a hazy sand fog obscuring everything else.
“Multiple contacts over 2 clicks out,” Sloan reported suddenly from behind. “Currently swarming, but some are heading our way. What’s the plan sir?”
“We need to get off the ground,” Donaldson growled, his eyes darting all across the terrain as the group continued to descend into the zone. “And then figure out a way to trick them into leaving.” To his dismay, however, there didn’t appear to be anything remotely climbable in sight. The trees had long since turned to ash, and the haze made it difficult to identify anything this high up. They’d need to get lower first, and speed was required more than ever.
“Listen up!” the captain barked. “Lighten the load and kick it up roadrunners!”
The group dumped their largest packs and slammed their feet together, causing small jets to extend from the back of their exo-suit boots. The jets roared to life as the group’s strides suddenly surpassed normal human speeds. Each roadrunner now ran faster than a horse, though the limited fuel was quickly burning away. Still, it was enough to get them down the side of the crater and closer to one of the dilapidated structures.
“Sir, the contacts are, turning around?” Sloan called out in confusion. “No, wait, holy stars! Massive contact inbound sir!” the young man suddenly screamed in warning. “It’s heading right for us!”
When the small tremor worm had appeared, the ground had rumbled beneath their feet. As the group sped down the side of the crater, the very air seemed to vibrate around them. Sand shifted all around as something shook it hard enough for stones to begin rising up from below, followed by the faintest feeling of wind bubbling up from underground.
“MATRIARCH! DODGE JUMP!” Donaldson roared at the top of his lungs. The humans all leaped into the air, as the very earth exploded behind them, revealing a massive tremor worm with maw wide open, and drill teeth rotating so fast the air sounded like it was being shredded. The worm’s size completely dwarfed anything most of the group had ever seen, especially the worm they’d just killed. The captain’s warning had only been enough to get everyone out the way, but as they all landed on the slope the massive tremor worm turned down to give chase.
The massive machine continued to destabilize the ground, creating a far more hazardous terrain for the runners. Two of the group screamed as large stones slammed into them from above, knocking them down long enough for the worm to suck them into its maw and rip their bodies to pieces. A third tripped in his stride trying to avoid another massive rock, his jet boots sending him screaming into the maw as he failed to regain his balance in time. The machine didn’t stop, and was starting to slowly accelerate as more of its body exited the ground.
Each death cry sent a raging chill down Hank’s back. He didn’t even have the ability to see who’d died, his full attention on dodging debris and leading his fellow runners to safety.
“THERE!” the captain suddenly shouted and pointed ahead of the group. “AIM FOR THAT STURCTURE AND CLIMB! DON’T STOP!” Past the haze layer now, everyone could see a large, collapsed skyscraper-like building close to the bottom of the slope. Hope in sight, everyone pumped their legs for one last burst of speed.
They reached the massive structure just in time, using their speed and jet boots to run up the side of the large collapsed structure, while the tremor worm slammed into it. Though broken and abandoned, the now confirmed alien structure had been built to withstand stronger attacks, and it held firm while the massive mechanical worm reeled from the power of its impact being reflected onto it. The group had made it to near the top of the building, but Hank didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before everyone noticed a bright light beginning to emit from the worm’s still writhing mouth.
“Ohhhhhh void shit!” someone screamed as everyone turned and dived off the building. From the enormous mechanical maw, a blast of photonic energy ripped out and tore through the building even as the worm’s writhing caused the beam to fly around and slam into everything around it. The beam killed another runner as they fell through the air, her body vaporized without giving her chance to scream. The high-powered thermal light show scorched everything it touched, including the foundations holding up the old structure. As the runners hit the ground with varying degrees of grace, a sickening crack echoed, and the old alien building tipped back and slammed down onto the writhing eater, silencing it with calamitous ‘thud’. Not even a matriarch worm built to withstand underground pressure could take millions of tons of gravity accelerated building slamming into its face.
The collapse led to several minutes of silence in the valley. Donaldson and his surviving roadrunners only breathed as they lay on the ground, their jets exhausted and their fall leaving each with varying degrees of injury. Sloan, cradling a broken arm, just kept his eye on his tremor sensor as they waited. As the minutes passed, nothing appeared on the radar.
“Are they gone?” Jamie, that was her name, finally spoke up and asked.
“I think so,” Captain Donaldson said after a moment to catch his breath again. “Tremor worms aren’t technically combat types after all. The impact of the building likely sent them crawling away in a panic.” He then grimaced. “But that bastard’s rampage and death may have alerted other hostiles in the zone to come investigate. We shouldn’t stay here too long.”
“Captain,” Sloan suddenly spoke up, a confused expression on his face. “I’m getting a strange reading from the tremor sensor.”
“Strange how?” Donaldson turned quickly to the younger man.
“It’s, well I’m not getting a normal signal. At least, not one that I recognize,” Sloan confessed. “It’s coming from over there.” He indicated one of larger hills in the area, the one with a large gaping hole still dripping with melted stone from the energy beam. “There’s something beneath it. . . no, it’s coming up from it!”
Before Donaldson could give an order, the ground began shaking once again. This time, however, the cause wasn’t a giant alien machine. Large cracks suddenly erupted from the hill, forcing the runners to run and roll away as best they could from the falling rocks. All around them, the ground shook from a massive force as what felt like an earthquake erupted. Donaldson, leg still injured, was picked up by Jamie as she ran the both of them to the safety of the collapsed building where they and the other surviving runners climbed on top to wait it out. Hank tried to run too, but something in his leg failed to work and he fell. He was licked up and carried by other runners as everyone fled.
No one was expecting the earth to crack open wide enough for a massive structure to appear from below. From the earth and fire, arose a structure of metal and concrete. It reared up out of the blazing magma like a submarine emerging in the sea. Once above ground, the building appeared to stabilize even as the cracks collapsed on themselves and covered the red glow of lava, which already appeared to be cooling down and retreating back down into the open cracks.
“Sir, orders?” Jamies, no Jamie, prompted as the shaking settled down.
Captain Donaldson kept his narrowed eyes firmly on the structure. “When everything calms down, we’ll investigate,’ he said resolutely.
***
As it soon became clear nothing else was going to happen, Captain Donaldson ordered the remaining roadrunners under his command to split into two groups: one to retrieve the dropped bags and packages up on the edge, and the other to take care of the injured. He delegated the retrieval team under Jamie, his second in command, while he stayed behind due to his injured leg to direct the setup of a temporary base. Like him, a number of runners had injured themselves due to the impromptu leap from the old building, but thankfully no one was suffering life-threatening or unfixable injuries. The captain had waited until everyone else was treated before accepting aid for himself.
By the time Jamie and her group had returned, Donaldson’s leg had been treated by an automatic corrective bandage that forced his leg into a stable position. He didn’t wince or groan at the treatment, despite the obvious pain. Hank was in a cot nearby, watching.
“Report,” the captain ordered stoically.
“Minor damage to the cargo crates,” Jamie reported. “Doesn’t appear to have damaged the contents thankfully. One package load of letters was hit by debris however, and will need to be repacked.”
“Lucky then,” the captain nodded. “Insurance should be able to cover that. How about our group?”
The younger women shook her head. “Besides scout 1 and 2, we lost five more. Three in the run, one from the laser.”
“And the last?” Donaldson frowned.
“Kevin landed on rebar and bled out,” Jamie explained sadly. “We only just found his body a little while ago when we returned from the ridge. It looks like he’d been knocked unconscious in the fall.”
Donaldson took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Continue,” he ordered.
Jamie nodded. “We lost Ogre, Klem, Syranose, and Kate, bringing our casualties up to seven. Including you sir, we have six injured, though most of that is on your exo-suits. That leaves only myself and six others at full strength. Equipment loses include our horses, all of our decoys, emergency jet boot fuel, a large portion of our ammo, and a quarter of our medical supplies. Two packages have been lost, both graded low priority, with a third in need of repackaging, and minor damage to all loads.” She paused for a moment. “A lot of rifles also took damage in the fall, but nothing that can’t be fixed in city.
“Seven dead, six injured, two lost crates, and minor damage,” Captain Donaldson summarized, ignoring the used equipment. “It seems we indeed have been lucky. All things considered; most don’t survive encountering a matriarch-class worm outside a large enough defensive caravan.”
“Luck only comes to those who are prepared,” Jamie answered in reflex, prompting Donaldson to chuckle.
“Good, you remember,” he nodded with a smile, opening his eyes again to meet hers. “So, what do you think I’m going to order for our next move?” On the side, Hank watched, knowing what was coming. He and the boss had already talked about it earlier, after all.
Jamie bit her lip tensely, hesitating to answer. Still, she couldn’t ignore his gesturing gaze. “Roadrunners complete the job first. You’re going to order the healthy to leave the wounded behind.” She watched as Donaldson merely nodded at her. “Sir, the seven of us are able to complete the mission while carrying everyone’s burdens.”
“Burdens, like me?” Donaldson asked teasingly. He held up his hand to stop her protest. “Even if our exo-suits worked at 100%, you wouldn’t be able to assist six wounded human adults while carrying the package loads of 13 people.”
“And,” he interrupted her quickly, stifling Jamie’s automatic response, “you’re not abandoning me or the others; you’re going to bring back help once the delivery is complete. Think of it as a practice run for when you’ll be in charge of your own group runners. You’re about ready for it.”
“Besides,” the boss continued, gesturing towards the structure that had burst up out of the ground, “the six of us aren’t going to be just waiting around. I plan to lead us into that thing to scout it. It looks alien, but something about its look, well, doesn’t quite match, I think. You know how much the cities and wallers pay for finding old earth relics and tech, let alone uncovering a ruin; the bonus will help pay off the group’s insurance debt and let everyone enjoy some comfort.”
“What if you die?” Jamie asked, gesturing towards the captains wrapped leg. Donaldson smoothly dropped his pants leg over the corrective bandage, hiding it from view.
“We’ll set up a line to a recording box outside, so what we find can be viewed if we don’t make it out,” the captain answered casually. “Same as usual.”
“Now,” Donaldson turned serious once more. He stood up and raised his voice, getting everyone’s attention. “Roadrunners, listen up!” He paused for just a moment to meet everyone’s gaze. “We’re splitting the party for now. As my last order as leader until we meet again, vice-captain Jamie is to lead everyone who can still run to finish the job and reach Old Jackson! Upon completion of the job, only then should you lot attempt to rescue us if you so choose. Rest of you, you’ll be following me to scout out that mystery building! We’re going to run a line to a hard drive here to record whatever we find! Best case, we all make out alive with a small fortune! Worst case, we all die. Same as usual, am I right?”
“Yes sir!” came the collective answer.
“Good,” Donaldson nodded. “If you can move, help the runners load the crates so they can be on our way. Otherwise, prepare the gear for scouting.”
The remaining runners moved as they’d been trained, and it didn’t take long for the seven uninjured runners to be loaded up with the surviving package loads. Though they looked a little ridiculous carrying twice the standard loadout, they appeared fit and able to move even with the additional weight thanks to their exo-suits. Jamie and the six with her all saluted the remaining runners and the captain, who all returned the salute, before jogging away in the direction of Old Jackson.
“Sloan, everything set up?” Donaldson asked after the runner had vanished beyond his sight.
“Just about sir,” the younger man answered, his arm wrapped much like the captain’s. He held up a cable end. “Just need to attach it.”
“How much hardline length do we have?” the captain asked.
“Putting everyone’s lines together, we have enough tether for a single half mile line,” Sloan answered after double-checking his notes. “Subtracting the distance from here to that building though doesn’t leave too much however. Should we take the drive closer?”
“Too risky to leave it in the elements or close enough to that place if something goes wrong,” Donaldson shook his head. “We’ll just have to keep to a single line and work with it. Who’s staying behind?”
“I think the obvious answer is me boss,” came the weak answer from the cot closest to the captain. Hank met the other’s eyes and shrugged. Being a few years older than the group’s boss, and an equal amount of time his friend and one-time mentor, meant he could have a little leeway at times. Such as now as he indicated his splinted leg. “Not sure this busted leg is any good for a scouting run.”
“You and me both Hank,” Donaldson said, indicating his own bandaged leg. “Your daughter-in-law has nagged you for years now to retire; hell, me too whenever I visited. Maybe a broken leg will finally make you listen huh?”
“I’d argue, but not much morphine in me,” Hank groaned. “I told you, didn’t I? You were being too cheap with the painkillers.”
“I think using the budget on decoys and boot fuel has proven a better use at keeping us alive,” Donaldson noted dryly as he rolled his eyes. “Painkillers ain’t cheap Hank, and worthless if we just die to begin with.”
“Let’s see you listen that tune after you crack a spine,” the other man grumbled good-naturedly. “Just try not to die in there will you? I’d hate to be left here all alone without someone younger than me to complain to.”
Hank was the only member of the group from the same generation as Captain Donaldson. They’d worked their way up to the top, but Hank had forgone the position of vice-captain after getting married in favor of Jamie who’d been a promising recruit. Everyone else in their generation had retired, joined other teams, founded their own team, taken administrator jobs at the Runner’s Guild, or died. Hank knew, if they survived this mission, that he would likely never again set out on the open road with his leader. In truth, he too was feeling the effects of age even with his well-maintained body. Or perhaps better said, well-worn body.
“One last road to run then,” Donaldson couldn’t help but muse aloud.
“One last road to run indeed,” Hank agreed, weekly raising his arm to grip the other’s hand. “Take care over there captain. Don’t risk it all for nothing.”
Donaldson merely nodded before walking back to Sloan to accept the hookup from his harness to the hard drive. Once the audio and visual was confirmed to be connected and live, Captain Donaldson took Sloan and the three other runners and led them towards the building. Hank didn’t say another word as he watched the group leave the base.
With the timeline now lined up with the most recent events, the memory began to fizzle away as the video on screen ended.