The Vets stood centered around the bubbling fountain, their dark armor glistening under the hangar's artificial sun like obsidian. The air was filled with the rhythmic clatter of gear and the low, professional murmurs of soldiers who had finally found a line to hold.
Amelia moved among them like a whirlwind of logistics. With a clipboard in one hand and a flare for organization, she began carving out a civilization: House 101 was designated as the infirmary, and House 104 became the central mess hall.
She was already coordinating a "bucket brigade," moving the most sensitive medical supplies and perishables from the trucks into the climate-controlled basements on Borous' house, ensuring their survival was backed by a solid infrastructure.
Case, meanwhile, stood apart from the noise. He had his Pip-Boy raised, the monochromatic green glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes like a digital ghost. He began segmenting the crater, his finger tracing invisible lines in the air as he cross-referenced the physical landmarks of the valley with the digital map on his wrist.
It was unsettling, even for him. The Pip-Boy didn't just have a vague layout; it had every facility marked with chilling, pre-war precision. The X-8 Research Center, the Y-17 Medical Facility, and the X-13 Research Center were all flashing icons, pulsing like a heartbeat, as if the device had been waiting two centuries to return to its cradle.
Case knew the geography of the war they were about to fight, but first, the immediate order was clear.
"We need the tanks to guard the route between Higgs Village and the Sink," Case commanded, his voice cutting through the ambient hum. "If we can't move between our barracks and our command center safely, we're just trapped in a gilded cage. I also want the tech teams to start looking into the robot remains. We need to find a way to re-code the local security bots to recognize Rangers as friendly. For now, though—secure the route. I want a steel corridor between here and that balcony."
At Jacob's barked orders, the Vets split off to lead their respective squads. The sound of heavy boots echoed against the pavement as the Patton tanks groaned back to life, their turrets traversing to cover the long, neon-lit road leading toward the central dome.
The perimeter was a masterpiece of rapid military fortification. Ten Rangers were assigned to the entrance in rotating shifts—a thin line, perhaps, but with the overlapping fields of fire from the Riot Gear marksmen and the raw intimidation of the armor, it was a gauntlet few would dare to run.
Case knew the math of the facility: even with the automated assembly lines of the Forbidden Zone, it would take the Think Tank more than twenty-four hours to manufacture enough chassis to replace the mechanical graveyard they had just created.
The Patton tanks surged forward, their engines roaring as they occupied the key junctions of the pathway. They moved with a predatory grace, securing the "high ground" of the transit ramps.
The Rangers followed in the tanks' wake, working with the frantic efficiency of people who knew the value of a solid wall. They hauled heavy crates, industrial scrap, and reinforced lab furniture out of the nearby annexes, dragging them into position to form a series of jagged, interlocking barricades along the route.
The tanks stood as the iron anchors of the defense, their massive hulls creating a wall of cold steel against the neon-lit horizon. While the main 105mm cannons remained silent and brooding—waiting for a target worthy of a sabot round—the auxiliary machine-gun turrets were very much alive.
The Ranger gunners sat perched atop the steel beasts, their eyes scanning the flickering shadows for any metallic glint, fingers hovering near the triggers of the .50 caliber Brownings.
High above, snipers occupied the ridge of the massive hangar. From that vantage point, they overlooked the sprawling facility like hawks. Occasionally, a muffled crack would echo through the crater as a marksman took a practice shot at a distant Y-17 Trauma Harness—the walking skeletons in pressurized suits that haunted the perimeter.
Meanwhile, other Ranger teams were busy clearing the massive industrial pipes that stretched across the Big Mountain like the veins of a titan. Case had warned them about the automated defenses, and sure enough, the pipes were salted with Satchel Charges and proximity mines.
With the steady hands of demolition experts, the Rangers defused the traps, tucking the high-grade explosives into their own satchels. It was a hell of a trade: the facility provided the ordnance, and the Rangers provided the new owners.
"Route is green, Case!" Vance's voice crackled over the radio, competing with the low-frequency thrum of the tank's idling engine. "We've got a clear shot from the Village to the elevator. If anything tries to cross this road, it's going to have a very bad, very short afternoon."
"Thanks," Jacob said, putting the radio down.
"Now, let's get to the sink, shall we?"
– --------- –
"Felt like a sci-fi themed hotel back when the whole world was still intact," Jacob commented, finally releasing his helmet seals and setting the heavy headpiece down on the polished console of the Sink CIU.
With the core personalities of the Book Chute and Blind Diode Jefferson installed, the atmosphere changed instantly. The silence was replaced by the low, comforting hum of spinning processors and the occasional upbeat chime from the jukebox in the corner. The Sink felt more alive than ever—no longer a cold laboratory, but a living headquarters.
Case decided right then that the "Central Intelligence Unit" was too many syllables for a combat zone. "I'm calling you 'Harry,'" Case said, tapping the terminal. "It's less of a mouthful."
"That's a hell of a fancy table there, Case," Amelia added, walking over to run a gloved hand along the sleek, glowing surface of the main unit.
"If sir may accept, I am significantly more than a table," Harry replied in a crisp, modulated tone. "I am functional as a tactical map, a localized commissary, a secure communication node, and several other functions currently restricted by your security clearance."
"Sir? I'm a ma'am," Amelia corrected with a smirk.
"I apologize," Harry responded with a slight digital whir, "but my base personality matrix was not programmed with female honorifics in mind. You are all 'Sir' to the Big MT logic gates."
"What a bummer. But well, nice meeting you, Harry," Amelia replied, leaning against the console.
Case stepped forward and snapped his Pip-Boy into the integrated data port. The connection was instantaneous. As if he had an "Explorer" perk on his own Pip-Boy, the map on the main table flickered to life
"Harry," Case said, his eyes scanning the glowing holograms. "Synchronize with the Rangers' radio frequencies. If you can triangulate the location of each ranger using their signal, it will be much better."
"Of course, Sir," Harry replied.
Case stepped up to the round display of the CIU, his fingers dancing across the interface. With a flick of his wrist, he expanded the map until it filled the central screen in high-contrast black and white. Using the Sink's tactical overlay, he bisected the Big Empty into four distinct segments—a pie chart of conquest where each major research center served as the anchor for its territory.
"Here's the breakdown," Case said, his voice dropping into a commander's cadence. He pointed to the jagged, shadowed terrain to the North. "The X-42 segment. This is the endgame. It's the most difficult stretch of the crater—heavy automated resistance and a canyon layout that funnels us into kill zones. We don't touch this until we're at full strength."
He then traced the Eastern and Western flanks. "The X-13 and X-8 segments are our moderate objectives. They're open-air facilities, which play to our advantage. We have enough clearance to fit a tank or two between the structures, providing the mobile cover the Rangers need to breach the laboratories."
Finally, he tapped the glowing icon closest to their current position. "The X-2 segment is our first priority. It's where our HQ is situated. We need to clear the immediate surroundings, secure the signal arrays, and ensure our backyard is silent before we push any further into the crater."
Jacob looked at the divided map, the tactical logic sinking in. "Start close, secure the home front, and save the biggest headache for last. I like it. It gives the boys time to get used to the 'local flavor' before we throw them into a canyon of sentry bots."
Amelia nodded, already calculating the supply lines for the X-2 push. "If we take X-2 first, we can use the antenna arrays to boost our radio range. We won't be flying blind when we hit the moderate zones."
Case nodded, his eyes shifting from the tactical map to the young woman standing at the edge of the console's glow. "And Milla, do you think you can reprogram some of the robots? We might need some meat shields out there. Every Protectron we turn is one less Ranger in a body bag."
Milla bit her lip, looking at the complex schematics Harry was projecting. "Not sure, Case, but I'll try," she said, her voice gaining a bit of resolve. "Some of the Rangers are familiar with basic robotics, I think. I'll need to talk to Corbin or Markus—they were the ones usually tinkering with the APC's electronics when the modules fried."
"Get on it," Case said. "If we can get even a squad of those Securitrons or specialized Mr. Gutsys on our IFF frequencies, the math for taking X-42 changes overnight."
Amelia leaned against the sleek console, her eyes shifting toward the elevator. "Why don't you try with our downstairs neighbors first?
"Good idea," Case nodded. "I'll talk to Zero, in case he knows how to reprogram things.."
Jacob traced the segments on the holographic map one last time. "Ok, so: X-2 first to lock down the signal, then X-13 and X-8 to gear up. Then, as the last push, we take X-42. Sounds fair."
"Yeah," Case added, his gaze drifting toward the shadowed center of the crater. "We need the tech from those labs anyway to breach the door to the Forbidden Zone. I don't want to just blow the large blast door; I want it intact. His knowledge of robotics could prove useful."
"Who is this… he?" Amelia asked, catching the specific way Case said it.
"Mobius," Case answered. "One of the executives of this facility. He's isolated in the Forbidden Zone. He's the one sending the Scorpions, but he's also the one who knows how to keep the heart of this mountain beating."
"I… see," Amelia nodded slowly, absorbing the fact that they were essentially laying siege to a genius.
"Don't worry, Amelia," Case said, noticing the slight tension in her shoulders. "My plan sounds crazy, but it's not fully unplanned, per se. I know exactly what he's capable of."
"Well, Case," she replied, a small, weary smile breaking through, "I trust you. You haven't steered us into a grave yet."
Case checked the chronometer on his Pip-Boy. The artificial sun of the dome had dimmed to a deep, twilight indigo. "Pick your place, get some sleep. I'll head downstairs and check on the tech teams. We'll get on the X-2 push first thing in the morning."
Jacob nodded, grabbing his helmet, then his rucksack that contained the sleeping bag. "Don't stay up all night talking to the toaster, kid. We need you sharp tomorrow."