Narration Room: January 2012

The Tower of Trials Chapter 8 Page 3

George forced on a brighter expression. "It was exciting." When he was not in fear of his life.

Papa picked up the damaged coat that George had worn during his adventure from the hook next to the entrance. He held it up. Most of the front had been shot off. The sleeves had holes on them. "Hah, looks like you had a good taste of fun too. Better not show this to..."- he turned the coat around and saw the logo at the back -"My coat!"

George glanced up at his father. Why was Papa upset about an old coat?

"My precious coat," Papa whispered.

"Sorry," George said, "Found it in storage. Didn't think you still needed it."

"If Mama sees this..." Papa rolled up the coat and glanced back at the entrance. "I've got to get rid of this." He turned back to his son. "You've work tomorrow. Get some sleep." Then he spun on a foot towards the door.

"Okay. Almost got this." George returned to his work. More than likely Papa was going to ask lots of questions about his adventure the next day. Maybe he would find out more about the coat.

Papa grunted and left.

A little later, George had the motor working with power supplied from the transformer. The door of the box slid open. His first guess at the correct amount of power had been right. Maybe he would get lucky with the content too.

He took out the only item in the box. It was a strange symbol smaller than his palm. It was made of a blue glossy opaque stone, a material he was not familiar with. He was not familiar with the shape. It did not look like any creature or object he knew of. It did not appear to be randomly designed either. Maybe it was a symbol in some long forgotten language.

He held the symbol up to Tillie. "What do you think?"

Tillie merely stared at the object with its single camera-eye. It had not been programmed to offer opinions either. But it definitely did not identify the symbol as a tool to be returned.

Still, the symbol looked pretty and mysterious, a reminder of the hidden secrets of the wastes.

George packed the transformer. "Put that back," he told the robot.

Tillie picked up the boxy object with both arms. It rode a rail down the side of the workbench and went to replace the piece of equipment in the cupboard.

George cut a length of black cord and looped it through one of the holes at the edge of the blue stone. He tied the stone around his neck. Then he examined his reflection on a small mirror. The accessory looked good on him. Yes, it was the perfect reminder of his first trip to the wastes.

After checking that Tillie had returned all the tools, George left the little robot in its recharge socket. Then he shut off the lights and went to bed.

He should probably get a proper chain for his new necklace later.

The night's dream would be filled with thoughts of his adventure, reliving again the excitement and savoring the experience. Perhaps he would visit the wasteland again some day.

***

The Tower of Trials Chapter 8 Page 2

Later that night, George was in his father's workshop.

He was working on that locked box from the tower. It was his down payment. The rest of his meager share would be deposited into his bank account once the Vixens had sold the rest of their spoils.

Since they could not open the locked box easily, the Vixens could not guess at its worth. So they had decided to foist it off on George.

"Put this back, Tillie," George handed a screwdriver to a little robot standing on the table.

The robot took the screwdriver with its mechanical arm, turned and returned the tool to its place on a rack of screwdrivers, arranged according to size.

The box had a smooth panel. A keycard reader or keypad or some other similar mechanism was supposed to signal the electric motor, which would slide the panel open, revealing the content of the box. Simple. Except that the keycard reader or keypad was missing.

With the probe of a small handheld multimeter, he poked the motor to test its circuits while examining them through a mounted magnifying glass. It was easy to reach the wirings of the motor since the internals of the electrical object were exposed. Based on the readings on the digital readout of the multimeter, he deduced that the circuits of the motor were still in working order. If he supplied power to the motor, it should slide the door open. He laid down the probe of the multimeter.

"Not yet, Tillie," George stopped the robot as it reached for the multimeter.

The circuits of the motor appeared to be intact. George still had to guess the amount of power needed to work the motor. Too little and the door would not open. Too much and the motor could be damaged and he would have to open the lock with liberal amounts of brute force.

George rose up from his stool. He needed a variable transformer from the cupboard. Too bad Tillie had not been programmed to retrieve tools for him. When was someone going to get around to doing that? Maybe it had something to do with the amount of work necessary. There were a lot of tools to apply with audio labels if Tillie were to match voice commands to the required tool.

A middle-aged man in dirty coveralls appeared at the door of the workshop. "Hah, never thought I'd see the day you'd willingly be working here this late, boy," he said.

Yeah, George would usually flee from work as soon as he was done with his duties. At that hour, he would usually be in his room, watching downloaded videos, or in bed.

"Just working on something, Papa," George said. He picked the equipment he needed from the cupboard.

"So, the wastes exciting?" the father asked.

Papa would want to know. From his stories about the wasteland, George knew that his father had also longed for the open freedom. However, his father had a family to take care off and so was stuck in the city. It was dangerous out in the wasteland and it would be irresponsible to leave his children as orphans.

George placed the transformer on the workbench. "It was okay," he said. His life was not secure out there. There was no one to protect him - no laws, no authorities, just him and his friends. Life was cheap there. But...

"It was free," he added as he looked at his father, "You can do anything you want there. No one to tell you no." Except for Mabel. "No need to worry if you're breaking a law or something. Or if the authorities are going to tell you you shouldn't do this or you must do that."

Yeah, and people were also free to take shots at each other.

The father smiled. "Had a good time?"

The Tower of Trials Chapter 8 Page 1

There was a nick on the windshield.

George had noticed that earlier when he had popped into the front cabin to collect some equipment from Mabel. He assumed that a stray bullet had hit the transport during the firefight. That time, the shields that would protect the windows had not deployed. At least the glass had been tough enough to take a hit.

They had stopped to pick up Iona once they were in the open wastes again, out of the rocky area where the tower had been situated. Iona was back in her human form and was at that moment curled up in one of the seats in the passenger cabin in the middle of the transport. She was asleep, clutching her stuffed goat like a baby would with her toy.

She looked so peaceful. Her sleeping form was a stark contrast to the dangerous panther with armor-ripping claws that George had witnessed earlier.

"Hey, Squirt," Tricia called. Her armored bulk was on a small seat modified for her armor.

"Yes?" George responded. He was very tired. The fight had been exhausting, with people shooting real bullets at him and him trying his very best to stop them. He was fortunate to have survived unharmed.

"You understand the concept of suppressive fire, don't you?" Tricia asked.

"Yes." George nodded. "Like you said, shoot at them to stop them shooting."

"The same goes for you," Tricia pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"When they're shooting at you, you're supposed to be taking cover."

So instead of shooting back, George should have ducked!? Once he had the leisure of thinking without worrying about seeing his own blood, he recalled that he had been shooting back wildly instead of seeking cover. It was a wonder that he had not been hurt!

Iona was suddenly awake and beside George. "Squirt, let me see your bracelet!" she demanded. Without waiting for a reply, she pulled his hand to herself so she could examine the accessory.

Each and every one of the beads of the bracelet had broken into pieces. The fragments that had been trapped within the bindings of the bracelet fell out when Iona had roughly taken George's hand.

"Wow, all your balls are broken," Iona commented in wonder.

Mabel, in the driver's seat in front, blew an amused snort.

"Sorry about your bracelet," George apologized. How had the beads broken? A bullet could not have cracked all of them, could it? Did he slam his wrist against something hard? Even that could not have smashed each and every one of the beads, could it?

"Squirt, that bracelet was for your protection," Tricia explained, "Each bead protects you from one bullet."

"What kind of technology is that?" George asked curiously.

"It's magic!" Iona proclaimed.

If he had been told that the day before, George would have rejected it as baseless superstition. But since he had spent time in the wastes and had seen things he had only seen before in downloaded videos - specifically, Iona's shapeshifting - he was much more open-minded. There were things out in the wastes that he had never imagined possible.

Could there be other stuff in the shows on Covenant's network that could actually have some truth in them?

"It's a blessing of the Catalocus Tribe," Tricia said, "Separately, armor or the blessing could reduce harm from a bullet but you'd still get hurt. That's why you've both on you. And from the way you've been fighting, you'll need all the protection you can get."

"You're very lucky," Mabel added, "The blessing fails when the last bead has broken. The next bullet will put you in hospital... or worse."

George really did not like the 'or worse' used to describe his safety!

"Why don't you have one?" George asked the heavily-armored Vixen to get away from the uncomfortable subject concerning how close he had been to leaking life fluid. As he recalled, only he and Mabel had bracelets.

Tricia tapped her spaulder. "This protects me," she said, "and Iona doesn't need it. Her armor's been blessed already."

George glanced at the bone plates on Iona's outfit. He wondered how effective that protection was.

"So, Squirt," Mabel addressed him, "what do you think? The wastes is exciting, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," George agreed. As long as he did not lose a finger, a toe, or his head.

There was silence after that. Iona went back to sleep.

"Anyone care that we left the place wide open back there?" Tricia asked.

"What do you mean?" George asked.

"We left the windows and the main doors open," Tricia elaborated, "Any wasters left can just walk in."

"I'm sure Lukas can handle himself," Mabel said confidently, "I imagine he's been in the wastes for quite a while in that tower, waiting for challengers. Plus that black power armor's still in there somewhere."

George did wonder about the bald man's safety. Well, if anything happened to Lukas, 'Madboy Keith's Tower of Trials' would stop releasing new episodes. He could find out, if he could locate the program on Covenant's network.

***

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Tower of Trials Chapter 7 Page 4

George easily spotted a machinegun sticking out of the top of some rocks. From there, he easily made out the buggy the weapon was attached to, though he could not see the gunner. The gun was firing at Tricia's power armor.

The Vixen had crouched behind a rock for protection and had a shielded arm up to protect her head. She tossed another smoke grenade to provide herself with more cover.

Most of the vehicle was behind cover so George doubted that he could hit it. Instead, he tried aiming for the weapon. A few of his shots knocked the gun's aim, giving Tricia a chance emerge from the cover of smoke. She sprinted the distance to the light vehicle.

Once the armored Vixen was among the rocks, the wasters sheltered there were in trouble. Tricia easily wreaked havoc with her pneumatic pike and enhanced strength.

"Keep the armors off me!" Tricia requested.

"This walking can's mine," Mabel claimed.

George saw the power armor marching in Tricia's direction. Before he could train his gun on the armor, he heard a crack. The armor jerked in response. He guessed that the Vixen sniper was hitting vulnerable parts of the armor to slow it down.

The armor twisted in the direction of Mabel's window, aimed an arm-mounted gun and fired. George turned his gun on the armor but resisted pulling the trigger when he noticed Tricia springing out of the rocks.

Tricia drove her pneumatic pike into the midriff of her opponent. Her weapon discharged a sharpened spike into her target, piercing through thick plate into vulnerable circuitry and systems within. She continued to savage the critical systems of her opponent.

"The other armor!" Tricia called out. It was a wonder that she kept track of her surroundings.

George looked around for the other power armor. However, Iona found it first. She leaped onto the metal warrior, knocking it to the ground. Then she started scratching furiously with claws. Somehow, her claws were able to rip pieces of protective plates off her victim.

The boy had no time to watch, though. For at that very moment, a spray of bullets hit his shield. George turned the gun around onto the source - another light vehicle from which a mounted machinegun and armed gang members were firing at him.

He was in danger! Fast moving pieces of metal, alloy and ceramic were flying all around him. His safety was threatened and he was allergic to pain. He had to make them stop!

George fired wildly. He was not sure if he was hitting anything. He could not see with all the sparks and shrapnel flying around him. His shield took a lot of hits. Bits of the shield broke off and scattered past him.

In his excitement, George squealed. It was that high-pitched girlie sort of squeal but he did not care. He was in an exciting gamble for his life. At anytime, he could get hurt or his opponents could stop firing.

Bullets were still flying past him. The shield was breaking up. He was sure at least a couple of bullets did hit him. But since he did not feel any pain, he assumed that his armor held. It was a contest to see who would last till the end.

The gang gave up first - they abandoned the vehicle. A moment later, there was a disappointingly small explosion at the back of the buggy and fire started to engulf the vehicle.

George let out one final high-pitched cry, one of victory! He had survived!

"Squirt!" Tricia called over the radio, interrupting his celebration, "I need some support here!"

There were few wasters left to shoot at. Seeing their comrades being smacked around by a Vixen in power armor or savaged by an armored panther was enough to unnerve most of them. Once the first few turned and ran, others started to follow.

Soon, they were all running away, on foot or on the remaining two buggies.

"Squirt, pack up and let's go!" Tricia ordered, "Quick, before they regroup."

George removed the machinegun and its ammo box carried them downstairs. The equipment was heavy without Tricia's help but adrenaline from the excitement of battle gave him strength.

Mabel dashed past him and reached the transport first.

George dropped his equipment and Mabel's into the back of the transport while the sniper started the vehicle's engine.

Then Tricia came in with a few pieces of souvenir - a few weapons, pieces of armor, and one vehicle engine. George had to clear some space in the back cargo area. He moved some of the equipment into the passenger cabin in the middle.

"Why'd you take the engine!?" Mabel exclaimed from the driver's seat, "Laura's not here to make anything of it."

"Habit. Maybe we can sell it for scrap," Tricia replied as she stuffed the engine in the back. "Squirt, close the door. You'll have to secure the engine with straps later."

"What about Iona?" George asked as he hit the button to close the transport's back door.

"We'll pick her up later," Mabel said, "And you might want to do something about your fashion."

"My what?" George looked down at his outfit. He was horrified to find that his coat had been torn in the fight. Pieces of his damaged effeminate armor could be seen. He hurriedly looked in the cargo for something he could use as a cloak.

Hopefully, no one else had noticed.

Once Tricia had entered through the side door of the transport, they were off for home.

***

The Tower of Trials Chapter 7 Page 3

"Okay, again, everyone ready?" Tricia asked. Once Mabel and George confirmed, the power-armored Vixen said, "Right, let's do this... just as soon as someone opens the front door..."

Mabel groaned audibly. "Trish! You don't usually miss out on details!"

"Gimme a break," Tricia said, "Laura usually handles the door. Okay, found the controls. Now, everyone ready? And make sure you have your window controls."

Once again, Mabel and George confirmed.

George heard the creak of gears turning and the rattle of chains pulling. The heavy main doors of the tower slid open. Then he heard the distant bursts of gunfire and the impact of bullets on the level below.

"The transport's in the line of fire," Tricia reported.

"Argh, Laura usually reminds us of that!" Mabel said.

Could those people do anything without Laura!?

"Some suppressive fire, please!" Tricia requested, "Need to draw fire away from our ride."

"Okay, Squirt, we're up," Mabel ordered.

George hit the button by his window. Further along the mezzanine, Mabel ran along and hit the buttons for three of the other windows. Once his window had slid wide enough, George pushed his machinegun into position.

Meanwhile, gunfire from outside had stopped. Peeking around his shield, George saw that a man and a woman had risen among one of the groups of wasters sheltered among the rocks. Their mismatched armor made them look unimpressive, unprofessional even. Maybe that was why Mabel had fussed so much when she had selected his armor.

The man held a megaphone to his mask. "You've crossed the Blue Landsharks for the last time, Vixens!," he said aloud.

"Yeah, you've gone too far," the woman echoed through a smaller megaphone.

"We've you outnumbered and surrounded! Surrender!" ordered the man.

"Yeah, surren"-

There was the sharp crack of Mabel's sniper rifle and the megaphone exploded in the woman's face. The man dove behind a rock for cover.

"Jeez, I hate that Miss Loudmouth," Mabel mumbled.

"Squirt, start squirting!" Tricia ordered.

George got behind his gun. At the same time, a thick cloud of dark gray smoke rose from the entrance - it was likely that one of the Vixens had used smoke grenades to provide cover for Tricia and Iona's exit.

The boy spotted a few groups of lightly armored people. He would have to divide his time between the groups. He fired a few rounds at one group, then sprayed another. He left out that group that was scattering in panic, having discovered an armored purple-furred panther among themselves.

"Squirt, the buggy on your two o'clock!" Mabel suddenly called.

"My what?"

"On your right!" Mabel clarified excitedly, "Fill it with bullets!"

George easily spotted the buggy rolling towards the entrance. It was a four-wheeled vehicle with roll bars that offered hardly any protection for its occupants. The machinegun mounted on its back was a big threat, though. George sprayed bullets at the gunner manning that weapon.

One of George's bullet hit the gunner on the arm. The latter fell off the vehicle. The buggy spun to a stop. The driver got out but was caught in George's hail of bullets.

The boy continued firing at the vehicle's machinegun, hoping to discourage anyone else from using it. Maybe a few of his bullets would damage the weapon.

A bullet hit the shield on his own weapon, harshly drawing George to the fact that he was in a fight where he could get hurt. He glanced about for its source. He had to stop people shooting at him!

"Squirt, that buggy on your eleven - your left," Tricia pointed out, "behind the rocks."

The Tower of Trials Chapter 7 Page 2

Leaving Mabel and Iona to torment the caretaker, George continued his way to the window. Tricia guided him with instructions as he installed the heavy machinegun at a mounting point before one of the closed windows. The boy loaded the ammunition and added a solid plate shield behind which the gunner could hide.

"Finished!" George announced once he was done.

"You sure, Squirt?" Tricia asked.

George looked at the mounted gun. Ammunition, shield... He examined the pivot points and found them to be sufficiently lubricated. "Yeah, everything's there."

"How are you going to fire it?"

"I'll just..." Then George realized that there was no trigger.

Tricia held up the manual trigger for him to install. Without that, George would be reduced to throwing bullets out the window. Thankfully, the Vixen did not make an issue of his mistake. Instead, she instructed him in moving the gun into position, aiming and firing it.

"Are you okay with having to shoot people?" Tricia asked after she was done teaching George about the operation of a heavy machinegun, "Real people?"

"We've to, right?" George said, "In order for us to go home."

Tricia bowed slightly to indicate agreement. Her power armor did not have a neck. Thus, her nod could not be seen while she was in her armor. "Besides, they're the ones who decided to stand in our way. Squirt, do you understand the concept of suppressive fire?"

George did not.

Lecture time. "A manually aimed machinegun at this range isn't really accurate. Instead of trying to hit something, use it to suppress the enemy."

"How?" George asked.

"Spray bullets at them, force them behind cover so they don't shoot at me or Io."

"Just that?"

Tricia bowed again. "Aim at groups of them. Leave the singles and pairs to Mabel."

The other two Vixens joined them at the window. "There's around thirty of them," Mabel reported, "Two patched-up power armors, four light vehicles."

"No tanks?" Tricia asked.

"Not with their budget," Mabel quipped.

Iona stepped next to George and pulled his arm so she could inspect the bracelet around his wrist. After she was done, Tricia had George test the communicator in his helmet.

George watched as Iona clipped a communicator onto her ear, the ear on her helmet. He thought it was strange but the girl merely smiled at him. He felt a little uneasy that Iona's grin was growing wider. And she had fangs, really sharp ones. Why had he not noticed those before? And the pupils of her green eyes were narrow vertical slits!?

Iona got onto her hands and knees.

Okay, it was getting creepy.

George took a step back. He saw that Iona's fur cloak was expanding to cover her body. So did her fur gloves and boots. The bone plates on her limbs flowed as her arms and legs grew slender. The top of her helmet moved down to cover the top half of her face... her face... The teenage boy realized that he was looking at the face of a panther!

Iona was an armored panther! Wait. Iona was the armored panther!? George looked to the other Vixens but could not see their reactions since they had their faces covered.

The panther brushed roughly against George's leg, its plates scraping against ceramic armor.

"Io can shapeshift," Mabel said.

Well, obviously! She did that just then!

"It's a common ability among her people," Tricia mentioned.

Like that explained everything!

"Anyway, we've got to get into position." Mabel pushed George to his assigned window. "Don't want to keep our playmates waiting any longer."

There was more that George had wanted to ask but that would have to wait. He had to help secure his exit home. Also, he did not know where to start with his questions. There were just too many things that he did not know about the wasteland.

"Everyone in position?" Tricia asked over their communications channel.

"Ready," Mabel said.

"Ready," George said too. He waited for the last Vixen.

"Io's ready," Tricia said.

"She can't say for herself?" George asked.

"Have you ever heard a panther speak before?" Mabel asked back.

"Um... no," George uttered.

"Well, I have," Mabel mentioned.

What other wonders were there in the wasteland?

The Tower of Trials Chapter 7 Page 1

George made it safely back to the ground level where the transport was parked. And he still had all his fingers, toes and head attached! Well, that was a relief.

Lukas the caretaker with the head as shiny as the full moon was there to welcome George and the Vixens back. He noted all the loot that they carried, especially the freezer and the two cabinets. "Did you have a good time?"

"Kind of boring actually," Mabel commented with a yawn, with quite a bit of exaggeration - necessary, since she still had her mask on.

Iona placed her cabinet and plant on the ground and skipped next to the bald man. "Can I keep you?" she asked.

"No, you can't," Lukas said back.

And it appeared that the moon had water on it.

"Aw, but you're cute," Iona said.

Was that the fur-cloaked Vixen's idea of flirting?

"No, you most definitely cannot have me," Lukas said firmly.

Iona took a step closer. "But I want you!" She raised her paws and bent her knees slightly in preparation to pounce.

"I think you'd better run," Mabel advised Lukas.

And that led to another merry little chase around the ground level.

George helped Tricia stash the cabinets and the freezer into the back of the transport. In the meantime, Mabel picked through the equipment they had brought with them.

"Squirt, I need you to double-check my armor," Tricia told him once everything was packed.

"Just being prepared, right?" George asked as he examined the Vixen's power armor for damage, "In case anything happens on the way home?"

"More than likely," Tricia said, "You didn't think that gang we chased away earlier will forget everything, did you?"

Iona had gotten bored of her little game by then. She went into the transport and placed her plant and stuffed goat onto one of the seats. She even buckled the seat belt on them.

"They'll be back?" George asked.

"They're likely waiting outside just now," Tricia replied, "with reinforcements."

George stopped his inspection. He glanced at the closed windows on the mezzanine level.

Iona stepped out of the transport. She too looked up at the window. The cloaked girl ran to the stairs and jumped onto them. After bounding over several steps up, she leaped for the edge of the mezzanine and flipped onto the platform. Using the controls beside one of the windows above the main doors, she opened the shutters a crack and peeked outside.

"They're waiting outside," Iona called down, "Shall I go out for a look?"

"Not yet," Tricia called back.

"Looks like a lot of them," Iona said. She leaped over the platform railing and landed smoothly on the ground level.

"Can we handle them all?" George asked Tricia with concern. The gang that attacked earlier was a pretty large group to him. And he had the impression that what awaited outside was even larger.

Mabel gave his back a clap. "Sure we can! We're in a fortified position!" She carried a pair of guns and a couple of boxes of ammunition up to the mezzanine level.

"We don't have to finish all of them," Tricia added, "All we need to do is show enough force for them to scatter. Then when the path is clear, we go home."

Once Tricia's armor was checked, there was still work for George. Tricia had him uninstall the heavy machinegun from the transport's turret. They were going to mount the gun at one of the windows. Or rather, George was going to. It was difficult to perform delicate tasks in power armor after all.

"You don't mind us using your tower to fight some wasters?" Tricia asked Lukas as she and George passed him on their way up.

"Not at all," the bald man replied, "It's bonus material for the show."

Mabel, who was on the way down, heard him. "Wait. You're going to need cameras outside if you're going to record anything."

"We have those," Lukas admitted proudly.

Mabel and Tricia glanced at each other. Then the smaller Vixen jumped on the bald caretaker. "Where's the monitors?" Mabel demanded as she gripped his shoulders, "Gimme access!"

"Free show!" Iona exclaimed as she joined Mabel.

Stop Online Piracy Act

For those of you who are aware of the Stop Online Piracy Act being debated in the US, you may skip this post. The only thing of interest to you may be this link to Wikipedia about the SOPA Initiative.

For the rest of you, and I hope there's no one in this category, you should at least be aware of SOPA. I do not understand all the implications of SOPA and its sister PIPA or how exactly they will work.

As I understand, if this bill passes, it will have serious effects on the Internet as we know. A lot of material are going to face forced censorship. A lot of information may be restricted, hidden from the rest of the world. It is like dropping a nuke to exterminate roaches in a city apartment. And more than a few roaches may actually survive the blast.

If you use the Internet, which I assume you do since you are probably reading this post from an Internet connection, you should at least be aware of this issue, even if your understanding is incomplete (like mine).

Here's the link again to where you can learn more from a much more reliable source than this post.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Tower of Trials Chapter 6 Page 4

Within the freezer, sealed in plastic vacuum-packs, were chunks of meat. Raw meat. Which were very rare in Covenant. George could not remember the last time he himself had tasted real meat.

"Real meat! What's it taste like?" George asked.

"Yummy!" Iona replied.

"But we're selling these," Mabel said, "Hopefully, it'll be enough to pay for my shopping."

"I was hoping to have a taste," George said.

Iona pulled George's hand. "If you want to eat meat, you can come to my house and have some!"

"Really?" George asked her.

"Note that Io's place is across the wasteland," Mabel told him, "A few day's drive from Covenant."

George looked at Mabel with narrowed eyes filled with disappointment and accusation. Not that his expression could be seen through his mask.

"Meat is plentiful there," Tricia told him, "You can eat all you want."

"Yeah, but it's still far away," George said dejectedly.

"We can take you there one day," Mabel offered. "Maybe," she added under her breath.

George glanced at the items in the room. "So, we've got some pretty good stuff after all," he commented.

"No!" Mabel exclaimed, "This isn't good. Not even on a bad day!"

"This isn't much of a prize," Tricia said as she looked around, "Is there anything else we can take that isn't nailed down?"

"The keypad by the door!" Mabel pointed out, "The door!"

"I can't carry both the door and the freezer," Tricia said.

"Get working on the keypad then, Squirt," Mabel ordered, "See if you can get the electromagnets too."

Long story short, George easily salvaged the keypad since he had partly disassembled it earlier. With the electromagnets, it was easier to have Tricia rip them off, rather than risk contact with a live wire.

Once they had taken everything they could, they went back down.

On the level with the Trial of Patience, Tricia commented, "We shouldn't have trashed the turrets. The guns could be salvaged."

"If Laura were here, I'm sure she would salvage something," Mabel said, "Hey, what about that giant power armor Io left running downstairs?"

George chased after three excited Vixens hurrying down the tower. They did take extra care crossing the Trial of Caution, though. Perhaps that was why that Trial had been called 'Caution' - they had to be careful after solving it.

However, once they reached the Trial of Combat, the black power armor was gone. The warrior had probably sensed the approaching danger and had run to avoid being taken away.

At the curtains to the level with the Trial of Endurance, Mabel spoke up, "Can we pick up a few of the cabinets?"

"One small cabinet," Tricia decided. She already had her hands full with the freezer. "Unless Io takes one too."

"Is there anything else that isn't nailed down that we can loot?" Mabel asked, "Not that being nailed down would save something from looting." She indicated George's toolbag that everyone knew had the keypad.

"There's still that man in the ground floor," Iona suggested cheerfully.

"Let's just go get us a couple of cabinets," Mabel said as she parted the curtains, "and leave quick before the itching starts again."

The gas! George was not about to stay any longer than necessary. As Tricia and Iona considered the cabinets, George hurried through the level to the other pair of curtains on the other side. He pushed past the curtains to stand on the stairs leading down.

"Hey, Squirt!" Mabel called when she caught up to him, her rifle lowered, "What's your hurry?"

"I don't feel like itching again," George replied.

"Yeah, but charging ahead alone and unarmed isn't wise." Mabel was glancing about the staircase.

George stared at her. "Haven't we been this way before?"

"Yeah, but we're still not at the bottom level," Mabel pointed out, "In fact, we're still in the wastes. Someone could have placed a trap or something while we're gone. Anything could be here."

George could have gotten himself hurt or worse! "Uh, sorry..." he started to apologize. He must have been a handful to look after if he was careless of his own safety. It was fortunate that Mabel still looked out for him.

Mabel clapped him on the back. "Ah, don't worry! If you die, we can always hire Sharpwrench Kelly!"

So much for her having any concern about his well-being!

***