The truck rolls off the road and into the orchard, then settles among the trees. Humid air hangs still around the cooling engine, and the racket of FOB Dagger falls away to a distant, ugly murmur.
Daniel North stays near the truck while Sgt. Douglas sits on the tailgate, elbows on his knees. Justin Forester cradles the radio set in his lap, turning the dead battery pack over in both hands.
Sgt. Douglas
That signal was no accident. Someone wanted us listening.
Justin Forester
Yeah. And they wanted the set to talk back. I did not like that one bit.
Douglas rubs his jaw, watching the treeline like he expects the orchard itself to answer. Justin gives a short, tired laugh that fades before it finishes.
Sgt. Douglas
Command’s either blind, compromised, or both. Until I know which, we trust our own ears.
Justin Forester
I can try to check the set again, once we’re still. If the battery was the problem, I want to know why it started broadcasting in the first place.
For a moment, the orchard feels almost ordinary, all leaves and shadow and warm dust. The three men have a brief pocket of quiet, and the radio lies between them like something that might yet be understood.
✓ Quest Accepted
Find out why the radio was broadcasting their position
✓ Quest Accepted
Confirm whether command can be trusted
“Was the radio or the battery pack made in the CCP?”
YES, BUT (Likely, rolled 57)
Justin turns the battery pack over, his thumb tracing a faint, stamped insignia hidden beneath a layer of grime. He freezes, his face paling as he recognizes the mark of a state-run factory from across the strait.
Justin Forester
It is not just the radio, Sergeant. The battery itself... it is CCP issue.
“Daniel tosses the compromised battery pack "Fucking made by the lowest bidder bullshit. Give me made in America any day of the week and twice on Sunday!"”
Daniel North
Fucking made by the lowest bidder bullshit. Give me made in America any day of the week and twice on Sunday!
Justin Forester
A sharp, shaky laugh escapes him. "Yeah. Same here. Right now, I would settle for anything that does not betray us."
Sgt. Douglas
Douglas snorts once, then eases back a fraction. "Keep talking like that, North, and I might start thinking we still got a team."
“Do we find some maps in the truck glove compartment that we can use to make a proper plan to meet up with surviving soldiers of the ROC or US Army?”
NO, AND WORSE (Likely, rolled 94)
Daniel North reaches into the glove compartment, his fingers brushing against nothing but a thick layer of dust and a few loose, useless receipts. He pulls his hand back, finding only a jagged tear in the upholstery where a map case should have been, and the realization hits that the truck has been stripped bare.
Sgt. Douglas
Empty. Just like the rest of this godforsaken sector.
Daniel North
We are driving blind into a meat grinder.
“Can we find a gas station nearby by sight?”
YES, BUT (Unlikely, rolled 34)
Daniel scans the horizon through the cracked windshield, spotting the rusted silhouette of a gas station pump standing like a tombstone against the grey sky. The structure is gutted and scorched, offering no fuel or supplies to sustain their escape.
“"Follow the road east from that gas station! We'll find someone eventually." Daniel says as he reloads the HMG with his last belt.”
SUCCESS (Fair Agility, rolled +0)