The Distress Signal
May. 8th, 2009 01:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyFor all that Ellen had been telling people at Milliways that her Vault was 'outside of where Arlington used to be', it seemed that the boundaries of the old city were surprisingly far away. Oh, sure, in a straight line it didn't look like much, but having to clamber over piles and piles of centuries-old rubble added to the distance, and the raiders that cropped up whenever she thought she could let her guard down just made things worse. More than once she considered finding a door to get herself to Milliways for help, but some burst of gunfire, or some gurgling wail of a half-rotted ghoul gone mad, inevitably interrupted her train of thought.
Eventually, though, she came to a stop on the remains of what had once been a sunken road. There'd been two raiders, armed with shotguns and stinking of God only knew what chems; they were gone now. Only corpses and quiet remained. She sagged back against one of the canyonlike walls that flanked the roadbed and closed her eyes a moment.
There was no click of a cocking gun, no patter of irradiated footsteps. No buzzing of bloatflies or skittering of radroaches, no clickity noises as the joints of giant ant legs slid over one another, no shuffling molerat steps or barking of feral dogs. Not even the thud of great green mutant feet could be heard in the quiet of that manmade valley.
It was creepy as hell. Ellen could feel the edges of her old fear of open spaces creeping back in that silence. Not much liking the prospect, she quickly opened her eyes and started fiddling with her Pip-Boy. She'd found that it picked up the same patriotic music and recorded speeches the Weixing-looking robots broadcast, and under the right conditions, it sometimes picked up Galaxy News Radio. Either one, she felt, would be welcome just now.
"This is a high priority message. Backup is needed at our location. Any personnel listening on this frequency, please report at once..."
.... that wasn't Galaxy News Radio. That wasn't even Three Dog's voice. Ellen froze, but there was no further signal, only faint open-channel static. She'd just begun to reach for the tuning dial again when the same man's voice spoke again, crackly and urgent sounding: "This is defender Morrill. Any outcasts listening on this frequency, report to sector 7B- Bailey's Crossroads. This is a high priority message..."
Where Bailey's Crossroads was, she didn't know. On the other hand, she'd been learning to triangulate radio signals so that she could eventually track Three Dog down. Whoever this Morrill was, it sounded like he was in danger. And, well... given what the Overseer had said, she was pretty sure she qualified as outcast.
The library could wait. Ellen pushed herself away from the wall and started off at a trot.
Eventually, though, she came to a stop on the remains of what had once been a sunken road. There'd been two raiders, armed with shotguns and stinking of God only knew what chems; they were gone now. Only corpses and quiet remained. She sagged back against one of the canyonlike walls that flanked the roadbed and closed her eyes a moment.
There was no click of a cocking gun, no patter of irradiated footsteps. No buzzing of bloatflies or skittering of radroaches, no clickity noises as the joints of giant ant legs slid over one another, no shuffling molerat steps or barking of feral dogs. Not even the thud of great green mutant feet could be heard in the quiet of that manmade valley.
It was creepy as hell. Ellen could feel the edges of her old fear of open spaces creeping back in that silence. Not much liking the prospect, she quickly opened her eyes and started fiddling with her Pip-Boy. She'd found that it picked up the same patriotic music and recorded speeches the Weixing-looking robots broadcast, and under the right conditions, it sometimes picked up Galaxy News Radio. Either one, she felt, would be welcome just now.
"This is a high priority message. Backup is needed at our location. Any personnel listening on this frequency, please report at once..."
.... that wasn't Galaxy News Radio. That wasn't even Three Dog's voice. Ellen froze, but there was no further signal, only faint open-channel static. She'd just begun to reach for the tuning dial again when the same man's voice spoke again, crackly and urgent sounding: "This is defender Morrill. Any outcasts listening on this frequency, report to sector 7B- Bailey's Crossroads. This is a high priority message..."
Where Bailey's Crossroads was, she didn't know. On the other hand, she'd been learning to triangulate radio signals so that she could eventually track Three Dog down. Whoever this Morrill was, it sounded like he was in danger. And, well... given what the Overseer had said, she was pretty sure she qualified as outcast.
The library could wait. Ellen pushed herself away from the wall and started off at a trot.