Clear Reception (1)
As more people pushed north past the Noise Tree's radio interference line, the number of intercepted transmissions picked up on our monitoring gear surged right alongside them.
Military chatter from units locked in round-the-clock law enforcement.
A search team agonizing over their dilemma.
The search team that'd be feasting on fresh meat tonight.
There were clueless search teams too, repeating "Excuse me? Excuse me?" endlessly. The guy's leader, patiently coaxing him with endless endurance, was downright admirable. If it were me, I'd have barked "Shut up and do as you're told!" ages ago. Instead, the leader explained how humanity had tried domesticating zebras for centuries, mostly failing. The list of failures included legendary cowboys, mounted police, ranch experts obsessed with tourist gimmicks, and horse nerds who just loved riding—and all of them were way more expert than this guy. He even patiently covered the rare successes that got ditched for shitty cost-benefit ratios and how the meat tastes like crap.
The stubborn guy's voice turned sullen, like a kid begging for a puppy and getting a flat "No" from his parents. The leader comforted him, soothed him, and got him moving pronto.
"...Impressive."
Artemis sounded exasperated too. Even I felt my chest tighten listening, but it also reeked of raw humanity.
"I'd love to scout that leader guy for the Shelter if the chance comes up."
Artemis, who hates bringing in outsiders, gave a silent nod of approval this time.
"Makes me realize just how blessed I am as a commander."
It really drove home how competent the robots I'd led on expeditions were compared to this.
Artemis giggled. The radio chatter kept flowing in and out, like stepping into a wartime command center.
Couldn't leave out the rest stop in full sales mode. Our eavesdropping setup is top-tier, but excluding the military, most folks don't bother with comms security. They still trust the army's grip on law and order. Wasting energy on unnecessary survivor boundaries costs resources—better to focus on scavenging for that extra can of food.
Some transmissions had different motives.
He tsked hard.
In this era, trekking between garrisons on foot for that cause showed insane stamina and willpower.
Going strong then swerving into conspiracy territory. If he'd stuck to comms restoration value, maybe one or two would've bitten—but I get why they all shut him down.
On the flip side, someone with the polar opposite mindset was trying to transmit. Cool-headed, cautious.
Heavy static.
The static swelled and faded as he fiddled with something, words coming clearer then muddled.
Yujin was hunting for us.
Irritated background mutters leaked through: "How long you gonna cling to that?" Sounded like a group in a big living room–sized space attempting contact.
Grumbles urging him to stop, complaints. "No one's there." "Too risky—time to head back." Fair point—they'd pushed deepest among southern search teams into Jeonju territory. Still safer southern Honam zone, but one slip and they'd hit infected swarms.
His crisp, smart tone started getting watery. Maybe that's why the murmurs and gripes quieted a bit.
"..."
I steepled my fingers, lost in thought.
Respond or not, do what I want—that's the gist.
Yujin kept pinging away while the rest prepped to bail.
Gruff male tone laced with hostility toward Yujin.
Now the channel was more infighting background noise than their hunt for us. Tap tap tap. I drummed my fingers on the desk, silent.
Choked voice.
"Artemis."
"If we reply from here, could they pinpoint us? They're cycling restricted freqs across targeted areas."
The 3D map popped up our position versus theirs, plus their signal direction and the drone carrier relaying it to us. Nowhere near the Shelter.
I hovered my hand over the touchpad.
"If they weren't reckless, they never would've pushed to Jeonju."
While we chatted, their vibe tanked to rock bottom.
Gruff guy and a woman defending Yujin clashed.
Rage-filled gruff voice boomed with a heavy thud.
Smacking sounds, pained groans, shrieks, voices chiming in or against, regrets about coming to Jeonju. Curses and yells flew; chaos didn't die down.
Young woman's plea cut the line.
Hmm, time to chime in.
"Loud and clear."
One line dropped, finger off the panel. Green "On" vanished. Hiss. They opened the line instantly.
No words. The frenzy went dead quiet in a flash. The fire-breathing gruff voice halted; only tense breaths came through sharp and clear. Kinda funny, really. Hiss. They never followed up, closing the line.
"This is..."
I paused. Comms etiquette demands location on transmit, but no way. Time to fake it.
"This is Raven Rock."
Come to think of it, this place and Raven Rock have a lot in common. Functions and scale-wise, we're vastly superior, sure.