Joren sat near the edge of the roof, one knee up, the other folded underneath the gap as his chin rested on his knee. One arm was across his shin holding his left arm as it held the radio, resting on the open binder of the layout. From here, the base's sprawl of walkways and stacked structures looked like a marvel of architecture that worked as efficiently as an ant colony. Evening began to creep in ever so slowly, the sky bruising into golden shades with every passing minute.
She should have radioed in by now. Willow had a habit of cutting it close and doing things on her own time, but she always checked in. The longer the silence stretched, the heavier the knot in his stomach became. He trusted her judgement, so he assumed that she probably just had poor reception and would make her way back in due time.
His radio crackled.
"Hawk bravo six... you there?" Bart's voice, low and distracted by what Joren assumed was a grilled cheese.
"Yeah," Joren said, leaning forward to check the open yard below.
"Day's winding down," Bart continued. "We're heading up your way."
The line clicked quiet again, leaving only the wind and the faint, uneven clank of some distant machinery. Joren let the silence stretch, his thoughts on the others still moving somewhere down there. It had been a slow day for him to say the least. Nothing worth writing down happened from his observations except the light changes in guard rotations and supplies being wheeled into Building C in pallets to carts.
Not much later, boots scuffed the metal stairwell. Gus came first, rubbing his hands together against the chilly breeze, and Bart followed with that distracted look he got when his head was thinking about anything but what was in front of him. Though, his lazy eyes really made that a 50/50 guess of it being true at any given time.
"You look like you've been staring at paint dry." Gus said, dropping onto the wall beside him.
"Better than doing inventory," Joren said. "Anything interesting since you last checked in?"
"Nah, not really." Gus replied. "The admin buildings were too obvious to hide something like that anyways."
Bart shrugged, shifting his weight and setting his satchel down. "Well… maybe one thing," he said, like he wasn't sure it even mattered. "Heard a couple voices in the stairwell of the cafeteria a while ago. Talking about an intruder in one of the restricted sections. Didn't sound like a drill."
Joren's head lifted, the words clicking together too fast for comfort. Dread began to overtake his entire being. Willow still hadn't shown. His hand tightened on the radio without him meaning to, the cold casing biting into his palm.
Joren's head lifted, voice coming out flatter than normal. "Huh? When did that happen, Bart?"
"Mmmm, probably an hour or two ago." Bart said, tapping his chin with his index finger. "Sounded kind of panicked."
Gus glanced between them, reading the change in Joren's face. "Wait a second. Has Willow checked in yet?"
Joren didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed on the walkways below, scanning for any sign of movement that might prove or disprove it. "No..."
Gus's brow furrowed. "Where was she last? She must have checked in recently enough to give you some idea of where she is."
Joren's gaze stayed fixed on the narrow catwalk between the storage buildings, eyes following a pair of guards that didn't seem to be heading anywhere in particular. "She said she was going to check out Building C, but it was pretty jumbled and staticky when she radioed me. I couldn't tell all of what she said, just that part."
Joren started looking into his pages for Building C's layout, hoping the answer would jump out at him. He started looking at any notes he had that might help figure things out.
Bart and Gus discussed among themselves if they noticed anything in the last few hours that could help them figure out where she might be, Joren too focused on his notes to contribute. He ran a finger along the narrow catwalk, the lift at its northern tip, and the branching maintenance hall that bled into the stairwell sections.
Something about Bart's words from yesterday weighed into his thoughts. He recalled how he had mentioned that the lift was out of order again but that it started working again today. The influx of supplies to the building also came to mind, more pieces falling into place as he figured out where Willow probably was. He started looking into the lower underground layouts and what it was used for.
If Willow had followed her curiosity down there, she was in a place where few people went willingly for leisurely activities. Nyra made notes that it was used as a storage facility and where they also did laundry for the base. It wasn't used as much these days due to its old infrastructure and outdated layout, making it hard for it to be repurposed into something useful.
Joren looked up from the binder, his finger still planted on the page. "If she went where I think she did… she's probably in the lower level of Building C. The only thing that really goes on down there is storage and laundry."
Gus's jaw flexed as he turned his head to Joren now. "So she is trapped in the underground of the base? We HAVE to go rescue her now!"
Bart lifted a hand, halting Gus before he could stand. "We can't go charging in blind. It's like running into a dark barn because you think you heard a chicken, only to realize the chicken was actually a badger with a knife."
Gus blinked. "Why would a badger have a knife?"
"Why would Willow be in the laundry tunnels?" Bart countered without missing a beat. "Life's a swirling soup, my friend. Sometimes there's carrots and sometimes there's potatoes.
Joren ignored the analogy entirely, leaning forward. "We're not just sitting here either. If she's down there, that intruder call means someone's already found her. If we move now, we might get ahead of them."
Gus frowned, moving towards the exit already. "Then we can't be sitting around here all day, we need to go."
Bart's steps slowed as they neared the guard's patrol arc, his lazy eyes narrowing just slightly.
"Hold it," he said, lifting a hand. "You're about to walk into a spotlight with a big sign over your head that says 'We're definitely up to something.'"
Gus frowned. "And you want us to… what? Wait for them to roll out a red carpet?"
Bart shook his head, tone shifting to something sharper. "No, we plan. Infiltration's like fishing, you don't just jump in the lake swinging a net and hope the trout feels charitable. You lay the trap beforehand and bait them into it."
For once, Bart seemed to make sense.
"Bart and I have both been seen around the base the last two days, me even more so." Gus replied. "If we want to sneak in, we have to hide the two of us somehow."
Bart scratched at the edge of his temple, eyes flicking toward the walkways above them.
"Then we don't go in as ourselves," he said flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We find a way to look like we belong."
Joren thought about that statement, his brain being racked for anything that might help sneak them in. His observations would come in clutch any moment. "What if we hid the two of you in laundry carts and dressed me up as a soldier? We could probably find our way down below without raising suspicion that way."
Bart tilted his head like he was weighing the plan against some private mental list.
"Soldier disguise, laundry cart infiltration… yeah, that could work. Definitely could work... as long as the carts aren't the squeaky kind. Nothing ruins stealth like sounding like you're pushing a rusty swing around the halls."
Gus frowned. "We're not gonna suffocate in there, are we?"
"No, you should be able to breath pretty fine through laundry. It might smell a little bit though." Joren replied, not dismissing Gus's concern.
Bart scratched at the edge of his temple. "Good, because I'm allergic to dying in a pile of socks," he said plainly. "Now, if we're doing this, we do it right. We need the carts, some convincing dirty laundry, and something that passes for a uniform on you."
Gus crossed his arms. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"
Bart's mouth twitched like he'd just been handed a fresh opportunity for mischief. "Oh, absolutely," he said, voice as dry as desert sand. But that means you either walk out like a mastermind… or you're remembered as the two lunatics who tried to break into a restricted sector inside a rolling pile of laundry."
Gus groaned. "That's not exactly reassuring."
Bart shrugged.
"Let's go find our disguises then." Joren said, voice determined to rescue his friend Willow.
Evening – Inside Valtryn Base
Bart was the first to speak once they ducked into a quieter service hallway. "Alright, soldier-boy, first order of business, we need to get your uniform. You've got the shoulders for it, but you're going to need to fit in the pants."
Joren flipped a page in his notes as they walked. "There's a quartermaster's storehouse two halls down from here. If they're rotating shifts, it might be half-empty right now."
Gus raised a hand. "Hold on. I can probably slip in and find some clothes for you since I blend in better than you two would."
Bart gave Gus a slow once-over, his right eye narrowing like he was sizing up a horse before a race. "Alright, fine. You're the one least likely to get stopped, so you grab the uniform. Just remember: act like you've been doing this job since birth."
"I can manage that." Gus said, his tone more hopeful than confident.
"Good. Quartermaster's storehouse should be just ahead, second door on the left," Joren added. "We'll hang back near the corner and keep watch."
Bart leaned in with a final bit of unsolicited wisdom. "And if anyone stops you, just say you're running an inventory check for Section Twelve. It sounds official enough that no one will admit they don't know what it means."
Bart and Joren lingered in the shadow of the corner, Bart idly picking at a peeling patch of paint on the wall. "If he gets caught," Bart murmured, "I say we pretend we've never seen him before. You'll be 'Officer Tall and Silent,' and I'll be the confused tourist who wandered into the wrong building."
Joren didn't bother answering. His eyes stayed on the door ahead, ready to move if Gus came running out with half the base on his heels.
A moment later, the door creaked shut behind Gus as he returned with a uniform perfect for Joren.
Joren raised his eyebrows in amazement as Gus handed over the folded uniform. "Not bad," he said, flipping the jacket inside-out, checking for stains or tears.
Gus puffed his chest slightly. "Told you I could manage."
Joren took the uniform and began slipping into the jacket over his own clothes, fastening the buttons as Bart circled him like an overly critical tailor. "You're gonna need the cap," Bart muttered. "Soldier without a cap is like a cat without ears. Just not right..."
Gus dug into the bundle again and produced a matching cap, holding it out with a little flourish. Joren slipped it on, tugging the brim low enough to shadow his eyes.
Bart gave him a slow glance, then gave a single approving nod. "Better. Now you look like you could order someone to mop a floor they just mopped."
Joren adjusted the jacket's hem, making sure it fell just right over his trousers. "Alright, uniform's sorted. Next is the laundry carts."
Bart's expression turned calculating. "We'll want the biggest one we can get. Gus over here will probably take up the whole thing, I don't know how I'll fit."
"HEY, what's that supposed to mean, Bart?" Gus turned, anger starting to set in like he was implied to be a little rounder than he was wider.
Bart just grinned like Gus had proven his point.
Joren stepped in before Gus could respond. "Alright, you two can argue about fitting into the cart later. First, we need to get one to finish this plan of ours. Let's just find a service bay and get the carts before someone catches us loitering."
The faint scent of sweaty clothes wafted them forward, begrudgingly. It wouldn't take them much longer to round up the other half of the plan, though it would definitely smell bad.