Chapter 34: Vectors
Timeline: 05:00, Monday
Location: Agonwood Fitness Center
I swiped my key card at 04:58. The lock chirped and I pushed the door open and stepped into the cool, climate-controlled air of the on-site gym.
Julian waited by the row of treadmills, leaning against the console of the unit on the far end. He wore black compression gear that outlined every muscle, looking awake, alert, and terrifyingly ready.
I walked over, clutching my water bottle like a shield.
"Good. You're on time," Julian said, ignoring the clock on the wall to focus entirely on me.
"I'm early," I corrected. "It's 04:59."
"Early is on time," he said. "Get on."
He gestured to the belt of the treadmill.
"Ready?" he asked. It wasn't a question.
"Ready," I breathed.
He punched in the speed: 9.0.
The belt whined and accelerated instantly. I had to jump into a sprint to catch the rhythm. 9.0 mph. A 6:40 mile. It was fast, but it was flat. I found my stride, the foam soles of my shoes absorbing the impact, my breathing even.
"Good," Julian said. "You're comfortable. You're calculating the duration."
"It's manageable," I said haltingly.
"You can do this because your physics are simple," Julian countered. "Friction and forward momentum. Let's add gravity."
He tapped the screen. INCLINE: 4.0%
The deck rose. The shift was immediate. The horizontal velocity remained four meters per second, but the vector changed. My feet slammed harder against the rubber.
"Feel that?" Julian's voice was right next to my ear. "Your heart rate just jumped ten beats. Your body is realizing the geometry has changed."
I focused on the numbers to distract myself.
Mass times gravity times sine theta. Vertical velocity was now .16 m/s. I am generating 94 watts just to fight the elevation.
"I'm fine," I gasped.
"You're shifting from aerobic to anaerobic," Julian narrated calmly, watching my form. "Your lungs are still trying to pull oxygen, but the demand is outstripping the supply. The carbon dioxide is starting to build up in your blood."
He tapped the screen again. INCLINE: 6.0%
The deck tilted steeper. My quads screamed. The math spiked.
Vertical velocity is 0.24 m/s.
"One hundred and forty-one watts," I gritted out.
"Your Type 1 muscle fibers just failed," Julian observed, his eyes tracking the way my stride shortened. "You're recruiting the Type 2 fibers now. Fast-twitch. They're powerful, Lonna, but they're expensive. They burn glucose, not oxygen. It's like trying to keep warm by burning matches."
My lungs were burning. It had now become a desperate climb—and a battle of wills. I stared at the red numbers on the display, my vision blurring at the edges as the sweat started to sting my eyes.
"Don't grab the rails," Julian warned.
"I'm... hitting... tolerance..."
"Eight percent," Julian said mercilessly.
INCLINE: 8.0%
The deck rose to a punishing angle.
188 watts.
"You're flooding with lactic acid," Julian whispered, leaning in so I could hear him over my own gasping. "Your brain is screaming at you to stop. It thinks you're dying. It's triggering the panic response."
"Julian..."
"Show me what you can do," he commanded. "Ignore the biology. Trust the machine. Ten seconds. Give me everything."
I ran. I ran until my legs were numb, until the only thing keeping me upright was the sheer terror of falling off the back while he watched.
"Three... two... one."
He hit the emergency stop.
The belt halted. I grabbed the rails, my chest heaving, my legs buckling. I would have collapsed if Julian hadn't stepped in and wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me up.
"Breathe," he ordered, his hand flat against my racing heart. "In through the nose. Out through the mouth."
I collapsed against him, sweating and shaking. "Why?" I gasped.
"Because today requires endurance," Julian said, handing me a towel. "And I needed to know that when your brain tells you to quit, you'll listen to me instead."
He released me. "Go shower. Put on the boots. We leave in an hour."
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Timeline: 07:00
Location: The Barn / Loading Bay
By the time I walked into the loading bay, my legs felt heavy, but my mind was razor-sharp. The endorphins from the gym had cleared out the last of the weekend's fog.
The black SUV—The Anchor—sat in the center of the bay, flanked by the Sedan and the white Rover. Marcus balanced the line between mechanic and fabricator. He checked the bolts on the massive aluminum rack in the SUV's cargo bay.
"Morning," Marcus grunted as he tightened a lead. "You look… awake."
"Started a new running regimen this morning," I said, setting my bag down.
Alex walked in from the side door. He traded his usual boardroom suit for dark (and somehow bespoke) denim, heavy boots, and a black field jacket.
"How does it look?" Alex asked.
"The fleet is patched," Dave called out from his monitoring station. "I've got the algorithms synced up. We should have a solid baseline to work from."
"Let's get loaded up," Alex said. "We're going to run Phase One first. Just the perimeter scan. I want to confirm there is a target with the mesh before we even think about deploying the Emitter."
"I've got the Anchor fully charged, just in case," Marcus said.
"How's the data?" Alex asked, looking at me.
"The passive mesh is running," I said. "I've calibrated the sensitivity for a static scan. We need to park the vehicles in as close to an equilateral triangle we can around the structure to maximize the depth resolution."
"And the team?"
Julian walked in from the locker room. He had showered and changed into black tactical pants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt.
"The team is ready," Julian said. He looked at me. "Aren't we, Dr. Patricks?"
I met his gaze. I didn't flinch.
"Yes, Sir," I said quietly.
Marcus dropped his wrench. It clattered loudly on the concrete. He looked at me, then at Julian. His jaw tightened.
Alex looked between us, his eyes narrowing slightly. He cataloged the variable without speaking.
"Right," Alex said, breaking the silence. "We should head out in about ten minutes. I'll take the Sedan. Julian, you're driving The Anchor. Marcus, you can take the Rover. Lonna, you're in The Anchor with the telemetry deck. Let's try to keep a convoy formation until we hit the gate."
"Understood," Marcus said, bending down to pick up his wrench.
I walked over to the SUV and climbed into the back seat. It was the only option—the telemetry laptop was hardwired directly into the capacitor bank's diagnostic port to prevent signal latency. A five-foot shielded cable meant I was effectively tethered to the cargo bay.
The space was cramped; the massive black casing of the bank took up the entire trunk, pushing the rear seats forward. I was sitting next to a literal lightning bolt.
Julian climbed into the driver's seat. He adjusted the mirror until his eyes met mine in the reflection.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Adequate," I said, securing the laptop on my knees.
He started the engine. The SUV vibrated as the heavy-duty alternator engaged.
"Let's go hunt," Julian said.