Rebecca had to roll over and stretch at least four or five times over the next couple of hours, leaving Patrick to watch the distance through the binoculars. It left her longing for the cushy couches and armchairs of her old sniper hides with Ronnie, or the sometimes-hot showers some saint had designed at Broadway. Their new bed was definitely nicer though, so that was something to look forward to at least. That, and Sam's burgeoning abilities to mirror Rebecca's targeted, anatomically educated, efforts to dig knots out of stubborn muscles.

Sam, meanwhile, was getting really tired of looking and reaching up over her head in the crane. At least Landry's idea to use large black garbage bags someone found in a supply closet, pulling one over each end of the panels so they overlapped in the middle and then tying them together, saved her a lot of time moving from panel to panel. If she had to remove and re-use the twenty or so moving blankets they had with them, she might have been driven to a pique of despair or rage. As it was, even settling into a smooth rhythmic routine, she had only managed to disconnect half of the solar panels by the time the sun was getting low towards the horizon. She was damned grateful for it too, her shoulders and forearms were killing her — especially after depleting the multiple lithium ion battery packs for the cordless driver in her toolkit. She finished disconnecting the one last transformer she was working and then sagged in the bucket in grateful defeat when Ronnie told her to wrap up in preparation for calling it a day.

As she maneuvered the bucket arm away from the overhead solar support structures and down to the ground, she heard Ronnie and Davis discussing leaving a team onsite, debating whether to shelter up in the administration building or the abandoned apartment building across from Rebecca's. She lost track of the conversation as the bucket set down, and uncharacteristically accepted Landry's assistance getting out — which effectively equated to him picking her up by the tactical webbing on the outside of her armor and bodily lifting her halfway clear of it so she could pivot and flop her legs out in turn.

"Long day, huh sister?" She'd notice he called everyone around him "sister" or "brother". He wasn't being patronizing about it, thankfully.

She leaned over, supporting her upper body weight with her hands on her knees for a minute. "Ugh... I'm not even lifting and carrying things, and I feel like I've been through the wringer. I belong at a workbench or elbows deep in a wiring harness, not in a construction vehicle."

Landry, ever companionably, lifted the sling bag she carried her tools in from her shoulder and effortlessly tossed it over his. "Don't be too hard on yourself, you lasted a good long time and kept moving. There's a reason they make us hold our rifles over our heads while we run and crap like that in basic. Muscles really, really don't like to be held in one position for a long time. It's a completely different workout than heavy exertion and is just brutal on stamina."

She straightened her posture apprehensively, hoping nothing in her back would cramp up. "I believe that last part, but forgive me if I equate it to a motor straining against a load it can't budge. Good way to burn one out. I'll let you and my girl stick to the muscle science, she's all educamated on that kind of thing."

"Your girl, huh?" He only skipped half a beat — not enough to make her think he had any issues with it, just enough to indicate he wasn't aware they were a couple. Oh, yeah, he'd been off getting his underlings when Rebecca had kissed her cheek. "Well, same theory applies, I guess. Static load instead of a dynamic one."

Huh. Brains and muscle. Way to defy stereotypes. "Well, that theory kicked my ass today. Do you think you and your boys can repeat what I walked you through?"

"Yeah, we're solid. The whole show us, then supervise us doing it a couple of times thing is good teaching technique. Left seat, right seat."

"Okay, cool. I don't think I'm going to be able to lift my arms tomorrow. I guess you're going to tell me that just means it's leg day, huh?" Landry chuckled at her, but she continued before he had to formulate a witty reply. "Meanwhile, sweet Mary's baby do I have to pee. Please tell me someone found a working bathroom around here?"

"You're in luck. I'd definitely suggest the ones in the administration building, not the garage... even before things went to shit."

"Great, thanks." Sam scooped up her gun from where it leaned against the truck and started across the parking lot, but glanced back over her shoulder after a few steps. "Make sure you use the multimeter after you cover them, don't get lazy after the first twelve and just start poking wires. Everyone thinks DC is safe because it's lower voltage but it'll still fuck you up."

"No worries, sister. Treat every weapon like it's loaded. We got it."

That analogy convinced her he was treating the insidious electrons with sufficient healthy respect. "Aright, cool." She left him to shut down the truck or whatever and entered the administration building through one of the smaller staff entrances. As she walked down the hallway she peered into the meeting spaces and open office areas around her. It looked like the front half of the building had served as a National Guard recruiting office. How many of the troops they were working with might have actually come through here, she wondered? A few of them were going through filing cabinets stacks of binders in the rooms she passed.

She finally spotted restroom signs when she found the windows and double doors to the lobby, the floor of which was that polished concrete with a bunch of little rocks visibly mixed in to cut down on the industrialness. Really, it just made her think of school buildings older than she was or dreary municipal offices like the one she had to go get a replacement birth certificate at years ago. Boy, was that going to be fun in the future, tracking and proving people's identities... too bad nobody had gotten around into creating self-verifying digital ID's with blockchain tech or something like that.

The bathroom pretty much matched the lobby decor, dark tan steel stall doors and high frosted windows that at least let enough remaining light in that she didn't need a flashlight to see. The air was stale, but not rank, and the only cobwebs were faint and in high corners. So, as far as bathrooms went these days, not too bad. Heck, probably better than some she'd used on road trips Before. Despite that, she'd seen enough movies to keep her gun aimed at each bathroom stall as she nudged the doors open in turn before selecting one.

However many times she'd done so, it was still weird peeing with a gun balanced in her lap. But, she was pleased to find soap and a few paper towels still left in the dispensers. Sure, she could have just wiped her hands dry on her jeans, but the paper would still make perfectly good fire starter after she'd used it if someone came along looking for it. And... hello.

She grabbed two fistfuls of tampons from the dispenser on the wall, grateful for whatever forward-thinking officer had decided local military office restrooms should be stocked with such things. A familiar flash of envy of Rebecca and her IUD passed as she stuffed them in the thigh pocket on her left leg. She left a handful for some other woman who might come through later — they had a decent supply back at home, but there were probably more in a supply closet somewhere around here, and she might as well top up their stock while the opportunity was right in front of her. Especially since Ronnie had said they were apparently good for packing bullet wounds, and it looked like their winter respite might be coming to a close, dammit.

That thought darkened her mood enough that the door thumped into its rubber stop as she hauled it open. Another half hour or so and she might have needed her flashlight to get back through the building to the far exit door, and she was eager to get back somewhere familiar and cozy with her girl and their dog before night settled over the town in earnest. She wasn't up for climbing the ladder to go look for Rebecca, so she settled on heading back to the Humvee to stow her gear and get off her feet. On the way there, she passed Epstein carrying two clanking shoulder bags and quirked an eyebrow. "Hey, get anything good?"

"Oh yeah. The expected heap of spare parts I was hoping for, but also some other goodies." He fished a roughly fist sized silver and black cylinder from the bag on his right and held it up. "Manual impact driver! Don't need a compressor, just smack it with a hammer and it creates sharp rotational force. Great for rusted-in bolts."

"Or screws that have been stretched tight by abrupt impacts like a robot getting smacked into the arena wall. I know, I've used one, silly. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean you're the only one in this conversation that can twirl a wrench." Teasing him lightened her spirits a bit.

Fortunately he knew she was playing around and took it in stride. "Well, excuuuuuuse me. I guess you were pretty good at it too, since your thumbs are still straight."

"Hitting things with a hammer was pretty therapeutic after losing a match due to something stupid like a wire coming loose."

"So you did that a lot then?" Apparently, beneath the energetic nice guy exterior, Doug could still throw a few verbal jabs too. That was fine, she could last a few rounds.

"Shut up. Only until people finally listened and let me start zip tying AND hot glueing the important ones. Oh wait, they didn't..." (she punctuated this with an excellently overdone suprised-she-forgot-that-detail eyebrow twitch and head tilt) "...I did that myself, and then we won three matches and I pointed it out. Huh."

Epstein raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed a step or two in the direction he had been heading. "Hey, I would have been all for the the extra failure resistance."

"Mmm. Yeah, well, apparently you're smarter than the average engineering student then." The disdain on her face was only a little bit exaggeration.

"I'll take it. See you around, Sam."

"Seeya Doug. Keep yer head on straight."

"If I don't, the Gunny'll smack it right for me."

She chuckled, which she appreciated him causing. "True enough." They resumed their separate courses, and she was grateful to see Landry had left her messenger bag full of tools hanging from the side mirror on her ride... but was dismayed when Christine waved her away towards her ex-Black Tusk Humvee. That meant her aching shoulders had to carry things for longer. Boo.

"Hey friend. Ronnie said that we should carpool up for the drive back, she's leaving that truck here with the squads securing the site."

Sam tried to convince herself her butt and back would appreciate the nicer interior, and that it was worth trudging the extra yards to the other vehicle. "Well, at least it's an upgrade."

"You still gotta bring your own snacks, honey. But I'm not heartless, I moved your n' Rebecca's stuff."

Sam sighed. She really was tired, she hadn't even remembered about their bigger packs yet, but she was thankful Chrissie had moved them over already as she thumped her toolbag down next to them in the cargo bed. "Well, I'll at least leave the flight crew a good review. Can you tell her? I need to sit for a while."

"You got it. Take a load off." Christine shooed Sam towards the door and walked back towards the warehouse, leaving her to climb into the rear seat and lean back with a grateful sigh. The interior really was nicer... still utilitarian, but not "spartan" like the genuine GI article. Even the door closed more smoothly, and felt like it latched in place more securely. When she turned to reach for her backpack and the self-service snacks in it, she realized that one or two of the solar panels were bundled up in a moving blanket under the bags and regretted setting her tools down so carelessly. Still, if Chrissie had prepped them for shipment and felt comfortable putting more items on top... they were probably just fine. She'd eaten half of the remaining bread, a slightly out of date energy bar, washed it all down with several swigs of lukewarm water, and still had time to close her eyes and drift for a few minutes before she heard Rebecca and Patrick open the back.

"Hey kids. Careful, some of the solar panels are back there."

Rebecca obligingly settled her rifle case alongside the padded rectangular lump and looked over at her. "Oh cool. Excited to play with them at home?"

"Bleh." Sam waved her arm with only the least embellishment of feebleness. "Only if they're at waist height."

"Aww." Rebecca disappeared around the back until she opened the other door and set the P90 on the floor. "You okay?"

Sam handed her the last of the bread, partially wrapped in the bag it came in. "Only mostly dead."

"Mm. Same..." Rebecca took the bread appreciatively and ripped a hunk off with her teeth. Sam could tell she was stiff as she slumped into the other seat. "I guess we're proof that the two extremes of staying very still and doing a lot of work are both hard on the body."

"Something like that." Sam was glad this vehicle actually had headrests. "Can we go home now?"

Patrick and Christine were just opening their doors and getting their odds and ends stowed up front. Looked like Chrissie would be driving, given where she looked back at them from. "That's the plan, gals. Ronnie said we should be leaving in about ten."

"Mm, good." Sam had closed her eyes, and could smell the wafting fragrance as Rebecca opened the insulated bottle with the tea in it. She was probably hoping the caffeine would prop her up for the ride home, but Sam was just totally done, and knew she'd be drifting within minutes as soon as the convoy got moving.

She was right — she wasn't asleep, but her eyelids were heavy and sounds were distant unless she roused herself to really focus on them. She could tell they were taking a different route based on the first few turns — made sense if they weren't going back to the airfield on the way — and some of the chatter on the radio. Knowing that the drones were in the air and that the FLIR cameras didn't show any heat signatures near their route was pretty much the last straw for her struggle to maintain consciousness, and she floated off into a hazy semi-consciousness.