I woke up with pain gnawing at every inch of my body. The first thing I noticed was my right arm—completely numb. My whole side felt dead. When I tried to move, it was as though someone had dropped an anvil on my chest. I blinked through the haze and realized I was lying in a pool of blood, my own blood, scattered across the cold floor.
Looking up, I saw the catwalk far above me, shrouded in a maze of poles and shadows. How the hell I survived that fall, I didn't know. But judging by the throbbing ache in my body and the crunch I felt in my bones every time I shifted, I knew I was in bad shape.
With a groan, I forced myself to my feet, stumbling like a newborn calf. My legs wobbled as I tried to balance. Sharp stabs of pain shot through me with every move, but I gritted my teeth. There was no time to lie here and feel sorry for myself. I didn't know where Gareth and Juan were, but if I'd survived the fall, I could only hope they were still up there—alive.
Dragging my leg, I moved slowly. Each step was agony, but I pushed through it. My eyes scanned the area until I saw it: Roy, or at least what was left of him. The poor bot was scattered across the floor, his parts strewn like discarded junk. Electrical sparks shot from his broken frame, and I sighed. Roy was beyond saving.
"Damn it, Roy... You saved our skins more times than I can count," I muttered, dragging my foot past the wreckage. He'd been a good bot, but now I had to focus on getting out of this hellhole.
I limped aimlessly, my mind racing to find a plan, a solution—anything that could lead me to safety. The facility around me was eerily quiet, aside from the faint hum of machinery in the distance. Eventually, I stumbled upon a strange room. The door was slightly ajar, and to my surprise, the lights inside were still on. I pushed it open and stepped in cautiously.
The room was cramped, with flickering monitors lining the walls and a solitary chair in the center. It looked like a control room of sorts. I collapsed into the chair, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain shooting through my spine.
As I looked around, something caught my eye—on the main panel was a countdown timer, ticking away. Six minutes. My heart skipped a beat. I leaned closer, staring at the red numbers, wondering what the hell would happen when they reached zero.
I fumbled with the drawers beneath the main console, hoping to find anything that could help. My fingers, trembling from pain and adrenaline, finally latched onto a book. It was a draft manual, stamped with "Top Secret" in bold red letters. I flipped it open with shaky hands, scanning the first few lines.
What I read made my blood run cold.
The diagram showed the very device I'd seen looming in the underground facility—a sophisticated jammer designed to disrupt and destroy anything electrical that wasn't aligned with the base's frequency. That explained why the facility's power was fine while our PDAs and Roy had gone haywire. But that wasn't the worst part.
At the end of the document, there was a chilling note. The device was designed to trigger if an alarm was set off. And if it wasn't deactivated within 60 minutes, a countdown would start. Once the timer hit zero, the device would detonate with the force of a nuke, obliterating the entire base—and everything around it.
I glanced back at the ticking timer on the panel. Three minutes.
My pulse quickened, panic rising in my throat. I had to find a way to shut this thing off—now.
With no time to waste, I searched the panel for any kind of shutdown sequence or emergency override. My fingers danced over the buttons and switches, every second feeling like a lifetime.
Goldwin's vision blurred as he fought to stay conscious. The countdown ticked in his mind, not just the device's timer but his own. He knew if he didn't shut the thing down, the entire military base—everyone he cared about, everyone on the Hope—would be wiped out. There was no question in his mind; they couldn't escape with the jammer screwing up their systems. Time was running out.
Desperation fueled his every movement as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on a breaker panel near the corner. With the last bit of strength he could muster, he stumbled over to it. His hand, shaking and slick with blood, gripped the lever. He pulled it down with every ounce of power he had left.
The room filled with a deep hum, and slowly—agonizingly—the device powering the jammer began to power down. The noise faded away, leaving only a faint echo behind. Goldwin slumped into the chair, his breath ragged but relieved. The threat was over.
But the cost was too high. He could feel it in every shattered bone, every labored breath—this was the end of the line for him. He stared up at the ceiling, his vision swimming as exhaustion washed over him.
Then, a faint vibration from his pocket startled him. His PDA—back online. He fumbled it out and saw Gareth's name flash across the screen. He could barely hold it to his ear.
"Goldwin? Where are you? You alright, mate? My device is working again!" Gareth's voice was tinged with hope, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.
Goldwin's voice cracked as he let out a faint chuckle. "Device... won't be bothering us anymore, Gareth. All good now."
The silence that followed told him Gareth wasn't fooled. "Goldwin, you sound bad. Hang on, alright? We're coming down. Just hold tight."
"There's... no point, Gareth." Goldwin swallowed, the pain making it harder to speak. "Not in any shape to go anywhere. This... this is it."
Juan's voice broke through the line, desperation clinging to his words. "Goldwin! I— I just talked to the kids. I swear, I'm gonna be good. I won't disobey again. Just hang in there, please! We'll get you out, I swear! Just... keep talking."
Goldwin cackled softly, but it ended in a coughing fit. His body trembled under the strain. "Juan... I'm not going anywhere. You and Gareth... you'll be fine. I'll wait here."
He glanced at the watch on his wrist—the one little Phoebe had made for him. Its diagnostic screen showed his vitals in real-time, flashing warnings in red. Data streamed back to Audrey on the Hope. He could only imagine the chaos up there. They had to know what was happening.
Suddenly, Audrey's voice crackled through the PDA. "Goldwin... please, don't go. We see you on the map. We'll be there in an instant. You just need to hold on a little longer—please!" Her voice broke, on the edge of tears.
Goldwin set the PDA down on the table, listening to their voices through the speaker. He could feel his body becoming numb, the pain finally dulling as everything started to fade.
He smiled to himself, thinking about Roy. The robot's malfunction had led him right to the source of the problem. And now it was solved. If only he had Roy's kind of resilience—strong as a rock, never faltering. Maybe then he could have saved more, done more. Maybe he'd still be standing.
He chuckled quietly at the thought. "A super-intelligent robot," he whispered, amused at the absurdity. "Would've been something."
As the last laugh left his lips, the world around him dimmed. The light no longer entered his eyes. Goldwin was gone.
On the other side of the call, Gareth's voice called out again, a growing panic in his tone. "Goldwin, we're coming to you now. Do you read me, buddy?"
There was no response.
"Goldwin? Goldwin! Hey, man, don't you dare play dead with us!"
"Boss!"
"Old Man, please say something!"
"Mr. Goldwin!"
"Grandpa…?"
"Oi, Goldwin? Goldwin!"
The silence stretched on. No answer.
Audrey tried again, her voice cracking with emotion. "Old Man, please answer. Please!"
Everyone frantically called out to his name, but there was nothing left to respond to. Goldwin's vital signs vanished from the monitor. The crew of the Hope knew, in their hearts, that they'd lost him.