The scrap heap stretched before Xen like a petrified storm surge, an endless expanse of rusted metal waves frozen against the perpetually dim sky.
With the [Audio Dampener] active, consuming precious energy with every passing second (EN: 33.3/150... 33.2...), he moved with a focused deliberation that bordered on paranoia. His chosen direction led him away from the relative familiarity of his starting area and the subsequent scouting path, guiding him towards the source of the distant, rhythmic clank... clank... clank...
The terrain shifted subtly as he progressed.
The initial mix of vehicle carcasses and construction debris gave way to larger, more industrial-looking wreckage. Huge, broken pipes, wide enough for him to walk inside had they not been choked with dirt and tangled wiring, lay half-buried.
Towering, skeletal frameworks of unidentifiable machines reached towards the sky like accusing fingers. The scale was, as always, intimidating, making Xen feel like a field mouse exploring a giant's workshop after a catastrophic accident.
He hugged the shadows, moving from one pool of darkness cast by a towering junk pile to the next. His DEX 12 allowed for surprising agility, letting him leap small gaps between precarious platforms of scrap and balance momentarily on narrow beams, but his low STR 5 meant he couldn't force his way through anything.
He had to find paths, not make them. His [Micro-Manipulation] passive was constantly at work, guiding his footfalls onto the most stable-looking surfaces, testing loose pieces before committing his full weight.
The rhythmic clanking grew marginally louder, clearer, as he advanced. It wasn't harsh or jarring, but steady, methodical.
Metal striking metal with consistent force and tempo. It lacked the randomness of falling scrap; this sounded purposeful.
What could possibly be making such a sound out here? A malfunctioning piece of automated machinery, trapped in a loop? Some kind of primitive resource processing? Or... something else? His internal processors spun through possibilities, none of them particularly comforting.
His Energon continued its relentless downward tick. Ten minutes into his trek: EN: 28.3/150. The dampener was costly, but the thought of navigating this new, unknown territory while broadcasting his position with every footstep was worse. He pushed onward, optical sensors constantly scanning, audio receptors straining to pick up any sounds beyond the wind, the scrap groans, and the increasingly prominent clanking.
He encountered a new obstacle: a wide pool of dark, stagnant liquid filling a depression in the scrap field. It smelled foul, oily and chemical, reflecting the grey sky like a broken mirror. There was no obvious way around it without backtracking significantly or climbing over a particularly treacherous-looking pile of jagged metal.
Scan target: Liquid pool. He couldn't afford to step in something corrosive or conductive.
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[Scan Analysis: Stagnant Water Mixed with Industrial Lubricants & Unknown Chemical Solvents - Mildly Corrosive - Moderate Electrical Conductivity - Avoid Contact] [Depth: Approx. 0.5 Meters]
Definitely avoid contact. Corrosive and conductive was a bad combination for a small robot. That left the climb. He eyed the pile of jagged scrap bordering the pool. It looked unstable, a jumble of sharp-edged plates and twisted beams.
Scan target: Scrap pile.
[Scan Analysis: Mixed Metallic Debris - Low Structural Integrity - High Risk of Minor Collapse/Shifting - Caution Advised]
High risk. Great. But it seemed like the only path forward without a major detour that would cost even more precious Energon. He took a moment, planning his ascent, looking for the largest, most interlocked pieces that seemed least likely to shift.
He could see a path, narrow and precarious, that might just work.
He began the climb, his small hands finding purchase on edges that felt sharp even through his metallic fingers. He tested every handhold, every foothold, before trusting his weight. Loose pieces shifted under him, sending cascades of smaller debris rattling down into the oily pool below. He froze each time, waiting for the pile to settle before continuing. It was slow, nerve-wracking work. Halfway up, his foot slipped on a loose bolt. He scrabbled for purchase, his other hand catching a sharp edge that scraped along his forearm.
A tiny loss, barely half a point, but frustrating. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself upwards, focusing intently. Finally, after what felt like an age, he hauled himself onto the relatively stable crest of the pile. He paused, letting his systems recover for a moment, the rhythmic clanking noticeably louder from this higher vantage point.
He'd spent nearly twenty minutes moving cautiously, navigating hazards, and making the climb. His Energon was bleeding away.
Critically low again, or close enough to make no difference. The pressure was immense. He had to find something soon.
From the top of the scrap pile, he had a better view. The terrain ahead sloped downwards slightly towards a large, partially collapsed structure that looked like it might have been some kind of ore processing facility or automated factory building in aeons past. Thick, armoured conduits snaked across the ground, mostly broken, but some looked potentially intact. The rhythmic clanking seemed to be originating from within or behind that collapsed structure.
He could also see something else now – glints of light reflecting off smooth surfaces near the base of the structure. Not the dull sheen of rusted scrap, but something cleaner, maybe even functional? And near those glinting surfaces... faint energy readings appeared on his passive sensors, too weak and intermittent for a lock, but definitely present.
Could that be it? An Energon source near whatever was making the noise?
Hope warred with apprehension. He was close now. He could almost feel the resonance of the impacts through the metal beneath his feet. The sound wasn't just clank, clank, clank anymore.
It was heavier, more like CLANG... thrum... CLANG... thrum... – a powerful impact followed by a brief, resonant hum. Purposeful. Tireless.
He needed to get closer, find a better vantage point to observe the source without being detected. Staying on top of this exposed scrap pile felt like asking for trouble. He scanned the collapsed structure ahead, looking for potential approaches, shadows, hiding places. The need for energy was a burning imperative, but the unknown nature of the rhythmic clanging demanded extreme caution.