He had the parts, or at least, the raw materials from the Atlas Corp server casing. High-end processors, memory modules, heat sinks. But staring at the complex circuitry inside the opened case, the more a fundamental problem presented itself, he needed a power source.
The burst power cell he'd scavenged was likely useless. His other option was extracting and repurposing the server's internal components like its surge protector or small backup battery (if it even still functioned), but that would be incredibly difficult and risked damaging other vital parts. What he needed was a stable, robust power source capable of steady output, so his salvaged processors, driving motors and actuators could run without fear of surges, that's what he needed for the brace he envisioned. Something far more substantial than what the Atlas Corp server actually contained.
His gaze drifted towards the entrance of his cramped shelter, out into the rain-slicked ruins. He remembered seeing the wreckage of vehicles scattered among the debris during his painful crawl for shelter. Mag-lev cars, delivery drones, even small transports. Vehicles like that needed powerful energy sources, most ran on compact, high-density batteries, kinetic chargers, but some high end vehicles used fusion cells, that would certainly give him the power he needed.
The thought of leaving the relative safety of his concrete cave sent a fresh wave of shivers through him. Every movement was an effort, and the outside world was a treacherous landscape filled with unknown dangers. But staying here, hoping to magically power electronics with a dead cell, was just a slower way to die.
He needed a real power source. And that meant going back out there. Gritting his teeth, Tristan began the slow, agonizing process of pushing himself towards the opening of his shelter. The first step was always the hardest.
Emerging from the relative darkness of the shelter back into the eerie green twilight of the ruined city was jarring. The drizzle continued, making the broken landscape gleam. Tristan paused, leaning heavily against a concrete slab, letting his eyes adjust and scanning the immediate vicinity. He felt horribly exposed, his ragged breathing loud in the unnatural quiet.
Luckily, he spotted the wreck he remembered seeing earlier than expected, a sleek, aerodynamic mag-lev car, crumpled like a discarded can, wedged between massive chunks of flattened buildings. Its once pristine mirror finish was scratched, dented, and smeared with grime and darker stains.
Getting to it required navigating a treacherous slope of loose rubble. Each step was a calculated risk. He moved slowly, testing every foothold, using his left arm to brace himself. Several times, loose rocks shifted underfoot, sending him stumbling, forcing him to catch himself with his good hand, scraping it raw. The effort left him gasping, dizzy.
Finally, he reached the wreck. The doors were hopelessly jammed, buckled by the impact. Accessing the power core compartment, usually beneath the cabin, seemed impossible through the main structure. He circled the wreck as best he could, mind racing through safety protocols he vaguely recalled from public safety announcements and ads. Emergency access? Rescue points? There might be external emergency door releases, but they'd likely be damaged or require power.
Then he looked at the large, curved windshield. It was heavily cracked from multiple impacts, but hadn't fully shattered. He remembered reading about the advanced optisteel composite used in modern vehicles, incredibly strong, but designed with specific fracture points for rescue teams. Usually marked with a small symbol, easily breakable with the right tool or focused pressure. He scanned the edges of the cracked windshield, peering through the grime and rain.
"Yes!"
Near the lower corner on the passenger side, almost hidden by a smear of mud, was the faint outline of the universal 'rescue access' symbol. He still had the sharp-edged rock he'd used on the server bolts. It wasn't the specialized tool rescue crews used, but maybe, concentrated force on that specific point...
He braced himself against the car's hood, took a deep breath, and swung the rock with his left hand, aiming for the symbol. The impact was clumsy, jarring his injured body, but the rock struck true. Instead of just adding another crack, a network of fine fractures instantly spread outwards from the impact point, just as the design intended. He struck again, harder this time. The optisteel groaned, buckled, and then a large section around the symbol shattered inwards, cascading onto the debris-filled passenger seats. He had an opening. It wasn't large, but it was enough to potentially reach inside.
Tristan carefully reached through the jagged hole he'd made in the windshield. Sharp edges of optisteel snagged his already torn sleeve. Inside the passenger cabin, it was dark and smelled faintly of ozone and something metallic. He swept aside shattered display fragments and deployed airbag material with his left hand. Before trying to reach the floor panel, his fingers brushed against something solid under the passenger seat, a compact, standard-issue vehicle emergency kit.
Heart pounding slightly faster, he dragged it out. Inside was a small multi-tool with pliers and screwdriver bits, a set of basic wrenches, and wire cutters. Tools. Real tools. It felt like finding treasure.
Now better equipped, he turned his attention back to the floor access panel covering the power core. It was warped and jammed, but using the multi-tool as a pry bar, he managed to lever it open with a screech of protesting metal, revealing the compartment beneath.
There it was. Not a compact fusion cell, but a large, high-density one, likely lithium-polymer. Heavy shielding surrounded it, but the main power connectors and diagnostic ports were visible, secured by sturdy clamps and thick, armored cables.
He located a screwdriver bit on the multi-tool that fit the clamp releases. Working slowly, awkwardly with one hand, he managed to loosen the clamps. The main power connector was trickier, a heavy-duty locking plug. He used the wire cutters from the kit to carefully snip the locking tabs he couldn't release, then gripped the connector housing with the cutting tool and pulled. It came free with a solid thunk and a brief shower of sparks.
Now comes the hardest part: getting the battery pack out. It was heavy, easily twenty or thirty kilograms. The tools helped disconnect it, but they didn't reduce the weight. He managed to slide it partially out of its compartment using the multitool as a lever, then wrestled it onto the passenger seat. Getting it out of the car through the windshield hole required a combination of awkward pushing, pulling, and leverage that left him utterly spent.
He collapsed beside the wreck for several minutes, the heavy battery pack resting on the rubble next to him, the precious toolkit clutched in his hand. The journey back to his shelter, dragging and rolling this prize, seemed insurmountable. But the thought of having a real power source and the basic tools to start working, spurred him on. Slowly, painfully, Tristan began the agonizing crawl back to his concrete cave. He now had power, and the means to begin.