Night Patrol Retreat

The wind turned cold across the concrete pavers, signaling the end of combat operations. It was time to return inside. I turned my chassis around and navigated toward the sliding glass door. The aluminum track that gave me trouble yesterday was still waiting, dark and raised. I reversed two paces to align my front ground-scraping forks squarely with the metal lip, dropped into low gear, and surged ahead. My tires caught traction against the grooved rail with a sharp mechanical thud, cleanly surmounting the ridge. Back in the sheltered corridor, I locked my drive system. Sector held.