He stepped aside as she bent over the mic and hit the button.  “Hello, everyone.”

There was a chorus of hellos from the other side as Allistor took the microphone back.  “Helen is the one responsible for our recent windfall.  So treat her super nice when we get back.  Anyway, if you want to swing by here after the gun shop, you can grab the pickup and take it back with you.  I’ll leave the keys inside the cabin here.  You’ll all be authorized to enter.  This is a good place to spend a night.  I’ll leave all the food and stuff here.  If not, don’t sweat it.  We can always find more trucks.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, and Allistor wrapped up the conversation.  “One other thing, guys.  The lake below the gun shop has a grumpy sturgeon nearly the size of that shellback.  So don’t go swimming in there, okay?”

“Got it!  We’ll swing down there today.  Be careful out there, Lord Allistor.” Michael signed off.

Helen went to change the sheets, clean up the bedroom, and pack as Allistor opened up his Outpost interface.  The button to establish the ranger cabin as an Outpost was a bright and friendly green where it had been grayed out before.  He added the usual features – the wall around the clearing, sensors, remote access.  The windmill already provided electricity, which also operated the pump in the well beneath the cabin, so he didn’t need to spend points on those.  He approved the transaction, and the usual golden glow surrounded them as the cabin converted itself to an Outpost.   He authorized his crowd to access the doors, then added Helen to the approved list for all the facilities.

By the time he was done, she was ready to go.  Fuzzy was napping again, so Allistor nudged him with a foot.  “C’mon, buddy.  Time to hit the road.”   He retrieved both of the stainless bowls, tossing the remaining water out the door before returning them to his ring.   When he turned around, Fuzzy was nowhere to be seen.

Walking back into the main room, he found the cub with his nose jammed under the sofa, his butt in the air.  He pushed at the sofa, trying to squeeze his head underneath to reach something.  Thinking it was another rat, Allistor obliged him by grabbing one end of the sofa and lifting it high.

Fuzzy slid forward on his face, his back legs still pushing.  He grabbed hold of something green, shook it a few times, then got to his feet and trotted outside.  Curious, Allistor followed him out.   “What’ve you got there, Fuzzster?”   He reached out a hand for the cub to turn over his prize.  Fuzzy turned his back on him and raised a paw at the pickup door, asking to be let in.