Forgotten-Revisions

Ranger's journal, nearing day 248:
What the hell am I doing? I'm now AWOL for the first time in my life. I can't believe I left my squad back in that bar.
I followed this little creep out into an alley, watched him hand over what would be 6 months pay to a grunt like me, then scuttle off into the night with some secret package. And like a complete jackass, I shove through the midnight crowds after him. I could barely keep up with him as he twisted and turned down avenues, streets, and even over heaped dumpsters.
I couldn't find my way back now if I wanted to. So I press on.
What must be an hour, and a good couple clicks, later I find we're way on the other side of town in the rusty, industrial district.
Hicks is gonna have my ass if I ever get back to the squad.
I have no idea what's kept me going when every sensible thought in my shaved head is telling me to turn around and pay however much I have to to get a rickshaw back to the dropship. But something in my gut is telling me to stay with this cockroach. My instincts have kept me alive every other time I've listened to them, so I trust in them still.
A huge crane chassis looms above me and disappears over a 30 foot wall.
My impromptu guide stops at the base of the wall and shoves against a plate that looks like it weighs a Keptaran ton. To my amazement it gives, if only a few inches.
"Soldier, you push." he pants.
"Uh-uh." I huff as I come up to him. "Not until you give me some answers about what the fuck you're...we're up to."
"No time. Talk later." he says hurriedly and pushes against the panel again. "Together." he grunts.
"Damn right 'talk later'" I scoff and put my weight into the effort.
We get maybe another 10 inches before it grinds to a stop.
"Now we in." he smiles and squeezes into the gap.
I have to really worm my way in, trying to suck in my chest, and get caught a few times.
I can hear something drip dripping in the dark passage and the walls are slick with moisture. That's the only thing that helps me inch further along.
I'm just sure I'm going to snag an ear or poke an eye out on something good and rusty.
Finally after 10-15 yards we pop out the other side into a massive old slip-dock. The walls are covered in moss and there's over a foot of what I hope is only brown water on the ground. The crane chassis ends against the top of the far wall 100 feet away.
"Damn big ships" I mutter to myself.
"Yes. Come. Very important." the little man says, wading in.
"Great. Because I haven't done enough of this recently."
We slip and slosh across the abandoned canal. I nearly fall a couple times. He skitters like he's going to go over on his face, but quickly pivots and jerks the bundle out from under his coat just in time for his back to splash down.
Reacting out of habit and training I think he's pulling a weapon and jerk my pistol out pointing it straight at his face as he comes up sputtering.
"I say no need you gun." he reminds me.
I keep it out anyway and help him up with the other hand. He isn't the least bit concerned he's now soaked and stinking. He carefully checks the bundle making sure it didn't get wet. He nods satisfied and squishes to the other side. I holster my gun and follow.
Here a huge hole appears to have been half cut, half blasted through the wall. We edge up to it and peer inside. I see nothing but a pitch black tunnel, bored into god knows where.
From deep deep within I can hear the faint sounds of machinery, grinding, whirring, and cutting.
We step into the mouth of the tunnel and are suddenly blinded by a bank of lights. I throw up my hands, shielding my eyes. Squinting through my fingers I can barely make out 18 headlights framing the outline of an enormous construction mech.
"Fuck." I'm sure I'm about to die.