He is three days from his shelter. Using basements, underground railways and more, he is ranging farther and longer. Still, he does not know why. This part of Calth is dead. Amerand confirms it - as far as the old man knows, there's no arcologies near here. The underground labyrinths where the war continues don't have a presence here.
Maybe it's basic restlessness. That after two centuries of war, he can't not do something, even if it's get his armor slowly worn down by a dead sun.
Maybe it's hopefulness. Maybe someone is alive out here. Amerand was. Is.
Maybe he just wants to witness everything. See every last bit of what was done to Calth. Leave no bone unseen. No ruin unchecked. No tragedy forgotten.
He is three days from his shelter, and he is in a dilemma.
Three days, distance wise, is a very different number between Legionnaires and mortals. Three days for him is very likely weeks for mortals. Three days for him counts crossing expanses at night or in favorable conditions that a mortal would be caught out in and fried.
This is a dilemma, because he is standing at the top of a flight of stairs, leading down into a commissary basement, and there are six survivors staring up at him in shock.