The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “One hundred and fifty.”

  “Over how much area?”

  “I have no data. I would guess several thousand square miles easily, but I don’t think you’ll need to check every one.”

  “Please tell me the silo is in Lima Flight,” Jack said as he looked at the map. Even if it were, it appeared to him they would still be searching dozens of square miles or more.

  “We don’t know, but there must be a reason TGG is sending all of those teams there. We are guessing it is in the same flight and that is the reason for its use. Before you ask, yes, we know the location of all the silos in the missile field, as you can see on the maps, but navigation will be tricky. The maps are pre-Calamity so landmarks and features may be different or nonexistent.”

  “A lot can change in thirty years,” Captain Drake said, “especially if the area was pounded by nukes.”

  Jack nodded. “Any intel or guesses as to why they’re going to this Launch Control Facility and not the silo?”

  “Unfortunately, guesses are all we have. It could be it’s an easy navigation point to locate. Perhaps there is something in there they wish to acquire: equipment, data, or something like that. If the building is intact, they may use it as a base of operations. The Launch Control Support Building should be able to house a moderate sized group. Were that the case, the missile silo may not be far away.”

  “Is this Launch Control Facility a bunker like I encountered in Old Norman?”

  “Yes and no. The building on the surface, the Launch Control Support Building, is described as looking similar to a house, though larger than your average domicile. There may be other buildings nearby for vehicles or other things. There are also communications antennas, intake and exhaust vents, and other miscellany nearby. Inside the Launch Control Support Building were facilities for a small crew that worked there. Bedrooms, restrooms, kitchen, offices, and things like that. A fair distance underground is the Launch Control Center and Launch Control Equipment Building, reachable via elevator or ladder from the LCSB. The facilities underground are accessed through blast doors that appear to be similar to those on a bank vault.”

  “How far underground is this thing?”

  “Based on the documents, it depends on where the Launch Control Center was placed. Probably forty to sixty feet down.”

  “How big is this center?”

  “Not very big at all. At the bottom of the elevator shaft is a small area, a tunnel access, that leads to a blast door. Inside the blast door is an area called a tunnel junction that links the tunnel access to the two main areas of the underground complex.

  “To the left is an area called a Launch Control Equipment Building. This houses a myriad pieces of gear that support the Launch Control Center located directly across the tunnel junction. There is fuel, food, and water to allow the Launch Control Center to operate for weeks if necessary.

  “The Launch Control Center, or LCC, is an encapsulated acoustical enclosure suspended by shock dampers. This made LCCs very survivable. Access to the LCC is through another blast door. The LCC was manned by two crew members, and that was it. Their job was very basic, make sure all of the silos under their watch were operational, and be ready to execute launch orders if it ever occurred.

  “I can’t tell you how much room there is in the LCC. The acoustical enclosure measures approximately twelve feet wide by thirty-one feet long, but much of that will be occupied by equipment. I would guess it’s a little tight.”

  “Will we need to go down there? If so, we’ll need to take flashlights and lead acid battery packs.”

  “No way to tell. We’ll have lights ready for your team. Better to have and not need….”

  “Do you have an idea how big your team will be?” Captain Drake asked.

  “Not for sure, but I’m thinking around a dozen, unless that’s going to put too much of a crunch on Ranger strength.”

  “It won’t. We have more Rangers from down south due soon. The new Rangers Art has will finish their training very soon, and worst case, I’ll get some reassigned from elsewhere. Straily will back me on it. If this wasn’t imperative, I’d say wait a couple of weeks and take a larger force. Take what you need, we’ll make do. Begin your selection process and train-up quickly.”

  “I have Sean. I’ll put out the call tomorrow morning before everyone heads out. A dozen, give or take will do. How many Rangers do we have here that have been in the Blastlands?”

  Drake thought for a couple of seconds. “Art Sierra. He’s been out there more than once, but you probably know that. Tucker, Tibbs, and Daley have been out there too. Some of the recent transfers might have been as well. Dan’s been in the southern part.”

  “I’ll speak with them, Captain. You’ve never been in there?”

  He shook his head. “No. You might be surprised how many of us have never ventured into the place. A lot of us have ridden the edges, but it isn’t the same thing. Those that have been in there will tell you that. I don’t know anyone that looks forward to returning either.”

  Sean nodded as he recalled Tucker’s comments when they were trailing The Greater Good team. “Is it too late to get out of this, Jack?” he said with a smile.

  Jack laughed. “I was thinking the same thing myself.”

  Captain Drake laughed. “Any difficulties, give me a yell.”

  “Will do, sir.” Jack looked to Barlo. “Anything else?”

  “We have more, but we can go over it with you in greater detail once you have your team assembled. It’s likely we, or the people in Mead and Heaven, will dig up more info.”

  Jack and Sean slid their chairs away from the table. Amanda waved Jack over to one of the desks in the room. “I called Heaven. Professor Limestone is in his lab. He should be expecting your call.”

  “This about the explosive in the warhead?”

  “Very good, Jack. I see your sense might be returning.”

  “I detect a note of acidity in your tone. Has the moratorium on yelling at me expired?”

  Her eyes flickered. “Yes, it has. You brought in some important intel that might have justified the risk, so I’m not going to yell. I am going to be irritated with you for some time though.”

  “I wouldn’t have—”

  She glared and pointed a finger at him. “Jen said you promised not to take unnecessary risks. I’m holding you to that as well. Sit down and call Limestone. Number’s on the desk.”

  Jack knew better than to say anything. He sat and dialed the number, muttering, “I have eighty pounds and over a foot on her and I’m the one who gets bullied.” One of the professor’s assistants answered and went to find the man.

  A minute later, Jack heard the professor’s distinctive high-pitched and wavering voice, the rustling sound of the receiver being picked up, and finally his greeting of, “Explosives is it?”

  Jack smiled. “That’s right. Nice to speak to you again, Professor.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Ranger Jack Traipse.”

  “Ah, yes. I was looking forward to your call. There are a great many explosives. Many, many in fact. Do you have an interest in any one in particular?”

  “Yes. It’s called PBX Nine-Four-Zero-Four.”

  “Could you spell that for me?”

  “P as in Papa, B as in Bravo, X as in X-ray, Nine-Four-Zero-Four.”

  “An explosive you say?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “So you can’t tell me much about it then.”

  “Not necessarily. I have knowledge of Polymer Bonded Explosives. That’s what the abbreviation PBX means. I am capable of research as well. I’ll see what I can find.”

  “Great. I was hoping you might—”

  “And you wish me to recreate this particular explosive?”

  “—tell me about the decomposition problem with PBX Nine-Four-Zero-Four in the Whisky-Five-Six thermonuclear warhead.”

  “W-Five-Six? Decomposition?
”

  “Yes. It was a known issue before the Calamity and we need to know what this explosive might be like thirty years later.”

  “Interesting. Important I would imagine. Let me do some research.”

  “We’re on a timeline, Professor.”

  “Call me tomorrow. I should be able to tell you what you need to know.”

  “Thanks, Professor.”

  Jack hung up the phone and went to the back of the Ranger HQ. He was seeking Ranger Patrick Tibbs, the Geneva Ranger post supply and logistics specialist. He was a senior Ranger, having served nearly as long as Art Sierra and Edward Drake. Considered by some to be a little testy, those that knew him well understood he was often abrupt and to the point. Jack had known him since childhood.

  Jack looked in one of the storage rooms and found Ranger Tibbs placing boxes on a shelf. “Pat, you got a minute?”

  “I got boxes to put away. That’s what I got, Sergeant,” he said in an irritated tone.

  Jack smiled. “If I lend a hand, might Ranger Tibbs share some of his vast and hard-won knowledge?”

  He stopped and glared over the top of his glasses for a few seconds, and then smiled. “All right, Jack. Most folks leave when I speak to them in that tone.”

  “Known you too long to fall for that. Or do you think I’m dumb?” he said imitating Tibbs’ glare.

  Patrick laughed. “You stole my over the glasses look too. I’ve seen you use it before.”

  “Imitation is the sincerest—”

  “Form of laziness. You want to talk Blastlands.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Been a long time. Ten or eleven years ago. I was part of a group looking for areas where extremophiles were plentiful. We went up near Old KC, way north of where you’ll be. It’s strange out there no matter where you go. The whole place is... off. You’ll be in a place that doesn’t look a bit different than around here, and two hundred yards away things are so far out of whack it’s like something on an alien word. Best advice I can give: get the job done quick and head for home. Watch your radiation detectors and watch them close. If you think you’re not watching close enough, you’re not. You can walk into a hotspot before you know it if you’re not careful, and that can kill you. Happened to us up north.” He was silent for a few moments.

  “One thing that might help you though, the rads sometimes put up shrines on those spots. You see one, it might serve you as a warning.”

  “What about mutations?”

  “Every living thing on this planet has mechanisms to adapt. Sometimes it’s not enough and sometimes it is. The things that survive out there are those that did adapt, and they adapted to a horrific environment. Things that survive always have something up their sleeve.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Radio reception. Something over there plays merry hell with it. I think it’s partly radiation, don’t see how it can’t be, but it’s something else too. it comes and goes in some places, in others it’s localized. Nothing to be done about either. Just be aware of the fact. Get your team together and I’ll go over all the hazards, gear, and gizmos before you leave.”

  Jack went to Dan Geiger’s office next.

  “Been there a couple of times,” Dan said when asked about his experience in the Blastlands, “but it was northeast of Washburn, so it was the southern end of the place. Not quite as bad as other parts I hear. Hal Daley was there too. Art and Pat are probably your best resources.”

  “I have Yuri from Deva State putting together some of his recollections. Sean and I need to go visit him tomorrow.”

  “I heard he was here in Geneva. I met Gregori and him once in Deva. Rough men. I’m surprised he’ll talk to you. They make some good coin off the extremophiles they sell, for good reason too. It’s a nasty and hazardous process to acquire them. Folks that venture out there for a living won’t part with the knowledge they learn for cheap. I’d hazard a guess there’s some knowledge they won’t part with for anything.”

  “I worked out a trade. We’re not going anywhere near his turf, so he’ll share what he knows about where we’re going. For some reason Yuri is amicable toward me.”

  Dan pointed at Jack. “Ah, the radio relay. What sort of a trade did you make?”

  “Knowledge I acquired coming back from Old Norman. It’s not worth much to me, but it is to him.”

  Dan laughed. “Well, if you get anything out of him, you’ll do better than most.”

  Jack left and waited for Art to dismiss the trainees for the day before he spoke to him, not just about the Blastlands, but the selection of his team a well.

  “Go young with your team. You’ll need to move fast and far and you need Rangers that can bear up to that. You’ll want shooters, at least a handful of who are good at long-range. Much of the Blastlands is wide open. Take men who can haul some freight, no women. You’ll be taking in a lot of gear and you may have to haul wounded out. If you had Clarisse Bradshaw or someone like her you could, but you don’t. Amanda and Jennifer can’t throw you or Thomas or Ralph over a shoulder and hump ten miles.”

  “We need a medic. Jen may not be able to carry Thomas, but she can patch him up better than anyone else we have here.”

  “True, but we can’t spare her, or I should say that Geneva’s med clinic can’t.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “The dialysis machine and oxygen concentrator at the clinic are touchy, or so Doc Cranston tells me. Seeing how Doc has to visit all the neighboring towns and homesteads, there’s only one other human being in Geneva capable of keeping them going until the salvagers find parts or new machines. That would be one Ranger Lewis. Skills she acquired before she became a Ranger.”

  Jack grumbled. “Then we go without a medic?”

  “Get with Ed Drake. He’ll get somebody up here, pronto.”

  “Okay. Will do. What else?”

  “You’ll need a lot of water, don’t use any Blastlands sources unless you have no choice. That means packing a lot of weight, so save space for it. You plan on taking any heavier firepower?”

  “A pair of M-Sixties, some hand grenades. Demolition charges too, just in case.”

  “Good. Drill your team hard on all the protective gear before you go. Pat will help with that. Same goes for weapons, tactics, formations. Make sure everyone, and I mean everyone, knows the mission. If it takes you an extra couple of days before you leave to do that, use’em. Don’t go out there unprepared and unfamiliar with your people.”

  Jack nodded. “You’ve been in the Blastlands. Any tips?”

  “I’ve been in there four times, but never where you’re going. Hardin, Hal, and me chased some rads into the missile fields straight east of here six years back. That’s as far north I’ve ever been and the last time I was there. Radiation hazards are everywhere, so watch your rad meters. Pat lost a friend because of that a decade or so back. Sorry bastard died from radiation poisoning or whatever they call it.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Ugly way to go. Wear the coveralls the whole time you’re in there. It’s cool enough now to manage that. Watch out for rads and mutants. You can encounter the occasional alien that wanders in there too, so don’t think you’re free of them. Your radio reception will come and go. Don’t know what causes it.”

  Jack returned to Dan’s office yet again and told him about the medic situation.

  “I’ll get the Ranger Center on the horn right now,” Dan said. “We ought to know something tomorrow. I’ll tell Ed.”

  Jack went to the medical clinic to await the end of Jennifer’s shift. A part of him was relieved she wouldn’t need to venture into the Blastlands, but he was sure she would be unhappy about the situation.

  He told her as soon as she left the clinic. He thought to soften the blow. “There are people here who need you. People who need your expertise to keep them alive. You have to stay.”

  “I know. I’m not happy about it, but I can’t go. I was going to bring it up with Captain Drake tomorrow morning.”<
br />
  “So the big inspirational speech I had planned was for nothing.”

  Jennifer smiled. “I’ll listen to it if you want.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same.” He looked at her for a few seconds. “You know, I don’t get it.”

  “What don’t you get?”

  “How I got stuck with you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack cut her off.

  “Smart, pragmatic, talented, and easy on the eyes… I have more.”

  “That’s enough,” she said with a smile. “Who’s going in place of me.”

  “Don’t know yet. We might find out tomorrow.”

  “Are you disappointed I’m not going?”

  “Yes… and not at all.”

  She nodded. “I understand exactly what you mean.”

  Jack presented his arm and she took it. “Then I’ll take you to dinner. You can choose any dining establishment in town.”

  “Any one?”

  “Either one… or both if you want. I know it’s not Fateville’s wide selection, but we’ll just have to live with it.”

  “There are just five in Fateville.”

  “I get it. You come from a city of more than a thousand people while I’m of small settlement stock. You don’t need to rub it in, Miss Lewis.”

  She laughed. “Let’s go then, Jack Traipse.”

  “Where to?”

  “I haven’t decided. I shall need to peruse the menus first.”

  Jack laughed softly. “Big city women….”

  . . . . .

  14

  Proper Planning…

  . . . . .

  The next morning Jack stepped into an ambush as soon as he entered the Ranger HQ. Nearly every Ranger there asked him about taking part in the mission to the Blastlands.

  Jack finally convinced everyone to quiet down. “Other than those that I know are not going, anyone else want to step aside?”

  No one said a word or raised a hand.

  “Anyone here going to have hurt feelings if they don’t get selected?”

  Everyone in the room raised their hands, including those not going. Jack smiled and rolled his eyes. “Rangers… I should have figured on that response. I’ll post a list later in the day.”