The Brick halts, his lamps washing over rows of dead flag officers.
“Oof.”
“Yeah,” Beckert says. “I didn’t think we’d find anyone alive, but finding more bodies is…”
Argo cuts him off. “What’ve we got here, Sergeant?”
“The last stand, I think.”
Argo strides up to the raised platform. “I mean, what have we got?” The big man pushes the winged chair aside and studies Noromi’s terminal. “Looks well-preserved. This is excellent. Let’s see if we can find a way to get power restored.”
“Yes, sir,” Beckert replies. He heads to the first of the three doors and shoves it aside. A long hallway extends before him with thirteen doors on the right and one marked “HEAD” on the left. He moves down the row, shining his lamps inside each room on the right. Two bunks occupy each room with an identical gray suitcase beside every bunk.
The last door is marked with five stars. When Beckert opens it, he looks into a spacious room with a single large bunk. Portraits of heavily-decorated soldiers adorn the walls, and an intricately woven rug covers most of the floor. A shower stall, vanity, and commode stand in a corner. Two suitcases lie open at the foot of the bunk, their contents laid out carefully.
Beckert steps in, leaving boot prints in the light coating of dust. Up close, he can see the blankets on the bunk are still tucked in tight. The extra clothes are arranged exactly as they were left. The polished shoes still shine.
These bunks were never slept in.
The Geek backs out of the room and retreats to the main chamber.
Once there, he notices the top of Noromi’s terminal is flipped open. Argo is not in sight, but both of the remaining doors are open and sounds of rummaging come from the farthest.
He follows the sounds to a room densely packed with pipes, wires, and machinery. Argo’s lights bounce off the low ceiling behind a dusty water recycler. The Brick peeks over the recycler at Beckert’s approach.
“Find anything?” the big man asks.
“Personal quarters. Doesn’t look like they were ever used.” As he works his way over, Beckert’s eyes roam the mechanical marvels around him.
“Looks like you found something.”
“Yeah,” Argo replies enthusiastically. He drops down and continues working. “I’m amazed this is intact.”
Beckert stoops under thick conduits and straddles his way over a steam duct.
“Amazed what’s intact?” The young operator steps around the water recycler and finds Argo crouched at the end of a four meter long cylinder. The end cap is pulled from the cylinder, exposing a centered axle and bearings. Argo looks at him with mirthful eyes.
“Generator.”
Beckert smiles with wonder. “Will it work?”
“We’ll find out.” The Brick takes out his labset and jacks into a service port on the generator. The small screen scrolls with streaming data.
“Hmm. Thermal protect circuit tripped.” Argo stoops down to his kit and removes a foil tube. Turning the tube over, he places the narrow spout at one of the bearings. With a rapid squeeze, a powdered lubricant puffs out. He works his way down the axle, until every bearing along the axle is dusted.
He returns the tube to his kit and takes the generator’s rotor in hand. At first, the action is gritty. But as he turns the rotor over and over, it loosens.
“Lieutenant,” the Geek begins tentatively, “you don’t think this could attract attention?”
“The shielding here is thick enough to keep all that radiation out, so it’ll keep anything we’re doing in. Besides…” The Brick points to a large diagram on the far wall.
“…air, water, and power are all closed systems, no external exchange,” the Brick explains. “We’re good.”
Beckert moves over to the diagram and finds a representation of the shelter’s mechanical systems. He traces the looped conduits for each system, confirming the Brick’s assertion.
Argo closes the generator’s end cap and moves to a manual breaker box attached to the long machine. He takes a breath and cycles the switch.
A clattering racket issues from the far end of the machine like a loose gear alternately catching and grinding. Before Argo can get to it, the noise smoothes into a rising hum. He stares into his labset, monitoring the start up procedure and clearing old fault warnings.
The machine screeches hideously. The Brick’s eyes go wide and his hand reaches for the manual breaker when the screech ends. The hum returns.
Argo and Beckert stare at the machine for long moments, waiting for the next sign of trouble. No smoke, no harsh noises, no sudden flashes of light interrupt the peaceful churning.
The labset shows all systems performing below optimum, but within tolerances. Slowly, Argo takes his hand from the manual breaker.
“Geek, check the power control console, see if it’s active.”
Beckert opens his mouth to ask where when a glow of green diodes draws his attention. He steps past thick bundles of wires to a station at the back wall. The illuminated display finishes the last of its initialization routine and lists a numbered menu of options.
“I have the Start screen,” he shouts over the humming machine.
“Good,” Argo says, not taking his eyes from the generator. “Check the breakers.”
Beckert chooses the appropriate option.
“All breakers are open.”
“Close the mains, only.”
Beckert taps a key. Behind him, there is a blue flash and three small explosions. The breaker opens and the electrical buzz dies.
“What was that?” the Geek yells.
Argo runs from the generator to a bank of rack mounted batteries. Three of the cells smolder with viscous red fluid sprayed around them. He locates the manual breaker for the rack and opens the line.
“It’s all right. We had some shorted cells.” His heavy breathing returns to normal. “Let’s try it again.”
“Ok, here goes…” Beckert squints his eyes and closes the main breaker. To his relief, there are no more sounds of destruction, just an extra row of illuminated diodes on the console. The display confirms, MAIN BREAKERS CLOSED. He opens his eyes a little wider.
“How are we doing, Geek?”
“Looks good, Lieutenant.”
Argo weaves his way to the power console beside Beckert. He reaches in front of the young operator and taps keys. The display lists breakers by name and system. Both men scan the list.
“Water, power, food, air…” Beckert reads aloud. “This place is self-sufficient.”
“It’s a bunker within a bunker,” Argo notes. He looks down at his labset and taps it with a thumb. The device clicks infrequently.
“I’m surprised how good the rad shielding is.” His eyes roam over the ceiling and walls as though looking through them. “Could be a good place to rest, if we can.” The Brick’s sharp eyes fall on Beckert. “Go back to the command room and keep watch as I close the breakers. We want power to the General’s terminal most of all, and I want you right there if there’s a short.”
“Aye, sir.” Beckert hurries from the humming mechanical room into the domed command chamber. He climbs up to the general’s console and shines his helmet lights upon the exposed circuit boards.
“Ready!” he shouts.
As Argo closes the breakers, wall sconces low to the floor flicker in a soft white light around the perimeter of the room. Pinpoint spot lights in the ceiling shine narrow beams onto each workstation below. A macabre audience illuminates before the young operator, seated at or slumped across their stations. Beckert’s skin crawls, and he averts his eyes from their infinite stare.
Tiny lights strobe in the array of circuit boards. As he watches, the lights twinkle like green and orange stars in a night sky.
“That’s it!” he shouts.
The terminals at each work station flare to life. Screens at two stations pop loudly and go dark. The rest flicker with illumination.
Behind the cur
ved rows of workstations, the tall wall screens illuminate. Each displays the message, SEARCHING FOR SATELLITES.
Beckert closes the top of the general’s terminal, and the embedded screen displays a login prompt. He smiles as he draws a lanyard from his HDI.
Thompson peeks through the entrance at all of the lighting.
“Major,” Beckert greets.
“I didn’t dare to hope…” The Gun looks tentatively back toward the corridor and slips into the room, taking in the lightly whirring stations. He looks directly at Beckert.
“Do you have your priorities?”
“Yes, sir! Search for military technology, details on Cadre Two, and any other data which can provide an exploitable advantage against the enemy.”
“Exactly right.” Thompson slides the double harness over his head and carries the sacks over to Beckert. He plops the fat bags down.
“Maybe we can condense these as well.” He turns toward the sound of heavy machinery.
“Brick!”
There is a clank from deep within the mechanical room and the sound of a wrench dropping to the floor. Argo tromps to the doorway with his cannon.
“Sir?”
“It’s all right, Brick, at ease. The sun is going to set in a couple of hours, after which I’m going up for a look. I want Geek plugged into that terminal as long as necessary. You’ll have watch while I’m gone.”
“Understood.”
Thompson’s eyes roam over the workstations. “What’s the story on this place?”
“Some kind of command bunker,” Argo explains. “A little run down, but a worthy shelter.”
“How’s the air?”
“Good. We can stay here long as we need to.”
“Good to know.” The Gun starts toward the exit. “You two, take nutrients and clear your carbon traps.” Thompson pauses at the door and stares straight ahead at the escape hatch. He turns suddenly.
“Brick, are you at a point you can stop in there?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I want to know if this escape tunnel goes anywhere.”
“Will do, Gun.”
Beckert flips a nutrient bar to Argo and the Brick catches it easily.
“Major?” asks the young operator.
“I’ll have it later.” Thompson steps through the door. “Keep this closed,” he says through the doorway, pulling it shut.
Argo and Beckert slide their face plates up. Air like a desert wind flows over their damp skin.
“Whew,” Beckert says, “who left the heater on?”
“Yeah, real dry, too.” Argo looks at the bar of protein in his hand. “Well, I’m going to get my tools.”
The Brick walks quickly into the mechanical room, leaving Beckert at Noromi’s terminal. Alone with their sparse meals, all trace of civility disappears and they bite through the plasticine wrappers like famished animals.
How We Died
After respectfully moving Noromi’s bones, Beckert seats himself in the general’s chair. He slides close to the console, engaging his HDI. Code strobes through the goggle lenses like the peak of a fireworks display, and his consciousness projects into the machine.
Free-falling in a virtual world, the Geek handles the software security and glides into a vast system. Islands of information extend in all directions, crowding together in dense, shifting groups. The islands surface and submerge beneath one another in a torpid boil, constantly changing.
Beckert emits his preferences to the system space, and files flock to him from the island groups. They line up by relevance, overlapping like a deck of spread cards, and extend out of his virtual sight to the right.
The Geek reaches a virtual hand toward the top file. There is a slight resistance to the hand moving forward, like an invisible membrane. It confuses him until he discovers it is his own reluctance reining him back—he knows what he is going to see, and it terrifies him.
Suppressing his trepidation, Beckert selects the first file and plays the video in a window above the orderly row of files. The young man gasps. Over and over, his fears are confirmed.
*********************************************************
Argo’s long strides carry him back from the escape tunnel, past the hatch, and to the intersection Thompson guards. The Brick’s armor is damp and dripping.
Thompson greets him with an open hand. “Did you find an exit?”
“I didn’t make it to the end,” Argo answers. “The tunnel’s flooded a few kilometers down, and I went as far as I could before time was up. There was faint light ahead, though.”
Thompson looks down the long corridor toward the steaming pit.
“Light’s a good sign.” He looks back at his comrade. “It’d be good to know for sure.”
“Shall I go back?”
“No. I still need you to take watch when I head up. I’m ready to go, but check on Geek first. See how he’s making out.”
“Understood.” Argo steps past Thompson and takes hold of the Command room bulkhead. He steps through and finds Beckert propping his head in his hands. The Geek’s goggles flare with code.
“What’s wrong?” the big man asks.
The code halts in the Geek’s goggles and goes dark. Beckert slides the goggles up and presses his fingers into his eyes.
“It’s…it’s awful…”
Argo steps in front of the console. “Segeant, look at me. What is it?”
Beckert takes his fingers away and his eyes shift as though the painful images are still bouncing around inside them. He disconnects the lanyard and rises from Noromi’s chair.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was streaming the latest entries, and I was overwhelmed. So much death…” Beckert cycles his breath, regaining composure.
Argo looks down at the console, uneasy with the thought of the cold and incontrovertible truth it contains.
“I have to know.”
Beckert regards his comrade with concern and nods. He makes a few key strokes on the console, and the wall screens illuminate. Each large screen partitions into eight individual windows, for a total of twenty-four. With another few taps, each window fills with the first frame of a video. Earth, the moon, colonies, and deep space resolve in high detail. The last key stroke sets them all in motion.
A cacophony of shouted orders and screams erupts from the screens, underscored by deep rumbles and punctuated by powerful explosions. Argo’s eyes go wide as he watches the final acts and transmissions of commanders in fiery combat. Outmatched in every regard, the commanders frantically maneuver and counter attack until the shrill end of transmission. Warships fracture and split as numerous missiles plunge through their armored skins; fields of troops scorch from coordinated air assaults; cities vaporize beneath indigo clouds; massive defense installations crumble and melt under atomic bombardments.
Argo’s eyes flick from window to window. Millions die before him in seconds, desperate screams preceding the next video of destruction. The videos seem endless and are always one-sided. The loss of life gut-checks him, stunting his deep breaths, and his stalwart conditioning is brushed aside by a visceral rage.
“ENOUGH,” he bellows.
Beckert halts the videos, and the wall displays go dark. Argo turns, seeing Thompson in the doorway. The Gun’s gray eyes look into the blank screens.
“And that’s how we died…” the Gun says with eerie detachment.
“There’s three days of video for each workstation,” the Geek announces solemnly. “After that, it’s a couple weeks of dead air.”
Argo looks over the corpses in each seat, trying to clear the fire from his lungs.
“Three days? They had to see this for three days?”
Beckert nods. “In real time.” The Geek taps keys on the console. “There’s a record of their commands as well, though…we know the outcome.”
“I want it all, Geek,” Thompson declares. “The Leadership Council can analyze it for enemy tactics.”
“Uh, we’re talking
petabytes of data, sir. If we left the uplink open for a week, we wouldn’t get it all to the orbital relay, and with a sustained broadcast, the blueskins would intercept…”
“Then we transport it,” the Gun says coolly.
“The memory core is cumbersome,” Argo adds. “Over two hundred kilos and bigger than you. It’s also well-secured. Removal…”
“Not the core, Argo, the data.” Thompson turns to Beckert. “Didn’t you say you got a smaller core from the tower?”
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