3
The command center of Harmony Base was a high-tech affair, a dimly lit room populated by workstations and displays of all sizes and brightness. From here, the personnel on duty monitored the condition of the subterranean installation, home to almost a thousand people. All internal metrics were captured and stored and, if necessary, reviewed. It was mostly mind-numbingly boring work, a repetitive process of staring at screens, monitoring the internal affairs of Harmony Base, and keeping the occasional eye turned toward the happenings on the surface over a hundred feet above their heads. But studying the surface was even more boring. Ever since the Sixty Minute War had essentially eradicated the ozone layer, solar radiation continued to bombard the planet, causing the Earth’s surface to waste away even further. Beyond dusty rock and parched earth, there was almost nothing left outside to see. Not even a cockroach remained alive out there, so it was a rare circumstance for something outside to merit any discussion beyond Hey, look at how big that dust storm is, or Well, it might not look like Kansas … but it still is.
“Sorry, Colonel, but do you have a second?”
Corrine Baxter looked up. Barney Rosen, the lone technician manning the External Observation Station located in one corner of the Command Center was facing her direction, leaning back in his chair. Baxter simply stared at him for a moment before responding.
EOS wants to talk?
Baxter pushed away from her desk at the back of the Command Center and stood. She straightened her uniform and walked over to the EOS station.
“What is it, Rosen?”
“We’ve just detected another tremor, ma’am. One point four on the Richter, same general epicenter as yesterday.”
Baxter had to think back to the morning briefing to recall what the sallow-faced technician was talking about, but she did remember that several small tremors had been detected in the direction of the Colorado plains. That area was relatively stable—tectonically speaking—so the sudden uptick in activity was interesting, but not considered threatening in any way.
“You sure we’re not talking about equipment failure here? It’s been a long time … Can tectonic sensors go bad?”
“They can, but they’ve passed all the diagnostics,” the technician said. “For my money, they’re working fine, ma’am.”
Baxter didn’t know what to make of that. “Okay. Do you think the quakes pose a threat to the base?”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t say that. I just want to make sure someone in the command group is aware of them, that’s all. I would usually just log it and let it go, but since it’s a pretty repetitive event,” the technician pointed at one of the graphics on his workstation display, which showed a bar chart of tectonic occurrences over the past few days, “it seems like this is info you might want to look at for yourself, ma’am.”
“Ah. All right, then. Forward the data to my station. I’ll look it over.”
Rosen pressed a button. “Done, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
Baxter walked back to her station and slid into the high-backed chair. Her shift was over in ten minutes, and she would hand over the task of overseeing base operations to a junior officer while she knocked off for a straight eight. Just the same, she called up the tremor readings on her workstation and reviewed the graphs and the baseline assessment Rosen had conducted. Seismology was certainly not her forte, but the fact was Harmony had been positioned in western Kansas because the area was thought to be tectonically stable. Even if it wasn’t, the base had been designed to survive a near-miss ground strike from a nuclear warhead in the forty megaton range, so she wasn’t very concerned about earthquakes.
She bundled up the data and forwarded it to General Benchley. This was something he should know about.
***
Andrews sat at the small dining table in his quarters, drinking a cup of coffee. Rachel was in the shower, and he heard the water splashing across her body as she prepared for another day of work. Usually, a spouse would get a free day or two after an SCEV team had come back from the field, but the cost of the beer was high: Rachel had to cover for a sick coworker as part of the deal. They’d each had one of the beers last night. While they were good—fantastic, actually—Andrews was no longer convinced they were worth the price Rachel was paying for them.
The shower was turned off, and Andrews got up from the table. He brewed another cup of coffee for Rachel and set it down for her, along with a piece of toasted cinnamon bread—plain was how she liked it, which Andrews thought was boring as hell—then slid back into the plastic chair. He didn’t have to wait for long before she emerged from the bathroom, stark naked, a towel wrapped around her hair.
“Morning, sweets!” she said, smiling at him brilliantly. “Sleep well?”
“Like the dead—you really tired me out last night.” Seeing her in such a state of undress caused a flush of heat to surge through his groin. Rachel Andrews, née Lopez, was one of the most beautiful women in Harmony Base, and somehow, Andrews had gotten lucky enough to score her as his wife.
Rachel looked at him and her smiled widened. “Uh-huh … doesn’t look like it to me, mister.” She pointed at his crotch. “If I’m not mistaken, it looks like you’re pitching a tent in your bathrobe.”
Andrews laughed and turned away from her, crossing his legs. Carefully. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you late for work.”
“We’ll see about that. But maybe I’ll get dressed now, just in case.”
“Your call, babe.”
She walked to the bedroom, intentionally shaking her ass a bit, making him laugh. He heard her open the closet in the bedroom and pull out a work uniform, then listened to the rustling noises as she dressed.
“So, what did you find?” she asked from behind the bedroom partition.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
Andrews sipped some more coffee. “All we found were burned-out cities. Collected a ton of scientific data that doesn’t mean crap. Put a few thousand miles on the rig, and somehow, we didn’t kill each other after more than a month driving around looking for life.”
“You didn’t find anything?” The disappointment was obvious in her voice.
Andrews sighed. “Well, we did find some fortified communities that survived the initial war. But once their supplies were exhausted, they had to abandon them. We don’t know what happened to them, but the fortifications were empty.” He paused for another sip of coffee. “Cheyenne Mountain’s gone. Looks like it was hit with several ground strikes. The area was still way too hot for us to go EVA and check it out.”
Rachel walked to the table, fully dressed. She slid into the chair opposite him and looked at Andrews with sad, dark eyes. “So … we’re all that’s left?”
Andrews shrugged. “I don’t know. We still think the Northwest is the best place to look, but the command staff wants to take baby steps and start local.”
“Jim Laird’s rig is going to head northeast,” Rachel said, sipping her coffee. “Up the Ohio Valley, or something.”
Andrews grunted. “Wrong direction, but at least the powers that be are thinking we need to stretch our legs. When did you find that out?”
“His rig was moved into vehicle prep last week. Kelly told me that was the plan.”
“Jimmy’s a good commander. If there’s anything to be found out in that part of the country, he’ll find it.”
Rachel hesitated. “Kelly also mentioned something else,” she said, finally.
“Do tell.”
“Word has it that Benchley might create a new staff position. Director of Field Operations.”
Andrews snorted. “More management, huh? Hooah, just what this place needs.”
Rachel ignored his remark. “Babe, you’d be a natural. You’re a great leader, and you have an eye for detail. And it’s a base position—limited field time involved.”
“Me? A base position? Rachel, you know I’m no paper pusher. I’m still young, and the field work is—”
“Important, I know, I know. Look, Mike, it’s been ten years. I think we’re it. We’re all that’s left. You’re putting yourself at risk for nothing.”
Andrews looked at her over the rim of his coffee mug. “We’ve been through this,” he said calmly. “I have a great crew backing me up. As long as I keep my head and don’t do anything stupid, the field work’s as safe as working in the Core—”
“That’s bullshit.” The anger was clear in her voice, and her eyes flashed with barely restrained fury. Andrews sighed inwardly. There was no winning this argument, and as long as he remained in command of SCEV Four, he was always going to spend part of his time home bobbing and weaving.
“Rachel, it’s not bullshit.”
“Yeah, right. Would you sing that song if your parents had bought it out in the field? Don’t think so, Mike. Don’t think so at all.” She rose, turned to the sink, and fairly flung the remains of her coffee into it. She rinsed her mug as Andrews got to his feet and came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist.
“That happened when the war was just going down. No one knows the full story—”
“Wake up, Michael!” Rachel put her hands on the counter and looked toward the ceiling. She sighed, and Andrews knew it was only a moment or so before she totally blew her top. “Mulligan and Benchley were serving together before we were born! The old timers cover for each other all the time, and you know that!”
Andrews squeezed her and spoke calmly into her ear. “And what does that prove, hon? What does that even mean, if it’s true? Nothing. The fact of the matter is, what I do for this installation is as safe as it can be. What happened to your parents is the exception … not the rule.”
“Just because the only fatal rig accident happened over ten years ago doesn’t mean it can’t happen again. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean it can’t happen to you.” Slowly, she turned inside his arms and looked at him, her brown eyes locking with his blue. She put her arms around his neck. She was cooling off, and Andrews allowed his gut to relax slightly. “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump into this right away, I just got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize. I hear what you’re saying. I really do.” Andrews pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “Listen … I want that northwest recon. If anyone’s still alive on this continent, that’s where they’ll be. After that, if this position you’re talking about comes around, I’ll speak to Benchley about it. Seriously.”
“That would be nice,” Rachel said softly.
Andrews kissed her. “I know this hasn’t been much of a marriage. All we’ve had are little honeymoons in between deployments. That’s my fault, and I’ll try my damnedest to change that.”
“You might as well. After all, it’s the only marriage we’ve got. Right?”
Andrews smiled at her. “Right.”
A chime sounded over the apartment’s speaker system, followed by a neutral male voice. “The time is zero six fifty.” Rachel sagged into his arms when she heard the announcement.
“Duty calls. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Andrews gave her a big hug.
“You sure will. What’ll you do today?”
“Spend some time in the Commons, then head for the SCEV bay and check on the teardown of the rig. That’s Spencer’s job, but I want to keep my hand in, make sure everything’s going as well as it can.”
Rachel nodded slowly, her face impassive. She kissed his neck, then broke their embrace. “Well, enjoy it, I guess. I’ll catch you at seventeen hundred.”
“Okay. I love you, baby.”
Rachel headed for the door. “I know you do.” She pulled open the heavy door and stepped into the brightly lit corridor. When she turned to pull it closed, she looked at Andrews and smiled. “Get some more rest. I have plans for you later.”
“Oh, goody!” Rachel laughed and closed the door. Andrews fairly collapsed into his chair and regarded the cold remnants of coffee in his mug. He put it back on the table and leaned back.
“Welcome home, you stupid jerk,” he said to himself.
***
The Core was a huge, three-story chamber in the bottom of the base. The center of the floor was dominated by a wide platform, atop of which sat three wailing turbines contained inside soundproofed compartments that only served to dull the roar. If the personnel inside the base formed its soul, then the turbines were absolutely Harmony’s heart. Without the life-giving power they generated, the base’s inhabitants would have perished long, long ago. As such, the turbines and their associated systems were supported by dozens of technicians, and more were trained on their operations and maintenance every year. It was essential that the turbines remain operational twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year. Without them, Harmony Base would cease to exist.
At noontime, Rachel walked across the floor to where Jeremy Andrews stood, talking to another engineer. She stood off to one side and waited to catch her father-in-law’s eye, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. Jeremy looked and scanned the floor, his brow furrowing when he saw Rachel.
Jeremy finished his conversation, then headed toward Rachel. He looked at her with concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve been put through the wringer. You all right?” Jeremy asked. “All of these shifts are doing you in. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I’m fine,” Rachel said. Jeremy Andrews was the base’s engineering officer, one of the most senior civilian personnel in the base. Because of that, she had to be perhaps even more diligent in her duties. Despite the fact he was her husband’s father, it wouldn’t do for her coworkers to think she might be using family status to her unfair advantage. Keeping this in mind, she still asked, “Do you have a second? I, um, want to talk to you about something.”
Jeremy smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Sure—anything to avoid work. You’re on your break, right? Your station’s manned?”
“Full up,” Rachel said.
“Cool. Let’s hit the lounge.”
Jeremy led Rachel to a gangway, and she followed him up its narrow length to the next level. While he was about the same height as his son, Jeremy Andrews was about thirty pounds heavier, and the metal steps creaked slightly beneath his weight as he vaulted up the gangway. Despite his age and the expanding paunch that encircled his belly, he still moved fast, and Rachel had to hurry to keep up with him.
The lounge was located on the Core’s second level. It was a bright room, and the tables and chairs were positioned before the thick windows that overlooked the Core. Rachel was happy to see the room was unoccupied. Jeremy immediately headed for the small refreshment area in one corner and grabbed a mug from a rack on the wall.
“Want a cuppa?” he asked, pointing at the coffee station.
“Sure, that’d be great.” She really was tired from working so many double shifts, and the coffee would help her get through the rest of the day.
“Are you scheduled tomorrow?” Jeremy filled two mugs with dark coffee as he spoke.
“No, I’m off. Why?”
“Good. I was going to insist you take the day off. Listen, getting those beers for Mike was great and all, but they’re just not worth two weeks of double shifts. Don’t do that again. I’ll talk to Dominick about it as well—he’s a jerk for pushing you into that sort of an agreement. It’s great that he can trade for a couple of days off so he can brew more beer, but when he starts pushing people into corners and performance suffers, I’m calling him on it.”
“I’m fine, Jeremy. Really.”
Jeremy handed her a mug of coffee, and she accepted it gratefully. He raised his own mug to his lips and looked at her for a moment as he sipped it. “You’re fine? That’s horse crap. You’re dead on your feet.” Before she could respond, he waved the matter away with one hand. “Anyhow. Most young married people would be doing handstands after their dear mates returned to the fold. Why aren’t you?”
“Am I that transparent?”
Jeremy laughed and walked toward the windows. “Not at all, but I’ve been there. Before Meg died, that is.”
He put his hands in his uniform’s pockets, and Rachel could see his reflection in the glass. At the mention of his wife—her mother-in-law—who had died from cancer almost three years ago, a vaguely haunted expression flashed across his face. He hadn’t wanted her to see it, she knew, but he had been foiled by the glass before him. He turned back to her and smiled easily, all traces of loss and loneliness gone from his face. “And I have an inkling as to what makes my son tick. So …?”
Rachel sighed and shrugged. “I guess I’m acting like the little wife, as disgusting as it sounds.”
“I don’t know what that means. I know you probably go through a little or a lot of hell every time Mike takes off in that rig of his. Hell, I get queasy myself. But you know that his work is vital, right? That it’s part of the core reasons for this base’s existence?”
“Yeah, I’m up on all that. It’s still a tough thing for me to deal with, and it screws up every homecoming. I just can’t stop myself from trying to convince him to try his hand at something else. Even I realize what a nag I’ve turned into, so it must be ten times worse on the receiving end.”
“The answer’s easy—stop.”
“I can’t.”
He sipped more coffee as she joined him at the window. “Then you’re going to have a hell of a fight on your hands. I know Mike. He acts loose and easy all the time, but the fact of the matter is, he has one stiff neck. You try and bend it, he’s going to stand up and give it back to you one day, and that won’t be pretty.” He paused. “But your position is absolutely understandable, given what you’ve gone through.”
“Thanks. He thinks so, too. But he’s convinced himself the rigs are the safest things around—”
“They are,” a deep, rough voice said. Rachel’s heart seemed to freeze in her chest, and if she hadn’t been caught by surprise, she would have kept her gaze rooted on the turbine platform below. Unfortunately, she turned.
A tall, imposing man stood in the break room’s corridor doorway, his pale eyes fixed on hers like he was tracking a target. He had a hard-edged, handsome face, bordering on old movie-star looks, but it seemed lived-in, a facade covering up decades of Rachel didn’t know what. Command Sergeant Major Scott Mulligan was the base’s senior enlisted man and a contemporary of the Old Guard—a relic.
Jeremy jumped in quickly. “Mulligan! What brings you to our cherished inner sanctum?”
Mulligan turned his inscrutable gaze toward the burly engineer. “My feet, of course.” He raised the notepad he held in one hand. “It’s time to go through the quarterly physical security review, which is on your calendar, Major.”
“I thought that was tomorrow,” Jeremy said.
“I guarantee you it’s today, sir. And it’ll be as routine as always—I’ll ask you the same boring questions, you give me the same boring answers, we’ll review the same boring data, and finally, we’ll both sign the same boring attestation forms.”
“Doesn’t get any more exciting than that, does it?” Jeremy ran a hand over his face, then nodded to the tall sergeant major. “All right, then. Let’s get to it.” He put a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Can we continue this later?”
“Sure,” Rachel said, and she put her coffee mug in the sink. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“If it makes you feel any easier, Andrews, I can confirm for you that what Captain Andrews says is completely true—the SCEVs are about as bulletproof as any mobile system can be,” Mulligan said to her as she turned for the door.
Rachel broke stride. It was rare for Mulligan to address her; the big enlisted man was usually too aloof to interact in a meaningful way with the New Guard, the people like herself and her husband who’d been brought to the base as children before the war. Now he had done so twice in rapid succession, and it provided Rachel with a sudden opportunity.
“Is that so, Sergeant Major? What’s it like to kill people in them?” The sudden snarl in her voice surprised her. Like so many others, on some level she feared Mulligan. He was too different; he embodied too much legacy. He was an example of what had gone wrong in the world before the Sixty Minute War, a complete anachronism whose uniform still sported the patches of Army Special Forces. Everyone was on their toes around Mulligan, even members of the command staff, so when Rachel suddenly faced him down, she was perhaps the most shocked of all.
There was no backing down now. She stared at Mulligan, who stared back at her without any display of emotion. The moment dragged on, and Mulligan kept quiet until Jeremy opened his mouth to speak.
“It’s not as easy as you might think,” Mulligan said finally.
The bland response unnerved her and, for a moment, Rachel was afraid she might burst into tears. Instead, she managed to hold them back long enough to fix the tall soldier with a withering glare. If he recognized the hatred she felt for him, Mulligan gave no indication. His only response was to look back at her with his usual flat, disinterested gaze.
Finally, he turned back to Jeremy. “We should get to work, Major.”
Rachel stormed out of the break room and back into the never-ending din of the Core. She bolted down the narrow gangway, shoving past a burly electrician plodding up the metal stairs. The man had to flatten himself against the bulkhead so she could get past, and Rachel jostled him mightily. She would apologize to the electrician later. Right now, she needed to get to the restroom on the main floor and hide in a stall, so no one could see her tears.