Tears of Selene

by Bill Patterson

  “Goodnight, my love,” said John.

  “Goodnight, my prince,” said Celine.

  “Let me know if you have to pee in the middle of the night,” said John.

  “You, too,” said Celine. “I don't want to pot you by mistake.”

  They settled in. John put his pistol directly under his bed. He knew people who slept with a pistol under their pillow. That seemed excessively paranoid to him. Besides, an intruder would aim for the bed, a big ghostly target in the dark. John figured rolling off, grabbing the weapon, and firing would be a better tactical solution, since it would be harder to target him against the dark carpet under the bed.

  John and Celine held still and listened, a habit they had gotten into in the past several weeks. After a few minutes, they relaxed as much as they dared. They were never really off guard unless they were inside safe areas, like the DRC's Control Room. There were darned few safe areas.

  “I finished the rear traps today,” whispered John, his breath tickling the longish hair near Celine's ear. “The front ones are primed and ready. I'll load the rear ones tomorrow.”

  “So no more lounging around outside?” asked Celine.

  “No, lounge away. In fact, the more, the better. Just keep clear of the traps. He may well be watching us, and if you stop tanning, he's going to get suspicious.”

  “You just want to see me in a bikini.”

  “So does half the compound,” he said. “But I'm the only one you let do this.” He kissed her softly on the earlobe. “Thank you.”

  “Thank Lisa,” she replied, pushing his face away to get to his lips. “She's the one who ordered me to be friendly with you. And I always follow orders.”

  They loved carefully, quietly, pausing now and again for a long listen. John wasn't sure if he hated the precautions or not, as Celine clamped down on him, imprisoning him in a warm velvet vault while they waited for Garth to betray himself.

  ###

  “I wish I knew what he was waiting for!” said Lisa. “It's been four weeks since he had his first tunnel foray.”

  “About that,” said John. “I was wondering something.”

  “Go ahead,” said Lisa. “You never know where you'll find a clue.”

  “The first time he was detected in the tunnels, he made it all the way up here, disappeared into the Nazi area for a couple of minutes, then came out and hustled away. Since then, nothing. Now, you can't detect things outside the kaserne, but there's really only one place that tunnel goes—straight down the hill until it joins one of the main drains to the treatment plant.”

  “OK, so?” asked Lisa.

  “It has no trouble going down the first part of the hill. But there's a flat spot about halfway down.”

  “Yeah, that's the Speilplatz. So?”

  “You can't rely on inertia to get the sewage across the flat spot and over the rim and back down the hill. That's solid rock at the rim, and they didn't want to blast any more than they had to. So, they put in a lift station.”

  “A what?” asked Sir Rodney.

  “Think of it as a big pump to shove the sewage uphill. I looked at some schematics on the public web, and the feeder tunnels all drain into a central collection pool. The pump is there and it just keeps stuffing the sludge into a pipe until it's shoved over the rim. Then gravity takes over and ugh.”

  “Doesn't that mean that our Mr. Garth is going to get chewed by the pumps? How did he bypass this?”

  “Since pipes can leak or burst, when they built the system, they also built an inspection tunnel right beside the main one. Garth just climbs the tunnel, goes into the inspection tunnel, goes up and over the rim, then goes into the biggest tunnel heading uphill.

  “But here's the thing—there are three of those stations between the kaserne and where the tunnel empties into the main collection pond right inside the plant. So that means three places where he can enter the system.”

  “Can we see them from here?” asked Lisa.

  “The closest one, yes,” said John. “The other two, no. But, every time the door to the station opens, it registers on the control panel in the treatment plant. I've checked down there—I invented some kind of engineering excuse. There have been five times that the doors have opened. Each time, they have turned on the video feed. Here's the first time,” he said, dropping a disk into the player.

  The video was crisp and free from the usual artifacts from cheap consumer-brand surveillance equipment.

  “Nice video. I’m surprised to find it in a lift station,” said Sir Rodney.

  “Remember that wave of bombings about fifteen years ago?” asked John. “A lot of them happened this way. Activists broke into the sewer system, climbed around, sent a wheeled drone with a package especially for the target, and blew him up while he was on the can.”

  “Ah. Yes,” said Sir Rodney. “I've never felt comfortable since.”

  “Well, you can crap in peace—the Bayerische Abwasserbehörde is on watch. Maybe.”

  Lisa got up and walked to the window, peering outside. All seemed to be normal. People were going to and fro, on seemingly important tasks. All of them would be sitting on a commode sometime that day. Did they have any idea that some German civil servant was making that task as safe as possible?

  “Maybe. Better explain yourself, John.”

  “The video.”

  “What of it? A crew went in, did something, and left.”

  “A crew of two, and they were inside for an hour. Here are the other four door openings.”

  The videos showed briefly. “The cameras are motion-sensor equipped. Notice there's a blur, then nothing. The operators swore they never saw the blur, only the video where nothing changed. Then the camera shut itself off. They put in a maintenance request after the third false alarm. 'Corrosive atmosphere,' they called it. Sometimes, the sulfur compounds coming out of the sewage combine with damp air to form a fog of sulfuric acid. It's hell on equipment,” said John

  “The fourth and fifth openings?” asked Lisa.

  “Still nothing. The maintenance request is not urgent and so it's still in the 'deferred' pile.”

  Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose. “I'm not sure I want to know the answer to the next question. When were those openings?”

  “The first one was part of a work order. The second through fifth do not correspond to any known use by the Germans. But the second one occurred approximately forty minutes before the first indication of Garth in the tunnels. We know where he's entering the system.”

  Lisa smiled, until she saw John shaking his head. “You've got to stop doing that, giving me good news with bad news stuck inside. What is it?”

  “The first time he enters the system, he races right up into the kaserne and pokes around. The next three times, he doesn't. There are two possibilities: he doesn't need to personally come up this far, or he's got someone else he is training. Remember that second person around the campfire?”

  “Crap,” said Sir Rodney. “We can't surveil them. What do you want us to do?”

  “Wait,” said John. “I've fixed the camera issue at the lift station. I asked for a German crew, so I was legal. Turns out Garth brought a glass tumbler with him, which he put over the sensor. With the sensor temporarily disabled, the camera detects no movement and shuts off.

  “We put in a second sensor. Hopefully, he doesn't check for it. This one is a microwave sensor, not an ultrasound one, so if he's got a detector, it's going to be silent. All we have to do now is wait for the next excursion. Given the intervals between the three that didn't come up this far, I would say that it’ll happen tonight. Oh, and the camera has been set to continual recording, and I've blacked out the red recording lamp.”

  “Happy hunting,” said Lisa. “Celine can crash here in my ready room for the night.”

  John smiled. “Thank you. I was going to ask.”

  “No need to. You're with family.”

  ###

  Garth was unmoving. “No, you're goin
g to climb all the way up tonight. I need you to get to the tunnel I told you to, and I need to time you. Screw with me, and I'll go back to my original plan, the one without a certain wanted Indian in it.”

  “But you can't collect the reward for turning me in,” said Subby.

  “Do I look like I need money?” said Garth. “I always have what I need, or I just steal what I want. I get by. I don't need to be lugging gold coins all over Europe. Sure way to get tagged. Now, get your clothes on.”

  Subby hated the sewage tunnels. He never felt clean, even after the cold-water hosing that Garth gave him, and the five minute hot-water shower at the youth hostel. Still, it was another day of life, and a chance to take out that self-important bitch who ruined his life. He muttered as he got dressed.

  “I could have survived the wreck of the Chaffee. I had all the scientists I needed to back me up. Those bastards in Control could never lay a glove on me. Damn!”

  “And you earned those bribes fair and square,” mocked Garth as he leaned on the support column. Their shelter was sturdy, if a bit shabby.

  “Of course! It was my due for putting up with UN crap for years. I did my work in the trenches, got on the administrative track thanks to a fellow Brahmin. Years of work, years of putting up with snide comments about my culture and country. I only had ten years in the top job—not nearly enough time to make up for all I invested in the system, and it's all for naught.”

  Garth shook his head. “It's such a shame,” he said.

  “You bet it is. I have safety deposit boxes that I can never touch, thanks to that bitch on the hill. She's sitting in the seat that I should have! 'The most important woman in the world,' they call her, simply because she can launch nukes at rocks. Oh, how I hate her.”

  “Good,” said Garth. “Now let's get going. You've got a long climb, and an air-tank switch.”

  “What?” asked Subby.

  “Surprise. I was able to stash an air tank at the top of the hill, so now you have air to head back down after you kill your buddy on the hill.”

  “When did you do this?” asked Subby.

  “You were sawing logs one night, so I slipped out, got in the Nazi tunnels, and worked my way over to where they intersect the sewer system. I had a tank on and a regulator I swiped from the river patrol, but I never really needed it. I figured, why not drop off the tank, just in case someone needs it. So now you can take your time.”

  “But,” said Subby, working through the logistics in his head. “I'll be leaving an empty tank up there and have an empty down here. That's not good.”

  Garth reached out to grab Subby's cheek with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it. “That's a good Subby. Always thinking. I'll be filling the empty one you have tonight, and swap them when I do another recon, this one in the daytime. So don't fret, little man.” He released the other man, who grabbed his cheek and glared at him.

  “I know, I know. Don't call you 'Subby.' Eeesh, grow a pair, will you?”

  They arrived at the lift station, and paused a couple of minutes at the treeline to ensure the coast was clear. Garth, as was his habit, examined the ground closely. “Been some traffic around here. I better be careful. Stay here until I wave you over, then move fast.”

  Subby wondered just how fast he could move with a twenty kilogram airpack on his back and a mask pushed up on his forehead. He watched as Garth circled around the treeline, creeping up on the lift station building almost by happenstance. He carried a full-length mirror, the kind you'd find on the wall of any hotel room, and quite likely that's where it once resided. He inspected the door and looked carefully at the jamb and seal. He pulled the door open and stood to one side, looking inside at the side walls. Holding the mirror in front of him like a shield, he walked in the doorway of the little brick building and immediately put a glass tumbler over the sensor that controlled the motion detection circuit. He sighed and looked around, paying attention to the bootprints on the floor and any new dust on the worksurfaces. Finding no changes, he backed out of the door, put the mirror back in the brush where he hid it, and motioned Subby over.

  “Doesn't look like anything's changed, but you never know. Pull down your mask and head right for the tunnel. I'll be behind you. Ready? Move.”

  Subby was awkward in the mask, almost falling down the short staircase to the floor of the station. Garth growled his disgust. They approached the tunnel entrance. Garth worked the lock on the door, then opened it and thrust Subby into the chamber.

  “Remember, follow the red fluorescent paint marks,” he said. “They will take you to the new air tank. Take your time. Be certain. I'll be back in three hours to help you out.” He shut the door on the reluctant spelunker.

  There. That ought to hold him for a while. I've got somewhere to be in an hour.

  ###

  “Buenas tardes,” said the short brown man. “You come, how you say, highly recommended.”

  Garth didn't smile much, but he did now. He never thought how much his prison roomie would help, but he was glad he ran into Sanchez back in the joint.

  “How's my little project moving along?” he asked.

  “Done. Remember, after you're done, you must show us where these places are.”

  “No problema. You'll have more stash room than you can believe,” said Garth. He lifted the air tank. “Feels the same.”

  “It should. Filled the bottom with foamed aluminum, now it only holds fifteen minutes of air, not ninety. Filled now, fool air gauge and scales. No prints, no trace. You no like someone?”

  “You could say that. I'm a public servant, I am.”

  The young man snickered. Garth gave him a fist bump.

  ###

  John watched from the security station just off the main control room of the treatment plant. It was Garth, indisputably. The man seemed to have a callous disregard for the forces of the law. But who was the other person? John had scanned the sequence where the second man appeared. He looked at it frame by frame. Nothing rang a bell, although in the back of his mind, he felt he should recognize him.

  His commpad beeped. Lisa. “Yes, Commander?” It had been sixty minutes since the smaller man had disappeared into the tunnel leading upward.

  “Contact up here. Someone in the tunnels, moving around. Garth?”

  “No. Garth's accomplice finally put in an appearance. Thin fellow. He had a diving mask on, so I didn't get a good look at him. Dark hair, slicked back. What's he doing up there?”

  “Almost like he's mapping the place out. He goes down a tunnel until it gets too small for him, then heads back to the spot where it heads downhill, then tries the next tunnel. Wait, wait. He's at E5. That's the place where the Nazi tunnels are. Not moving—almost like he's taking a rest. Well, how's it going for you?”

  “Kinda boring, actually,” said John. “I can't seem to figure out who this second guy is, although something tells me I should. I keep looking and looking at the footage, but I'm not getting a clue.”

  “John,” said Celine. “Who is the most physically fit of the two?”

  “Oh, Garth, no question. He's the one yanking open doors and doing all the physical things. The little guy looks like the tanks are going to flatten him.”

  “That's it. Those three other odd openings. Garth must be building up the stamina of the other guy. Today, he reached the top for the first time.”

  John felt a cold finger race down his spine. “Yeah, honey. That's it. Guy's going to help Garth do something—maybe lift a manhole cover.”

  “Maybe. It doesn't feel right, though,” said Celine. “Well, back to watching, for both of us. The other guy just started moving again.”

  ###

  Garth believed nobody. He sat just outside the lift station with the door shut, listening to the air hiss out of the regulator as he cycled the demand valve. After fifteen minutes, the hissing died away.

  Time enough to get from that brick manhole down the tunnel, past the point of no return.

  Garth h
id the tank behind the mirror. He would refill it and lug it up through the Nazi tunnels to tunnel E5 and Subby's date with destiny. He felt around in his soul. No remorse was there. He tried again, looking for something, anything, to tell him what he was doing was wrong.

  He tried to kill Celine and the others twice—once by ordering them back to the doomed space station, and again when he cut off all power to the Control Room. This kind of death is just right. Instead of choking in space like Celine would have, he's going to be choking in a tunnel filled with shit.

  Garth had a small feeling of loneliness. He could never be like everyone else—the ones with consciences.

  ###

  The Tank was almost full—stuffed to the gills with raw materials, KREEP terranes, and slugs of uranium-233, carefully wrapped and secured in iron-filled storage boxes. The methane detector had gone off several times along the Oceanus Procellarum track; dedicated flights to those locations had them excavating the carbonaceous chondrite asteroids that were offgassing the precious substance.

  Bubba watched carefully as Duane Bebeau painstakingly closed off the flow batteries, drained the molten salt into the upper heating tuns, and shut down the reactor. They had discussed the improved shutdown process with Vito VonShaick by radio so that anyone could enter the darkened, airless, cold shell of Collins and restart the reactor with a minimum of assistance.

  Alex—haggard from a non-stop work schedule of flight, working the Procellarum, more flight, offloading the concentrated and very massive ore, then more flights back—nearly fell into his seat in the Tank.

  “Thank heavens I've got two days of sleep before I have to do any more piloting,” he said to Scott.

  Scott said nothing.

  “What?” said Alex.

  “You'll get at least one day of rest. But something got out of whack,” said Scott mournfully.

  “Oh, damn. What?”