by R F Hurteau
“Hey, Nelson. I know I’m early, but if you’ve finished your log, you can go.”
“Sure, sure, passed it in just a few minutes ago! I’m in a bit of a hurry anyway, want to go grab a little shut-eye before meeting a friend this afternoon. Thanks for relieving me, Captain!”
Ripley felt his forehead crease. The improper use of titles, even as a joke, was frowned upon. Nelson always seemed like such a stickler for protocol, and yet Ripley hadn’t been able to break him of this undesirable habit.
“Please don’t call me that, Nelson. I’ve told you it makes me uncomfortable. I’m just a shift worker, same as you.”
“Whoops! Sorry!” Nelson apologized with a wink. “Just like to imagine I might be going places someday, you know? Maybe move up the ladder? Only eight months until my evaluation! But who’s counting, right? I don’t want to be stuck here forever, like you.”
He paused and seemed to consider the bluntness of his statement. “Uh, no offense.”
Nelson started to leave, but Ripley stopped him. “Hold up,” he said, pointing. “What’s this?”
“Huh? Oh! Of course. They installed it last night. Made it kind of awkward, trying to do my job with a bunch of engineers muddling around in my space.”
“Yeah.” Ripley examined the new panel. “They aren’t big on niceties.”
A steady green light at the top corner was the only indication that it was on. He touched the blank screen and was met with a sharp, angry buzzing sound that needed no explanation: access denied.
“Did they give you a code?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ask what it was for?”
“Yup.”
Ripley waited. “And?” he prompted at last.
Nelson shrugged apologetically. “They didn’t want to talk about it. But my best guess is that it has to do with system energy consumption. I heard one of them mention something to that effect when they were working. I don’t know.”
Ripley pondered this. A diagnostic machine, then. He peered at the neighboring stations on his right and left. Then he looked across the aisle. Only one other terminal had received a similar upgrade.
He turned back to ask Nelson more questions, but the young man was already gone.
He slid into his chair, thinking. Ripley didn’t understand what was going on. Was his station pulling too much power for some reason? He wished he’d been here so that he could have asked one of the engineers himself. Why hadn’t all the stations been fitted with diagnostic equipment? It seemed a little odd that a few days before the biggest event of the year, Engineering would allocate time to a side project on energy consumption. It must be important.
Ripley began crossing off his checklist, checking gauges and punching in readings without seeing the numbers. He was preoccupied, waiting for the supervisor to appear again. When at last she rounded the corner, he bolted out of his seat and shot his hand in the air to get her attention. He felt stupid, like he was back in school about to ask a question whose answer he should have already known.
“Excuse me?” His voice sounded less than confident.
She eyed him, eyebrows coming together to form a sharp point above her nose. “What is it?”
Were all the supervisors so unpleasant? Ripley tried to remember the last time he’d even spoken to one. He’d only had cause to do so on a handful of occasions, and avoided such encounters when possible. The Elven woman was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for him to speak.
“Well?” she demanded, “I have other things to do, you know.”
“Right. Sorry. I was just wondering, um...this panel is new.” The words sounded feeble. What was wrong with him? He had never had trouble articulating himself before, yet here he was, unable to compose an intelligent sentence.
The woman’s eyes shifted to where he was pointing, and she raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” She made no effort to mask her condescension. “Very nice.”
He tried again. “What I meant was, I think it needs an access code, but no one left one for me.”
She glanced down, her eyes moving rapidly over her tablet. “Sorry. No code. It’s SEO.”
SEO. Supervisory Eyes Only. But why?
Had all the talk with Felix about breaking the rules made him paranoid? Would this have bothered him before? He couldn’t decide.
“Can you at least tell me what it’s for?”
She looked down again, then shook her head. “Afraid not. Now, back to work.”
She walked off at a brisk pace, and Ripley returned to his seat feeling even more confounded than before.
He spent the rest of the morning trying to concentrate, without much success. The appearance of the panel had made him feel strange, somehow. Like maybe they were keeping tabs on him or something. But no, that couldn’t be it. Could it? The D5 station had received a new panel, too, after all, and he didn’t even really know the man who worked there. They’d spoken maybe a handful of times over the years. Harold was his name...or was it Harvey? He debated with himself for several minutes. Definitely Harold, he decided at last.
We’re leaving Sanctuary, he kept hearing Felix repeating in his mind. Then he thought about Nelson’s words this morning. Just like to imagine I might be going places someday, you know? I don’t want to be stuck here forever, like you.
But Nelson had only been talking about leaving Core Operations. Felix was talking about leaving the only inhabited settlement left on Earth. Of course his friend was upset, but that was why he wasn’t thinking clearly.
There was no way out of Sanctuary. The very idea of trying to leave was irrational. As much as Ripley wanted to help his friends, he didn’t see how it would be possible. He racked his brain for answers, but it was no use. Ripley had always been good at fixing things, but this was not the kind of problem he could solve.
He found himself fixating on random things around him. The harder he tried to come up with a solution, the more Core Operations seemed to loom over him, commanding his attention.
It had been years since he’d really looked around this place. They were located, appropriately enough, in the core of Sigil headquarters. It was a cavernous chamber, with delicate arched walls that gleamed white and came together in a dome far overhead, a tribute to Sanctuary’s unique design.
Circular, the room had a raised pathway that ran along the outer edge. A half-dozen substations ringed the center, each accessible by a short set of steps.
Ripley’s station monitored vital systems and environmental control levels for each dome. His particular job focused on D1. The other terminal to receive a diagnostic panel was for D5. He pondered the connection while studying the railing separating the substations from the geothermal condensers—enormous tubes found at the center of every dome. The hulking mass rose out of the floor and disappeared through the peak of the chamber’s ceiling. Here and there, the years had opened fissures in its thick insulation, allowing water from the air to condense on portions of the pipe. Tiny droplets had been falling from these fissures for the better part of a century, as evidenced by the rust that had accumulated on the railings that blocked the water’s passage to the floor.
He checked the clock again. Almost lunch. He scrambled to enter a few more readings into his somewhat neglected-looking log and then made his way up the steps, desperate for a distraction from his distraction. Ripley waited at the top for several of his coworkers to finish streaming by, everyone on their way to the commissary.
“Hey, Harold,” he said in a friendly tone. The man from D5 looked up as he walked past, surprised.
“It’s Herman,” he corrected.
“Oh, right.” Ripley felt a burning sensation in his cheeks. “Sorry.”
No sooner had he reached the commissary and sat down at an empty table than another tray plopped down across from him. He looked up to see Felix towering over him.
“What are you doing here?” Ripley asked. “This isn’t even your lunch.”
Felix shrugged. “No, but don’t worry, I cleared it with the department head.” He winked. “Listen, can you come to the Observatory after your shift?”
Ripley nodded as he broke off little pieces of bread and dunked them in his stew.
“Of course,” he replied, glad that his friend was no longer glowering at him as he had been this morning. “Why?”
Felix eyed his own bowl of stew with suspicion, homing in on a chunk of celery which he skewered deftly with his fork. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed with slow deliberation.
“I don’t want to talk about it here,” he said at last. “Just come.”
“Hey, Felix!”
Looking around, Ripley saw a young man with vibrant red hair coming toward them. “Can I join you?”
“Sure.” Felix gestured to the empty length of bench beside him. “Nice to see you again, Ben. How are things down in old Podville?”
“Oh, you know, more of the same. We miss you down there. Well, I do, at least. Funny seeing you here, though. I was just talking about you last night!”
Felix looked surprised. “About me?”
“Yeah.” Ben nodded before adding, “Oh, nothing bad or anything, though. But, come to think of it, maybe I’m not supposed to talk about it. I don’t want to get Sylvia in trouble.”
“That’s your sister, right? She works at the front desk?”
“Yeah, that’s her!” Ben was attacking his lunch with gusto. He spoke with his mouth full, which made Ripley cringe. “Anyway, what have you been up to? How’s the Observatory position? Super cool, I bet. Way better than Pod Manufacturing, right?”
“It’s not that great.” Felix gave an uncomfortable squirm that suggested he’d like to change the subject. “I think we’ve got rats.”
“Whoa, seriously?” Ben’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic!”
His gaze drifted past Ripley to something beyond. “Oh, there’s Sylvia! You should meet her.” Ben waved, but her back was to their table. “I’m going to go get her.”
Felix turned back as Ben walked away. “So, just come find me after your shift, okay?”
His friend seemed more like his normal self now, less tense. Ripley wondered what Felix was up to, and how much longer the second half of his day would be now that he would be even more anxious to leave. And he also wondered what Ben and Sylvia had been discussing, and why Felix didn’t seem more concerned about it. He tapped his fingertips on the table in agitation, trying to convince himself that he was just being paranoid.
“Oh!” Ripley smacked his forehead. “What about poor James?”
“Well, this is more important. Good old James and his rusty shutters are just going to have to hang in there.”
Felix continued speaking, but Ripley had stopped hearing. Something Felix had said had flipped a switch in his brain, illuminating a suspicion that had been lurking there in the dark. An eagerness to return to his post tugged at him. He looked up and scanned the room, eyes settling on the black-haired supervisor. She was laughing at something a companion had said and seemed in no great rush to get back. If he hurried, he’d have about fifteen minutes. Not long, but it would have to be enough.
“Ripley?” Felix inquired after a few moments, “You still with me, buddy?”
“Here.” He shoved his tray toward Felix with such force that small bits of vegetables sloshed over the rim of the bowl. “Have mine. I need to go.”
“Go?” Felix’s eyes narrowed. “But you just got here!”
He didn’t answer. He was already out the door and heading back toward Core Operations.
The check-in guard eyed him with mild curiosity as he approached but didn’t ask any questions as Ripley hurried past, mumbling something about forgetting to enter some data.
Ripley circled the room and went down the steps toward his terminal, feeling the guard’s eyes on his back as he sat, attempting to look natural.
After a minute he chanced a quick peek at the guard. The man had gone back to looking at his monitor.
Forcing his fingernails into his palm, Ripley willed himself to move. He hunched down in his seat and slid onto the floor. He dipped beneath the panel that divided his console from the one next to him and paused for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
Ripley crawled all the way to the last panel in the substation and took a moment to think. He’d succeeded in putting the condensers between him and the guard, but now he was stuck. The steps leading up to the path were behind him, near his own seat.
With a deep breath, he bit his tongue and took a delicate step onto the panel in front of him. Reaching up, he grabbed the top of the railing. Lifting a foot up to the edge of the platform, he pulled himself up in one swift motion and scrambled over, more grateful than ever that there was no one around to witness his less-than-graceful performance.
His goal was in sight now. The supervisor’s station lay empty. The large glass window revealed a small desk, upon which she’d left her tablet.
Ripley hesitated again at the door, fear paralyzing him as he considered the possibilities. It might be locked. It might need a code. It might set off an alarm.
He pressed Open.
The door slid wide, and Ripley realized he had been holding his breath. It came out in a sigh of relief as he hurried inside, glancing at the time. His little adventure had already taken eight minutes.
Where to start? The amount of data on the tablet threatened to overwhelm him, and he struggled to keep it together. He skimmed a list of file names before he came to one marked Diagnostic Initiatives.
That looked promising. Ripley opened it, but a quick scan revealed nothing about his new panel or what it was for.
The next title that interested him was Energy Investigation Updates. That had to be the one. But clicking on it only brought up a login screen. The letters SEO appeared above a passcode prompt in bold, red font.
He sighed. This wasn’t going as well as he’d imagined. He backed out and was just about to open a file labeled CEDAR when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
No, he thought. Seriously?
On a scrap of paper at the edge of the desk there was a scribbled, ten-digit number.
He opened up the Energy Investigation file again, snatched up the paper, and punched in the code. He had to stop himself from giving a triumphant shout as the login screen disappeared. His eyes flew over the page, stopping to read anything that caught his attention.
“...unprecedented energy loss...”
“...systems affected include atmospheric...specifically temperature and humidity...rust is becoming a widespread issue in D1 and D5.”
That was it. Rust. Something was causing massive fluctuations in the humidity levels. But he still wasn’t sure what that something was, or when it had started.
“Efforts to locate the source have been hindered by the necessary discretion required to prevent a panic.”
“Swift resolution is paramount...”
“Conclusion: Dome Breach Probable.”
Ripley looked up. He was out of time.
He closed the file, replaced the tablet, and slipped out the door. He lowered himself back over the railing and had only just reached his seat when a terse voice called out, “Prior!”
His heart leapt into his throat. It was the supervisor. Instead of getting up, he groped around. He said the first thing that came to mind.
“Lost my log sheet!”
“It’s on your station.”
“Huh?” He got to his feet, brushing off his knees. “Oh, would you look at that! So it is!”
She looked him over, clearly concerned. “Seems like you could use some sleep, Prior. Make sure you get some rest before your shift tomorrow. We’ll let you off for the morning s
peeches, but you need to monitor your station until then.”
Ripley didn’t care either way if he would be able to attend a few boring speeches, but he didn’t get the chance to say so. Without waiting for his confirmation, the supervisor turned and stalked away.
As his adrenaline waned Ripley became aware of something in his clenched fist and looked down with a start. He’d accidentally taken the little scrap of paper with the supervisor’s password. Grimacing, he shoved it deep into his pocket and sat hurriedly down at his terminal. With any luck, she’d assume it had been pushed to the floor and swept away by a maintenance worker.
“What the—” he heard someone nearby saying as he collapsed, thoroughly shaken, into his seat. “Is that—is that a footprint?”
***
Ripley practically leapt out of his chair when his shift ended. He couldn’t wait to share what he’d discovered with Felix, even if he had more questions than answers.
How could a breach be hard to find? Wouldn’t the bone-chilling cold rushing in be a dead giveaway?
As far as Ripley knew from what he’d learned in school, when Sanctuary had been built it had been done in haste. Therans and Humans had worked together to construct it as the world around them was dying—a last-ditch effort to stave off the extinction of the Human race.
Although history books showed that the technology for a far more advanced system had been available, it was the lack of manpower that ultimately led to the oversight that caused the D6 disaster. After that, they’d rushed to seal up Sanctuary for good, foregoing many features that had been planned.
Ripley had been under the assumption that the domes were covered in sensors, but if they were having trouble finding a breach, that couldn’t be the case.
Was it possible that the closest thing they had to sensors were the few dozen monitors in the Observatory? A couple of cameras, microphones, and thermometers?
This was hard to believe, but it certainly seemed like that was, in fact, the long and short of it.
It would make sense that that feature wouldn’t have been considered a priority, even back then. What purpose would sensors have served, except as a glaring reminder of the emptiness outside?
