by S. A. Lusher
Appearing like an illusion from the thick blanket of snowfall, a perimeter fence of frosted steel silver appeared.
“Don't touch it,” Trevor replied immediately. “It's electrified, enough to kill you even through your suit.”
“Yeah, thanks for mentioning that ahead of time,” Trent muttered.
“We need to find the entrance,” Sergio said. “Then we can get inside.”
They all approached the fence until they were two meters away and began walking parallel to it. Trent glanced up. The fence stretched away from him, out of sight. It had to be over three stories tall, he decided.
What the fuck were they trying to keep out?
Or in?
They followed the fence, trudging through the snow, until Trent finally found the gate. It was massive, big enough to drive a cargo truck through with room to spare. Trevor directed their attention to a smaller, man-sized gate next to it. He cautiously approached the keypad set into it and punched a button.
Nothing happened. Trevor made a small, unhappy noise and punched more buttons. Still nothing happened.
“It's not accepting my code,” he murmured. “Hold on.”
He crouched, pulled out a narrow case and cracked it open. Trent could see slender silver tools within. Trevor selected one and set to work on the key pad. Turning his attention away, Trent shivered. Maybe it was psychological, all the wind and snow, but he could feel the chill seeping in front the outside. He turned his suit's internal heaters up another notch and stared down the length of the fence. It disappeared after a few meters.
For just a split second, something seemed to brush his senses, his combat instincts. He began glancing around. It was something ugly, something that intended harm, something with mental teeth. He noticed some of the others doing the same.
“What was that?” Gideon murmured.
“I felt it, too,” Drake said.
“What? What are you guys talking about?” Sergio now. His normally calm, professional voice now showed cracks, through which fear could be heard.
“I don't know, like we're being watched, like we're not alone out here,” Tristan replied.
They all waited, but the feeling disappeared with a snap. It had only been there for a second, as though something had barely glanced at them.
“Got it,” Trevor said suddenly, the gate sliding open.
Trent went through first, Drake right behind him. There was nothing but more snow and ice. Maybe it was the electric fence, but he seemed to be able to see farther. At the absolute edge of his vision, Trent thought he could see the outline of a structure. Not the main one, though, no way they'd come in that close to the drone guns.
Everyone came through. As they began walking, there was the sharp sound of the gate snapping closed behind them.
They all turned and again Trent felt like he was being watched. Worse than that, he realized. Not watched, stalked.
“Get that open,” Sergio snapped.
Trevor retraced his steps back to the gate, knelt by the keypad on this side and set to work. After five minutes, he stood up.
“I can't, it's sealed shut. I don't know what happened.”
“Fantastic,” Gideon muttered.
“We'll cut through if we have to on the way back out. For now, keep going. In between us and the front entrance is a warehouse and a cluster of shacks. I want to check them out first,” Sergio explained. He seemed to be attempting serenity and failing.
Trent felt a small slither of fear ripple through his stomach. What was their boss so worried about? As they began making for the first structure, the warehouse, Trent turned his mind to what might be waiting for them within. He wracked his brain for knowledge, because all he kept coming back to were two basic assumptions: a rival group of mercenaries or a whole lot of automated defenses that had gone crazy.
In either case, he'd dealt with it before. Sure, it was unpleasant, but doable. Only...if it was something simple waiting for them in there, then why the secrecy, why the fear? Trent found his thoughts turning down a darker path.
There were always rumors, myths, legends, bullshit even, among the mercenary community. Just like the days when space travel was still a fantastically expensive endeavor and never went past orbiting the Earth, people believed in paranormal activity, UFO sightings, ghosts, crypto-creatures. Going into space hadn't quashed such behavior. If anything, there were more stories now than there were before.
And not all of them were unfounded.
While no contact had been made with any intelligence, there were alien plants, alien wildlife, even the ruins of alien civilizations from an ancient, space-faring race called the Cyr. There were rumors that the Cyr had been into some interesting, and sometimes twisted, shit. As far as Trent knew, officially speaking, the government had reign over all Cyr sites and technology. Of course, that didn't stop them from brokering deals with the megacorps.
Was this one such site, Trent wondered suddenly.
If so...what might be waiting for them inside?
They came to a side entrance of the warehouse, which was closed and undisturbed. Trevor opened the door with no problem. Trent and Drake went in first, ever on point, and played their flashlights across the darkened interior.
“Exterior power is cut,” Trevor murmured. “At least the main line. Everything must be running on reserve.”
“Fantastic,” Sergio said quietly.
They moved slowly into the warehouse, scanning for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. The group flicked on their various flashlights and played the pale beams across the environment, cutting through the gloom.
Outside, the winds shrieked and howled ceaselessly. The interior of the warehouse was filled with stacks of massive crates and piles of smaller ones. Everything seemed quiet and undisturbed. For a moment, Trent felt that they were visiting the site of an ancient structure, one that hadn't been seen or touched in centuries.
The group split apart into smaller groups, spreading out across the interior, hunting through the little corridors and alcoves created by the piles of crates. There were no signs of conflict. No bullet holes, spent shell casings, corpses or pools of blood. Nothing was smashed or broken or tipped over. Everything was exactly where it should be.
“This is creepy,” Stephen murmured.
“I don't think we're going to find anything here,” Gideon said.
“I agree,” Sergio said. “Come on, let's check out the shacks, then we'll investigate the main compound.”
* * * * *
There were a cluster of sheds beyond the warehouse. Ten of them, lined up in twin rows in between the edge of the warehouse and the courtyard that boarded the primary entrance to the facility. The sheds didn't offer anything new, either. Like the warehouse, they were full of supplies, everything covered in a thin layer of frost, now that the heating failing. It likely wouldn't be long before it failed completely.
Trent used the opportunity to check out what kind of supplies a secret corporate research facility kept out in the sheds, but he didn't find anything useful. The crates all carried typical outpost stuff: redundant spare parts, extra clothing, tools. The contents stenciled across the sides in thick black text. They regrouped after searching the sheds.
“Okay,” Sergio said. “The range of the automated drone guns is just beyond the last two sheds. There's about thirty feet of open space. The shutdown switch is below them. The process for shutdown is rather simple, with this.”
He held up a small, black square device that vaguely resembled a grenade.
“What is it?” Trent asked.
“EMP grenade. Who has the best arm?”
“Me,” Tristan said, stepping forward, her hand out. “I pitched on a baseball team all through school. And I've got steady hands.”
“Very well. Stand dead center between these two sheds, aim dead ahead when you throw it,” Sergio explained.
Tristan nodded and moved forward. She stood in between the sheds, spent a moment lini
ng herself up, then hesitated. She took a step forward, then another. Trent felt tension coursing through him. If she was off by one step...
Tristan pulled back her arm, activated the grenade and hurled it.
She took a slight step forward to balance herself.
A spray of gunfire suddenly erupted. A second later there was a muffled sound and Trent's head's up display flickered, but remained. Tristan let out a sharp cry of pain and fell back onto her ass. Gideon moved forward, grabbed her and pulled her back. Everyone gathered around her. Trent could hear her panting over the radio link.
“I warned you,” Sergio murmured.
“Shut up,” Drake snapped. He crouched beside her. “I can see the bullet.”
“Shit,” Tristan muttered.
Trent studied the wound. It was in her stomach. He could indeed see the bullet. The tail end of it still stuck out of the armor. Tristan reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a field medical kit. She cracked it open and pulled out a tool.
“Let me do it,” Gideon said.
“No, I've got it,” Tristan replied firmly.
She gripped the end of the bullet with her instrument, hesitated, then extracted it. She let out another short bark of pain, dropped the tool and the bullet, grabbed a vial from her pack, opened it and poured the contents into the hole in her suit.
“Shit!” she growled.
After a few seconds of heavy breathing, she closed the kit back up, replaced it, then extracted what Trent recognized as a suit repair patch from another pocket. She peeled away the top and slapped it over the wound.
“Fuck, okay, that's done. I'll need to take a better look at it once we get inside,” she said, standing up, waving off helping hands.
“Who wants to check and see if the EMP worked?” Sergio asked.
Drake stepped up. “I'll do it. I've always been quick on my feet.”
Trent frowned, wanting to speak up and do it himself, but once Drake committed to something, especially something stupid and dangerous, he refused to back down. So he just sighed softly and held his peace.
Drake moved forward until he was free of the sheds. Nothing happened. He took a step forward. Nothing continued to happen. He took another step, then a third, and a fourth. Finally, after taking two more, a general sigh of relief seemed to emanate from the group.
“Seems safe,” he said.
“Let's go then,” Trent replied.
As one, the group moved forward, still a little hesitantly, but after a few meters, they decided they were safe. At least from the drone guns. When they got to the door, they had to rip open a panel and hit the manual release, as the keypad no longer functioned. As the manual catch was released, the door opened open a few inches.
Trent approached it, peering cautiously into the darkened crack.
Nothing moved around within. At least, nothing that he could see.
“All right, let's get a move on,” he said, stuffing his fingers into the opening.
He began to work the door open.
Chapter 05
–The Silence–
The door opened.
Trent peered cautiously within, playing his muzzle-mounted flashlight across the interior of the room beyond. There was light inside, though it was dim. He found himself looking at what appeared to be a fairly standard lobby. A semi-circle desk of wood and steel dominated the center of the room. As though in orbit around it, couches, chairs and small end tables were pressed up against the walls along the front half of the room.
“Empty,” Trent murmured.
He could see nothing in the thin light. He moved in, Drake behind him, the others slowly shuffling in. Trent moved up and around the desk, peered over it into the enclosed space where the receptionist would sit. He spied a rolling swivel chair, knocked over. A shelf ran the interior of the desk, hidden beneath its top.
He spied a few infopads, a couple of throwaway cups, a computer. Everything was powered down. He picked up one of the infopads.
Sergio cleared his throat. “If you stick your nose where it doesn't belong, Mister Stone, you'll often find that it gets cut off.”
Trent glanced up. The others had gathered in the lobby. Trevor was closing the door behind them. Sergio and Sharpe stood in the center, staring directly at him. Sharpe's black lens eyes seemed to be locked onto his own eyes, boring into them. Trent replaced the infopad, fighting the urge to shoulder his weapon and plug the pair a few times.
He brought the level of his exterior speakers online so he could hear the environment around him. Someone or something was obviously in there with them, or they wouldn't need the guns. Unless this was a false alarm. So far, he hadn't seen anything to give him any kind of clue as to what might have really gone down.
Of course, they were only just inside the lobby.
Who knew how bad it might get?
“All right,” Sergio said, looking around. “Trevor, get on that console, figure out where we are. Obviously power is going to be an issue. Assess the situation. Everyone else, make sure this room remains secure.”
Trent came around from behind the desk and moved with Drake over to one of the two entrances into the room besides the primary one.
“This is bullshit,” Trent said, not caring if Sergio heard him.
“Yep,” Drake replied.
Trevor righted the chair, sat and set to his work. Seconds passed, then minutes. The only sounds that filled the lobby were the soft hum of power and the occasional sound of someone shifting. Trent frowned, staring around the lobby. The door he was guarding looked solid and secure. He didn't quite turn his back to it, not trusting anything in the facility at the moment. The lobby was cast in gloomy shadows, setting off his combat instincts without actually telling him anything. He strained his ears against the silence, filtering out the small sounds, listening for anything, any small hint, that might tip him off to the true nature of the facility.
For a long moment, there was nothing. He heard the hum of power, the nearly inaudible clacking of Trevor's fingers on a keyboard, the subtle sounds of the others shifting, breathing, murmuring occasionally.
Then he heard something new.
Beneath or perhaps behind it all, he thought he could hear a slow, steady, incredibly deep thumping sound. Trent's frown intensified and he pushed his exterior speakers to their maximum capacity, zeroing his senses in on the thudding. It was familiar, extremely familiar, and then he had it. He realized he couldn't figure it out at first because the answer was so glaringly obvious. It was a sound everyone heard in the subtle background of their own lives.
But it couldn't be.
It sounded like the beating of a gigantic heart.
“Shit!”
Trent barely managed not to shout in pain and surprise. He dialed his external speakers back down to regular level, waiting for the pain in his ears to subside. It was Trevor who had let out the angry curse. It seemed out of character for him, as though curse words rarely left his lips. Sergio and Sharpe crossed the lobby.
“What is it?” Sergio asked.
“The whole facility is on lockdown and power is almost totally gone. We've got maybe two hours left before everything goes offline and this place starts turning into a deep freeze. Reports showed a pretty bad ice storm coming in. It's going to be negative one hundred outside pretty soon. We need power and we need to kill the lockdown,” Trevor explained.
“So how do we do that?” Sergio murmured.
Trent and Drake were staring intently at the corporate trio. Trent saw that the other three mercenaries were paying close attention as well.
“We might as well tell everyone,” Trevor said. “It's not a secret or anything.”
Sergio seemed to consider it for a moment, then sighed heavily. “Gather round.” He waved everyone over.
The five mercenaries converged on the desk. Sergio stared at them in silent contemplation for a long moment, then nodded to Trevor.
“The facility is divided up into different buil
dings. Each building is connected with a tram tunnel.” He held up an infopad, showing a very basic map. The first four buildings were spread out in a diamond shape. They were in the bottom of the diamond, near the bottom of the screen. The next four buildings were situated in a straight line extending away from the top of the diamond. They were all connected with black lines.
Trent realized it resembled an upside-down kite.
“This building here,” Trevor said, indicating the first in the row of structures that Trent came to think of as the 'string' tied on to the end of the 'kite'. “This is where we need to go. Unfortunately, the facility is locked down. In order to lift the lockdown, we need to manually terminate the order in three separate terminals. Here, here and here.”
He indicated the three other buildings that made up the 'kite'.
“What's in those buildings?” Gideon asked.
Trevor looked uncertainly at Sergio, who nodded.
“The building we're in houses the hangars and processing. The building to the left houses living quarters for the staff. The building to the right is storage. The building dead ahead of us is where the power plant, water filtration and other basic utilities are housed. After we hit all three terminals, we'll need to gather in the next building, the command center, to lift the final portion of the lockdown,” Trevor explained.
“And then? What's beyond that?” Drake asked.
“None of your concern,” Sergio replied. “Come on, let's get to the tram station.”
“You don't want to hunt around for survivors? Maybe find someone who made it and could tell us what went down?” Trevor asked, standing.
“We're not here for survivors,” Sergio replied.
They left the lobby.
As one, the group went through the left-hand exit and came to a lengthy corridor that stretched away from them, likely running the length of the structure itself. There were several doors along either wall. Trent led the way again, rifle tucked up tight against his shoulder. He couldn't get the sound of that massive beating heart out of his head. Had he imagined it? It didn't seem likely; he wasn't really the imagination type.
