Cold Welcome

by Elizabeth Moon

Halfway through the bowl of stew, she felt much better. She slowed down, aware she’d been gulping it in, in spite of having advised others to eat slowly. “Talented cooks,” she said to Jen.

  “It’s excellent,” Jen said. “What about an inventory of the supplies?”

  “Tomorrow,” Ky said. “Unless the cooks want to stay up and do it tonight. But I imagine they’ll be tired enough when they’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Tonight I’ll talk to Marek about a work roster.”

  “Not much to do down here,” Jen said. “It’s all automatic.”

  “As far as we know,” Ky said. “We still don’t know what the power source is, how much fuel there is, what the water source is, and how to monitor the environmental conditions. We need to check every door, every room. How much more is there to this facility? I’d expect some kind of medical area, perhaps even a full clinic, and a gym that could be used in bad weather. A library? A communications center? Perhaps a local weather station giving a readout of conditions on the surface.”

  “Isn’t this enough? Water, food, sleeping area, clothing?”

  “It’s great, Jen, but why is it here? There’s not supposed to be anything on the whole continent. Yet here we are, with supplies for at least a hundred.” She took another bite and swallowed it. “We need to know what it is, how it got here, and why it’s not known.”

  “Secret military bases aren’t unknown.”

  “True, but they’re usually known to the military. Marek said he didn’t know about this one. None of the others seemed to know it was here, though I’m going to ask every one of them, now that we’re in a safer place.”

  “But it’s a Slotter Key base, so it’s not a problem, is it? If they come here seasonally, they’ll find us and take us away, won’t they?”

  Jen, Ky reflected, must have led a very sheltered life. Of course, that’s what Cascadian culture and law were for, to shelter Cascadians from unpleasantness. “Not necessarily,” she said. “Secrecy suggests that our presence could be embarrassing or dangerous for someone. In which case—” Ky ran a finger across her throat, then took another spoonful of the stew.

  “Surely not! That would be—wouldn’t it be illegal?” Jen had put down her spoon and paled again.

  “Yes. But if we’re all dead, we won’t be taking it to court.”

  “You really think—?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I don’t want to find out the hard way. I want to get us all back to Port Major alive and well.” That, after all, was her mission. Ky finished the rest of her stew. She felt pleasantly full, though she could have eaten more. She looked over at the other tables.

  Gurton came over at once with two small bowls. “There’s a dessert,” Gurton said. “The custard didn’t set, but it tastes good.” A beige-colored thick liquid…Ky wondered what it was as they took the tray over to the others.

  She dipped her spoon in it and took a cautious taste. “Sweet,” she said. “And creamy. I imagine it would set up if left in a cooler overnight.”

  Jen tasted it. “Yes—it’s good. I hope they do it again, if there’s enough of the ingredients.”

  “Inventory tomorrow,” Ky said. “Tomorrow we’ll start a new schedule.” She ate the rest of her near-liquid custard and took the bowl back to the serving counter. “A wonderful meal,” she said to the cooks.

  “She knows more about cooking,” Kamat said. “I just did what she told me.”

  “Good assistant,” Gurton said, smiling at Kamat. “Sir, if you’d like, I could do a lot of the cooking.”

  “Let me talk with Master Sergeant Marek. We need to rotate duties so if one gets sick there’s not a gap, but good food’s important.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s just that I did have training in both cooking and kitchen management.”

  “That may seal your fate,” Ky said, grinning. “We’ll get you some help for cleanup, but count on cooking tomorrow—and we’ll need an inventory of supplies and equipment.”

  Marek and the others stood as she approached his table. “At ease,” Ky said. “Master Sergeant, Specialist Gurton has volunteered to continue as cook. She’s trained, but she should have some help—an assistant, and also cleanup crew daily.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I’ll assign them.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll inventory the kitchen, the clothing stores, any other storage area we find. I’m sure there’s more to this facility.”

  “Wake-up at 0600?”

  “Yes. Inspection of quarters, then breakfast, then work details. You and I will need to talk about that. I rely on your judgment for balancing maintenance and exploration. Commander Bentik and I are returning to quarters for a planning session.” Senior NCOs preferred to be left alone to arrange work details, she knew. “I’d like your opinion on security issues; let’s meet at 2100 for a short conference.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Ky collected Jen and headed back to their quarters. Her ’fresher was still running, not surprisingly. She picked up two clipboards, gave one to Jen, and settled into the chair behind the desk in her front room.

  “Here are the issues I see as most urgent,” she said, jotting them down as she spoke. Jen seemed comfortable enough writing away, her gaze intent, as Ky talked about securing the facility from intrusion from outside, setting up a regular rotation of door guards, cleaning, cooking, and then exploration of the rest of the facility.

  “I thought you might give everyone a day or two off,” Jen said when Ky ran down. “It’s been so hard—”

  “Yes, it has,” Ky said. “That’s why we need to get back to a regular routine, something that feels normal instead of chaotic and just barely survivable. They’re tired now, of course, and I don’t expect full efficiency for the first days—from either of us, for that matter. But now that we’re in a safer place with adequate supplies, we need to recover mental and physical sharpness. If we can’t find any gym equipment down here, I’m sure Sergeant Cosper will have ideas—running up and down the ramps if nothing else.”

  “I suppose,” Jen said.

  “It’s just like being on the ship,” Ky said. “Routine is comforting and sustaining as well as productive. Remember what it was like?”

  Jen scowled. “Of course I do. I know what’s right, Admiral.”

  “I know you do, Jen, but I know you’re also tired, malnourished, and not your usual self. Give it a few days; you’ll see.” She waited; Jen said nothing, but the tight muscles in her face relaxed. “So let’s review the priorities. Do you see anything that looks out of order to you?”

  Jen looked at her notes. “Well…I’d put searching for medical supplies one up on this list.”

  Ky nodded. “I agree.”

  “And you don’t mention enabling the weapons in the armory—what about that?”

  “Once we found all the food, I was less concerned about hunting,” Ky said. “If there’s enough to last until next summer, we don’t need to. And in this weather, I don’t think anyone’s going to show up on the doorstep. Which I would like to get better secured.”

  Jen nodded. “What about laundry—finding ’freshers for everyone’s clothes? Even with a roomful of new clothes, troops will need to clean them.”

  “And not by hand in the kitchen sinks,” Ky said.

  “Of course not!”

  “Put that on the list. I wish I knew how much water is available—”

  “Already on the list. High priority.”

  The list was long enough to keep everyone busy for the first few tendays. “Jen, you’re off duty tonight. Get some sleep until wake-up; after this, we’ll share the night watch.”

  “But Master Sergeant Marek can—”

  “There should always be an officer available,” Ky said. “You never know what might happen.”

  Jen nodded. “Good night, then, Admiral. See you in the morning.” She left; Ky heard her door close, then the inner door.

  Ky wrote out orders for the next day, and at 2100 walked down the passage to the watch office. Marek and
Betange were there. “Excuse me, Admiral,” Betange said, and left the office. Marek stood up. “Have a seat, Master Sergeant,” Ky said. “I’ve just roughed up some orders for tomorrow; this much should be doable, I believe.”

  He looked them over. “Perfectly doable, Admiral. I’ll see to it. I have a watch rotation for tonight.” He handed it over.

  Ky nodded approval. “Call me if you need me. Starting tomorrow night, Commander Bentik and I will share night watch, but I wanted her to get a full night’s sleep tonight.”

  “You could do with that yourself, I imagine,” Marek said.

  “I’m a light sleeper,” Ky said. “I may be up and down; don’t worry about it. Being down here out of the howling wind and cold is rest in itself.”

  “That it is, Admiral,” he said.

  She dozed off briefly at the desk in her office, then woke when the ’fresher beeped that it was finished. Her PPU and uniform looked somewhat better, but still had an odor. The ’fresher was cycling, its readout said. She laid the clothes over a chair in the front room, shut the door between the two, and lay down. The ’fresher beeped again when it was ready for another load, waking her again, this time from better sleep. Now it was 0345. She had her implant alarm set to wake her at 0530, well ahead of the others. Might as well put the clothes back in the ’fresher and hope it wouldn’t go off until it was time to get up. As she drifted off, she remembered that she hadn’t warned the others about com security. Tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MIKSLAND

  DAYS 42–48

  When the general wake-up went off, Ky had showered and dressed, and the ’fresher had finished a second round of cleaning and cycling. Her uniform looked clean but worn, the fabric scuffed where her PPU had rubbed on knees and elbows. The PPU itself showed only minor damage outside, and on the inside no longer smelled of too many days of continuous use. She put the new clothes she’d worn the day before into the ’fresher and pinned her insignia to the shoulders of the utility jumpsuit. If it made Jen Bentik feel happier, it was worth looking as if she thought the Slotter Key personnel would fail to recognize her.

  Down the passage she heard the bustle of others waking up, hurrying to and from the showers, and readying their bays and rooms for inspection. She let Marek and Staff Sergeant Chok take that. Breakfast was hot cereal with a sweetener stirred in. Not that different from the gruel they’d been eating, but more of it, and it tasted better.

  “Lunch will be soup,” Gurton told her. She had Betange with her this morning. “And if the bread isn’t out by then, it will be by supper.”

  “Sounds great,” Ky said. “Good work.”

  “We’ll get started on the inventory as soon as the bread’s rising; Master Sergeant’s sending us two more helpers.”

  Ky took a working party up to the surface to clean the two huts and bring down anything they might use. When they were done, she stayed behind to lock up and shut down the generator. That allowed her privacy to call Rafe on the cranial ansible and explain where they were now.

  “Can you call every day?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t tried yet. Let’s say at least every ten days, just in case I have to come back to the surface to make contact in privacy.” If she did, she’d have to turn on the generator and electricity; that made secrecy difficult.

  By the time she got back down, the others had opened all the doors they could, including three on the left arm of the T-intersection before the door that closed the corridor off.

  “That one won’t open to the same code,” Yamini said. “We could pry it open, but Master Sergeant Marek said not. He thinks it might lead to something dangerous.”

  “We can leave it for now,” Ky said. “At least until we’ve explored what we can open.”

  The first door on the left side opened into a small clinic. Ky had Lundin check it out. “Most of the meds are missing,” she said. “Anything that would be considered dangerous or easy to abuse; I imagine they take those along when they leave. But there’s plenty of stuff for headaches, stomachaches, wound care. Nutritional supplements, too. And an older-model medbox for serious injuries. If it’s all right with you, Admiral, I’d like to check everyone’s health status, get baseline weights, and so on.”

  “Excellent.” Ky marked off “clinic” on the clipboard she now carried with her. “If you can open the clinic after lunch, I’ll pass the word.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lundin said. “Thirteen thirty? I’ll have a sign-in sheet.”

  The laundry was the second door on the left, easily big enough to deal with clothing, PPU suits, table and bed linens. Another concern off her list; Ky jotted down a reminder to set up a schedule for laundering linens as well as clothes.

  Across from the clinic, the door opened on a gym with a row of different exercise machines, mats in a stack in one corner, and other exercise equipment stowed neatly on shelves and racks. Sergeant Cosper led Ky around, showing it off. “Can I set up PT sessions?” he asked. “We really do need to start work on conditioning.”

  Ky nodded. “Yes, as soon as Tech Lundin has baseline weight and nutritional status for everyone. She’ll tell you about any health problems she finds that may require a change in program.”

  By the evening meal, Ky knew they had enough supplies to last for most of a year. If the power stayed on, if the water flowed, they were safe, warm, and would lack nothing until someone could rescue them.

  “It feels more like a classic hog trap than rescue,” Ky said to Jen as they ate.

  “Hog trap?”

  “Legend. You build a fence with an opening, put grain in it every day, and wild hogs start coming in to eat. After a while, when they’re used to standing in there to be fed at a certain time of day, you feed them and close the opening. Fatten and kill them. Mind you, I’ve never seen either a wild hog or a hog trap, but that’s the story. A warning not to be seduced by unexpected good fortune.”

  “But who would want to trap us, and if they did, why not do it down by the shore?”

  “I don’t know. But why is all this”—she gestured—“here? Power on, ready for us to use?” She remembered Rafe’s warning suddenly. “And if your skullphone pings, don’t use it. I’ll tell Marek to tell the others. If there’s someone who doesn’t want us here, no use advertising our location.”

  —

  In a few days, Ky could tell that her crew, as she thought of them, were recovering rapidly from the earlier ordeal. They moved more briskly, following the routines she and Marek had laid out, and seemed more alert. Clean, in clean clothes, their hair trimmed, they looked and acted more like ordinary personnel, not desperate survivors.

  The only thing that bothered her was hard to define, a growing sense that there was tension in the group that never came to the surface where she could analyze it. Were they hiding something from her? And if so, why? The only thing she could think of was Jen’s persistent fussing about standards—something Slotter Key personnel might find irritating, but be too polite to tell Ky. But Jen didn’t seem to interact much with the others except Marek, and he didn’t seem bothered.

  Perhaps there wasn’t anything going on. Perhaps it was just the whole situation, the change from constant peril and fear of death to safety and relative ease, from constant exposure to cold, wet, and wind to the sameness of their new environment. Irritations and tensions suppressed by imminent danger now being released. Perhaps creating a competition of some sort would help. She mentioned that to Marek; his response was noncommittal. He was perfectly polite, as always, but he seemed, now that they were in a safer place, more remote than he had been, more immersed in managing the day-to-day activities. But again, there was more to do.

  She shrugged mentally, making notes in her own log. Hard to believe it was more than forty days since the shuttle crash. Jen developed the annoying habit of knocking on her door several times a night to ask a question or complain about something, whether it was her turn on watch or not, so she was never sure when she coul
d safely use her internal ansible. She had told Rafe she would try to contact him every ten days—and that was now only a couple of days away. She needed to know more—what Grace knew and surmised, what Rafe himself was doing, what her command back at Greentoo was doing. She didn’t even know if Grace had contacted her flagship—if Pordre and Vanguard II were still in Slotter Key nearspace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  MIKSLAND

  DAY 49

  Two nights before the ten days were up, Ky finished her late round shortly after midnight and lay down to catch a few hours’ sleep. Tomorrow night would be Jen’s watch. Sleep did not come. She could not shut off the thoughts racing through her mind. One what-if created a cascade of others, and any of them might be critical. Her internal timer reminded her of time passing, one slow quarter hour after another. She didn’t want to have her implant put her to sleep. She wanted to settle her own restless thoughts.

  She heard nothing from Jen’s room next door, nothing from the passage. Well, then, she might as well risk calling Rafe now. First, she opened her outer door and looked down the passage. Empty. Light spilled out into the passage from the little watch office up near the main corridor, where Master Sergeant Marek was on watch tonight—a rotation he shared with the two staff sergeants. She made her way silently toward it. It was empty: the watch log neatly centered on the desk, a scriber beside it, nothing out of place. She glanced at the log—routine entries, perfectly normal. Nothing Marek might need her for.

  Back in her quarters, she pulled the cable loose from around her neck, plugged it into the outlet on the desk in her bedroom, and lifted the tip that would plug into her implant’s external socket. As she moved the tip closer to her head, her implant flashed a warning. DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE!

  She dropped the cable end; her implant warning disappeared, and she saw a red light on the attached transformer that she hadn’t noticed before. That made no sense. They had successfully recharged the four remaining handcoms from outlets in the mess that looked just like this one. High-voltage outlets there, for some of the appliances, had clear warning labels. This was just an ordinary desk outlet; it should carry the normal voltage.