Inside the Central Hall, Bunker No. 11
Even after the earthquake stopped, the bunker remained silent, as if holding its breath.
The Central Hall was a briefing chamber for a hundred soldiers. Now, it was filled to capacity, four thousand people, all bundled in thermal blankets, sitting on the floor, climbing on tables, and perched on the walls. The smell of the vapor that had once flooded the chamber during the mass revival still lingered in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of crushed concrete and hot metal. Med-drones hovered at the ceiling, their sensors sweeping the crowd for wounded and injured. The main overhead lights blinked on and off every few seconds as Reactor Two fought to maintain power at thirty-eight percent.
Front and center, General Ryker Hale, a hardened veteran, sat at the head of the conference table, a tumbler of recycled water still untouched in front of him, his hands steady for the first time since the revival. His white thermal uniform was dark with streaks of concrete. On his left, a young lieutenant, Adrian Park, leaned back, his helmet hanging from one finger, and on his right, a beauty named Dr. Talia Chen was studying three different tablets, each displaying red warnings.
The heads of the departments trickled in, as if the dead had been disturbed, for they had been.
"Alright," said Ryker, his voice still hoarse but strong enough to carry over the murmuring of four thousand people, "we were awakened early this morning because Reactor Two is failing. While our engineers work on a bypass, we are assuming that this bunker is no longer a viable shelter for an extended period. The recent earthquake, or whatever you want to call it, caused a weakness in Vault C. So, if another quake hits, we may be entombed."
He turned sharply to his left. "Contact?"
Talia tapped on her tablet. "I'm sorry, General, but we tried. Long-range radio, tight-beam burst, emergency EDEN channel all thousand bunkers are supposed to be on during a maintenance cycle. There was no response. Not even a 'we-are-not-responding' signal."
Sgt. Ford came forward; he was one of the few surviving marines, a blond young man in his late twenties, his exosuit already taped and mended from the evac.
"You mean, our eyes in the sky have gone dark, ma'am?"
"We attempted contact, but the network has been dead for centuries. No station-keeping fuel. Orbital decay took them down around year 3200. Whatever we are hearing up there is just static. We are blind."
The marine muttered a curse. "So no backup, no orbital map, no comms."That is why we cannot stay in here," said Ryker. "We need to set up shop outside. The bunker may give way, but out there we have air, water, and elbow room. Dr. Zhang?"
Dr. Zhang Liang, senior food research scientist, a Chinese man in his sixties, kept alive only because he was monitored during the cryo-cycle, stood and raised a trembling hand. "We need five things right now, in this order; food, water, medical, shelter, and security.
Dr. Talia added, "And we need scientists to go outside and gather plant, soil, and water samples. We need to know what is safe to eat. Our repacked food, the hundred-year-old corn that the 12 th crew grew is only intended to be a bridge. And most importantly, we need to make sure that the HNV-28 virus is indeed dead. My preliminary air sample says so, but one sample does not make an entire forest safe to breathe."
"For security," said Adrian, "I have a hundred and twenty combat-ready marines who will recon the perimeter and escort any science team outside. No one will go anywhere without a rifle on their six."
"Fine," said Ryker, "I want hard figures, not assumptions. Manpower, reactor status, power, food, water, equipment, and weapons. All department heads will report to me in two hours. We have survived a virus that killed ninety percent of the human population and have been asleep for thirteen hundred years. We are not going to die because of a starvation diet."
"Yes, sir," said the department heads as they saluted, some still wrapped in their blanket. The old-world discipline in these people did not fade quickly, and with it, a new determination.
They had to.
Outside the Bunker, West of Veilwood Forest
The forest was damp, the smell of the earth and the wet bark of pines and firs assault the senses, making a lifetime of recycled bunker air seem like an understatement of the century.
Outside the scarred bunker, engineers already worked feverishly to string up power cables, jury-rig a solar array from the panels of the bunker, and the whining of power tools punctuated the silence. A flat gray rock next to an expanse of green moss and towering trees seemed to pop out of the forest, and the only explanation was that it was a military base built by soldiers who had not seen the sky in thirteen centuries.
To the right of the engineers, forty marines stood in two lines, their exosuits steaming slightly in the cold, Kinetic Pulse Rifles across their chests.
"Attention!" barked Adrian. The soldiers snapped to attention, servos whirring.
"I will brief you on the priority mission. We are no longer on training mode."
He looked at a blond soldier at the front of the formation. "Sgt. Ford, your squad will escort the science team, secure the perimeter of their sample site, and get them back alive. This is a priority one mission concerning food security. Does everyone understand?"
"Sir, yes sir!" shouted Sgt. Ford.
Adrian turned to two other sergeants, one was a woman with her head shaved and another, a tall man with a scar running from his cheek to his chin. "Sgt. Yelena, Sgt. Kenneth, arm and suit up the exosuits and rifles from the armory. You are going north. Drones have detected rectangular objects of unknown origin, possibly a ruin or another bunker. Intel suggests that it may have been abandoned, but we need to know before anything in it wakes up to find us."
"Why north, reason?" asked Sgt. Yelena.
"Because south is ocean that should not be there, and east is deeper woods that have larger thermal objects," said Adrian.
"At what cost, sir?" asked a young sergeant, Colt. "My fireteam?"
"Secure the perimeter," said Adrian. " Half your men will assist the engineers in salvaging and building the forward base, and the other half will keep watch on the tree line. If you see anything larger than a deer, you report it immediately. Do you understand?"
"Sir, yes sir!" said the young soldier, and the marines fell out of formation, turning into fireteams in the kind of military discipline unseen on the Earth in a millennium.
Inside the Command Center, Bunker No.11
The hum of the command center resumed, punctuated by the drone feeds of the forest, while another soldier monitored the vitals of the science team that had gone north.
Dr. Talia and Quartermaster Kristine approached the General.
Kristine was a woman in her mid-thirties who wore glasses and was the quartermaster for the last three cycles; she knew the provisions of the bunker better than anyone.
"Reporting, General," said Kristine, her voice trembling as she tapped on her tablet. "The bunker structure is sound, but Vault C has some stress points. I would not recommend staying here indefinitely."
"Your weapons," said Ryker.
"For bunker defense, we have four KPCIWS-75 close-in weapons systems and two Pulse Bolt Cannons that require maintenance and more power than we have available. The missile launchers are secured but in their bunkers, thirteen hundred years old, and have an increased risk of explosion on firing; we do not have the power to produce a suitable replacement."
"And what can we carry?"
"Kinetic Pulse Rifles have adequate ammunition, approximately two hundred and thousand darts printed. Exosuits are all fully operational due to our regular maintenance cycle. The laser systems remain inoperable, General; they require more power than we possess with the diminishing power of Reactor Two."
Kristine swiped the tablet. "Manpower consists of four thousand and twelve, including us. We are setting up solar and wind outside, but tidal is unavailable; the coastline has shifted almost forty kilometers on a drone's eye view. The landscape beyond the forest is completely changed."
"Water?" asked Ryker.
"Purifiers are functional, and the subterranean source is clean; there are no traces of heavy metals or virus."
She looked up. "Quartermaster Jonathan will brief you on food."
The old quartermaster was a thin man in his sixties who had the nervous habit of clutching his tablet like a rosary. "Our food supply is... adequate," said Jonathan, "thanks to the 12 th crew, we have vats of hundred-year-old corn. I mean, genetically modified organisms that grow in dim light, but it lasts for a century. Still, even with rationing, the vats will only last for three days. Maybe five, if you go on half-rations, but our soldiers need meat. They need fat. Even I..." he trailed off. "Even I miss the taste of meat, General. It has been millennia since any of us have had it."
Dr. Talia touched on her tablet quietly. "Medical supplies are sufficient, but we need to be careful. It is not known if the HNV-28 virus has been eradicated or mutated into something that still affects us. We are breathing unfiltered air now, if it has, then..."
Suddenly, the alarm klaxon blared through the Bunker, and the lights blinked in alarm-red hues; it was the same siren that warned of a reactor malfunction.
"Sir, we have a problem!" cried an officer, his eyes on his tablet. "It is not the reactor!"
"Is it from the marine team you sent north?" asked Ryker.
"No, Sir, it is from Research Team Alpha that went foraging with Sgt. Ford. They have encountered... something."
Ryker frowned. "Show me."
The officer nodded and displayed the feed on the giant screen.
The drone looked down through a break in the trees to a clearing where five scientists in white coats and five marines in dark exosuits surrounded a rock formation about the size of a bus covered with moss. The thermal imaging showed that it was warmer than the surrounding area. Then the rock formation opened its massive jaws and a gargantuan serpent as long as a bus and as wide as a truck, its scales as black as the night sky except for the green moss that covered it, uncoiled.
Eyes burned like embers from the creature's skull and it raised its head over the trees.
"What the hell is that?" breathed the General, as the other soldiers gaped just as surprised.
On the feed, the head of the serpent was now three stories high, and the sound of the creature's voice, a deep growl that should not be possible, filled the room.
The marines raised their rifles. "I want the audio feed," said Ryker. "Prepare a rescue force; we can not risk that thing getting our people."