The Journey Ch. 08

Val frowned. "Why privacy? You think I'm going to get in the way? I want in as much as you do."

"Because you might balk at this. Normally, I'd balk at this. And for me to say that means that essentially, you don't want to even guess at what I plan." answered Zeke.

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to regret this?"

"Because you're an intelligent fellow and you can sense I'm up to no good."

"Couldn't you just pretend to be a nice guy?"

"I could but I think the teeth kind of negate the image."

Val put up his hands in surrender, and turned back down the hallway. He'd come back in a few, and if he didn't like what he saw, he'd leave. Yeah right. As wary as he was, he wanted to see this place as badly as Zeke. Indeed, this could qualify as a suitable end to his journey. Find other tribes, establish trade, bring word of new ressources, better lands, new knowledge...This was the desired result of any journey undertaken, though for most teens and young adults, this would consist of a visit to a neighboring tribe, perhaps an apprenticeship, and bringing home a new wife. Val had wanted more than simply a place by the fires, though. He'd wanted to join the ranks of the Journeymen, those fabled few who had changed the direction of their people with the knowledge gained in their travels. There had been one in each generation, and each one had sought more then a simple apprenticeship. His ambition was another thing that set him apart from the others of his tribe, aside from being adopted into it.

"You have to learn to blend, Val. People might still be looking for us."

This his father had told him. He had run because he had been caught teaching grounders, and now, ironically he'd nearly stopped that noble calling altogether in the interest of keeping out of sight. Stopping was what had bothered Val the most. He'd been so proud of his fathers insistence on common humanity and common rights to education and quality of life. He'd thought that running had been a necessary prelude to a bigger task. He'd wanted his father to defy the orbitals, and defy the world, rather then simply join in the squalor. His mother had told him that things would change. They would begin anew, but the extent of his father's teaching thus far had extended to building a well in the village, and pushing the possibilities of growing mushrooms in underground cellars, using manure. For these ideas, his father had been admitted into the tribe. True, these two things had helped quite a bit, but so much more could have been done. So much more would be done if he had any say about it. But first, he had to make it back in one piece, and before that, go back and see what the hell Zeke was up to.

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Zeke hummed softly to himself as he worked, digging into his backpack. Carefully, he pulled out the rather heavy cones he'd stuffed in his pack at the shuttle, as well as his pocket computer, and some low impedance cables. Putting back one of the warheads, he carefully, opened the hatch upon it, scratching his chin nervously as he looked at the tiny computer. How much time? Five minutes? Ten? He'd have to set it to a time frame the computer could not possibly decode in time. The computer, indeed the facility itself was designed for self-preservation, as well as the protection of its primary objective: it's frozen occupants. If the computer was still operational, it certainly knew they were there. He looked at the massive steel door, and then at the smaller doors to the elevator. A panel at one, a console at the other. He moved to the console, wiping it with his sleeve. No light, no life....maybe it just needed power? He carefully opened the maintenance door beneath, relieved when he saw it didn't need a key. This corridor had probably once been fairly well traveled or patrolled. Sitting in front of this doorway with tools would likely not have been seen as the best strategy for a break in. He saw the problem fairly quickly. Several wires had cracked and split over the years, exposed to heat and cold. The next step had been rust, which had eaten the metal from within . The consoles inside were likely in much better condition, less exposed to seasonal changes than this exterior level.

Walking over to the panel across the hall, by the elevator, he didn't bother with subtlety and simply dug his chitinous claws into the metal covering, and pulled. It popped loose with the grating sound of metal on metal. It was not like the alarms were going to get any more alert. He then ripped out several wires, careful to yank them as close to their respective sockets as possible. These were in better shape. He could work with these. Opening up the warheads, carefully, of course, Zeke attached the cables to the device, and then the malfunctioning terminal. Stretching the cables as far as they could go across the hallway, he then began stripping and tying together the wires torn from the elevator and replacing the damaged ones in the terminal. He yelped as he replaced the last wire, a current of electricity tearing through his arm, making his teeth grind a moment before he managed to fall away from the source. He muttered under his breath and pulled out a small set of plyers with rubber grips from a little case at the front of his pack, and pushed the wire in properly. The terminal began to hum. If the motherboard and chips were in reasonable shape, then he should be back in business. He stood gingerly and exhaled, half expecting a little puff of smoke to escape his lungs, like an old comic book. The screen flickered, but didn't illuminate fully. He hit it, swearing, and was gratified to see it flash into life and then remain steady. He hooked in his pocket computer, and began to type commands, attempting to bypass the console. He had to think back, and think back a long way in order to get anywhere. It was old code, by no means anything as clunky as BASIC, but it was certainly not easy to sift through the options. Luckily his plan wasn't exactly a finesse job. He found the 'Help' icon, and selected it. The screen of his pocket computer flashed briefly, and then a cartoonish face appeared, with a little friendly bubble.

'How may I be of assistance?', said the bubble. Apparently on the elevator terminal, the display was visual, and not auditory.

Typing quickly, Zeke answered. "You can offer me complete, unequivocal access to all doors."

'Certainly' answered the icon. 'You must first provide your security clearance and access card. I can see the terminal is in need of repair. If you cannot access with your card, please punch in the code at the back of your card, on the bottom left.'

"Computer, please analyse the device I have connected to your computer, the one which is not transmitting user data." typed Zeke. He smiled as the computer complied, the word "Analyzing" flashing slowly on and off on his pocket computer. The icon returned quickly, the cartoonish face this time displaying a large circular mouth, open as if in fear or alarm.

'Evacuate immediately, sir, you have brought an explosive device into this facility. I will alert central immediately.' came the icon's reply, but this time the cartoon bubble was jagged and uneven, as when displaying alarm.

Zeke typed again, and quickly "I am an intruder. I brought the device. You have determined yield, no doubt. Please run the scenario if bomb should detonate. You have two minutes to give the access requested. Add the following to your considerations and computations. It is obvious that I have already bypassed some security measures, as you can see. Be aware that this facility has been shut down for numerous years, numerous decades. You have no contact with the outside with which to report this violation. Your responsibility is to protect those within. I will depart peaceably once my business is completed. You may claim that your director is active, but I have seen no evidence of this, hence I am pursuing my legal claim of savage. This facility is now a salvage operation, and thus I have the right to demand control of the facility. I am the authority you seek. If your director indeed is present and has control, he had better prove it by opening the door."

The icon assumed an admonitory frown and shook his finger in a steady, mechanical rhythm. 'The assertion of salvage rights is not accepted. The terrorist act of bringing a weapon of mass destruction into this facility cannot be ignored, however. I am currently verifying that indeed I have no recourse to outside help, and notifying the director. Please stand by.'

Zeke swore under his breath, glad that he was not at a voice terminal, with stress pattern recognition. It didn't make sense. This place was falling apart. It could not be a running, fully functional facility. If it was, they were in deep, deep trouble. Zeke typed quickly.

"Who is the director? Is he in the facility, or outside?"

'The director is within the facility. His name is not public knowledge. Your access level is yet to be decided. Please stand by.'

Zeke frowned, an idea lurking at the back of his mind, refusing to reveal itself fully. However, he knew that any uncertainty shown here was likely to result in the machine terminating the connection and calling his bluff. The best defense was a good offense, or so they said. Or was it the other way around? He shrugged. Old quotes weren't his forte. Getting results was.

"I will not stand by. You have called me a terrorist, and called me a liar in the same breath. This facility is lost, and is under salvage law. If you would call me a terrorist, then you had better realize quickly that anyone who would use such an argument on a fully functioning facility, under competent direction, is delusional enough to drop the bomb, so to speak. I want you to acknowledge one thing, and one thing only. I am in control here. I have all the clearance I need right in this hallway. Or am I deluded about that?"

The icon bowed his cartoon head slightly in demurral.

'You are indeed not deluded with regards to your 'clearance' sir. While I cannot give you access to my mainframe, nor accept your claim of salvage rights, I can put you in touch with the director. It will be but a moment longer.'

"Do that. Make it quick." Zeke said, breathing a sigh of relief. The computer was taking the threat seriously. He waited as the screen faded, changing to a very retro-looking vid-screen standby screen, featuring a man in strange feathered headdress.

The screen seemed to pixellate, then came back to a dark screen. A simple, blocky green font began to fill the screen, in what looked like old style computer commands. Zeke frowned. He typed very quickly indeed. "Don't try anything fancy. I can set this off manually too. You can't do anything about a hard-wire switch." The text stopped flowing, then began again, a simple question forming.

"What do you want?"

"I want in, plain and simple. I want to speak to you about this place and what's happened here. The world's gonna be a strange place, and well, I'm gonna drag y'all into it, kicking and screaming. For better or worse, this place is discovered, so you'd better deal with me rather than some corporate honcho who'll want everything instead of just a cut, get me?"

"And you thought a nuclear weapon was the best way to gain good will?"

"Honestly? It's worked wonders for all sorts of diplomatic moves in the past. Besides, it's only a small one." Zeke typed, grinning to himself. "I figured on salvage rights, actually. I didn't figure on anyone alive down there. You must have slept a long while at any rate. I can't imagine you being awake the entire time. Did the system just wake you up?"

"No. I've been awake quite some time now. Sometimes it feels like a few lifetimes. But I keep myself busy. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. It's been a long time since I had company, and apparently you don't like to be kept waiting."

The text dissappeared, leaving Zeke feeling a little confused. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, hadn't he? However, that reference to spiders sounded vaguely creepy, though he didn't know what it might be from. When gas erupted from the big metal door, and it began to move, he moved back, stuffing his pad back into the backpack, along with the bomb, disabling the timer.

"Val!" He yelled, the new larger opening creating an odd tinny echo. "We've been invited to dinner! Come on!"