Terminal Fuse

{TWENTY_FOUR}

The Journal of Archibald McTaggart, Entry 701:

The military is seeking to weaponize every breakthrough we make. First, it was the artificial intelligence, then it was the abhorexes, and now they're after the exotic matter as well. Destruction and control are their ruling desires, and I'll be damned if our work becomes the next Manhattan Project. Admittedly, their motivations might be to prevent another World War, yet I'm convinced that the next danger to peace won't come across the seas. It will be from the sky. Our arms race should start there. Colonisation of the solar system is our way forward. I think I've convinced them of that; after the success of the black hole generator, we have potentially forestalled their warmongering, and — once the teleportation pads are operational — they will see the truth of our vision. We're not alone in the universe, and we must band together as humanity, for the sake of our species. For the first time in a while, I'm hopeful. Earlier today, I even caught myself laughing!

***

Breaching a door without explosives is never an easy task, especially the doors in this facility. Reinforced steel, multiple deadlocks, biometric scanning. Normally, we'd use explosives for something this strong, but Chuck was our demolition expert; the rest of us would probably just blow ourselves up... if we had any explosives. So I'm about to suggest that Bitty can work his magic when Victoria extends her hand. The exotic matter bubbles, darkening the sleeve of her fatigues, then the door warps, and the bolts snap.

So does something in Victoria's arm. She groans through gritted teeth then follows that with a cocktail of curses. Something leaks down her fingers. Pulling up her sleeve, a slab of metal has broken off. Inky fluid pools in the gash.

"Piece of shit," she swears, "Lee, in the future, remember your med-kit."

Jaydon apologizes again and uses his combat knife to cut Victoria's sleeve at the elbow. This material he then uses to tie around the wound and tucks it in. He doesn't let her arm go though; he flips it over to examine the planes of metal and runs his fingers down it until they're pressed into her wrist, "How are you feeling, boss?"

"Fine," she says and jerks her hand away.

"Really? Because both your temp and heart rate are raised."

"Your point?"

"That you're not physically well. That you need to take it easy. No more..." he wiggles his fingers before her face.

"Duly noted, doc. Now we're wasting time."

We move through the door, me leading the way — Archie leading me. There's no glowing pathway this time; he guides me with his words. Down here, this close to Level 4 our connection has become a tangible thing. Before he thinks the words, I'm responding to them.

The rooms are darker than any night. Last summer, some friends and I went on a weekend camping trip to a state park close to San Francisco. Classic teenage lie: I told my mom I was staying with a friend, who told her dad she was staying with another friend, who told her mom she was staying with me... no parent cross-checked so no one was the wiser, and we got a parent-free trip. That night, we climbed into the Wind Caves of Mount Diablo to tell ghost stories and creep each other out. It was midnight and moonless, and the tunnels between the cave's cavities were so small I had to army crawl, the ceiling scraping against my back. My breathing was hot and dusty in those close quarters. The stories we told weren't half as scary as that feeling: wriggling ever forward, unable to turn back, with the space before me so dark I couldn't even see my hand inches before my face.

This is just like that.

We switch on our tactical lights, and I send my echolocation out in bursts. Bitty bends to the ground to sniff. He's picking up something unusual but his processor cannot decipher it. Through him, I can smell it too. It's earthy. Something moist and curdled, like fertilizer and bad eggs. As we stalk deeper, it gets stronger. Otherwise, the short hallway is empty. Rooms on each side have signs demoting their purpose: anomalous materials lab, cryogenic storage, biological waste processing...