Kilo-61 (Damned of the 2/19th Book 19)- Ongoing

Old Tech New Methods

Site Bravo-Three-Ten (Military Command & Control Section)
Blackbriar Ridge Training Facility
Secure Military Area (Decommissioned)
North Dakota
United States of America
19 Feb, 2002
0240 Hours

"Why don't we take the elevators?" The NCO asked as we walked by the bank of them, heading for the access stairs I knew would be a little ways beyond them.

"Because the floor may be rotted out and we might find ourselves up for the long drop," Kincaid said ahead of us, stopping at a door and throwing the bar. "Stairs are right here."

"When exploring facilities in storage or depot mode always use the stairs," Heather repeated.

"Ma'am, uhh..." One of the privates said to her.

"I work for a living, I'm an NCO," Heather snapped.

"Your nose," The private said.

I glanced at her. She was bleeding pretty freely from both nostrils. Her eyes were glittery and her pupils wide open and fixed.

She was in the middle of a med crash.

Heather wiped her nose with the sleeve of her BDU top, looking at the slimy, blackish blood, and shrugging. "No biggee."

"Take a booster, Melissa," I said gently, stopping beside the door. The thumping of the cylinders told me that the door was still charging. By not keeping the system pressurized it prevented wear and stress on the seals.

"No," She snapped back. She hefted the M-16 she held in her fist, "No more sleeping, no more drugs. I'm tired of feeling so sleepy, so dull, so..." She stopped talking, her words trailing off. "OK," she said softly. She dug in her pocket while we waited. I kept an bead on her out of the corner of my eye, watching her dry-swallow one of her anti-psychotics. She grimaced, then stuck her tongue out at me to show me that she knew I was watching and that she'd swallowed it.

"Good girl," I told her.

"Sexist much?" One of the privates asked. Heather shuddered.

"Get punched in the mouth much?" I said without turning to face him. "Get in between me and my wife and I'll cave in your fucking skull."

"Language, Corporal," Heather said softly and primly. A reflex from years gone by. I made a face and she giggled.

The booster wasn't to keep Melissa DeMarky from vanishing, it was to keep her from a psychotic break.

"If he doesn't, I will," Kincaid growled.

The sound changed and the door started rising. The stairwell was dark, and the doorway was halfway up before the lights began clacking on.

"Why do they always do that?" Heather asked.

"Solenoids," I told her. "Build up the charge and maintain it, keep the levels steady."

"Or they built in something to make that goddamn noise, because that solenoid answer is goddamn stupid and doesn't make any sense," Kincaid said, stepping forward into the stairwell. He stomped on the metal grill, listened to it for a moment, then stomped again.

Something snapped with a sharp metallic ping, bounced a few times, then there was silence for a moment before it clattered at the bottom.

"Now it's safe," I said.

"But a piece broke off," The NCO protested.

"It was probably an over-torqued bolt," One of the privates said. "I don't think those stairs have been used before."

I waved everyone forward as I nodded, "You're right. That's why we do that. That way, at the worst, we only lose one man." I glared at Kincaid as I passed. "Although a private is supposed to do it, not someone like Kincaid."