John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“Well, they haven’t been wasting funds on accommodations,” Megan said, shaking her head. “It’ll do. I have to wonder what the guard barracks are like.”

“Bays, ma’am,” Vaston replied. “Thirty to a bay. And there were only half the guards that we’ve got here, before, so we’re hot-bunking about sixty to a bay. Most of us sleep outside anyway; it’s bloody hot in the barracks.”

“Sorry I asked,” Megan said, shaking her head. “And sorry you’re cooped up like that, Private.”

“Not a problem, ma’am,” the Blood Lord replied, grinning. “We’re rotating out of here to Blackbeard.”

“Fun in the sun,” Herzer said. “Guard stands are hell down there, but the rest of the accommodations are first rate.”

“And the mer-girls like the guards,” the private added, grinning, then looking stricken at joking about that subject with the councilwoman present. “Sorry, ma’am!”

“Not a problem,” Megan replied.

“The rest of the rooms are singles,” the guard continued, gesturing the others out of the room. “You share bathrooms.”

Herzer’s room was adjacent to Megan’s, but not adjoining. He figured he could find someone to put in a door.

“We need to go by base security,” Vaston said when they’d been shown their quarters. “Are you going to have more luggage following?” he asked, noting that they’d brought nothing with them.

“Lieutenant Tao is going to be bringing it,” Herzer said. “We came on ahead. Let’s get the rest of the details over with; we’re on short time.”

“Yes, sir,” the private said, leading them out of the building.

“What’s on the top floor of the building?” Herzer asked as they were walking across the base.

“More rooms, sir,” Vaston replied. “For others on the team.”

“That was one of the buildings that got hit, wasn’t it?” Megan asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the private said.

“No stains on the floor,” Herzer noted.

“We had a bit of cleaning when we arrived, sir,” Vaston said. “Replaced some of the wood on the floor. Sanded the rest. And the walls.”

“I could have done without that image,” Megan said.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the private replied. “I’ll try to watch it in the future.”

“It’s okay,” Megan said, quietly. “I’ve seen bad enough things in my life. Do you know who was in my room before?”

“Colonel Carson, ma’am,” Vaston said as they reached another two-story building.

The room in the interior was filled with desks but the only person in it was a Blood Lord officer manning a counter that barred passage to the rest of the room.

“Countess Travante,” the lieutenant said, standing to attention as Megan entered. “Good to see you, ma’am.”

“We need to get our badges, apparently,” Megan said, smiling charmingly.

“Yes, ma’am, I have them right here.” The officer pulled out a clipboard, printed pages and a handful of badges. “Please sign beside your name,” he added, handing out the badges along with sheets of paper. “This is a map of the facilities. The badges are color coded. Yellow is restricted to only yellow areas. Purple can move in purple or yellow. Blue in those two and blue. Red has full access.”

Shanea and Mirta’s badges were in yellow, Van Krief’s in blue. Only Megan and Herzer were issued red badges.

“What if we’re in a red area and we need one of our aides?” Megan asked, frowning.

“They can be given special access, ma’am, of course,” the lieutenant said, swallowing nervously. “They’ll require an escort. If they’re with you, of course…”

“Okay,” Megan said. “We’re supposed to report to an initial in-brief…”

“It’s in Building Seventeen, ma’am,” the lieutenant said, sliding over a map and pointing to the building in question. “That’s a blue zone.”

“Mirta and Shanea are not on the mission,” Herzer noted.

“I know,” Megan said. “Mirta, I’m not even sure why I asked you to come along.”

“To be a helper bee and not get in the way,” Mirta said, taking the clipboard out of Shanea’s hand, turning it over and signing Shanea’s name. “Just put an X here, dear.”

“Thanks,” Shanea said, brightly.

Herzer looked at the clock on the wall and shrugged.

“I guess you guys can go explore the yellow areas,” he said. “Megan, Van Krief and I need to get over to the briefing.”

“Private Vaston,” the lieutenant said. “Why don’t you show the councilwoman’s aides around?”

“Sir,” Vaston said woodenly. “I’m detailed to gate guard.”

“I’ll send a runner over,” the lieutenant noted.

“And we’re out of here,” Herzer said, grabbing Megan’s arm.

Building Seventeen was only two doors down and, unlike the majority of the buildings, was a low, one-story building, made entirely out of concrete. The main door was heavy steel and, as it turned out, locked. Herzer knocked on it furiously, bruising his knuckles, but there was no response.

“What the hell?” he asked the sky.

“Maybe nobody’s home?” Megan asked humorously. “I can open it easily enough…”

“No, let me take a look around,” Herzer said, walking around the side of the building. Near the far end was another door on which he also bruised his knuckles. It was eventually opened by a dwarf. Herzer had seen a few prior to the Fall but the only ones he’d seen since were at Raven’s Mill. Dwarves were a Change, not a genegineered race like the elves, but they tended to reproduce as families. And, even before the war, they were considered odd.

“Yes?” the dwarf asked suspiciously. He had a heavy accent.

“You’ve got a council member cooling her heels at your front door,” Herzer noted angrily.

“Well, what in hell is she doing at the front door?” the dwarf asked. “I’ll go open it. Who’re you?”

“Herrick,” Herzer said, waving the badge.

“Right, the new meat,” the dwarf said, stepping back and closing the door in his face.

Herzer opened his mouth to retort, realized it was pointless and walked back around to the front.

“There’s apparently…” he said as the door opened.

“Councilwoman Travante,” a different dwarf said, holding out his hand. “Angus Peterka, Chairman of Dwarven Mining Consolidated. A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

“Dwarf Peterka,” Megan replied, shaking his hand and stepping in the room. It was small, with only the door to the outside and an equally heavy interior door. There was a dwarf manning a desk by the door and two more, in armor, holding large axes, guarding it. The day outside was hot but the room was pleasantly cool.

“Sorry,” the dwarf at the desk said. “Gotta check the badges.”

When the badges had been duly presented and checked the dwarf opened up a communications tube and whistled in it.

“Travante, Megan. Herrick, Herzer. Van Krief, Amosis. His Nibs.”

There was a muttered response from the tube and the door opened from the inside.

“Sorry about all this,” Peterka said. “But this was one of the few buildings that the damned scorps didn’t penetrate, so there’s that for it.”

“I can see why,” Herzer replied. The door led only to a small room with another door.

“Man-trap,” Peterka noted. “The inner door can’t be opened unless the outer door is closed. Interlocks and such.”

“Very heavy security,” Megan said.

“Well, it’s where we’ve got all the plans for our systems,” Peterka said. “We insisted, built the thing ourselves. Not because of the mission, mind, although that’s important. But these are dwarf systems. We don’t let just anyone look at them. Primary production’s at the mines, of course, but the security’s tighter there. Nobody but dwarves allowed.”