CHAPTER 9
Chris's eyes shot open in his pitch-black room, every muscle in his body tensed and rigid. It was several moments before he stopped breathing heavy and could move his arm to wipe the beaded sweat from his brow.
"Lights," he intoned, and as before, the lights to his room slowly rose to reveal the unadorned gray walls of his small room. Chris rolled slightly to his right and read the green florescent lights on his clock - 5:10 AM. Again. Falling back against his pillow, this time Chris lay waiting for the alarm to go off before he started to get up.
As before, he went through his routine of showering and shaving, before dressing and heading to breakfast at a quarter to six. He quickly walked through the abandoned corridors of the north Sector with his hand on his sidearm, but as normal, the silent halls yielded nothing.
Within a few minutes, Chris reached the commissary. The morning crowd was only slowly beginning to filter in, too sleepy to talk and slowly forming a zombie-like line for their morning meal. Only a handful of the relieved night shift crew personnel hung about, clutching cups of steaming coffee and staring into the cups, not wanting to be bothered. Michael was not present in the commissary, but he did find Sable there, reading a magazine as he coddled a cup of steaming coffee.
"Mind if I sit here?" Chris asked, holding a green tray that was half-full from his usual morning meal – and a cup of coffee.
Sable nodded, and Chris sat heavily into the chair.
"Mr. Weyland keep you long last night?" Sable asked between sips of coffee.
"Not really," Chris stated. "I just didn't sleep well."
"Nightmares?" Sable asked, leaning forward and putting down his coffee.
Chris was hesitant to speak at first, but as he stared at his own cup of coffee, he nodded. "Vivid dreams," he confessed. "They feel … almost more real than when I'm awake."
"That's not a good sign," Sable replied, guardingly. "Memories?" he asked, "Maybe from a battlefield?" he queried.
"No," Chris sighed. "A woman – she keeps showing up in my dreams. Killing me. I don't remember her when the dream starts, but," he paused; "I know I've seen her before just before she…" he trailed off, not finishing the sentence.
"Well, I'm not a doctor," Sable comforted. "But I know a good one that can help with dreams," he stated. "I can give you a reference to her, if you'd like."
"As long as she isn't named Alexis," Chris mouthed.
Sable gave a slight chuckle, but nodded. "Nah, her name's Samantha," he stated, "I'll write her info down, and you can talk to her this evening. She happens to work the night shift." Sable leaned back and added, "I can give her up for tonight."
"You have nightmares too?" Chris asked as Sable took a moment to write the information down.
Sable handed the small white card he had scribbled on to Chris as he answered, "Kid, the battlefield can leave some nasty scars. Some of the shit I've seen – hell, done." He said quietly, "It doesn't always want to stay in that dark place in your mind."
Chris took the card, and blankly stared at the writing as he considered Sable's words. He had been to three separate war zones in the meager three years he had been fighting, before he had left the slaughter to come to Facility 23. He was grateful Michael had given him the opportunity to leaving the nightmare of war. He wondered, if perhaps, if something deep inside him was not so eager to leave it all behind.
After Chris slipped the card into his shirt pocket, the two sat and Chris ate. As the time for their shift approached, they cleaned the table and made their way to the central elevator. Upon seeing the line of individuals waiting to load onto the large central elevator, Sable directed them to a nearby stairwell. Swiping his badge, the two entered the spiraling staircase that wove around the round elevator shaft and walked down the third level. Sable again swiped his badge at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, and the two exited out near the large security airlock that led to Sector 10.
"You do that a lot?" Chris asked.
"Not usually," Sable shrugged, "But it's legal. Security and sector managers are the only ones with access – unless there's an emergency."
As they moved up to the security airlock, they passed by several staff members just departing the sector. Chris looked back to the elevator to see it open and a handful more stepped off, heading towards them.
"Bit of a traffic jam this morning," Chris observed. "It wasn't like this yesterday."
"Little busier than normal," Sable stated, swiping his badge on the airlock door. It took a moment for the door to depressurize and open, and as they waited, a small queue formed behind them.
"Check their badges as they come in," Sable said, moving into the airlock and depressing a button to hold the door to the small room beyond open. "If they're forced to come through one at a time, we're going to have a lot of late staff and an unhappy research administrator."
Chris was hesitant to override protocol, but nodded at Sable's logic. He ushered the staff members into the small room, checking their badges as they passed him. However, when the airlock was comfortably full, he motioned for the few remaining staff to wait and nodded for Sable to close the door.
The airlock door closed slowly, leaving Chris to face several unhappy individuals left outside. However, he stood firm, not allowing them to enter. After the huge door had sealed, a moment passed, followed by a hydraulic hiss and the inner door to Sector 10 slowly swung open.
As the staff filtered out and headed to their assigned labs, Chris and Sable waited until the room cleared before stepping out themselves.
"Pretty good, kid," Sable stated as they made their way up to the command center.
"In what way?" Chris stated.
"Being smart enough to know when common sense overrides protocol, but not a pushover either," Sable stated.
"Well, I'm human too," Chris replied. "Getting a group in here all at once seemed logical, but I didn't want us all stuffed in one room at once."
They reached the security command center, and Sable was the first to walk in. Chris was slightly hesitant, expecting Yultz and Sanchez in the room, waiting to be relieved. When he found the room empty, he was visibly irked.
"They already left?" he said aloud. Sable looked puzzled for a second, and then realized what Chris was talking about.
"Might be a good thing not to run into them at six AM in the morning," Sable countered.
"They better have left a report," Chris fumed, taking a seat beside Sable and flicking through the panel's controls.
There was a datapad beside Sable, and the he picked it up, glancing at its contents. He sighed and handed it to Chris. "With love," he stated sarcastically.
Chris could quickly see it was their report, and it was signed in a big scrawling signature Fuck You. Chris just shook his head.
"I hope you're not going to make a big deal about it," Sable questioned.
Chris took a deep breath, and stated, "Not this time. Maybe a discussion tonight." He paused, thinking about that. However, he decided he would rather deal with his dream problem first, and revised his statement, "Maybe tomorrow."
"You're the boss now," Sable breathed hesitantly. "Especially since Stan's in the infirmary again."
"He is?" Chris asked. He was surprised Tony had not tracked him down after the incident last night, now that he thought about it.
"Someone clocked him in the dining room," Sable stated, knowingly glancing at Chris. "I had to take his drunk ass over to the medical ward, only find out he's got a concussion and two broken ribs." He added, "I left him in Tony's capable hands, though Mr. Weyland dropped in just before I left."
Chris said nothing for a moment. "I'd be careful if I were you. Yultz and Sanchez might have not known about it before they left this morning, but you can expect they will before they return tonight." Sable warned.
"I can't just let this sort of insubordination go," Chris sighed, waving the datapad.
"Look, you call the shots now," Sable said, leaning back. "But think about this carefully before you do anything rash. Maybe you should wait until he makes a real mistake," Sable argued.
"That's dangerous," Chris countered, "I don't want to wait that long."
"You wouldn't be waiting that long," Sable replied. "Just get him for something better than graffiti. Let him make the first mistake," Sable smirked.
Chris sat back, exhaling deeply. "Well," he admitted. "We did just get here. I've got ten hours to plan my revenge," he smiled back.
Sable nodded, and they shifted their attention to their duties. Sable examined the console as Chris reviewed last night's duty shift. It had been a quiet night overall, and Chris forced himself to skip over Yultz's and Sanchez's nightly banter.
The morning passed slowly. After two hours, Chris excused himself from the office to walk a patrol through the sector. As before, the researchers paused their experiments as Chris came by to inspect their areas briefly. He passed through as quickly as possible to keep from unduly interfering with their work, and his appearance seemed to surprise several of the researchers – at least those who acknowledged his existence as something other than an interruption to their work.
As Chris approached the recessed archway that led into Lab 7, he stopped. He glanced to his right, and down the quiet white corridor, he could clearly see the edge of the enormous structure of Lab 10. Uneasiness passed through him as he felt an unseen presence emanating from down the corridor. He snapped back to the door to Lab 7 as heard subtle whispers emanate from the smaller lab. Cautiously, he moved up to the door and swiped his badge.
The panel flashed red, with a yellow forming on the display panel as a negatory buzz sounded from the access panel drowning out the placid whispers. "Experiment in progress. No entry allowed," A cool, feminine voice sounded a moment later.
The whispers had ceased as Chris recoiled slightly from the smooth voice. The refusal struck him as odd, as he had clearly entered into the other labs while experiments were underway. Unphased, Chris jabbed the intercom button. "This is Security Chief Christopher Frost. Is everything okay in there?"
He released the button and awaited a response. He was greeted with a low hiss that sounded like a mix of escaping steam and a serpent's hiss. Before he could jab the intercom button again, a voice replied, "Everything is fine here, Mr. Frost."
Chris paused, ready to strike the button again and demand details. However, Sable's voice came over his headset. "Chris, you need to come back here. Professor Lendingrass is asking for you."
Chris cursed, letting his fist fall against the door instead of the intercom. "Okay," he stated, pulling himself away from the door. "Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes." As he retreated towards the command center, Chris let his gaze fall back on the lab one last time. He wrapped his hand tighter around his rifle as he felt a distinctly feminine chuckle echo through the corridors.
Chris whirled and pointed his gun at the perceived source. It had come from the corridor that led to Lab 10. He squinted and asked aloud, "Hello? Anyone there?" He waited, stiffly, for several moments, before relaxing. "Sable," he asked, stepping backwards towards the command center, "Is there anyone else wandering around Lab 10?"
"Uh, no," Sable replied nervously.
"Mr. Frost," Lendingrass's voice shouted through his headset. "I need you to return to command immediately."
Chris winced more at who had spoken than the loudness of the voice. "Yes ma'am," he sighed, forcing himself to turn away from the labs and return to the command center. He could vaguely the blocky structure from his current position, rising above the maze of lab roofs and catwalks that spanned above him. The normally tinted glass in one section of the white-washed command module had cleared, and he could barely make out Sable seated in the security area, with Lendingrass standing beside him, her hands rolled into fists and firmly placed on her straight hips.
"Shit," Chris breathed, then lowered his head and picked up his pace to return to the command center.