Chapter 17

It was nearing nightfall as they approached the missile site, Number 2 decided to slow the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. down to maneuvering speeds to initiate his recently added "stealth mode". Number 1 decided not to admit that he was nervous about slowing down that quick and being so high up in the air. Number 4 was noticeably less excited about the testing of the stealth mode and kept loudly suggesting to everyone in the aircraft that it would be better to fight their way into the facility instead of dying in a fiery crash.

Number 5 reminded him that it would be better to stop yelling than having to learn how to fly after she threw him out.

Number 2 slowed the aircraft to a near standstill, the engines allowing the aircraft to hover above the earth while he initialized the stealth mode. Stealth mode produced large, "ceiling fan", style rotors that unfolded like umbrellas; sprouting from the top of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. at the front and back of the frame.

"This is stealth mode?" Number 5 asked, realizing that the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. was using helicopter blades.

"Yeah!" Number 2 responded, "What did you expect? These rotors are basically glorified ceiling fans, but they're reinforced with aircraft grade blades and upgraded to sustain the weight of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. in flight. I got the design idea from the double rotor helicopters that our military uses. The only difference is that I've reengineered these rotors to cut through the air at a frequency that cancels out the noise of the electric motors that run them. If you were standing outside, all you would hear is a noise that sounds like wind blowing through an alleyway."

"How is that possible?" Number 4 mused, trying to keep his mind off of the flight pattern, "I don't see how that would work!"

Number 2 smiled as he turned in his seat, "I'd tell you but I have to keep QUIET about it."

As per usual, he was the only one laughing.

"Well," Number 1 said, casually looking out the window through his dark shades, "For what it's worth, I believe in you, Number 2. You've already proven yourself as a mechanical savant."

"Ah thank you!" Number 2 said, his goofy smile getting bigger, "I knew that you were my biggest…FAN!"

Again, he was the only one laughing…and laughing hard.

There was a faint alarm going off on the console as the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. hovered silently towards the missile site.

"Uh oh guys," Number 2 said while preparing for a decent, "It looks like we're getting as close as we can without being detected.

The S.C.A.M.P.E.R. was hovering low to the ground. Its dark olive cover and lack of flames in the engines would keep it from being seen easily. Number 2's decision to run the rotor blades on stealth mode with small electric motors would keep the heat signature lower as well.

It was brilliant.

The S.C.A.M.P.E.R. glided over the passing hills and empty roads as they inched closer and closer to being within a safe distance from the missile site. The alarm got louder and Number 2 decided it would be a good time to set the craft down and travel on foot. The S.C.A.M.P.E.R. lurched to a stop, kicking up dust and wobbling slightly to set down hurriedly. Number 2 switched the engines off as soon as he could and started powering the vehicle down. He was an excellent pilot and could control the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. with the finesse of a surgeon. Each member of the team was unbuckling and grabbing the backpacks that they had prepared for this incursion.

"All right team," Number 1 said, unbuckling his seat belt, "We need to get inside and get to a place where we can establish what is taking place. I don't know what to expect once we get there but hopefully that place will be quiet and we can simply get the information we're looking for and get out. I doubt there will be any hostiles, so we shouldn't have to fight anyone. Kick the door, Number 5."

Number 4 let out a whine of disappointment as Number 5 released the pressure lock and opened the door. As soon as the door opened, Number 2 cut the power to the lights, casting the entire team into darkness. Number 1 led the way, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness as he stepped out into the desert sand; his combat boots were crunching heavily into the granules.

"Here," Number 2 whispered in the darkness and pulled a small tablet out of his pack; handing it to Number 1, "You can glance at this periodically to make sure we're on track."

Number 1 looked down to see a highly detailed map of them walking in the darkness towards the missile site which was clearly outlined on the screen.

"This is really good detail," Number 1 whispered, turning the screen off to reduce the glare.

"Yeah," Number 2 said with a smile, "That's a live feed coming from Number 74.239's satellites. My tablet is plugged in directly."

Before they had started the trip, they had examined satellite maps extensively and tried to determine how much activity was taking place at the target site. The maps showed that the missile site was embedded in a valley between the mountains, hidden from sight of the average person. There were unmarked trucks coming and going constantly, but they disappeared underground upon arrival and exit, and there was never any activity on the surface of the base. There wasn't any indicator that there was hostility present but the lack of activity was enough to conclude that there was certainly no environmental "clean up" operation taking place. Thermal imaging hadn't pulled up anything either because the sands were too hot, it was going to take boots on the ground to determine what was taking place.

It was an old, Cold War, missile compound, armed in those days to launch ICBM's to the Soviet Union in case of a nuclear strike. It sent a chill down Nigel's spine to think of how people must have felt in those days, knowing that the world could be cast into flame at any moment. He thought about how the soldiers who used to work at this base, seeing the same mountains every day, how they must have felt knowing that if they were called upon to send a missile over the mountains and over the Arctic to descend fire upon Russia, the world would be forever changed.

They trudged through the darkness towards the missile site, drinking their water rations along the way. Number 3 crossed her arms and held them close to her body as she shivered in the growing cold of the desert. Number 4 reached into his pack and grumbled about "girls never thinking ahead" as he handed her a spare blanket he had. She gladly accepted and smiled warmly as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and overly large pack.

Number 1 kept his eye constantly on his surroundings. He would gaze out over to the horizon to the ridges of the surrounding mountains, looking for signs of movement or light. There were no other sounds in the night air, not even the sound of crickets for there was hardly any shrubbery that they could hide in. The only thing that protected Sector V from the haunting silence was the soft gusts of the night wind as it raced periodically across the desert. It wouldn't be much longer and they would be at a perimeter fence that separated the base from the rest of the world. In the days of the Cold War, those perimeters would be watched constantly by military personnel with long range rifles, but now they were watched only by ghosts from the past; the base standing like a mausoleum, a reminder of an age of fear and distrust.

They could see the base in the distance and it was a simple setup. There were barracks scattered throughout the base amidst sheds, plane hangars and office style buildings. In the middle of the compound was a larger building with generators outside of it and a massive radio tower in its courtyard. There were no cars, trucks, planes or helicopters of any kind on the base. It certainly appeared to be abandoned; a skeleton of what it must have been like in its heyday.

They reached the perimeter fence and Number 2 pulled some binoculars from his pack, a quick scan revealed that there didn't seem to be anyone that was within visual range. There was an immensely tall and wide chain link style fence that seemed to stretch for miles. The wire on it appeared to be quite thick and linked in a net like pattern.

"Breech the fence, Number 2," Number 1 said curtly, looking around again, just to make sure.

Number 2 pulled out a pair of wire cutters and reached out to snip through the heavy chain link, but as soon as his wire cutters touched the metal he shrieked and began to convulse violently.

"It's electrified!" Yelled Number 4 and he reached out to shove Number 2 away from the fence.

Number 2 immediately stopped and turned around trying to keep from laughing, "Gotcha!"
Number 4 looked up with a blaze of fire in his eyes.

"Super lame, baby," Number 5 said without missing a beat, "Everyone knows that a power source strong enough to electrify this entire fence would have shown up on our satellite feed. Besides, why put razor wire at the top of an electric fence".

"Agreed," Number 1 said nonchalantly, "And the fence would have sparked when you touched it anyway."

"Yeah!" Number 4 said, looking around at his teammates, "AND…I knew it wasn't real to begin with!"

They all looked at Number 4, stunned.

"Oh whatever," Number 2 said, digging through his pack. He pulled out a device that looked like a large flashlight, "I guess I shouldn't be too…SHOCKED!"

"If you keep up with those awful puns of yours Number 2," Number 5 said with a smile, "You'll be shocked all right!"

Number 2 pointed the flashlight looking device at the fence and clicked it on, "Geez, tough crowd!" he said. A red laser shot out into a wide beam and vaporized a hole in the fence in the same size as the beam and large enough to walk through.

Number 1 clicked his tablet back on, "Ok team, let's find a place to get inside. I suggest we start looking in some of these bunkers."

"Let's try the middle building," Number 3 said pointing in the darkness, "If it has anything to do with power, there might schematics that can show us how to get underground."

All the operatives looked at her, stunned at the brilliance of her suggestion.

"What?" Number 3 whined, her eyes squinting in frustration, "I'm not as ditzy as people think, you know!"

"It's a good idea," Number 1 said with a confident smile, "Move out!"

They worked their way from cover to cover, careful to not be spotted by any possible scouts, until they reached the building in the middle. The cool desert air would rustle up behind them on occasion and the dancing shadows from the moon constantly kept them double checking every motion, to make sure they were not about to be caught. They finally reached a door to the side of the building that was locked with a chain and a padlock. Number 1 studied it intently, he looked around and tried to look into the windows, which were slightly too high to reach.

Number 2 coolly pulled out the same device that he had used for accessing the fence and instead of melting the padlock and chains off of the door; he simply melted a hole big enough to walk through in the door. Number 1's eyebrows raised in an impressed glance as they were able to walk through into the building with ease.

They each pulled flashlights from their packs as they began to walk up and down the pitch black corridors. The air was musty and damp, having not been breathed by anyone for several decades. There was the faint sound of constant water dripping and air rushing about in the back ground; otherwise there was nothing but eerie silence. Number 1's flash light beam cut through the darkness at every turn, always terminating into the shadows at the end of the hall. He took a moment to look behind them as they descended further into the building, hoping not to see anyone behind them. It felt to him as though the dark hallways were a gaping maw that was digesting them slowly as they continued walking into that darkness without knowing what lied beyond it.

They passed by several doors and peered in the windows as they went. This obviously was some sort of office area and surely housed important people in its height of operation. There were large pipes and ductile work that raced up and down the ceiling, blandly painted the same color as the walls.

"We're actually traveling slightly downhill," Number 5 perked up, "Did anyone else catch that?"

"Yeah," Number 2 replied, "We're definitely headed in the right direction. I bet that hum we're hearing is a power source of some kind. It seems to be getting louder as we get closer."

Within a few minutes, they came to a large room that appeared to have generator s in them. They were large coils that would no doubt be operated by fuel, a system independent of the country's power grid in case of a military strike…and half of them were running.

"Strange to have power running to a derelict base," Number 5 mused.

"Here team," Number 1 stopped, pointing to a power grid diagram on the wall.

There was a floor plan that delineated the various areas of the base and the power lines that ran to them. There were four floors total, the fifth floor being the ground level outside. The missile control floor was located at the very bottom, no doubt because access to the missiles meant access to the launch tubes which had to start out at a great depth to be hidden under the earth.

"We need to find the service elevator," Number 2 piped up.

"Here," Number 1 pointed at the map, "it looks like there is one just around the corner!"

The team walked down the landing that bordered the depressed floor where the large generators sat, humming. As the neared the elevator, it was clear that there was no power running to it.

"Well team," Number 1 said through gritted teeth, "It looks like we'll have to rappel, but we've prepared for that."

They each sat their back packs down and reached inside to retrieve their rappelling gear. Number 4 and Number 1 hastily the two heavy anchors and began attaching them to the heavy gauge pipe that made up the railing along the perimeter of the landing, there was no sign of rust or fatigue on the pipe, so it would serve well as an anchor. Number 1 and Number 4 would lead the way, followed shortly by the rest of the team.

Number 1 and Number 4 secured their harnesses and prepared to lead the way down the elevator shaft. Number 1 would descend first because he was the leader and because his reconnaissance skills would able to assess any level of present danger quicker. Number 4 would descend at a close behind second because he was the best to deal with any sort of present danger.

Number 1 helped check the rest of his team for secure harness and anchors and then turned to face the elevator shaft. The door had lapsed open slightly over the time of abandonment and this made it easier to access, he found it slid open with very little force.

He looked over the scene one last time, making sure that there was no one in sight. The cold steel of the elevator shaft, still and quiet looked as though it was a relic frozen in time. It opened wide as a grave, ready for its occupant. The elevator pit opened up and Number 1 could see the pitch black darkness that entombed the bottom of the pit; and there was no more to be seen.

The darkness was reaching up towards Number 1, clawing at him to be pulled down into the abyss. Number 1 turned this back to the darkness, leveled his feet on the edge of the elevator door's threshold and leapt down into the darkness.