The Abyss Looks Back

Bunker 08

A stone pillar fell from its foundations, barely missing us as it tumbled off the building and onto the ground below. The truck continued ahead, flanked by several other aircars. Chief Richards looked grimly on the devastated landscape. "How long will it take to reach the next city?" he asked.

"Not too long, sir."

I glanced at Chief Richards. He looked grim, though grim was beginning to be more of an understatement. They had only just discovered that General Morgan was dead before the husks had attacked again, pushing the already strained troops to the limit. They had loaded all the available supplies and hastily evacuated the crumbling military base, leaving it for the husks. And now we're just wandering the United North American States until we run into somebody else. I thought we were fighting a war against the Reapers, but it looks like the war's already over. We're just the stragglers looking to join the queue.

I glanced to my left. Emilia was working on her pistol, glancing at it through the bright orange screen of her omni-tool; she was calibrating it. Not that it was the first time. With all of this going on, I'm surprised I haven't found something to occupy myself. Then again, I am examining the entire crew and thinking to myself. I guess I have to start somewhere.

Charis had her eyes closed, but I doubted that she was asleep. Her talons never lifted from the pistol on her hip. She had red facial markings and wore jet black armor. A faded blue marking of some kind was smeared across her neck. Not exactly a lot of detail to work from. All I know about her was that she has family in New York. I don't remember seeing that many turians in New York anyway. There was that one turian that broke into a bank and tried to run off with millions of credits, but I don't think he's related to her in any way.

I glanced ahead at Private Samson. The young soldier kept twitching, and was constantly in motion, whether he was tapping his foot or rapping his fingers against the hand rest. He was probably in his early twenties, and had just come from boot camp to Fort Hannover when the Reapers attacked. Inexperienced, young, and eager to show his superiors what he could do. I knew people like that. Still do. It's time like this when you feel as if you've moved onto another generation. The people around you constantly change and move, and you're sitting in the back, observing them all. Probably a good thing. Something has to keep the galaxy running. Might as well be straight from boot camp.

My eyes strayed over to my long-time friend, Daniels. His hands were clasped together in front of his face, as if in a prayer. His eyes were closed. His squad had died in the attack on Hannover. He was slowly regaining his composure, though he was quiet most of the time. He had been through a lot these past few weeks. We all had.

I looked back at Chief Richards. "Chief," I said, breaking the silence. He glanced back at me, his eyes haunted. "Where are we going exactly?"

He bit his lip. "We recently received orders from the Alliance for a general retreat to Rome. The city has been converted into a shelter for the civilians. It's one of the few places that's been untouched by the Reapers."

"If everybody's going there," said Daniels. "How long will it take until the Reapers notice them?"

More silence. Something moved in the corner of my vision and I looked up. Private Samson was beating a tattoo into the floor of the car with his boot, drumming a steady beat against the metal surface. Before I could say anything, Chief Richards spoke first. "Private. Whatever the hell you're doing, stop it now."

The tapping stopped. Private Samson ducked his head slightly lower, chastised. Chief Richards just sighed, looking out the window. "We're here."

A loud voice rang over the speakers. "Scanners show that you are unidentified aircraft. You have ten seconds to verify before termination."

"Charming," Emilia muttered.

Chief Richards walked to the pilot's seat. "This is the convoy from Fort Hannover. Authorization code 2249760. Requesting permission to land."

"…permission granted. Dock at landing pad 16. Look for the flashing lights."

On cue, the window was suddenly filled with a bright light, blinding me for a moment. The spotlight penetrated the darkness and flashed like a beacon. The light flickered on and off, drawing the convoy towards it. For a brief second, I could see an enormous figure in the distance that was temporarily illuminated. Then the lights stopped flashing and I noticed the aircar had stopped. The door opened, and I stepped out.

The square-landing pad had four red lights placed on the edges of the surface. A soldier, flanked by two mechs, was there to greet us. He looked tired. "It's good to see another friendly face," he said. "Of course, I'm just happy to see anything that's not a husk or a giant killing machine or a zombie."

"Hello to you, too," said Chief Richards. "Where is General Price?"

"He's in a conference with the other officers in the command center. All newcomers have to report to Trafficking."

"Where's Trafficking?" I asked.

"Follow me."

The soldier seemed to melt into the shadows. We were only able to follow him because of the mechs, which had lights atop their heads that flashed green every few seconds. It also started to rain, which began as a slight drizzle and became a steady shower that thoroughly soaked the eight of us. Surprisingly, the mechs remained functional.

Through the patter of rain I could hear a dozen other set of footsteps to either sides of us. Our guide was somehow able to guide us through the night and rain without getting us lost. And past that, I could hear the sound of gunfire.

"Let's hurry," said the soldier over the rain, quickening his pace. "Curfew was past a long time ago, and if we get attacked by husks, nobody will be able to find us."

It was a comforting thought. Emilia snorted, barely audible in the constant rainfall. Charis stared into the night with probing eyes, as if judging where and how an attack could come if it did. It was probably what she was doing.

"We're here," announced our guide, stopping.

The ground beneath us shifted and we began moving down, into the ground. A light flickered on and I realized that we were in a mechanical lift, deep underground. "Where are we?" said Emilia, looking around the lift.

"Thirty meters below the surface," said the soldier. "This was originally a nuclear fallout shelter constructed in the 80s. Back when we still used nuclear weapons. The husks haven't noticed us yet."

"Who's down here?" I asked.

"The Alliance regiment here moved down here and evacuated the civilians when we realized that we couldn't hold back the husks. General Price is the one who set up the whole evacuation; he's still managing it."

"General Price? Is he the one in charge?"

"Yeah. He commandeered the Alliance regiment before Earth was attacked. He's the one that had the idea to bring all the remaining soldiers here to fight the aliens. General Price was the one who made all this possible, though. If we didn't have him, I don't know where would we be now."

The lift stopped, shuddering slightly. A light mist streamed in from above, covering the group within a few seconds. "Decontamination in progress," droned a VI from above. "Please remove all contaminated items and deposit them in the lift area. Your belongings will be returned once they have been purged."

"The VI still says that," explained the soldier, accessing the door panel. The door, which I had mistaken for the wall, began sliding open, a twenty-feet plus moving mass. "Welcome to Bunker 07."

Inside, the room stretched out for what seemed like miles. The platform ahead was connected to other like platforms with walkways. Below, more platforms and walkways, stretching endlessly on downward. Mechs and soldiers bustled around, carrying equipment and doing maintenance. I stepped off the lift, looking around. Charis stared impassively into the bunker, though I could tell she was impressed as well. The soldier turned around. "Which reminds me. I forgot to tell my name. I'm Private Nichols."

Emilia stared in amazement, taking in the vastness of the bunker. I was similarly affected, but then a thought occurred to me. "Where does everyone live?"

"Lower levels," Nichols explained, gesturing towards a set of lifts. These are just the upper levels, the original bunker. The rooms below are newer."

"That's good enough, Private."

Private Nichols wheeled around, saluting. "General Price," he said, snapping to attention.

I looked at the general. Graying hair, old-fashioned beret atop his head, and intense blue eyes. He looked over our ragtag group and then back to the private. "At ease, soldier."

Turning to us again, he looked me over. A flash of recognition passed over his eyes, and then it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "Captain Clark," he finally said. "I've heard good things about you. The hero of Atlanta. The one man army."

"Emilia Guarez. Costa Rican soldier. Also quite famous among her people. That was good work in Nicaragua. But I do hope Bunker 08 doesn't end up the same."

Emilia's face darkened at the mention of Nicaragua. I looked at her quizzically. She shot me a look. Later, it said.

"Charis Tyzuris. They did a DNA profile back at Fort Hannover. You're probably most valuable individual in the entire bunker. A biotic, straight from the cabals on Palaven."

Charis growled, lowly and quietly from the back of her throat. The hard-faced general was unperturbed. I stole a look at Charis. A biotic? Why would the turians let one of their biotics run to Earth? They're rare enough as it is. "Quite a group you picked up from Fort Hannover, Chief Richards," Price noted.

The security chief nodded. General Price looked over us again. "Captain Richards, report to our chief of security, Chief Morris, in the security office. Private Nichols can escort you there."

"Yes, sir," said the private, motioning to Richards. The two were soon out of sight.

"All of you need to report to Captain Stevens in the barracks…except for Tyzuris."

Charis glared at him, but the general ignored it easily. "If you would follow me."

The turian seemed ready to disagree, but then relented, grudgingly following the general to another lift. One of the remaining mechs suddenly moved, turning its head to us. "This unit has been reassigned. All soldiers need to report to the barracks after this announcement. Please accompany this unit until you reach your destination."

The mech began to walk off, followed by the second. I began to walk off when Emilia grabbed my arm, halting Samson and Daniels. "We don't need to go to the barracks," she said lowly. "Not yet. Wondering what the general had planned for Charis?"

"You know, I'm beginning to see why you're ex-military."

I received a sharp jab to my arm, which was dulled by my armor. "If you're not going, then I am."

She walked off in the other direction, leaving us behind. I looked at the remaining two. "We're still going to the barracks," I said, turning in the direction of the mech.

###############

The elevator edged slowly downward, sliding down inch by inch. "This is a shitty elevator," Kevin concluded.

I nodded. "Should we just take the stairs?" said Private Samson.

"The elevators are the only way down to the barracks, except for the emergency stairs. We're just going to have to wait it out."

"Yeah. Probably the best idea."

I rolled my eyes internally. Private Samson had made sure to agree with everything I said, no matter what it was. No doubt he was trying to impress his superiors, which, in my case, wasn't going to happen. Not that I could do anything about his sudden desire to please me.

"Please disembark the lift. We are almost to the destination."

As we walked out of the lift, something moved in the corner of my vision and I glanced through the window to my right. A soldier was in the middle of a fight with another soldier in a small, improvised circle bordered by blue training mats. A ring of bystanders surrounded the fight area, yelling and passing credit chits around. One soldier, clad in red armor, lashed out with a gloved fist, which was quickly deflected by the soldier in blue. Slapping the arm away, the blue soldier smashed a gloved fist into the man's face, who stumbled backwards in a daze. The man in blue took advantage of this and landed a kick on his opponent's chest, sending him toppling over the barrier. Roaring even louder, the audience parted slightly to let the fighter fall to the ground. The man in blue took a moment to wipe his face with a rag and then tossed the rag onto his opponent's face. The bystanders dispersed, a mixture of grumbles and laughter.

"What'd you think?"

I turned around. The source of the voice towered over me, helmet tucked away in the crook of his arm. To say he was big would be an understatement. Huge was closer to the mark. He had a beard that covered the lower half of his face, but that was where the hair stopped, leaving the top of his head bald. "Haven't seen you around here before," he rumbled. If thunder had a voice, that was it. "Are you guys new arrivals?"

I nodded. "We just got here from Fort Hannover."

"Heard about that place," he chuckled. "Heard it was real shitfest a few days ago. And you guys made it out alive. What happened over there?"

"Mercs, husks, the usual," I answered. And partially my fault.

"It's kind of sad that mercs and husks are the usual now," he sighed. He looked at the fight area. "You guys interested in a little sparring session?"

"I might be," said Kevin, rolling his shoulders.

"We still report to Captain Stevens," I said. "Now, not later."

"Captain Stevens?" the big man inquired, scratching his bald head. "He's probably in the residential area working with the Guard."

"What's the Guard?" blurted Private Samson.

"It's a volunteer security force that General Price formed," he explained. "They police the residential area and arrest any lawbreakers. They answer to Captain Stevens, and he other four other captains answer to General Price. The Guard has only existed for a couple of weeks, though, so they're still working out the kinks."

"Does anything ever get out of hand?" I said.

"Not really. I mean, one time someone stole a crate of rations and the Guard was called in to apprehend him. He shot one of the officers and a sniper shot the bastard's head clean off. They're authorized to shoot if necessary."

"Why does the bunker need a security force? Most of the people are Alliance soldiers."

"They're aren't as many soldiers as you might think. And being a soldier is a lot different from being a police officer. Everybody in the Guard, soldier or not, had to be retrained for the job. It's pretty demanding, from what I hear of it. The soldiers just patrol the bunker, do maintenance, and fight each other. We don't do much here. The people in the Guard are the real workers. What's your mech doing?"

The mech was walking in place against a wall. Kevin held his omni-tool to it, tapping in a few commands. "Kevin, what are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to see if I can control the mech. Whoever wrote in this software is pretty good at watching their hardware. This thing is hard to crack."

The soldier glanced at me. I shrugged. "Where's the residential area?"

"Down the hallway on your left. There's an elevator that'll take you down there."

"Thanks," I said. "As fun as this has been, we have to go now guys. Pack it up."

Kevin sighed, powering down his omni-tool. "Guess I'll look at it later."

"Wait," said the big man. "I don't think I ever caught your name."

"What's yours?" I said, looking back.

"Shaw. John Shaw."

"James Clark."

He grinned, almost hidden by his beard. "See you around Clark."

The lift arrived. With that, we left, the lift doors closing on us. Kevin looked at me. "You thinking about something?"

"Yeah. Where's Emilia?"

The lift stopped, a jarring motion that cracked my head against the elevator wall and threw Samson to the floor. White, unbearably bright stars danced in my vision and I had to hold the railing for support. The lift was suddenly bathed in red light. I shook my head, trying to shake off the ringing in my ears. Somehow, I think Emilia's the least of my problems now. The speakers overhead crackled to life.

"Attention everyone! You're all in danger!"