Day 15

“We call it the armory,” Orin said quietly. “Though the actual armory is in a room off of this one.” Even his voice seemed small in this place.

One of the people I'd taken for helicopter techs, having started walking when we first entered the room, finally got to us at this point. He took off his hearing protection and put it on a rack with others like it, then stuck his hand out at our group in general.

“Master Sargent Gallow, at your service.”

John moved forward instantly to shake his hand. “Private John Zimmerman, West Coast Army. Who did you serve with?”

Gallow laughed. “Central Reserve.”

John dropped the handshake instantly. We all recognized what that meant.

Dana glanced over at Orin. “So even Troopers are allowed here?”

Gallow interrupted before Orin could speak. “Well, I didn't come alone, you see.” Gesturing at the war machines behind him, he added, “Where do you think these came from?”

Dana's tone remained cool. “So you merely have to buy your way in?”

“All are welcome here.” Orin said with a note of finality indicating our group wasn't the first to have this very same conversation, and he wanted to make things clear on the topic right now. “And all newcomers are equally trusted not to be spies.”

Gallow laughed again. “Which is not at all, I might add. I don't think the bank of monitors and above-ground cameras around town are for show, if you know what I mean.”

Orin nodded as though conceding the point. “Very true. It is sad that we must watch people who would join our town to ensure they are not spies, but it has been shown in the past to be necessary.”

“Us too?” I added.

“Yes, you too. You might have seen your house on one of the security monitors as you entered. I assure you, we do not watch you in your houses. We merely ensure that if you leave town, you are not driving to the nearest Trooper station.” Orin seemed somewhat put-out at this revelation. Clearly other groups already knew about the surveillance by the time they took the tour.

“Should I get on with the speech?” Gallow asked after a period of awkward silence, and then began it before anyone could say anything. “Like I said, I'm Master Sargent Gallow and I run the armory here. Orin's not big on rank but I keep mine just to remind people that I've been on both the operating and receiving end of a great deal of this weaponry. If you work here, you'd either be in maintenance, security, or ops.”

I was reasonably sure that Gallow wasn't telepathic; his mind was abuzz with thoughts even as he spoke to us, and his background as a trooper in the days before they let the enemy join up had probably precluded him from even being Afflicted. Nonetheless, it seemed as though he had read our minds when he added, “Yes, I know, the groups are the same as Chad's group. And that's because we do very similar things. Maintenance, that's those guys back there. They keep our machines running in case we're going to need them someday. Security, that's the guys you saw up front, and some less obvious guys in town. They keep an eye on things inside and outside, make sure that things don't leak back to my old employers. Ops isn't as flashy as it sounds. It's people helping with smuggling Afflicted out of quarantine, hijacking gasoline shipments, and recruiting. Whoever sent you to this town was on an op, and most of the time he probably worked a register or pushed a broom. So not as flashy, but just as essential.”

He looked to Orin as though to ask whether the latter had anything to add, and clearly he didn't.

Gallow shrugged. “Contact me through the net or let Orin know if you want to sign up. We've got plenty of room wherever you want to be.” With that and a wave he turned and began yelling commands to the group of people who were working on the helicopter.

John was thinking how security sounded pretty nice, how babysitting a monitor would be a refreshing change of pace, Jamie was thinking of how boring Rory's job of waiting for a telepath to fall into his lap must be, and Dana's mind was blanked completely. This I found odd. Though Dana had known how to block out telepathic contact – with ease – ever since I'd known her, she usually only did it when someone she didn't trust was around. She must not have been fully convinced of Gallow's good intentions. As for me, while acting as a recruiter did have a certain appeal to it, I couldn't see myself willingly going into that kind of danger again. I'd probably be of more use fixing up a helicopter or working an ordinary job in the city.

A loudspeaker blared suddenly into life. “Clear the hangar, clear the hangar. Flyby departure underway.”

“That means us,” Orin said over the increasing din of one of the helicopters starting up. He lead us to a different door than the one we'd entered through. I got a glimpse of the ceiling opening up above us just before we stepped through. I guess that answered the question as to how the choppers got out.

Orin turned immediately down a corridor and the noise diminished quickly. We passed another group of the double doors which seemed to be a favorite of whoever had designed the base, and then Orin made another turn and entered a different set of doors.

Robin and Robin were both there, and the only way I could tell the difference between them was that one was still wearing her uniform from the hospital. This latter one remained seated, staring at a computer screen, while the other approached us.

“Orin, again. I thought you said none of them had medical experience?” she asked, seeming slightly embarrassed at having been caught beside herself.

“My apologies, Robin, I didn't know you had guests.” Orin said with full sincerity. “There's a flyby scheduled for today and we had to evacuate the hangar. I should have perhaps timed our departure better, but the tour's timing is changed regardless, as we did not have to stop by the hospital. I see I would not have interrupted you there, as I had feared I might.”

Robin gestured to her sister in the chair. “I brought her over here because I needed the thinking power.” This explanation was obviously only to us, as Orin was merely feigning attention. “We can keep in touch across town,” Robin continued, “but the closer we are the better we function. I'm still working on the antibody problem.”

Robin's previous conversation with Orin concerning us had apparently correctly revealed how little knowledge any of us had when it came to biology. Regardless, she attempted to explain. “Virus immunities, specifically. People who didn't get sick when the plague started, they have antibodies to it but there's no trace other than that they actually had it. I've seen minor genetic alterations but I don't know that's not from something else. It's hard to find out, too, as I've got to work with cell cultures and they almost never tell the whole story. It's not like I can ask a normal person to volunteer for this kind of stuff, and the virus was designed just to affect people.” she shrugged. “I go on the best that computer models can tell me.”

Orin spoke up. “You do excellent work here, Robin; without you we wouldn't even know the virus was engineered to begin with.”

“Thank you, Orin. Speaking of work, though, I should get back to it.”

“Of course. I apologize for the interruption again.” With that, Orin led us out and back through the corridors. I found myself wondering if that was the sort of work I could do. Research into the plague that had given me this gift, or even research into the nature of telepathy itself. I didn't know how many institutes of higher learning Haven even had, and I suspected that like many other things in the town any sort of education was done on a highly informal basis. If I wanted to be a doctor, it was going to take a very, very long time.

Orin didn't lead us back to the hangar, instead taking another hallway which twisted and turned even more than the others had We passed double doors again and again, each indistinguishable from the others, and I not for the first time found myself wondering how Orin knew his way around. Or, for that matter, how we would if we worked here. Perhaps they gave new hires maps.

We exited the hallway into the entrance room we'd begun the tour of the underground with, Aaron looking up as though having expected our arrival. With the density of cameras in the place, this was probably a reasonable assumption.

“Nice to have you back.” he said.

“Aaron, could you escort this group out?” Orin said, gesturing to the rest of us. “I'm afraid I'll need to rest a bit before I catch up with all of you.”

“No problem.” Aaron came out from behind the desk, punched in a code to the vault-like door which lead back outside, and gestured us with him.

<< May I speak with you a moment? <<

Orin's question came into my mind clearly, with an undercurrent of worry with it. I glanced to everyone else. “I'll catch up too, guys, you go on ahead.”

Only Jamie seemed suspicious at this, though John's mind was distracted with fantasies of flying a helicopter and Dana was still blank to me. She just looked concerned for a moment and said, “Don't take too long. You're buying me lunch.” before she followed the rest of the group out.

Orin took a deep breath and released it once the others had left. “Derek, I wish to speak to you about your PDA. Have you had the chance to examine it yet?”

I shook my head. “I've spent all my time getting used to this town. And spending it with Jamie.”

Orin smiled wistfully at this. “Ah, young love, as it were. Perfectly understandable. Still, your situation makes me even more loath to ask this question, but I feel I still must. May I borrow the computer from you?”

I hadn't known what to expect when Orin requested to talk to me, but this still seemed surprising. “Why?” I replied guardedly, with more force than I'd intended.

Orin seemed to pick his next few words carefully. “The PDA was intended for me. I do not know why this is, but we both heard it speak, and it spoke to me. However, I consider you its rightful owner, and I will never – not now, not under the direst of emergencies – ask you to give it up involuntarily. It is the only link you have to your father. It, too, is the only link I have to him as well. I cannot claim that my need trumps yours. I had conversations with him, I helped get information about his treatment to the outside world. And I failed him. I would ask for this one last opportunity, to hear what he would say. It is your right to refuse, if you will.”

He stood there, looking gravely at me, his mind awhirl with memories of his early days in Haven, his fumbling attempts to contact what was left of the rapidly deteriorating press with the news my dad had given him. Atrocities were everywhere, though, a little human experimentation was low on the list of concerns.

I took this PDA out and handed it to him. “I'll want it back.” I said.

“I will have it to you tomorrow morning, before you have even awakened.” Orin promised.

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