SHILOH
By the time Shiloh reaches the main hall—moving at a fast jog, Miles only a few paces ahead of her—a warning siren blares over the loudspeakers. There's a lot of movement. People are hurried, and concerned, but not panicked. Not yet.
Some of them yell, turning in Shiloh's direction. She's a member of the Board, after all. Perhaps she knows what's going on. Perhaps she can tell them what's happening.
She can't, of course. The siren's wail is overwhelming. She can't hear their questions, and she certainly can't answer them.
There's already a hundred people packed into the main hall. Word travels fast, and the Cloister is pretty small, for how many people it houses. Not to mention that obnoxious alarm sound, putting a little pep in everyone's step. Sounds like an air-raid siren in a World War II movie.
Sliding past the encroaching mob of bewildered citizens, Shiloh hops up the stairs at the back of the cargo bay, two at a time. The stairs lead to an elevated plateau. It looks kind of like a stage, and it's used that way during main hall meetings.
Shiloh makes her way to the back of the 'stage', toward the door in the corner. She pulls the latch. The door makes a grindy complaint as it swings open. Shiloh shuts the door behind her. She heads down the narrow corridor, her way lit by greenish-white fluorescent bars. She makes one right turn and stops at the door at the end. She yanks on the latch, but it won't budge.
Damn thing's stuck.
She pounds on the door. "Hey! Open up!"
She makes her hand into a fist and keeps slamming the heel against the door in a steady, drum-like beat.
Two to three seconds pass. Finally, there's a mechanical crunch from inside the door. It opens, and Cade's head pops out through the gap.
"Yeah?"
Cade is a couple years Shiloh's junior. His complexion is pale, with freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, and he looks bored, if a little annoyed. Sometimes Shiloh wonders if redheads generally do have a fiery, rebellious disposition, or if that's more of a perspective thing. Maybe red-haired kids are aware of the expectation, if only subconsciously, and conform to meet that result, which would be ironic in its own way.
His orange-red hair is chin-length, and parted down the middle. Sometimes it's messy and all over the place. Sometimes he uses pre-war hair wax or gel to slick or style it.
Right now, it's more in the 'messy' department. He's wearing a dark grey jumpsuit, similar to Shiloh's, though his is in need of a good ironing. A set of over-ear headphones hangs over his neck, with an aux cord leading into one of his big pockets, likely connected to his portable CD player.
"What's up with the racket!?"
Shiloh doesn't need to yell. The walls and door between them and the loudspeaker in the main hall deaden the noise. But she's raising her voice to get a point across.
Cade shrugs. "Did what I was told."
"By who?"
"Gavin. Called me over the radio."
"Gavin doesn't have the authority to do that."
"He was quite insistent," Cade says. "And it seemed important."
"Well, it's not. It's making it difficult to communicate."
Cade shrugs, as if to admit her point.
"Yeah, so, can you shut it off? And can you let me in there?"
A pause, as Cade studies her. Then, "Sure."
It's hard to tell, but it seems like he sees Shiloh's side of it. Maybe. It's always hard to tell with Cade.
He opens the door for her. Beyond is a cramped corner of an office, with a wide desk and an office chair with wheels that squeak as he rolls it out of the way. Boxy monitors are stacked atop each other in rows on the desk. Most of the monitors are connected to several cameras positioned outside the facility, at key points.
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Standing in front of the desk, Cade uses a mouse to maneuver the cursor on one of the monitors. He pulls up a black screen lined with cryptic lines of code, and begins tapping away at the keyboard.
There's no meaningful way she can be of help in this situation. She does have some affinity with technology, but only in regards to certain pieces of post-SERAPHIM tech she can 'Jack' into directly.
Scanning the monitors, her eyes settle on a view of the canyon directly outside the sealed cargo bay doors. There's a slim, black ship in center frame, not fifty yards from the facility's outer wall, docked among the rocks. Just sitting, like a parked car. Like it belongs there. Like we should have been expecting its arrival.
"When did it arrive?" Shiloh asks.
"About...two minutes ago?" Cade says, his neck crooked as he peers down at his monitor. "I called Seamus, and the word went out from there."
It was safe to say the meeting Shiloh had called didn't matter anymore. Or perhaps it mattered more, but in a scope beyond Shiloh's original intentions. She had wanted, in part, to prepare a way to escape the castle, in case a dragon was to arrive. And now the dragon was here.
"Cade, we need to get that siren shut off. We need people to get the hell out of the Cargo Bay."
"Fair enough."
"What's taking so long? Can't you just press a button?"
"Doesn't work like that," Cade says.
"Who's idea was this, anyway?"
Another signature shrug from Cade. "Gavin had me install it a couple months back."
Not that long after Shiloh's father had died, then? What did that mean? Could Gavin have foreseen something like this?
What Shiloh knows for certain is that Gavin wants to make a fuss about this. He wants people to know there's a problem, before he presents his solution, whatever that might be. He doesn't just want to save the day. He wants to make sure no one forgets it. The chaos is good for his agenda. It makes it seem like there's no plan, and no recourse.
Cade makes a definitive tap of the return key, and the muted sound of the siren in the bay comes to a stop.
"There ya go-" Cade says, swiveling to face her.
But she's already heading toward the door.
By the time she makes it back out into the main hall, there's twice the crowd than when she left through the back door. Almost the entire population of the Cloister is here, smushed together, minus the members of the Watch.
The people haven't stormed the stage of the conference area. Not yet. They're still adhering to some sense of social normalcy.
Three members of the Board, Seamus, Adrian, and Ruth, are weaving their way through the crowd. Dozens of people are talking at once. Amongst themselves, and to the members of the Board in the crowd. Some are even yelling at Shiloh herself, trying to get her attention. Seamus, wobbling his round body through the crowd, holding onto his hat so it doesn't fall off his head, keeps talking into his walkie-talkie, trying to continue the emergency message over the radio. As if anyone can hear it or cares at this point. None of this is distinguishable. It's all noise.
"HEY!" Shiloh yells. Some people take notice, but overall it doesn't seem to make much of a dent.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" A loud, modulated voice cuts through the chaos. Evelyn is standing halfway up the stairs to the stage, holding a megaphone. "WE WILL HAVE ORDER. THAT MEANS, FOR NOW, YOU NEED TO BE QUIET, SO THAT WE CAN SPEAK. IF EVERYONE IS TALKING, NOBODY IS. IS THAT CLEAR?"
A gradual hush falls over the crowd. Sometimes all it takes is an assertive voice to get people to fall in line. A voice that says, 'Chaos has not yet won. There will be order.'
As long as there is uniformity, some sense of normality, then maybe the world hasn't come to an end just yet.
Seamus lowers his walkie-talkie, looking around. The other Board members do as well. Then, strangely, they appear to be looking up at Shiloh. To her.
Oh. It's because Evelyn is holding the megaphone out to her.
She's having a hard time reading the old woman's expression. They just had a pretty severe disagreement, the two of them, back at Evelyn's place. To Shiloh, it had seemed almost like a declaration of war on Evelyn's part. But now here she is, handing off the megaphone, like a peace offering. She seems determined. Resolute. Though, in what, Shiloh can't be entirely sure. Should she take it as a victory, or just a small concession?
In a situation like this, does it even matter?
Evelyn nods to Shiloh, as if to say, Go on, take it. You should be the one to do this.
Shiloh nods back appreciatively, but she doesn't take the device. She can project her voice well enough.
"Seamus is right. We need to retreat to a safe position. We need to get people as far as possible from this room in particular. We need people to situate themselves behind a sealed door, with some provisions, and some means of communication. Access to emergency masks would be ideal, but I know we only have so many of those to-"
Order is already gone, again.
Evelyn turns the megaphone back on. "I SWEAR TO GOD HIMSELF, IF YOU ALL WANT TO DIE HERE TODAY, THIS IS THE WAY TO DO IT."
Not exactly tactful. Shiloh half expects that this might be that last ounce of pressurized heat before the kettle explodes. But it isn't. An uneasy quiet settles over the crowd again. Toward the back, Sophie, a mother in her mid-thirties, starts audibly crying. She's holding her four-year-old daughter. Her husband is in the Watch, which is why he's not here to comfort her right now.
"There's a Ruster ship docked outside." This part, they've likely already heard, but it can't hurt to reiterate it. "It's about fifty yards off from the sealed cargo bay doors."
This part, it seems people did not know, because there's a sudden, uncomfortable stirring in the crowd, like a thick clump of grass blades as a snake passes through. As anyone could predict, they are suddenly less keen on being here in this room, right now.
"That's why we need everyone out of here, cordoned off somewhere safe," Shiloh continues.
"What's happening!?" Yells an older man, closer to the front. "Can't you just tell us!?"
Seamus cuts in before Shiloh can answer, waving his walkie-talkie in the air. "All a precaution, of course. Gavin and the Watch are on their way.”
“Precisely,” Shiloh says. “The situation is developing as we speak. We’ll know more momentarily.”
“Gavin’s going to destroy that ship on sight,” Seamus says loudly, nodding. “We have nothing to worry about.”
Shiloh has to clench her jaw before her next thought can escape between her teeth.
He’s going to do WHAT!?