They had talked themselves hungry. Clara was sitting at one end of a long dining table, sampling vault cuisine. In attendance were seven of the vault dweller’s highest administrators, as well as two enforcers armed with tasers. At the opposite end sat the Head Honcho, an older man with a wrinkled face and bushy black eyebrows. Slicked black hair receding over his scalp like seaweed combed by the tide. It was difficult to tell his age, Clara was used to counting a person’s scars. But all of the members of the Honcho’s staff seated with them were unblemished, except for the head of security: a stern looking woman named Gloria who wore a black eyepatch. However, Clara surmised that the eyepatch must be due to a recent injury, as even she had admitted to having never faced the horrors of the apocalypses.
As the Head Honcho told it, the occupants of the vault named ‘Alpine Vaults’ had all gone underground years before the cataclysm, fearing nuclear war, keeping the vault door open while they took their time to integrate into subterranean life. When the cataclysm occurred, they wasted no time shutting their doors and locking themselves inside. Their communications with the outside world failed not long after that, and they were left in the dark, or so the Honcho claimed.
Clara took a sip of water. She had been told it came from a reservoir which ran through the vault’s water treatment centre, and tasted as fresh as any mountain stream she’d tasted.
“Quadra is the largest nearby settlement that I know of,” she explained. “It is run by four tribes who came together to work in unison, each looking after a different division of society and building a safe haven for the people behind its walls. Outside the settlement is farmland and hunting lodges. It’s a dangerous line of work, but profitable. People need food. Quadra is a key trading hub too. It attracts scavengers from all across the wasteland. That’s how Andy and I found the settlement originally, we were accompanying a trade caravan.”
“Wait,” the Head Honcho stopped her, holding out his hand. “There’s trade outside?”
“Yeah, quite a lot. Ammo, food, tech, information. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of dangerous people out there. I’ve worked for some of them. But the leader of Quadra, Old Blue Eyes, is different. He’s…” Clara took a breath. “He’s a good leader. A good man, I think. He wants what’s best for the world. Stability.” It was a bitter pill to swallow, given how Clara had burned ties with Blue Eyes and his gang of Harmonies. But perhaps she could hope for reconciliation yet. If she acted as an envoy for the vault dwellers, perhaps he would forgive her failure and theft.
“What of the apocalypses?” one of the officers asked. He wore a pale red jumpsuit and thin rimmed glasses. What was his name again? Clara had been introduced to each of the attendants, but had struggled to remember all their names. “Are they still active? How dangerous are they?”
The same question had been asked in many ways over the course of two hours. Clara was patient with the vault dwellers, afterall, it was a lot of information to take in at once. “It varies,” she said. “Some apocalypses ended after the first few weeks of the cataclysm, others stuck around. I’ve heard of an unnatural storm in one region which covers the entire land. It has been raging for years now, swallowing other zones up with it. It will keep spreading until something stops it. That's the saving grace of all of this destruction. It’s only because all of the apocalypses happened all at once that they managed to cancel each other out. If not for that, the world would likely have been destroyed by one zombie apocalypse or one killer plague. In some cases, one apocalypse consumed another, took over its territory and grew stronger. That still happens now.”
“I’m sorry,” the head of engineering spoke. His name was Kyle, he wore a pastel yellow jumpsuit and had thick workman’s hands. “I don’t quite understand. Are you saying these apocalypses are sentient? And what exactly counts as an apocalypse?”
“Good question,” Clara said. “There are a lot of theories. Fact is, we still don’t know.” She leant forward in her chair, jabbing her fingers to emphasise the point. “Every apocalypse imaginable, happened. Think back to books and videos you saw before the cataclysm. If someone imagined it somewhere, then it happened on that day. I’ve come across a lot of whacky apocalypses in my time, but it barely scratches the surface of what’s out there in the world.”
“Do they still happen?” a short woman in pale-red asked. “Is it dangerous?”
“It is dangerous, yes,” Clara said. “But no, I haven’t heard of any new apocalypses happen in the last eight years, just the old ones still going.”
“And sentience?” Kyle repeated. “You mentioned mutants, are they…?”
“Some of them are,” Clara said. “We fought a vampire recently. It talked to us, it was definitely sentient.”
“A vampire?” a man wearing blue overalls scowled. “That’s terrifying. It’s almost unbelievable.”
“I suppose those are the kind of horror stories your companion is telling in the Habbitation Sector right now?” The Head Honcho scowled at her. “I guess the secret is out.”
So that’s where Andy was. Clara’s radio hadn’t worked since he had left the Head Honcho’s office over an hour ago. She wondered what he was getting up to, but was grateful he’d made himself absent for this diplomatic meeting between the heads of staff. She only hoped that he wouldn’t get into any trouble.
“It’s not all so bad,” she continued. “People find a way to survive. But not only that, civilisation is beginning to recover. There are cartographers who collect information about the apocalypse zones and draw up maps to help people navigate the world, and avoid the most dangerous parts. The terrain outside of this vault is extremely defensible. I could see a community thriving here. You clearly have advanced technology and means for sustainability.”
“You mentioned zones of apocalypses,” Gloria, the head of security, asked. “What zone is above us?”
Clara checked her wrist terminal, although she already knew the answer. “It’s marked as Fae Creatures. Think fairies, gnomes, goblins, that sort of stuff. Old folklore and nursery rhymes.”
“What?” Kyle said. “That stuff’s real?”
“Erm, around here it is,” Clara circled the region displayed on her terminal. “We encountered trolls in the mountains nearby. Not a huge threat, really. What you’ve got to look out for is something like in Marsay.”
Clara displayed her terminal for all to see, zooming in on the map location. The staff leaned towards her, squinting at the display. “I was there recently. It’s infested with zombies. Thousands of them, tens of thousands. But they’re isolated, they won’t leave the city unless they’re drawn out. We encountered a cult on the road west of Marsay who used the zombies as a weapon. They drew them out of the city and herded them towards where we were staying inside a shopping centre. That’s an example of how an apocalypse zone can change, expand or diminish.”
The room was quiet. The Honcho’s staff looked at one another, or down at their plates, deep in contemplation. Clara had let her excitement get ahead of her. She was at risk of overwhelming these sheltered folk with horror stories of the outside world. Until just a few hours ago, their society had believed that they were the last people on earth, safe from the desolation above. Clara and Andy had ruined that, shattered their perceptions of reality, and here she was bragging about taking on zombies and cults and demons. She needed to slow down, give them something positive to think about.
“Your community is clearly well run,” Clara continued. “Tight knit. And I hear you have some military equipment in an armoury. Combined with our help, if you hired us, you could make quite an impression on the wasteland. With the technology you have here, if you wanted to open the doors and expand, I’m sure you would be very affluent. You don’t need to worry about the apocalypses, nothing surprises me and Andy anymore.”
All heads turned to the Head Honcho. “I’m afraid that will never happen, Clara.”
Clara bit her lip. Had she blabbed too much and scared them off? “There’s a lot to be gained from expanding onto the surface. You could keep your vault secured, but start trading with other settlements. I can hook you up.” Clara leaned forward, looking at each administrator in turn. “Don’t you miss the sunlight? Fresh air? Freedom? It’s all still out there. Opportunity. We can help you expand. The world above is young. You might be the most powerful settlement…” Clara shook her head, searching for the words, “on the continent. Your potential is enormous.”
“Our lighting systems simulate sunlight just fine,” the Honcho said grimly. “We have vitamins and air recycling. We don’t need the dangers of the outside world. It was a travesty that the door was ever opened.” The old man glared at Kyle, head of engineering. “It shall not happen again.”
“You don’t need to be afraid,” Clara said. “The world’s changed, but people are still going.”
“Are you old enough to remember the old world, Clara?” The Honcho’s bushy eyebrows creased. “It was a dangerous place even before the apocalypse. War and disease, the threat of nuclear annihilation. Economic collapse. Tyranny and rebellion. From what you’ve told me, it has somehow gotten worse.”
“The worst of it is over,” Clara said. “Humanity survived, and we’re no longer on the brink. Some people want to rebuild-”
“Rebuild what?” the Honcho said. “The same corrupt world, so that the same catastrophes happen again?”
“Why don’t you decide?” Clara shook her head. “You could be a part of the new world. You can’t just stay down here forever.”
“We can do what we please,” Gloria said, fixing Clara with a cold stare.
“This vault has a predicted lifespan of nine-hundred years,” the Honcho said. “It is state of the art, one of only three in the world. Just over eight years have passed since it was first inhabited. That leaves eight-hundred and ninety-two remaining years until we must repopulate the earth.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Eight-hundred years?” Clara said. “The world will have repopulated itself by then, and the technology you have here will be nothing. You’ll be like cavemen coming out of the ground.”
“Stop!” The Honcho stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “Stop talking, or this insubordination will go on your record. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, Clara. You do not know how we do things down here. You’re uncivilised. A vagabond. However, I shall teach you how to live here, for it is my begrudging pleasure to inform you that you shan’t be leaving our vault.”
Clara froze in her chair. A chill sensation rushed up her spine as her Augmentation’’s artificial hormones seeped into her veins. Her skull prickled like static energy before a storm. Clara gripped the edge of her seat to stop herself jumping up. “Excuse me?”
“We cannot afford to have our wearabouts leaked to these tribes of barbarians that you talk about. However, I hesitate to execute you. We preserve life here in Alpine Vaults, not extinguish it, something which you must adapt to, as I am left with only one option… to integrate you into our society.”
Clara began to object, but the Head Honcho held up his finger. “One thing, I must make clear. I do not yet invite you and your companion to contribute to our genestock. I don’t care what types of friends you make in Habitation Sec, nor how lonely you become, bereaved of the outside world, you shan’t be breeding, not until the requisite checks can be made of your DNA. I won’t have my population corrupted.” The Honcho poured a glass of ice water from a glass jug. “Speaking of your companion, where is he now, Gloria?”
The woman with an eyepatch engaged her radio. “Status on the contaminant's whereabouts?” She smiled at Clara, spiteful and sharp, accented by the brick-red lipstick she wore.
A strand of Clara’s hair escaped her ponytail and rose on the static energy growing in her body. She had relinquished her submachine gun and sidearm to a security office before the administrative gathering had started. There were fewer firearms amongst the vault dwellers than she was used to seeing. The guards dressed in grey jumpsuits with red trim were all armed with tasers, not firearms. If the situation became violent, she would have to rely on her Augmentation’s powers for the first time ever. Her nerves were laced with a virile power, urging her to act.
“Not yet,” she whispered to Ohm, assuming her AI was paying attention. The wash of adrenaline ebbed like a trigger half-pulled, ready to activate in a flash.
“This is habitation guard. Contaminate is not visible,” the radio sounded. “He entered the kitchen's elevator, escorted by the external guard.”
“Cameras. Hydroponics?” Gloria said.
The radio buzzed, a new voice spoke. “Contaminate was escorted through Hydroponics a few minutes ago. We didn’t receive an update from them, but they’re well armed. The contaminate shouldn’t pose a threat.”
“Where are they now?”
“Inside the primary elevator. I assumed the external guard were transferring the contaminate to Admin Sec. One moment Ma’am, incoming request.”
The smile faded on Gloria’s face. “Stall the request. Revoke Officer Jones’ access rights immediately.”
“Yes Ma’am. Access revoked.”
“If we’re not welcome,” Clara said. “Then we’ll leave. No need to cause a fuss.”
The Honcho shook his head. “It’s too late for that now. Gloria, status?”
“Excuse me,” the woman rose from the table. “I’ll see for myself what’s going on.”
“External guard have requested access to the Level Four armoury,” the radio buzzed. “Can you confirm?”
“Deny. Deny.” Gloria’s voice cracked like a whip. “Officer Jones is to be considered defected until I can confirm his intentions The external guard are to be considered compromised. Vault security shall be arriving shortly.” The door hissed and slid open and Gloria stormed out, her boots clanging off the metal walkway beyond.
“Trouble with your staff?” Clara said.
“Trouble with our guests,” the Honcho quipped. “Stephenson, detain this young lady.”
A young enforcer posted by the doorway approached her. Clara stood to meet him, raising her hands. “I wouldn’t, Stepherson. I have magic hands.”
“Please miss.” The young man grabbed her wrist, forcefully, but not painfully. She wondered if he was showing restraint out of fear, or due to her being a woman. Clara pinched his hand below the knuckle, squeezing his thumb joint, and yanked his wrist across his body. Like lighting a fuse, the pressure she applied set off a chain of events through his body. Clara grabbed his elbow and twisted until it wrapped around her waist, gripping the nerve in his hand until he submitted to his knees.
“Stepherson, you wimp,” the Honcho shouted. “Do your job properly, or not at all.”
Kyle, the head engineer, strode around the table towards Clara, a businesslike expression on his hard face.
“I don’t want to be violent.” Clara pushed the young guard to the floor and stepped back, raising her hands. “I’m not your enemy.”
Kyle ignored her, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall. Something dug into Clara’s back painfully. She kicked at Kyle’s groin, but he was standing side-on, defending his vulnerability behind thick thighs.
“Submit, young lady,” he growled.
Clara slapped the engineer in the ear, emitting a Thunderclap of electrical energy on impact. Kyle screamed and fell to his knees covering his ear. Clara punched him in the jaw for good measure. Sparks flew as her knuckle connected, knocking the big man on his back. She darted for the doorway, jamming the door panel, but it would not open for her. The administrators screamed and jumped out of their seats, then an arm wrapped around her neck. Reflexes kicked in. Clara pushed her tailbone into her attacker’s hips, grabbed his arm and fell to one knee, throwing the man over her shoulder. He slammed into the doorway, arms and legs flailing. The security guard’s armband must have scanned it while he was in flight, because the door panel blinked green and opened. His young face stared up at Clara from beneath her, eyes wide, expression shocked. Clara patted his cheek. “Don’t follow me.”
Dashing out of the dining room, Clara fled down narrow corridors. Large rooms were visible behind windows, well decorated and well looked after. This was the council’s sector of the vault–the upper echelons of their society. Clara followed signs on the ceiling until she reached the vault’s main tunnel. At each end was an elevator–one led to the surface, the other, deeper underground.
“Andy,” she radioed, stopping at the corner, but there was still no signal. If only she could get onto the vault’s radio network, she could send him a message, ask him what was going on. It was that, or search for him on foot. There had to be a better way. She hadn’t revealed the true extent of her Augmentation’s powers yet, nor had she informed the council of Bulwark Project and its Augmented super soldiers; that was an ace she’d kept up her sleeve, and clearly for good reason. Despite her victory over Kyle an the scrawny guard, she didn’t fancy her odds against the entire vault security staff single handedly, magic hands or not.
Clara had memorised the map in the Honcho’s office while they chatted that afternoon. To her left down the tunnel were Security Stations, Observation and Prisons. She checked that the dimachaeron device which Gabriel had given her was still in her pocket. Perhaps it could help her hack the internal systems too.
“Hello, are you lost?” A woman in blue pastel overalls stopped beside her in the main tunnel. She was holding a small girl’s hand. The child was wearing a matching overall rolled up at the ankles and sleeves where it was a little too baggy for her.
“Head Honcho’s office?” Clara remembered the way, but felt obliged to answer the woman out of politeness.
“Oh, it’s just at the head of the High sec.” The woman pointed to Clara’s right, down the tunnel, towards the exit elevator.
“Who is it?” the young girl asked.
Clara looked into the girl’s unflinching eyes. The child’s expression was brilliantly honest; she had nothing to fear, and nothing to hide. Clara had forgotten what that looked like. “My name is-” for a moment, Clara faltered.
“Stop, miss. Please.” The young guard from the council room had caught up, hobbling down the corridor after her. “Backup is on its way. You are outnumbered. Lay down your arms.”
“I’m unarmed, idiot.” A clamour caught Clara’s attention. Vault dwellers in grey jumpsuits and red armbands were running towards her from the Security sector, armed with riot gear. Clara ran in the opposite direction, following the signs towards the Head Honcho’s office. She rounded a corner, recognising the route, and spotted the office ahead. Two double doors were set into the large alcove. Tall plants stood in pots beside the doorway, basking in the light of blue bulbs. Two guards were receiving orders from an officer wearing a military cap. The officer turned as Clara came into view. Gloria scowled. “Shouldn’t you be detained by now?”
Shocked, Clara’s hand went to her hip, feeling for a sidearm. But no, that wasn’t necessary anymore. Charging forward, she summoned thunderous energy in her palms glowing with golden light. Gloria’s eyes went wide, the sneer fell from her face and she raised her hands to fight. Clara clapped in her face, compressing the energy into a dense sphere, and pushed her palms outwards. The alcove flashed like searing thunder, blinding them.
Clara ducked and swung a powerful punch from her hips, striking one of the guards in the temple. The other guard, she jabbed in the solar plexus, then kicked in the head as he bent over. With each strike, she discharged a little more electrical energy on impact. Every blow was cripplingly fast. She’d never felt so powerful in her life.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, sharp nails digging in. Clara spun on the woman, but something struck her in the chest. The object filled her with electricity. It was like being plunged into an ice bath. Her muscles rippled, her senses flooded with ecstasy. There was no pain or black spots in her vision. The taser only invigorated her. Clara punched the woman in the chest, detonating a Thunderclap, transferring all of the energy pent up inside her. Instead of just stunning the woman, the Thunderclap catapulted Gloria backwards across the alcove, sending her crashing into the vault wall where she slumped to the floor, breathing heavily and clutching her chest.
Clara tore her armband off as Gloria watched her limply, eyes spinning in their sockets. Scanning it, the Honcho’s office door hissed and opened. Clara grabbed the interior door panel and sent a shock of electricity through its system. The metal casing crackled and popped as the electronics fried. She skirted inside and closed it after her, locking it from the control panel inside. Just as the two doors were sealing in the centre, Clara caught glimpses of a troupe of guards coming into the alcove, shields and electrical rods at the ready. She turned on the Head Honcho’s desk, searching for the administrative computer.
“Right then,” she said to herself, fishing the dimachaeron hacking tool out of her pocket. She scanned an upright monitor with the little domed device, watching and listening out of an affirmative beep or LED. “Come on, work.” The Honcho’s PC seemed to be built into the desk itself. A second terminal framed in a glass panel covered half of the desk’s oak wood surface. The keyboard was fixed into a roll-out draw. There was no obvious electronic casing or ports. It was one solid system, however a knot of cables running from underneath the desk into the floor gave her a clue.
Unsheathing her knife, Clara stabbed her way through the glass panel covering the inbuilt monitor. Guards banged on the door, shouting threats, their voices dulled by the tight seal. How long would it hold once they got a crowbar between the joints? Could she chop her way through the oak desk to the computer inside and hack it before they broke in? And what was Andy doing, galavanting around with vault security, visiting the armoury? She had a pretty good guess. Clara grumbled, thinking of what she’d say once she gained access to the vault’s comms.
Bracing her back, Clara lifted the heavy desk and toppled it on its side, revealing its underbelly. An odd colouration separated two slabs of wood, the grains of which did not match. The cables fed through a hole beside it, possibly a weakness in the design. That’s where she’d start chopping.