“No,” said Ky. “The slope is not as steep as a stairway; makes it hard to figure.”
“At least it’s cut off the wind,” said Ennisay. “Feels warmer, whether it is or not.”
Ky nodded without answering. The ramp ended in a space larger than the chamber above with a wide opening to the left. Here, too, lights came on, this time along a straight, level corridor as wide as the opening, with doors on either side. All were closed. All had keypads but no card slots. Although they were labeled, the labels meant nothing to her; clearly they were codes. She tried the first door, expecting it—like the outer door—to refuse Aunt Grace’s code, but to her surprise it opened. A small room, not more than three meters wide and deep, lined with metal shelving, the shelving full of boxes. Two were open and partly fulclass="underline" one of white paper, one of yellow.
“Admin,” Chok said. “The spoor of the paper pushers.”
Across the passage, the shelves of a larger room held a wide variety of electronic gear: desk comps, pocket coms, printers, cameras, surveillance gear including both wire-guided and wireless fliers, each carefully wrapped in transparent fabric and labeled, this time in familiar symbols. “Whatever this organization was—or is,” Ky said, “it’s certainly well supplied with equipment. I wonder if they’ll know we broke the lock or turned the lights on.”
She turned as a clatter of boots on the ramp neared them. Marek and his search team came into the main hall. Marek whistled.
“If they noticed, they’ll come rescue us,” Ennisay said.
“They’ll come, at least,” Marek said. His brows drew together; Ky noticed a bulge of muscle at the side of his jaw.
Ky moved on to the next rooms. Later they would have time to examine everything in each of them, but she still needed to find something they could use to survive. Fuel for the generator. A water source. Food. Clothing.
The next door on the right opened into a larger room lined with racks that held weapons familiar to all of them. An armory—and one full of Slotter Key military weapons stamped with the familiar logos. An unlocked door on the far side opened into a practice range with a shooting gallery and a line of targets on cables at the far end. Cabinets on two walls held ammunition, cleaning supplies, replacement parts, fully charged powerpaks for the weapons that needed them. Two long workbenches filled the center. On one, a standard-issue rifle lay clamped in a stand. She went to it, recognizing the biometric control panel just as Marek said, “No good; these are all palm-locked.”
“If we can break the code, we can hunt with them,” Cosper said.
“Later,” Ky said. Her mouth watered at the thought of fresh meat. There had to be a way to unlock those weapons.
Across the passage again, and this time something immediately usefuclass="underline" a store of clothing, from olive-green heavy-duty cold-weather suits through indoor shipsuits to underwear, in a range of sizes, all with Slotter Key military tags inside. Clean, whole clothing—now if they could find water enough to bathe and change, what a difference that would make. Ky resisted the temptation to grab gloves off the shelf—she didn’t really need them down here.
“Almost paradise,” Inyatta said. “Warm, no wind, new clothes—”
“Maybe it’ll have water and food as well,” Gossin said. “Or a magic tunnel straight to Port Major.” Nobody laughed.
Next down on that side was a door without a lock, a swing door, and inside what Ky had hoped for—a large shower room and toilet facility, much like those she’d used at the Academy. She turned one of the faucets; a trickle of water came out and stopped. A loud click came from overhead and a mechanical voice blared:
“THIS FACILITY IS NOT AVAILABLE FOR USE AND REQUIRES AUTHORIZATION FROM OFFICER TO RESTORE FUNCTIONALITY. IF OFFICER IS PRESENT, STATE NAME, RANK, NUMBER.”
Marek looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Ky shrugged. It couldn’t hurt to try. “Vatta, K., Admiral—” and uttered not her aunt’s number, but the one she’d been given at the Academy.
After a moment, the voice spoke again: “FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED.” This time the water ran from the faucets, hot from hot and cold from cold. Ky turned them back off. Was the speaker connected to an AI of some kind?
“Locate mess,” she said, testing that idea. No response. Several other commands—to open doors—also produced no response.
“If it’s an AI, it’s a very limited one,” Marek said. “Maybe they had a problem with troops leaving the water on or something.”
“So we’ll explore,” Ky said. She led the way to the end of the passage, a T-intersection. To the left was a short passage with two doors on one side, one on the right, and a heavy door with a lock panel and wheel, like a pressure door. To the right was an open arch.
That led into a dining area: four rows of three tables, each topped with eight upside-down chairs. To the left, behind it, was a kitchen, with a serving line dividing kitchen from dining: long metal counters, cooktops, ovens, storage below for large pots, all neatly covered, implements hanging on racks, bagged to keep them dust-free. At one end an opening led into a large pantry with coolers, open empty racks for produce, and rows of canned and boxed foods. Ky’s mouth watered.
Specialist Gurton opened one of the coolers: neatly wrapped packages of frozen foods, clearly labeled. “I could start cooking now,” she said. She turned on a faucet; water came out. Then she touched one of the cooktop controls and a red light came on. “It’s all working. We could have a real meal.”
Ky almost said yes, but Marek spoke first. “Cleanup first. Everybody showers, gets into clean clothes, then we can eat.” He looked at Ky. “If the admiral agrees.”
“Cooks clean up first,” she said. “Get a start on the meal. But not too rich a meal at first. We still need to be careful about that.”
“Good point,” Marek said. “Two of you—” Two hands went up: Gurton and Kamat; he nodded. “Get clean clothes from the storeroom, see if you can find hairnets and kitchen gloves, then shower.” The two volunteers hurried off. To Ky he said, “Send someone back topside to bring the others down?”
“Yes. Let’s see what we have for sleeping quarters next.” More questions rose with every discovery, but she had to focus on the immediate needs. Water, food, warmth, someplace safe to sleep… but this whole place felt safe. Which could mean it wasn’t.
The entrance to quarters was only a few meters back up the main corridor, a passage with no door and doorways opening off it. First on the left, a small office. “Watch station,” Marek said before she commented. “Good place for it.” They moved down the passage, opening all the doors. On the left, a large open bay with bunk beds. Bedding, neatly folded and sealed in clear bags, lay on the foot of each. On the right, smaller rooms with two or four beds each, also with bedding. “NCO quarters,” Marek said. “That’s probably officers’ quarters down there.” He nodded toward the end of the passage, where one door ended the passage, and another was set nearby on either side. “My guess is the end one’s yours, Admiral, as ranking officer. Your aide will take one of the others.”
“You’ll take the last, as senior NCO?”
He shook his head. “No, Admiral. I’ll take one of the NCO rooms nearer the watch office up there. Lets me keep a closer eye on things. We have plenty of room; no one will be crowded.”
Ky opened the door to the end room. She found a small suite: an office with desk, chair, two side chairs, shelves along one side and cabinets below, then a door into a comfortable bedroom with another desk built into shelving and cabinets on one side. Power outlets showed at the back of the desk. On either side of the bed a small nightstand with a light; power outlets on the wall beside both nightstands. Two comfortable-looking chairs. A closet with a built-in clothes ’fresher and a lockbox with a key in the lock. She stowed the flight recorder and the IDs she’d collected in the lockbox, and took the key with her. She felt the bed and thought of lying down just for a moment.