“If—if the—that skullphone—didn’t have a safety on the switch—it—it could. But I hoped—I thought everyone would have that.”
“Did Master Sergeant Marek think that?”
Riyahn looked down, shoulders hunched. “No, Admiral.”
“Did Marek ask you to do anything besides change voltage in the electrical sockets?”
“Um… yes.”
“What?”
“He was having trouble changing the lock settings. I showed him how to bypass the passcode and change to a new one—”
“Did he have you reset the doors I hadn’t opened yet to the same code?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what the new one is?”
“Uh—I think so.”
“Well, then, tell me what you think it is.”
Riyahn stared at the floor. “I’m not sure I remember it exactly—”
“Life has a price,” Ky said. “I suggest you remember it exactly.”
“Um… 48311965… uh… 5753. I think.”
“We will test it shortly. If it happens to be a code that blows a security device, I’m sure Staff Sergeant Gossin and Sergeant Cosper will know what to do with you.” She looked at Gossin. “Have him restore the sockets, all of them, while I see if his code will open this door. If it does, I’m going to be exploring down the left branch from the T.”
Riyahn’s code worked on the door, and nothing blew up at them. Ky led the way into the passage beyond; lights came up just as they had on first entering the facility. Windows onto the passage revealed two large control rooms, one to the left and one to the right. On the left, Ky recognized a communications center, full of familiar screens, consoles, control boards, with headsets and keypads laid neatly beside each console.
“What do you think, Kamat?” Ky asked.
“Communications, definitely. Satellite uplinks, ansible-capable sets, local nets… do you think it would be safe to activate the local net, if we disabled the satellite uplinks? It would make it easier to communicate when we’re spread out down here.”
“If you can do it so it won’t be detectable topside, yes.”
“I see short-range comunits racked on that wall.” Kamat pointed. “And the squawker’s easy enough; that’s this unit here. That would allow general announcements.”
“Good. You can do that after we’ve taken a look at the other room.”
Across the passage, the other room held readouts for all the environmental controls—air, water, heat, light, power supply to the local grid. It felt warmer than the passage outside. Lights glowed on all the consoles, a steady green that should mean normal operation. Ky looked at the other readouts but didn’t understand most of them. The far side of the room was also glassed in, with a large lighted area beyond, extending beyond the room’s window. When she walked closer, she felt dizzy for a moment. Far below, three rows of round shapes extended into the distance. The floor beneath her feet vibrated slightly.
“Those are turbines,” Gurton said. “At least as big as the ones at Cavanaugh Dam, and more of them.”
“Cavanaugh Dam?” Ky asked. All that could be seen were the round, slightly mounded shapes; they might have been breakfast buns. But the floor’s vibration and the steady hum proved Gurton right.
“Across the continent from Port Major, Admiral. Power generation at Cavanaugh Dam supplied a wide area. We had a field trip there when I was fifteen. I wonder where the power’s going here. One of those turbines would provide much more power than this installation—at least, what we’ve seen of it—needs.”
“What about fuel?” Ky asked. “It can’t be hydro, can it?”
“Nuclear… geothermal… I don’t know if I can tell; it’s really not my field.” She moved away, glancing at one console after another. “I think it’s geothermal,” she said finally. “Here’s the datastream on the source, but I don’t know what the numbers mean, except it’s deep boreholes. The labels on the controls aren’t original—I’ll see if I can unstick one—” A long pause; Ky walked over beside her. Gurton had peeled back a label in the familiar writing and underneath were symbols Ky had never seen before. “I don’t know what that is,” Gurton said.
“I don’t, either.” Ky queried her implant and came up blank. “It’s no language I know.” Ky shifted her weight back and forth. Was the hum of the turbines getting louder? Or was she just reacting to the mystery? “Does anyone know if we should be changing controls or something?”
“No, sir.” Staff Sergeant Kurin had come into the room. “If it’s like most geothermal installations, it could run on its own for the down season, because we’re not using much power compared to its maximum.”
“Good. We’ll close the door on this and let it do what it’s doing.”
Farther down the passage, other door insets showed. Ky went on. A conference room, complete with table and padded chairs. Offices, some furnished with gray metal desks and chairs, others more luxurious, with large wooden desks, comfortable chairs, a sideboard. She opened the door of the largest and found facilities for making hot drinks, a wine cooler with bottles of wine and a few of beer, a shelf of liqueurs. Behind the desk hung a Slotter Key Spaceforce plaque, enameled in bright colors. And on the desk, a nameplate: COLONEL B. R. GREYHAUS, COMMANDER.
The name meant nothing to her; she rummaged in the desk and found a small green-covered book. A paper book, like the precious volumes that had gone up in flames when her childhood home was bombed. This one, when she opened it, was handwritten in a conventional script and resembled the Slotter Key logs in the Commandant’s personal library. It was not, however, a ship’s log, she saw within the first few pages. It was full of information about this very facility. She flipped over to the last page.
“As per orders this facility on seasonal shutdown 15 days early to accommodate elimination of threats to mission security. All research personnel withdrawn 10 days prior; Pingat Islands base advised via usual channels no further need for SAR readiness due to local operations. Anticipate return to normal operations at usual date in new year.” She flipped back; the “usual date” was defined by day length: thirty days after the equinox.
Two days later, the last entry. “Base secure. All communications blocked until return. Mission report forwarded to command. (signed) B. R. Greyhaus.” The date was ten days before she had arrived in Slotter Key space, seven days before the shuttle flight. Here was proof the shuttle flight had been sabotaged, that someone in Spaceforce knew about it—had arranged it. And that suggested the Commandant’s presence on the shuttle was the primary reason it was sabotaged. It would have been easy for them all to die—if the pilots had not managed to achieve separation in time, if the weather had been worse, if they had not been able to deploy the life rafts, then reach land, then reach this sanctuary—they would all have died, and no one would have known what happened. All the deaths would have been attributed to the shuttle failure.
No one knew what had happened even now but those here, the survivors, and now Rafe. It hit her, all at once, that this could have been a strike at her family as well. Not only her, but her aunt Grace, the new Rector of Defense.
“Anything useful?” Kurin said from the doorway.
“Very,” Ky said. “This place closed earlier than usual because of us—whoever made the plans knew that there would be a shuttle flight with the Commandant on it, and ordered this place closed seven days ahead of time. Told the Pingat Base nobody was here and to cease SAR activity early.”
“Ensuring they wouldn’t search for survivors…”
“I read it that way. The Rector may have pushed them to do a flight or two, but if they were part of it—do you know anything about the Pingat Base?”