“We all understand, Rob.” Adonia looked around her group. “But your systems haven’t exactly functioned the way they should, and you’re talking about automatically triggered lethal weapons. What if there’s another crossover, another glitch?”
Harris’s voice was surprisingly crisp. “Ask Mr. van Dyckman if the system is working as intended. He’s right beside you. And ask him about any other cascading problems that might occur with his fuel rods.”
Garibaldi swung a glare at van Dyckman. “He means the disassembled rods in dry storage, right? Not any still-hot fuel rods.”
Unsettled, Victoria Doyle also stared at van Dyckman, but he huffed. “Once the lockdown is lifted, you’ll see the whole facility soon enough. We intend to show you everything as part of the review. We’ll pick up where we left off.”
“We’re just going to continue the tour?” Garibaldi said in disbelief. “Mrs. Garcia was in mid-sentence when the first alarms went off. You want us to go back up there, open the vault door, and let her keep speaking?”
Pulaski moved to the opposite door and looked through the wire-embedded safety glass, peering down the tunnel that led to the lower level. Van Dyckman joined him, speaking in a low voice. “He’s right, Senator. These are unusual circumstances, and our review group couldn’t see everything we needed them to see. Maybe you can postpone the Intelligence Oversight Committee hearing, sir? Valiant Locksmith is still a viable program.”
“Unfortunately, my hands are tied.” Pulaski sounded discouraged. “This is not what you promised me, Stanley. I have everything on the line here.”
“So do I,” van Dyckman mumbled.
Garibaldi pushed the second chair out of his way and leaned against the wall. He scrubbed his hands through his already unruly hair, which didn’t improve his appearance. “Better yet, stop generating more and more nuclear waste, which only exacerbates the problem. Shut down the power plants until you figure out what to do. Nuclear energy will always be dangerous, and it will always generate deadly by-products.” He looked at the others confined in the small room. “You know nuclear power is a dead end, like burning coal. Better to focus on the longer term. There are dozens of promising options for clean power already. They just need to be scaled up and supported.”
“That’s a pipe dream, and you know it! No alternative can be deployed on a scale that would be remotely useful to U.S. energy needs,” van Dyckman said. “Wind, solar, geothermal, algae — they’re all for show. Not to mention their drawbacks: how many birds on the endangered species list are killed by rotating wind vanes? Right now, nuclear power provides a fifth of our nation’s electricity, and it should be more. Plus, it’s clean and it’s safe.”
“Not safe enough, or clean enough,” Garibaldi said. “I don’t see the need for any top-secret repositories for the waste generated by wind turbines!”
Even Adonia had heard the idealistic arguments, which were fine in conception, but unrealistic for the immediate future. “We need a combination of technologies, including nuclear, Dr. Garibaldi. You can’t just turn off all those power-generating plants.”
“I can dream, my dear Ms. Rojas, and dreams are how progress is made. We will never win the race if we don’t leave the starting gate. Somebody has to keep pushing for it — and that’s why I founded Sanergy.”
“Which riles up crazy people and makes them fly planes into Granite Bay,” Pulaski said bitterly, looking to Adonia for support.
Garibaldi responded with clear indignation. “Sanergy was not responsible for that! He was a lone wolf and mentally unstable. I can’t be blamed if some extremist distorts my message. I want to safely shut down our nuclear plants, not blow them up!”
Victoria Doyle responded with a sour expression. “For once Stanley got it right, Garibaldi. Your solution is unrealistic. Even if you phase out nuclear energy over the next twenty years, your green technologies can’t deliver twenty percent of our national power needs, on demand, at the drop of a hat when there’s no sunlight and no wind. Do you really think that battery and energy-storage technology can advance that quickly? A combination of technologies is needed, and nuclear is one of them.”
The older scientist stroked his chin and slumped back with a sigh. “I know, I know — but we should still be trying. I am not a Luddite or zealot against the nuclear industry in general, although I’ve certainly had unpleasant experiences working in the field.” A troubled expression crossed his face.
Adonia broke in, “Even if you had a magic solution to produce all the energy we needed, and we could retire every plant like Granite Bay, we’d still have to deal with the existing nuclear waste. You can’t just wrap a chain-link fence around all those casks and cooling pools and call them safe.”
“But ignoring the necessary transition because it is difficult doesn’t help either. We have to start addressing the issue rather than kicking the can down the road. If we had worked seriously on this problem two decades ago, the crisis would no doubt be solved by now—”
“It was solved,” Doyle said icily. “Yucca Mountain was available decades ago, but people like you prevented the facility from opening.”
“And now we have Valiant Locksmith,” van Dyckman said. “We know how to safely store the dangerous waste.”
“Well, well,” Garibaldi said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “we’ve seen how well that works.”
“It does work!” van Dyckman insisted. Sweat sparkled on his forehead. “If anything, today’s debacle shows that our safety and security systems are too thorough.”
“The waste stored here isn’t going anywhere,” Shawn said.
“And neither are we,” Adonia said.
The intercom clicked, and Harris’s voice came back, sounding excited. “Good news! We were able to remotely deactivate the active-denial defenses, since that was one of our newer DOE systems. You won’t have to worry about being exposed to millimeter waves anymore.”
Senator Pulaski swiveled his chair. “So we can leave this room and get out of here? Head back up the tunnel?”
Harris hesitated. “Not exactly, Senator. Please stay where you are until the facility’s completely back online. Just a few hours more, and our emergency teams can get to your location. My sincere apologies for the inconvenience.”
“But why do we have to wait here? Six of us crammed in a place built for two.” Pulaski looked around the room. “There isn’t even room for me to elevate my injured ankle.”
“Use this, Senator.” Van Dyckman rolled the second chair across the floor, but he pushed too hard and it knocked over a toolbox in the corner, spilling screwdrivers, a wrench, box cutters, and a tin of screws.
Pulaski gruffly refused. “It was a rhetorical question, Stanley!” He got to his feet and hobbled over the spilled tools without bothering to pick them up. Adonia imagined he was the sort who never closed the toilet lid when he was through with the bathroom or added new paper when the printer tray was empty. He leaned close to the intercom speaker. “Harris, are you sure your heat ray has been disengaged?”
“We’ve deactivated the phased-array antennas, sir. They won’t be operational, but—”
“Then at least let us walk back up the tunnel so we can meet your rescue team as soon as this lockdown is over.” He limped toward the portal door. Apparently, his grievously injured ankle wasn’t as painful as he had implied.
Harris responded sharply, “No, Senator. The shelter in place was designed for personnel to ride out any threat. With our systems still unstable, it really is the safest location—”