Elgars slid off the bed and swayed over to the locker. Her speech may have left much to be desired, but her movements were efficient and graceful.
Wendy regarded her carefully and smiled. "Have you been working out?"
"Phy . . . skal ther'py," Elgars answered, placing her hand on the face of the polygon. "A' so' o'r stu'."
The front of the cylinder opened to either side with a blast of gun-oil scent, and Wendy's jaw practically hit the floor. It wasn't a couple of personal items, it was a damn arsenal.
The left door was hung with dress uniforms. The officer's dress blues on top, with rank marks for a captain, were practically coated in awards and medals. At one point, besides being expert in rifle, pistol and submachine gun, Elgars had passed, in succession, the Army Advanced Marksmanship Program and Marine Corps Sniper School, the last of which was practically unheard of. She was a veteran of infantry combat, as denoted by her Combat Infantry Badge, and had apparently earned two Purple Hearts and a Silver Star along the way. But the capstone was the simple device on the right breast, a gold "600."
"Oh, shit," Wendy whispered. Besides the uniforms—the right door was hung with camouflage and Fleet Strike grays for some reason—there were a half dozen weapons in the locker. Taking place of prominence was something Wendy had only seen pictures of: a Barrett M-82A1 .50 caliber sniper rifle. It clearly had seen use, but before being put away had been factory serviced and sealed in PreserFilm. There also were two different submachine guns, with loaded clips dangling on harnesses, a couple of pistols, one a silenced Glock and the other something odd and bulky with a laser sight and silencer, and a "bullpup" style assault rifle. Hanging in the back was a combat harness with full loadout for a team sniper.
"How the hell did you get this in here?" Wendy asked. "The Sub-Urbs are zero-tolerance zones!"
"Uah . . . Ahmmm 'ct've . . . Aaaaactive . . ."
"You're active duty?" Wendy said with a laugh. "Sorry, but . . ."
"Ahmmmm Ssssixssss . . ."
"Six Hundred," the former resident of Fredericksburg said with a sober nod. "And even the dead of the Six Hundred are still listed as active duty."
Elgars smiled and nodded. "Buuuu . . . wha'sssss," she gestured into the locker.
"And you don't know what this stuff is, do you?" Wendy asked.
"Nuuuu."
Wendy regarded her levelly and green eyes met her blue.
"Okay, let's find something out. Do you have something that shows you can have this?"
Elgars gestured at the uniforms, but Wendy just shook her head.
"No, for the shit-head panic children in Security we'll need more than that. Any documentation specifically stating you're authorized? You got a gun card?"
Elgars reached in and extracted an envelope. Inside, on driver's license-sized card, was a simple note:
"Captain A. O. Elgars is a currently serving member of the United States Armed forces on detached duty and her right to carry weapons irrespective of type or caliber in any portion of the United States or its Territories for any reason she at her sole discretion shall deem reasonable and prudent shall not be infringed. Any questions regarding these orders shall be directed to the Department of War." It was endorsed by the Continental Army commander and the commander of the Ten Thousand. The back had her picture and personal data.
The license was standard issue. At the beginning of the war the right of the Federal military to conduct maneuvers in and around non-threatened zones had been repeatedly questioned. Among the questions raised was whether military personnel should be restricted in access to their weapons, especially in and around cities which had anti-gun laws.
Most of the complaints had ended after the Fredericksburg landings, but when a detached brigade of infantry was surprised and overwhelmed in Seattle, with their weapons still in the unit armory, the question was settled once and for all. Serving members of the armed forces were not required to wear uniforms at all times. But for "the duration of the current emergency" serving military personnel were required, by Federal law, to be armed at all times with a "basic load" for their primary weapons. Posleen landings occurred at random and on the balance it had been decided that the occasional irrational act was balanced by the security of an armed response to the invasion.
"Now the important question," said Wendy with another smile. "What to wear."
Elgars smiled back and reached for the Battle Dress Uniform. She fingered the lapel with a puzzled expression.
"Do you recognize the uniform?" Wendy asked. "It's BDUs. That rank shows you're a captain. Do you remember being a captain?"
Elgars shook her head and shrugged. "Ser . . . sar . . . sar'nt."
"You were a sergeant?" Wendy asked. "Why do you have captain's tracks?"
"Sarn' . . . pri'ate." Elgars face worked and she banged her head. "Staaaa . . . No . . . Ahhhh!"
"Calm down," Wendy said, shaking her shoulder. "Whatever you were, you're a captain now." Wendy looked at her for a moment and shook her head. "Have they given you any background on why you're here? Or even where 'here' is?"
Elgars shook her head and gestured around at the room. "Is an' off'ce a' I see."
Wendy took a breath and thought about where to start. "Okay, you know you're underground, right?"
"Righ'." Elgars nodded at that. "Su'-ur'."
"A Sub-Urb," Wendy agreed. "Have they shown you a map?"
"N'. "
Wendy picked up the remote for the flatscreen and punched in a code. "This is the information channel. Did they show you that?"
"N'. "
"Christ," Wendy said. "Okay, here goes." She flipped through a menu and brought up a schematic of a cube. "Welcome to the Franklin Sub-Urb. Here's Getting Around One Oh One.
"The Burb is a cube. The top of the cube is one hundred feet underground with the area over it reinforced with 'honeycomb' anti-shock armor. The cube is broken into eight sectors and each sector is broken into subsectors. The primary sectors are letters, A through H. The subsectors are numbers and once you figure out the way that breaks down if I say something like 'C8-8-4' you know right where you're at. The subsectors are each four stories high and four blocks wide and deep. They start numerically at the center and work outward both from the center and from the joining line to the next sector. The sectors are eight subsectors, or eight blocks, wide and eight deep, but they are still under construction and a few of them continue out beyond eight subsectors.
"Right now you're in Sector F, Subsector 1-1-4. That means that you're right at the top of F, on the border with E and four blocks out from the center. Sector A is security, emergency services, administration and a few living quarters, mainly for administration and security. Sectors B through D are living quarters. Although some of C and D are given over to support. Sector F is hospital and environmental support and E through H are generally given over to support including a fusion reactor in H and an extensive hydroponics and waste reprocessing section in G.
"The main personnel entrance is above Sector A and joins A near the juncture of the other three living sectors. Just outside of it is a large parking garage where most of the vehicles used by the evacuees are parked. On the southwest quadrant, adjacent to Sector D, is the main resupply route. Supplies come in there and are transported down elevators to Sector H.
"There are primary movement routes running along primary sector junctures—that is, where four sectors converge—and at four points within each sector. Prime Corridors have slide-ways, walkways and cart paths. Secondary movement routes are found at every other subsector juncture point. Secondary Corridors do not have slideways and you have to be careful of carts and vice versa. The small corridors where residences are found also can be used to move around; they are referred to as tertiary corridors. Except in special cases, carts are not permitted in residential corridors.