No, Major Thom Gant would follow his orders for the simple reason that they were his orders and he was a soldier. He knew no other way.
Perhaps Captain Campion was not the best-programmed robot on the Archangel team after all.
"Colonel, everything is okay. I have my orders."
His words cut Liz off in midthought, knocking her off balance. She glared at him not with surprise but contempt, with such intensity that he regretted stepping in. His acquiescence had struck a nerve, perhaps the same nerve McCaul had struck at The Tall Company.
Borman wagged his finger at Lieutenant Colonel Thunder. "One job. One fucking job. Keep the door closed. Everything else is not your concern."
Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him, although it immediately popped free of the catch.
She turned to Gant, staring at him as if he had grown three heads.
"How is it you can lead your men on this suicide mission without even putting up a fight?"
"I have my orders. This is my job and one could argue that most of our assignments are borderline suicide missions to begin with."
"No, not like this. Nothing has changed, Thom. No one has gone in there for years for a reason and those mental influences are still reaching out and causing people to go crazy. The man who was sitting in this chair last week was shot dead trying to open the vault. No one — not Borman, not anyone at Tall — has given us reason to believe the danger is less, or even an idea of what that danger is."
"Liz, it is my job to—"
"That's Lieutenant Colonel," she corrected in a voice nearly as hard as Gorman's had been. "This isn't about you. This is about your entire team. Not only as people but as valuable assets. This mission strikes me as an unnecessary risk to lives and a waste of a valuable resource."
His answer came with as much emotion and conviction as an automated answering machine: "I am aware of the risks."
"Yes, I know. That's what puzzles me. You're not stupid, and you have an obligation to protect your unit. Yet you are going to march right through that door because a general told you to do it."
"That is my job. I follow orders."
"Yes, I've said that to myself before, too. And I've regretted it. You're going to regret this, Thom. There will come a moment when you'll realize that following orders isn't the only commandment for being a good soldier. I only hope you live to understand that."
Corporal Sammy Sanchez sipped his coffee and gazed through the security glass at the vault door. The same sight, day after day.
The computer console and controls at his station never offered anything new — just the same countless security checks, the same ongoing atmosphere and seismic data analysis, the same continuous diagnostic of the defensive hardware.
Still, he knew something was coming.
He had seen the tactical team killing time in the recreation hall and practicing entries on the near-deserted upper levels. And that man who had come in on the helicopter today — the man from The Tall Company — he had seen him often in recent weeks.
But most of all, he knew something was coming because of the general. Borman visited the vestibule constantly, choppering in and out of Red Rock every day.
The vault did not look different. It looked the same as it did each and every day, basking in the brilliant glow of white light, four red switches at its side. Four red switches waiting patiently to be turned green again. Waiting patiently for the vault door to swing open to swallow fresh prey.
Who are you going to eat this time?
"What’s that?"
Sanchez’s companion sentry glanced at him nervously. Mumbled words provoked as much fear inside the Hell Hole as Defcon 2 at NORAD.
Sanchez smiled politely. "Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud. Relax, soldier."
The corporal sipped his coffee. It was a long while before the other sentry relaxed.
12
Liz Thunder shined her flashlight up into a high corner, illuminating pipes, vents, and electrical conduits. An abandoned web hung in broken strands from the ceiling but she saw no sign of a spider; even the arachnids found Red Rock unsuitable.
She swept the beam in the other direction and lower. It fell upon a big piece of dust-covered industrial equipment sprouting thick tubes linking it with a network of air ducts.
Corporal Sanchez knocked on the door.
"Ma'am, you wanted to see me, ma'am?"
He instinctively reached to the switch on the wall to provide her with additional light but found the switch already in the “on” position.
"Yes, Corporal, I tried that already," she said and pointed to the ceiling, where one dim light bulb glowed among a row of dark ones. "It seems this place has an aversion to light. Or maybe everyone around here prefers shadows."
"Um, yes, ma'am. I don't think this area is used anymore."
"And that's why I wanted to see you, Corporal. You've been at this place for a while, right?"
"Actually, ma'am, only about a year."
"Oh." That answer surprised her. "General Borman seemed to indicate you have been on base longer than just about anyone here."
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Still, maybe you'll know." She moved away from the derelict equipment and closer to the door where Sanchez stood. "According to my blueprints, this was the pumping station responsible for getting oxygen down into the lower levels; below sublevel six, from what I saw. But this equipment is nonfunctioning. Exactly how is Major Gant's entry team supposed to breathe while they're down there?"
The question appeared to throw Sanchez for a loop, but only for a moment.
"Oh, yes, ma'am; I mean, no, this area is obsolete." The dust finally penetrated his nose deeply enough to cause a sneeze. "Excuse me, ma'am. I was saying, there is a building on the surface that took over those functions. From what I understand, it was installed about ten years ago when these units suffered malfunctions."
That puzzled her.
"Are you saying that the ventilation system for the lower levels is still running?"
"Um, yes, ma'am. I believe the system is tied in to the entire air supply for the complex, but that's not really my area. Colonel Haas handled facilities management directly. Since he… well, I just assumed you were taking that over."
"I suppose I'll have to. But I can't really do that if I don't know where everything is, now can I?"
"I suppose not, ma'am," Sanchez said as he rocked back a step.
"It's okay, Corporal, it's not your fault. I'm just sort of learning this on the fly."
"Anything I can do, Colonel, just say the word."
Another man appeared in the door behind Sanchez, this one older with streaks of gray in otherwise dark hair. Liz recognized him as one of Gant's team.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel Thunder, I was wondering if I could have a word with you."
Liz glanced around the dirty room with the concrete floor and the cinder block walls and realized she had no more business there.
"Certainly. It's Captain Twiste, right?"
Sanchez glanced at the captain, who stared at the corporal until he took the hint and hurried off along the hall of sublevel 3. Liz joined Twiste in the corridor.
While every floor at Red Rock felt forgotten, sublevel 3 was downright neglected; merely a number on the wall that the elevator passed on its way to the high-security area of level four.
Only a handful of fluorescent lights worked in this hall, and many of the walls wore chipped and cracked paint because no one had bothered to repaint them in twenty years. Pieces of debris ranging from cigarette butts to Styrofoam coffee cups lay in corners because no one had bothered to sweep the floor in twenty years, either.
"What can I do for you, Captain?"
He did not answer until he saw Corporal Sanchez turn the corner. A moment later they both heard the big elevator doors open, then close, followed by the rumble of chains, ropes, and pulleys.