think there are those in the Defense Department who forget that. They want things neat and clean. They think you can make progress without risk. You took those risks, Colonel, just as you were expected to. You weren't working on a new missile system or software package; you were working with the human mind, and some people felt that made some sort of difference. Russian involvement just complicated the matter."
"Sir, I—"
He held a hand up and said, "I agree, no reason to dredge up the past. Point is, you've been on the bench, so to speak, for a while now. That's not fair, but it happens. When this opportunity came up I needed to find someone with your background; someone who understands that this is a nasty business and who understands people."
They arrived at the large elevator offering access to the lower levels. Liz spied a security camera hanging from the ceiling. She remembered watching video of Colonel Haas’s controlled march. She remembered him fumbling with his card, needing two tries to gain clearance.
An icy hand grabbed hold of her spine and gave a good shake.
Borman swiped his card through the lock. The doors opened immediately, startling Liz. They made her think of predatory jaws opening in anticipation of a kill.
"You have something that none of our previous commanders here have had."
She did her best to remain attentive, but as they entered the elevator her muscles tensed and sweat formed on her neck and in her palms while the adrenaline pumps in her body went to work at full speed.
To her amazement, Liz realized her body had activated its natural fight or flight response.
"You have experience in dealing with the type of influences personnel here have to deal with," he went on, not noticing her change in demeanor.
"Well, sir," she managed to keep her voice calm and even, "that’s not entirely true. If what I’ve read in the reports is correct then no one has ever had to deal with, well, the, um, things that go on here."
Borman looked at her with narrow, penetrating eyes. "Those reports are correct. Don’t ever make the mistake of taking them lightly."
Given that her heart raced in one continual thump-thump-thump, Liz realized she would never dare take this place lightly.
The elevator doors slammed shut and the compartment went dark … until her eyes adjusted to the light from a solitary red bulb. The car descended into the bowels of the Hell Hole. Chains rattled and pulleys squeaked, the car vibrated, and she felt certain the general could hear the heavy pounding of her heart.
With each passing sublevel Liz’s anxiety built.
Sublevel 2 …
I am in control. There is nothing to fear here.
Sublevel 3 …
The reports must be exaggerated … or at least speculative.
Sublevel 4 …
This is my base now … I own it! I will not let it own me!
Their descent came to a stop with a harsh clang. The doors opened and a burst of bright light rushed in. Liz shielded her eyes for a moment.
"Welcome to sublevel 5, Colonel." General Borman extended his arm to shuttle her out. "As I was saying," he paused, thought, then asked, "Thunder? What is that?"
"My father had some Comanche. At least, I think that's where it comes from."
"Interesting."
These halls were smaller, more compact than the floors above, but the background noise remained and, if anything, grew more intense, although that might have been her imagination again, adding to a feeling of oppression and dread, as if this high-tech maze was in fact the Minotaur's labyrinth
"As I was saying, you have something the previous commanders did not. You have the discipline—the mental discipline—to keep this complex under control. You are less likely to be …" he searched for the right words. "You are less likely to be compromised by the environment here."
She swallowed hard.
Soldiers roamed sublevel 5. They stood stiff as the general passed. He took no notice of them and just kept talking as if they were no more than fixtures on the
"Sir, I—"
He held a hand up and said, "I agree, no reason to dredge up the past. Point is, you've been on the bench, so to speak, for a while now. That's not fair, but it happens. When this opportunity came up I needed to find someone with your background; someone who understands that this is a nasty business and who understands people."
They arrived at the large elevator offering access to the lower levels. Liz spied a security camera hanging from the ceiling. She remembered watching video of Colonel Haas’s controlled march. She remembered him fumbling with his card, needing two tries to gain clearance.
An icy hand grabbed hold of her spine and gave a good shake.
Borman swiped his card through the lock. The doors opened immediately, startling Liz. They made her think of predatory jaws opening in anticipation of a kill.
"You have something that none of our previous commanders here have had."
She did her best to remain attentive, but as they entered the elevator her muscles tensed and sweat formed on her neck and in her palms while the adrenaline pumps in her body went to work at full speed.
To her amazement, Liz realized her body had activated its natural fight or flight response.
"You have experience in dealing with the type of influences personnel here have to deal with," he went on, not noticing her change in demeanor.
"Well, sir," she managed to keep her voice calm and even, "that’s not entirely true. If what I’ve read in the reports is correct then no one has ever had to deal with, well, the, um, things that go on here."
Borman looked at her with narrow, penetrating eyes. "Those reports are correct. Don’t ever make the mistake of taking them lightly."
Given that her heart raced in one continual thump-thump-thump, Liz realized she would never dare take this place lightly.
The elevator doors slammed shut and the compartment went dark … until her eyes adjusted to the light from a solitary red bulb. The car descended into the bowels of the Hell Hole. Chains rattled and pulleys squeaked, the car vibrated, and she felt certain the general could hear the heavy pounding of her heart.
With each passing sublevel Liz’s anxiety built.
Sublevel 2 …
I am in control. There is nothing to fear here.
Sublevel 3 …
The reports must be exaggerated … or at least speculative.
Sublevel 4 …
This is my base now … I own it! I will not let it own me!
Their descent came to a stop with a harsh clang. The doors opened and a burst of bright light rushed in. Liz shielded her eyes for a moment.
"Welcome to sublevel 5, Colonel." General Borman extended his arm to shuttle her out. "As I was saying," he paused, thought, then asked, "Thunder? What is that?"
"My father had some Comanche. At least, I think that's where it comes from."
"Interesting."
These halls were smaller, more compact than the floors above, but the background noise remained and, if anything, grew more intense, although that might have been her imagination again, adding to a feeling of oppression and dread, as if this high-tech maze was in fact the Minotaur's labyrinth
"As I was saying, you have something the previous commanders did not. You have the discipline—the mental discipline—to keep this complex under control. You are less likely to be …" he searched for the right words. "You are less likely to be compromised by the environment here."
She swallowed hard.
Soldiers roamed sublevel 5. They stood stiff as the general passed. He took no notice of them and just kept talking as if they were no more than fixtures on the
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