Chapter 117: Diogo

The area inside the gates seems eerily quiet considering the horde that attacked us on our way here. Where are the Primitives? This is where I'd expected to have to make a stand, not out in the desert. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck is standing up, telling me there's something wrong here. Telling me the enemy is close. I always listen to my instincts, they've kept me alive for forty years.
"Commander." A voice draws my attention and I swing my rifle around to find one of my men striding toward me. I'd stationed him here along with several others to hold the facility until we could arrive with the historian.
"Report," I demand sharply when he stops in front of me. He looks exhausted, as though he hasn't slept in days, but his eyes and manner are still sharp. I'm happy with the care he seems to have taken here.
"We've managed to keep the horde mostly beyond the gates. We set up sniper positions on top of the buildings and take out the enemy as they approach. A few have gotten through our perimeter so watch your step once you're inside." He stops and rubs his brow before continuing, his voice heavy with disapproval. "I lost one soldier to negligence on his part. He didn't comply with the buddy system and was taken out when he climbed down from where he was stationed to take a piss."
I nod my understanding and praise his vigilance. "You've done well here. Make sure you and your men fall back into the ranks. You'll leave when we do."
"Yes sir." He turns and strides away, climbing a ladder to where I assume he's set up a sniper station.
"Let's move," I say grimly to the men I've chosen to accompany me inside. The main building is still locked up tight, even after all these years. I wave for one of my men to pry the door open. The inside is dark and dry as we pass through the doors, smells like old dust, a scent all of us recognize.
"This way." I keep the historian with me, covering him as we move. It's my job to act as his bodyguard until he finishes his job. We don't have anyone else who knows enough about these old nuclear facilities to be able to shut it down safely. We follow the labyrinth of halls, similar to the blueprints I'd managed to get my hands on.
I point at Stryker. "Take some men and cover the main door. Have some others spread out and make sure we aren't about to get ambushed."
Stryker nods and strides away, waving toward some of our men and giving them orders as he walks. It doesn't take us long to find the control room though the doors are firmly locked behind thick, heavy steel. It takes several more minutes to pry these doors open. My feeling of unease sticks with me the longer we go without being attacked.
Once we're in, I point at the control booth and say, "Get to work."
The historian sighs as he sits. "First we have to make sure the plant reverted to the backup system when it was abandoned."
"Wouldn't it have melted down by now if it wasn't?" Bossman asks from the doorway where he's covering the hall. Boss knows more about this shit than I do. He seems to understand how old technology works and is able to convert it for our use when we find something worth our time. He's also spent time with the historian, understands the man in a way the rest of us don't.
"Not necessarily. These buildings are meant to withstand a lot, including the prolonged absence of human intervention. For the most part a meltdown ultimately depends on the integrity of the building and the water surrounding the active rods. If containment isn't breached then theoretically these things can last for a very long time without melting down. That's why most of the reactors on this continent have maintained integrity. I suspect the Primitives have somehow learned how to breach that containment," the historian says matter-of-factly, working at the controls. He crows in delight, "Got it, the backup is coming online now."
All of us turn to watch as the computer system lights up under his fingertips, not something any of us have ever experienced. I've seen computers, but never one that worked. They require power and repairs, two things our struggling civilization is short on. When attempting to rebuild a society, the convenience of technology becomes unnecessary unless it's contributing to our immediate survival.
As he works, the historian continues to speak. "The interesting thing about the cascade failures on the east coast is the organization of them and the timing."
"What do you mean?" I ask impatiently. We're here for one single reason, not to jabber about how interesting nuclear power plants are.
He shrugs, his fingers tapping away at the keys. He hunches close to the keyboard squinting at what he's doing as he hits the buttons one at a time. Though he has expert knowledge on these things, it's been a long time since he's interacted with a computer.
"The pack behaviour of the Primitives, Commander," he says simply as though that explains everything. And maybe it does.
The Primitives are supposed to be unthinking, instinct driven creatures. When the cascade failures hit the east coast, we got an inkling of some kind of organization. But we've been bombarded by Primitive attacks since and haven't had time to examine the actual behaviour patterns of our enemy. I watch the historian as he works. Perhaps he has more worth than I thought.
"Got it," he says, pushing away from the desk.
"What did you do?" I demand. "I want details, so we know this got done right and the Primitives won't be able to take us down the way they took out every other Sanctuary east of us."
He shakes his head and eases himself out of the chair. "Although I do believe the Primitives are more evolved than we give them credit for, they won't be able to bring this place to the brink of meltdown unless they're able to get into the computer system and key in the correct sequence to bring this place back online. I have secured the control key and encrypted it," he explains calmly. "And I've shut down fuel movements. The reactors might need maintenance in the future to ensure containment remains stable, but at the moment this place is effectively shut down."
If the reactors require further maintenance, then how is the place shutdown? It sounds like the historian's definition of "shutdown" isn't the same as mine. I'm about to demand further explanation when a shout draws our attention. Bossman looks out into the hallway.
"Company's coming!" he shouts, raising his weapon.
I turn to the historian and snarl, "You sure this place is as safe as it can get? We can abandon it to the Primitives?"
He gives me a long look. "I wouldn't suggest just handing it over."
"Who would you suggest remains behind? You volunteering?"
He quickly backs up and shakes his head. "They can't do any damage. Not unless they're able to get into the system."
I'm about to ask how the fuck they managed to cause cascade failures if shutdown is this simple, when Bossman throws himself into the hallway, stabbing and shooting as he's surrounded by Primitives. I join him, picking them off one at a time and doing my best to protect the historian. Though he seems like an annoying, arrogant old man, at this point I believe he may have further use.
"Stick to my back," I shout at him, clearing a path through the hall.
We fight our way back to the main doors where Stryker is holding off the horde trying to make their way inside. It becomes quickly clear that the ones we were dealing with in the control room got in another way. Soon we're flanked and vastly outnumbered, exits cut off and our ability to fight hindered by being trapped indoors.
I'd anticipated an organized attack though. The Primitives outside the gates were the first wave, the guards. The ones inside were here for another reason. Maybe to take us out as we tried to thwart them from causing a meltdown or maybe to use us to get into the control room. Until we find out how they're causing the meltdowns we won't know.
If Primitives are organized enough to take our nuclear facilities, then it's not a stretch to imagine they've managed to up their attack strategies. So, I've upped mine as well, the new strategy being not to underestimate this enemy again. Soon, the men that I'd ordered into key positions have wrapped their way around the Primitives and are cutting a path toward us. We use their impulse driven nature against them. Distracting them with one human while the other gets them from behind. It doesn't take long before we've cleared out the immediate area and are able to make our way back outside.
While Stryker continues to clear the area of any stragglers, I give Bossman his orders. "You and three others will remain. Make sure this place stays offline. Get the information you need from your historian friend on what needs watching. When the area has been clear for a few days, lock it up tight and follow us back."
"Yes, Commander." I can tell by the glint in his eyes that Bossman relishes the idea of having an entire nuclear plant to himself for a few days.
We rejoin Wolfe and the rest of my men at the gates. Without a word, the big, scarred one-eyed warrior steps away from the pile of bodies he clearly enjoyed parting from their heads and strides into the desert, heading our team as we prepare to return home.