Antiquity's Gate: Sanctuary Read online

  Antiquity’s Gate

  Sanctuary

  R.F. Hurteau

  Antiquity’s Gate — Sanctuary

  © 2017 by R.F. Hurteau.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Crossing the Rubicon

  It’s Not Smoke

  A Dish Best Served Cold

  Cause and Effect

  Of Rats and Spies

  What Lies Beneath

  The Snow’s Cold Embrace

  Out of the Loop

  Delusions of Grandeur

  Reunion

  The Truth Within

  Outside Perspective

  Through a Mirror, Darkly

  Mr. Wilks

  Uneasy Lies the Head

  A Shot in the Dark

  Easily Confused

  An Elf by Any Other Name

  Past Tense

  Beneath the Surface

  Unexpected Visitors

  The Sea Rose Up to Meet Them

  Fool Me Twice

  Old Friends

  Sweet Evenmire

  Damage Control

  No Long Goodbyes

  epilogue

  book one

  Crossing the Rubicon

  How long did it lay, in the ice tucked away,

  That silent traveler from space.

  Alone, without sound, it hid in the ground,

  Content in the snow’s cold embrace.

  Till upon it they stumbled, so awed and so humbled,

  So eager its secrets to find.

  If they only had known, they’d have left it alone,

  But their greed, it had made them all blind.

  That which slumbered, now woken, with wonders unspoken,

  Took root and continued to thrive.

  How could they have guessed, they’d have left it to rest,

  If they’d known what they had was alive.

  It confused and confounded, intrigued and astounded,

  And still they continued to pry.

  How they’d fret, what regret, when they realized that,

  It was death. It was death from the sky.

  ~A Pravacordian Nursery Rhyme

  one

  It’s Not Smoke

  History would not remember Ripley Prior.

  His footsteps echoed hollowly down the brilliant white corridor as he made his way further into Sigil's North Wing. He didn't come down here often. Had he passed it? He wished there were signs.

  Reaching, tentative, toward the keypad nearest him—he was only moderately certain that this was the right room—he was relieved when the door slid open to reveal a glowing bank of monitors and the back of a familiar, curly-haired head. Felix sat up straighter, attempting to look busy, but when he recognized Ripley he slouched back down in his chair again.

  "Oh," he offered, flicking a small silver toggle back and forth between his forefinger and thumb. "I thought it was someone important."

  Ripley gave a wry smile. "Sorry to disappoint."

  He glanced around, taking in the mess. The room was shabby, a stark contrast from the pristine hallway outside. The air of neglect was magnified by Felix’s lack of any semblance of organization. Stacks of paper, overstuffed boxes, bits of wiring and insulation sticking out of crates at odd angles. Like a fungus, thought Ripley, amused. There was a cot shoved into one corner, littered with empty dining trays. "You know those aren't supposed to leave the commissary."

  Felix gave a half-hearted shrug. "If they don't want me to take the trays, they should give us longer mealtimes. I don't want to inhale food and race back here. I'll get cramps."

  "Well, you could at least bring them back eventually,” Ripley suggested, clearing away what looked to be log reports from the only other chair in the room. He glanced down at the top sheet, skimming over it quickly.

  1498/7 No activity.

  1499/1 No activity.

  1499/2 No activity.

  1499/3 No activity.

  1499/4 No activity.

  He flipped a few pages back, skimmed again. All the same. He placed the stack on a nearby pile of boxes. "I don't even know what it is you do here. Looks like a whole lot of…” he glanced around, "no activity."

  Felix's shoulders jerked as he snickered.

  "What's that do?"

  "Huh?" Felix's gaze flitted from Ripley to the toggle. "Oh," he replied with a shrug, "well, it's a science facility, you know. It does science-y type stuff."

  "Seriously?" Ripley groaned. "Are you supposed to be fiddling with it?"

  "Meh. It's broken. I requisitioned parts for it." Felix hooked his thumb over his shoulder without looking, pointing toward a particularly precarious tower of crates. "But no one's come to fix it. The Anniversary is in two days, and everything has to be running smoothly. Except for the Observatory. Nobody cares about Felix and his Observatory. I could be dead down here and no one would discover my body for months!"

  "That's not true," Ripley replied gravely. "I doubt they'd find the body at all, given the state of this place. It's likely they'd assume you'd just up and left one day, like the last guy."

  Felix pushed his heels against the panel in front of him, tipping his chair back and rocking slightly, so that the legs creaked alarmingly. "Fair enough," he said at last, gazing around the room. Sigil normally did personnel reviews every three years, moving people to different positions depending on ability and need, but the odd disappearance of the prior Observatory Attendant had caused an unexpected vacancy that Felix had jumped at the chance to fill. The position had its pros and cons. For instance, Felix now held the great honor of being a department head. Unfortunately, he was also the department gopher, as the Observatory had no other employees. The mysterious nature of the position also held appeal, since no one really knew much about the Observatory. Its purpose was to surveil the area around Sanctuary, assessing potential threats. The reality, however, was that there had been no activity outside of Sanctuary since its construction, coming up on one hundred twenty-five years now. As such, Felix's job was mostly just a title. He watched, listened, reported "No Activity," and then 'filed' his reports for future reference. Given his predisposition for laziness, the job suited Felix. What Ripley didn't understand was why it was even a job at all.

  "I could take a look at it," Ripley suggested.

  "Be my guest. But the whole damn panel is shot." As proof, Felix slammed a fist down amidst the controls, which offered no protest. "It was broken when I got here. Not that any of the working ones are much more exciting, mind."

  "If it's so dull, you should request a transfer."

  "Yeah right, like they'd honor a request from a Halfsie."

  Ripley frowned. "I bet they'd at least give you back your old job."

  Felix let out a little huff that showed his disdain. "I don't want to go back to Pod Manufacturing. What do we need stasis pods for anyway? Research, they say. If you ask me, they do too much research and not enough of anything else." He paused. "Anyway, it's not like this job is hard or anything. No one bothers me. And there's the mystique, you know?" He had returned to the rhythmic click, click, click of his toggle. "Ladies love mystique."

  Ripley chuckled. "Well, it would help if all of your equipment functioned, at least. And you just have to impress one lady with your 'mystique.' You know, your wife?" He slid out of the chair onto his knees. A sharp pain in his side made him wince, but he ignored it and began sizing up the station's access panel. "Where are your tools?"

  "I don't have any."

  Ripley sighed and pulled his faithful multi-tool from his back pocket. "Did you try unplugging
it, and plugging it back in again?" he suggested with a slight smile as he began working on the screws.

  "Not really my job," replied Felix.

  Ripley's smile faded. Felix was right, this was a job for the Engineering Corps. Growing up, he'd always dreamed of being an engineer. He had a penchant for mechanical things. But those coveted positions had always been awarded to Therans, who had greater longevity and more time to learn about the workings of Sanctuary than Humans. Still, he hadn't given up hope of being the first Human engineer until his assignment day, when he'd found himself at a registration desk staring down at a manual entitled Vital Systems and You, and being pointed toward orientation.

  He slid the heavy panel away to expose a nest of wiring. The color-coded insulation was faded and somewhat brittle, yet another reminder that beneath its shiny exterior, Sanctuary was falling apart. Theran technology seemed to hold up much better against age than any of the Human components. Unfortunately, the Human components made up a large part of the inner workings of most of their systems. "Where are the parts they sent?"

  Felix walked away, and Ripley heard the sounds of scraping and a mildly concerning crunch before his friend returned, dropping a box beside him with an unceremonious thunk. "In there somewhere. I think."

  "Thanks a bunch," came Ripley's sarcastic reply, muffled by the metal housing into which his dark, tousled head had disappeared.

  "Anytime, buddy."

  "If you don't know what's wrong with it, how'd you even order parts?"

  "I just got one of those requisition slips at the front desk and checked off one of everything. Not sure what they actually sent, though. I didn't really check."

  He traced the pathway of the wiring with his eyes, checking connections at critical junctures. Working on a puzzle took his mind off of his own mundane existence, if just for a moment. It had been twelve years since he began working at Sigil, the heart and soul of Sanctuary. With each year he had grown less and less hopeful that he'd ever be transferred. He was good at his job. But anyone could be good at Ripley's job, which he'd long suspected could easily have been automated to begin with. Sometimes it felt like they were all just trying to look busy. At least Felix was honest about it.

  Ripley's aptitude for mechanics had landed him in Core Operations. Day after day, Ripley dutifully kept track of Sanctuary’s vital systems, recording numbers off of water reclamation gauges, checking geothermal readings, ensuring proper coolant levels.

  It was tedium. Unadulterated tedium.

  He'd been told, during orientation this was a prestigious position. He should be proud. Keeping Sanctuary running was dependent on him and his teammates, they'd said. It was a great honor to have been chosen, they'd said. It was also, unfortunately, incredibly dull.

  That, they had failed to mention.

  The most exciting thing that had happened in recent memory was a slight imbalance in the air filtration system that had failed to self-correct. Heightened nitrogen levels had left the population of Dome Five, or D5 as they called it, slightly light-headed for the space of about an hour before engineering could repair it. Ripley could have fixed it on his own, but tinkering with life support systems by unauthorized personnel was strictly forbidden.

  At this moment, however, Ripley felt free to tinker to his heart's content.

  That Felix was unconcerned about the malfunctioning hardware was no big surprise. It wasn't like anything was happening outside. Sanctuary was, after all, located in Antarctica. It had been incredibly difficult to reach at the height of civilization. Now, though…well, now it didn't matter. Ripley shuddered. Thinking about the vast, empty world outside was something he tried not to do. But with the Anniversary of the city’s founding approaching, it was hard to avoid.

  He reached his hand deeper, feeling along a thick, braided wire which he suspected would lead him to the console's power supply. His forehead creased as he frowned.

  "What's up?" Felix inquired, a hint of excitement in his shimmering emerald eyes. Felix's eyes were an open book. They had the characteristic mother-of-pearl opulence that all those of Theran descent shared, but lacked the stuffy, superior attitude so common to purebloods. They were awash in curiosity now, sparkling at the hint of intrigue in the air. Ripley remembered joking how Felix was thirty going on three. No boring Observatory position could dull his childlike exuberance when something piqued his interest.

  "Well, I think I've got the power here. But—ow!" Ripley smacked his head against the top of the housing as a sudden shock surged through him. He backed out, carefully pulling the offending wire with him. "This is live!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "And it's been cut."

  Felix leaned back in his chair, disappointed. "That's impossible. It probably just fell off. This stuff is pretty old, you know."

  "No," Ripley insisted, matter-of-factly. "It was cut. The other end is still connected to the system." He reached in again and gently pulled the small remnant of braided wire away from the circuitry. He handed it to Felix. "See?"

  Felix examined it briefly. "Rats," he concluded, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  Ripley pressed himself back into the workstation. He was blocking the light, so he used his hands to explore, more cautiously this time. He reached backward and felt the toe of Felix's boot as his friend pushed the multitool within reach. "Thanks." He popped it in his mouth, depressing the flashlight button with his teeth and working within its tiny beam of light. It wasn't ideal, but he could at least see a small circle of what he was doing. "Shut down power to this unit," he mumbled through clenched teeth. "I don't want any more nasty surprises." He heard Felix rise and move away.

  "Okay, she's down," Felix said. "Or, you know. More down, I guess."

  He pulled the light out of his mouth, using the knife to strip the wire's coating. He reconnected it with deft fingers and a gentle touch. He didn't have the soldering equipment needed to do the job right, but it would be good enough for now. Certainly no worse off than having a live wire dangling free, he reasoned. "Done! You can hit the power again now."

  Something hummed to life above his head as he backed himself out and began replacing the screws. "It's alive!" exclaimed Felix with a victorious whoop.

  But Ripley had a strange feeling. "Why would anyone want to sabotage the Observatory?"

  Felix scoffed. "Sabotage, really? You actually believe that?" He looked at the machine with mock surprise. "Well, what do you know? It's another monitor! I did not see that coming."

  Ripley ignored him, pulling his chair closer to his friend to examine the panel. "Looks just like the others, to be honest. Camera controls here," he pointed, "atmospheric readings over here…still not sure what that is, though." He indicated the toggle that Felix had been playing with before. When Felix made no move to check, Ripley leaned over him and gave it a flick. A roar filled his ears—wind—moaning as it blasted from the speakers. Ripley cringed and switched it off, and the room was once more enveloped in quiet. "Okay, so now we know what that does!" he uttered, ears ringing. "Hey, do all your monitors have sound? You could’ve warned me."

  Felix didn't supply an answer. His shining eyes were narrowed, staring intently at the monitor. Ripley followed his gaze to the black and white view of rocks and snow that filled the screen. "What are we looking at?" he asked, after a moment.

  Felix shrugged. "It's not windy out there."

  Ripley realized his friend was right. When he'd flipped on the microphone, it had sounded like a raging storm out there. But the scene before them was peaceful, motionless.

  Reaching in front of Felix to move the camera, Ripley discovered that the controls weren’t functioning. Instead of panning smoothly across the landscape, it jerked slightly and went still again. "Weird. Where is this camera?"

  Both of them jumped, startled, as they heard the whoosh of the door sliding open behind them. Felix took the opportunity to smirk at Ripley. “See?” he muttered softly. “You do it, too.”

  But Ripley
didn’t smile back. He recognized Captain Lub, Head of Security, as the door closed once more. His large, slightly rounded silhouette was framed against the gleaming white of the hall. As he stepped inside, Lub gave Felix a quick once over, jowls quivering, then turned to Ripley with an accusatory frown. "What's your business here?"

  Ripley opened his mouth to reply, but Felix, who was more adept with excuse making, spoke first. "Ripley just came down to see if I wanted anything to eat. He's not on the clock, Captain."

  Lub's face remained expressionless. "Where is your station?"

  "Core Operations, sir," replied Ripley quickly. "They've sent us all home for the day. I wasn't keeping Felix from his work, though, I swear."

  Something about Lub's sudden appearance made Ripley uncomfortable, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The old Theran was hardly intimidating. He had the air of someone who had let himself go to seed. In fact, he was the only Theran Ripley had ever known that had somehow managed to end up a bit on the tubby side. He suspected that, as Head of Security, Lub didn’t actually do much himself anymore, merely delegating responsibilities to others. Ripley wasn’t fond of most of Lub’s department, if truth be told. He supposed, especially given his most recent interactions with Security, it made sense that he would find their presence a little unnerving. "I'll, uh, get out of your way now, Felix. See you around."

  Before Lub could ask any more questions, Ripley skirted around him and into the hall. He paused for a moment, heart still racing, feeling a little guilty for leaving Felix behind with the Captain. A moment later he heard the door again and whirled, expecting Lub, and surprised to find Felix instead.

  "They're letting me go, too!" he said with a grin, a large stack of trays balanced in his arms. "Systems check! Nice. Let's get outta here."