CHAPTER 16
HOME BASE
For a man's home is his castle, & domus sua cuique est tutissimum refugium: for where shall a man be safe, if it be not in his house?
- Edward Coke
For the last few miles, Bates tried in vain to recall if he still had triple-A membership. Bates was by no stretch of the imagination a mechanic, but as a long-time owner of junkers, he had witnessed the untimely death of several autos, and he knew that the death of the Nitro was long overdue. Hesitation, vibration, and loss of power had gotten progressively worse, speed was down to under 10 km/hr, slow even for driving on the shoulder of the road, and the grinding, clanking, wheezing, squeaking, thumping, smoking, and thunderous back-firing was appalling. Black exhaust smoke surrounded the car. Though the Nitro was solidly built, the mysterious power of Premium Fuel was gradually tearing it apart. Soon their speed would be slower than walking. Then maybe Bates could wake Oscar and have him push.
As long as it still moved however, Bates was resolved to continue on in the Nitro. They had already made too many COM calls. Bates feared that a call to AAA, a taxi or to another friend could bring the Ra. After all, it seemed likely that Mel’s earlier COM to his wife had been used by the Ra to locate them at the car wash.
The Base gates were open when the Nitro finally chugged in at about 3 AM. Bates prayed that opening of the gates at this late hour was the work of the other B-Team members and not the Ra. Through shouting he attempted to arouse the sleepy little company from their slumber, but only Mel and Milo immediately responded. Between yawns, Mel advised Bates to close the gates and to park the Nitro in the back of the main building.
As Bates coaxed the struggling Nitro past the front of the building, even in the dim moon light the huge, ragged hole in the outside wall was evident. He could see directly into his new office in the administration wing! "Crap," he muttered. "What a mess!"
He shuttered when he considered the strength required by someone to simply lift and carry the massive safe out through a steel-reinforced concrete wall. Renson almost had them at the car wash; he would have torn them to bits! He also recalled Twig's strength when she drugged and carried Barns to her car earlier in the week. For all they knew, all of the Ra could be super powered! Bates kept glancing around nervously, half expecting Renson to come rushing at them again from the shadows and dive into the sputtering Nitro.
If the Ra were to find them now the newly minted B-Team would have no hope of escape. Would the space aliens simply kill them, or save them to be ritually tortured and eaten, as they had nearly done with Barns? Fortunately, Bates was so exhausted and busy maneuvering the Nitro along the twisting road that led alongside the huge Base office building, that he didn't have the opportunity to consider in detail all of the gruesome possibilities.
Bates parked the Nitro near a doorway in the rear of the building pointed out by Mel, at last turned off the noisy engine, and simply sat there for a few moments, savoring the incredibly wonderful stillness and silence. Bates hoped that his ears hadn't been permanently damaged, but he was more concerned for Milo. The noise of the Nitro must have been particularly hard on Milo's super-sensitive dog ears. Bates climbed outside wearily, stretched, and then dropped down to the cold ground and kissed it, just as he did after all of his airline flights. It was just so terribly good to be out of the Nitro!
Milo bounded happily out of the car too, with tail wagging and nose sniffing, and urinated where Bates had just kissed. Milo's little dog brain wasn't sure why his master felt so highly of that particular spot, but he was willing to do his faithful best to also bless and lay claim to it.
"How about giving me a hand, Bates?" said Mel's voice from somewhere in the depths of the car. Bates went around to the other side of the Nitro, and saw that Mel had placed a coat over the jagged remains of the window that Renson had broken, and was endeavoring to climb out head first, without making much progress. The door handle was gone of course, thanks to Renson, and the door was jammed shut.
After Bates helped Mel out, the two of them roused the others. It was not an easy task, especially convincing Oscomb to leave the Nitro. However, after the huge biologist unsuccessfully looked for more beer, it was much easier to coax him out of the increasingly chilly car. The area remained relatively warm for mid-night in mid-December, perhaps in the mid-40's, but it was still far too cold to sleep outside.
Soon the entire little company was in the building, and walking numbly down dimly lit, deserted hallways. Barns, half asleep and still ailing after his long torturous ordeal with the Ra, leaned heavily on Jane.
Despite efforts to move quietly, the sounds of each breath and step they took bounced around through the long, hard, bare hallways long enough to be joined and rejoined by several similar instances of sound that followed, resulting in a weird cadence. It was a mildly interesting physical phenomenon, and in better times, Mel or even Bates might have considered modeling the fascinating acoustical properties of the echo-prone hallway.
Disembodied drips, buzzes, and clicks added further mystery. Any of the strange unidentifiable noises could indicate Twig or Renson lurking somewhere in the shadows, but hopefully the menacing noises were instead being produced by innocent heaters, plumbing, and other familiar apparatus: always present, but unnoticed in the noisy chaos of the day.
Between their current noisy transit through the halls and the noisy appearance of the Nitro, it had not exactly been a stealthy arrival. If the aliens were indeed somewhere on the Base, Bates and his group must surely have been detected.
Before long they reached a locked vault door, which Mel proceeded to open with practiced ease. Bates recognized this as the place Mel and Oscar had brought him to several days earlier on Nitro business. Even that stressful day was now regarded by Bates to be happier times.
As Mel pulled the door open, bright light streamed out from inside, momentarily blinding the little company. Framed in the doorway was the dark silhouette of a tallish thin someone pointing a gun of some sort at them, and beside that was the shorter silhouette of a small thin woman. Melberg and Twig?
"So yer here at last are yeah!” said the figure, lowering his assault weapon. "Can any of you rocket scientists explain why we're all here in the middle of this here cold December night, and what the deuce happened to the front office? There’s a big damn hole in it!” The Government newcomers breathed a collective sigh of relief when they recognized Hank, the security guard, sans Santa Claus suit, and Sandra Kruger, sporting her usual, nervous, bird-like look.
Pushing to the front to confront the new arrivals was the stout, squat, scowling Norma Carbuncle. Ignoring the others for the moment, the robust inventor focused on Bates. "Bates, Mel said on the COM that you damaged our car engine. Let me make something clear. I don't care if you ARE the new head loon in this loony bin, this is MY project, and I simply won't have valuable equipment MISUSED!”
Her expression turned to shock and back to anger as she seemed to notice the others for the first time. "These two are UNAUTHORIZED people!” She was looking at Barns, who she hadn't yet recognized, and Jane, who was helping to hold him up. "Bates, Mel, Oscomb, get inside! The rest will have to leave immediately, including that ANIMAL!” She pointed at Milo, who appropriately took offense with her tone and retorted with a few sharp barks of his own in her direction.
Norma, who lost her temper easily and regained it only with difficulty, was gathering herself to dish out more when a loud, deep voice intervened. "Oh, put a lid on it Norma."
"Oh wonderful, Oscomb," returned the indomitable master inventor, who was not about to be cowed by anyone else, regardless of size, loudness, or gender. "So you're drunk again? Is that what this is about?"
With that, Bates finally lost his own patience. "Wrong, Carbuncle! That has nothing to do with what this is all about! And Oscomb is a damned lucky man to be drunk. I sure as hell wish I were drunk! But right now all of us are simply too tired and cranky to put up with any more of your crap!”
&n
bsp; Bates drew up to his full height and glared down at Norma. "As of now, everyone here is totally 'cleared' for this project of yours. Period. By my authority and with no oaths or forms or anything else required. And right now we are ALL going into this vault and talk about what is happening. All of us, that is, unless YOU want to leave.” His tone softened. "But I do hope you will give us your help Norma. We really do need it."
Norma was rendered speechless, at least for the moment, and stood impassively as the others started to file past her into the vault. Then her jaw dropped. "John? Is that you?” She had at last recognized Barns. The exhausted man paused and turned his head to return her gaze, giving her clear view of the bruises and bandages covering his tired, unusually gaunt face. "My God John, what happened to you?” Jane was already holding him by one arm, now Norma took his other arm and helped him stumble into the vault.
"You were right all along, Norma," said the exhausted administrator. "I should have listened to you sooner. It was Melberg, as you suspected, and Renson too, both working for Twig!” As the two talked the entire group entered and sat down in the vault while Oscar closed the heavy steel vault door behind them. The group from the Nitro all felt a little safer now that several inches of cold, hard steel separated them from any pursuit.
"Have they gotten the safe, John?" asked Norma. "I saw the hole in the building."
Barns breathed a deep sigh. "Yes. They stole it, as you warned me that someone might! And according to them, it was a one-of-a-kind archive that contained about every secret DOD ever had.”
"Oh no!” said Norma.
But Barns, suddenly smiling, turned and put a tired, shaking hand on Bates' shoulder. "There is good news though. Somehow Bates here destroyed everything in the safe before they could get their hands on it! He left them nothing but poisonous fumes that helped me make good my escape from them. It was simply magnificent!” But a deep frown now formed on his tired face. "On the other hand, decades of work done by thousands of researchers was turned to soot and smoke, lost forever."
"Not quite," added Bates. "The MX-84 recorded it all as it destroyed it. I have all its contents right here in my pocket.” Bates pulled the data cube out of his shirt pocket and showed it around. "Not to mention the Ra cubes that you hid in your fishing hat after you stole them from their ship.” He pulled several more cubes out of his pocket.
"Bates!” exclaimed Barns, with a heartier smile than before. "You mean to say you actually saved the contents of the safe? And you found Twig's cubes too? I thought that I had lost those! That's the best news of the day!”
"Not by a long shot," said Bates. "Your escape and the escape of the rest of us is the best news by far. But we have plenty of bad news too.”
Bates launched into his overview of events for Norma, Hank, and Sandra. This time though, he and the others filled in many details.
They sat in hushed astonishment as Barns told his part of the tale. Most of it was horrifying, but it had its lighter moments too, especially when he described his consternation when he realized that his nightmare regarding making Bates the new Head of DOD was in fact reality. They all had a laugh at that, including Bates, who in return for the first time revealed his own conclusions with regard to Barns' sanity, based on his unexpected promotion.
Finishing his narrative seemed to sap Barns' last strength, and he succumbed at last to sleep right where he sat. At that point Jane asserted her medical authority, and announced that her patient must be allowed to sleep the rest of the night.
They gently carried him to another room and lay him down on a cot. This time, Barns would hopefully sleep uninterrupted for at least several hours without having to flee from hungry space aliens, though he was probably likely to have disturbing sorts of dreams. Bates found some lab jackets and tucked them over Barns. Though based on years of prior experience he might always consider Barns to be a shit head, he certainly had to admire the man's performance in this crisis. Not many people would have held up this well.
After returning to the main room, Bates provided most of the remaining narration. Of course all were horribly dismayed by the prospect of Dannos; you can't learn that the Earth is about to be destroyed in about a week without having a strong negative reaction. Thankfully though, it was too big a threat to fully comprehend, and they were all simply too drained to get very excited about anything.
Bates got an additional shock when he revealed that his reason to go to Arizona was to see a woman named Janet Garb. "Oh, you mean yer old girlfriend from school, the astronomer?" asked Hank.
Bates was dumbfounded. He was sure that he had never told ANYBODY about Janet, and until earlier that week, he was positive that he had never exchanged more than polite greetings with Hank.
"Well it's about time," said Mel.
"You should have done it years ago!” added Sandra.
"Now wait just a minute!” Bates exclaimed, “I've kept Janet a total secret for almost twenty years! I never told anyone about her!”
Several people laughed.
"You know," said Mel, "I think he's actually serious. He actually doesn't remember! Narb, don't you know that every time you get drunk you babble on incessantly about Janet?”
"He certainly did when we dated!” added Jane.
"Every woman on Base has known about it for years," established Sandra.
"Even me," confirmed Norma.
"And the less fancy educated hired help too," added Hank.
"Why you even blabbed it to that stripper at the Shady Grove," concluded Oscar. “That’s what started the fight.”
"Fudge Winkies!” exclaimed Bates, in shock. Everybody has known the deepest secrets of his private life for all these years? In fact, they seemed to know more than he himself did! No wonder all the women he tried to date dropped him like a hot potato! If he lived out the week he'd have to try to sort this all out, though right now, he had to concentrate on matters even more serious than his own love life.
In closing, Bates told them that it would be best for all of them to spend the night in the vault. It provided some measure of concealment and protection from the Ra, and they were too tired to do anything else anyway. They would have to figure out what to do in the morning.
"OK, boss," said Sandra.
"We're all behind you, Bates," added Oscomb, yawning.
Norma even saluted Bates. Apparently, despite the revelations with regard to the circumstances of his appointment, the Team still regarded him to be their leader.
As a place to hold up for the night, they could have done far worse. There was a rest room and a refrigerator in the vault, with some food and soft drinks, and a couple of plug-in electric heaters that kept it from getting too cold.
Unfortunately though, sleeping accommodations were somewhat Spartan: Barns had the only cot. The others used lab jackets and their coats as bedding, and commandeered spots on the hard, cold floor of the vault to try to sleep as best they could. Norma turned off the lights, and the vault was plunged into total darkness. There were whispers and sounds of shuffling around for a few minutes, and then things quickly settled down, as the group set about the job of obtaining much needed sleep.
Though totally exhausted, Bates lay staring into the utter darkness of the vault further into the early morning hours, long after the others had fallen asleep. Bates was an accomplished worrier, and now he had plenty more to worry about.
Too much was happening at once. In a normal week, just the Nitro breaking down would have been enough of a crisis for Bates to lose sleep over. This week, there was an arm’s length list of change and disasters that made the car breakdown virtually irrelevant in comparison, including a plea for help from the long lost love of his life, a continuing risk of his own murder by space aliens, and the destruction of Earth in about a week. It all made his head spin. It was a really good time to take up serious drinking, he figured, though the prospects for that were also problematic, since Oscomb had finished off all the beer.
Most terrifying of all, it looked like he, Narbando T. Bates, a man who on a typical morning couldn't be relied upon to find a shirt and tie that matched, was the person in charge and was expected to do something about all of it. OK, he had sort of taken charge at his apartment and in his car, but that was clearly his responsibility. He didn't know what the Constitution said about it, but as a rule, when in one's home or boat or auto, the owner is in charge. The king of the castle or captain of the ship, so to speak.
And OK, he had also sort of asserted command here at the Base too. But now that he had time to think about it, him being in charge of an effort to save the Earth was downright crazy. As he thought about it, several times he had to bite his lip, hit his head, and pinch his arms in the darkness to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter and waking the others. Scenes from the last few days, and especially the last few hours, replayed from memory when he closed his weary eyes, while problems and possible courses of action coursed through his mind in an ever more incoherent jumble.
Besides, Bates was used to reading himself to sleep every night. Fumbling around in the darkness, he located a VISICOM helmet and popped it over his head, and then inserted the data cube that the MX-84 had made from the safe contents. There was so much data that he focused mainly on the MX-84 created table of contents and on database queries to determine what was on the cube.
He was so tired that it took a while before any understanding of what he was looking at began to form. The information was fascinating, but very soon, thankfully, he was simply too exhausted to really think at all. Sleep would no longer be denied. He pushed off the COM helmet. All the dilemmas they faced required too much thought to remain coherent threats, and they simply slipped quietly away into jumbled nothingness. Paradoxically, his last feelings before sleep were of comfort and security. The lab jackets kept him warm enough, and the concrete floor seemed incredibly comfortable, much more healing to his exhausted body than a soft bed would be on a normal night.
His exhausted nervous system seemed to have magnified sensitivity. Real sounds, smells, and feelings vied with ghosts of past sensations and feelings. Fortunately, the warmth, and even the breathing, snoring, and odors of his nearby companions comforted him. They were friends, he dimly remembered. At least he was not alone, wherever he was. He was together with friends in a safe place.
He had to get something soft under his head though. Where could his favorite feather pillow have gotten to? Grouping around in the dark, he finally found something that would do very nicely.
The rest of the night, the measly two hours that were left of it, was instantaneous.