Subordinance

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

In coming to a different Base, I guess I’d hoped that there would be a difference in the times we got up or what time training ended. I’d held onto the frivolous hope that I’d be able to sleep in.

Like I said—frivolous.

Flickering lights flare to stark whiteness, flooding the dormitory in intermittent bursts. The keening sound of a siren is blasted over the sound system, emergency directions being announced in garbled sentences unintelligible to any of us. Meanwhile, the clock on the wall tells me its a little after midnight. Flopping my head back, I throw my covers aside and tug on the boots nearest to my bunk, figuring we’re going to have to walk somewhere. Everyone in the dormitory looks like ghosts, still reeling from the two-day fast of ration meal and the lack of sleep tonight. The five or so hours of sleep we did get was punctuated by frequent and urgent visits to the bathroom across the hall, usually with a rather green-looking Subordinate or two standing outside the door while another was in the stall. Despite that, whatever emergency drill this is isn’t really fair to subject a group of newly-assigned Subordinates to.

The door to the dormitory opens to reveal the Quadrant Officer, still dressed in his uniform from last night, though looking slightly more rumpled. His green eyes are clouded with exhaustion and encircled by purplish bags, but he still manages to command the attention of the bleary dormitory without so much as a word.

“I want to hope that you all took advantage of as much sleep as you could, as it looks like you won’t be getting anymore tonight—but I really doubt that actually happened.” The Quadrant Officer’s tone alludes to the possibility of sympathy in his voice. He runs a hand through his mussed dark hair, inhaling a breath before surveying the room. Just as he goes to open his mouth, the blaring siren changes to a shriller pitch, coming in a higher frequency and urgency in call. He shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’d better get going,” he hitches his thumb towards the ajar door behind him. Raising his eyes to the roof, he shakes his head. “Aerial threat siren. We have to get to the Dome Complex and underground—I’ll explain what’s going on on the way.” He pivots on his heel, turning and heading down the hall, pressing his finger tip to an unmarked door’s scanner near the mess hall. It shifts open, revealing a spiraling set of metal and concrete stairs that seem stretch down and around for a while.

“Aerial threat procedure—we have to take the stairs down in case something happens with the elevator. These will take us down to the main floor of the Quadrant Wing, and from then on we have to make our way to the Complex.” He peers over the side of the railing at the top landing, checking his watch, and then looking over again. “We’ve got all of three minutes to make it down there—let’s go.” He starts his way down the stairs, jogging and taking two steps at a time, the rest of us following behind him in a similar fashion. He seems impatient, though, a third of the way down, and goes from taking two steps at a time to leaping from landing to landing, using the railing to swing his way around the spiraling stairs, landing flatly at the bottom with his arms crossed. Meanwhile, we stand maybe halfway down.

“Two minutes!”

By the time everyone clears the six flights of stairs, he’s already two Quadrant Wings away, trailing a straggling line of Subordinates behind him. The Quadrant Wings we pass through are dead silent save the wailing siren overhead, dark except for the flashing white lights that flood the room with blinding flares of brightness. We reach the Dome Complex with thirty seconds on the dot to spare, following the Officer through one of the tunnels that snakes its way down into a cavernous underground room with the entire Regiment huddled in its depths. Much to my ears delight, the blaring siren can barely be heard in the outreaches of the room we are in. After we enter, another couple of Quadrants all make their way into the room, the Regiment Commander at the front of the room surveying the gathering group as it expands to accommodate the entering Quadrants. The room is massive, carved into the earth itself, the arching ceiling braced with flashing metal supports and the walls lined with utilitarian shelves stocked with emergency provisions, including more of our favorite thing—ration packets. The room itself is sparsely furnished, the only furniture being the metal benches staggered in rows throughout the room and the naked light fixtures suspended from the ceiling. Once the entire Regiment is gathered, the Regiment Commander motions with his hand for us to sit, taking his place in the center at the front of the room.