Pearl

Chapter 2 - As sharp as knives ...

If Fulton was dinky backwater town, so was Fort Gunderson.

Ranked at the bottom as a 4th class military installation, it was built along a mountain ridge just 20 miles northwest of Fulton. The structure was a squat mass of gleaming metal columns, sharp, angular lines, blinking security lights, roving watchtower sensors, and grey laminated concrete. It was equipped with a small fleet of maglev-powered hovertanks and other assorted vehicles, laser cannons and plasma missiles.

It also has a highly advanced tracking and surveillance system that kept very close tabs on a medium-sized portion of central Alaska. Despite its size, Fort Gunderson’s surveillance system was frightfully accurate, capable of detecting the most minute changes from great distances. It monitored nearly everything, ranging from the migration routes of whales and puffins, shifts in the local bear and wolf populations, to the license plates of vehicles that came in and out of Fulton and other surrounding towns, monthly weather forecasts, and flight routes that crisscross nearby areas, including the major outer space ones. It was a unique fixture in that region, a highly advanced technological marvel located in an out-of-the-way place. And since it was a gleaming but grim reminder of humanity’s warlike tendencies, civilians generally viewed the base with a mixture of awe and suspicion, along with a weird sense of security comparable to a stuffed toy a child afraid of the dark would hug tightly.

But it was still a 4th class US Army base.

However, detecting the small group gathered just outside the base’s outer perimeter would be virtually impossible, even for the much larger, more sophisticated military installations that currently exist on Earth …

And to match its status, the military personnel who were assigned there were merely adequate. The US government felt it wasn’t necessary to have its highly-decorated enlisted personnel assigned to such a boring and isolated location where not much happens. Fort Gunderson was an unremarkable place occupied by unremarkable people.

Except to those who stood watch over them …

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“Good evening, and peace to you all,” Nahaliel, accompanied by Anauel, greeted the group.

The others have all gathered outside the base, all eager to meet their “guest”. They were the guardian angels tasked to watch over each and every member of Fort Gunderson. The sight gladdened Nahaliel’s heart because it showed how dedication to their duties far outweighed their modest number. But after a brief period of exchanging warm and hearty greetings, the angel felt a bit unsure.

“We all grieve here, friend,” spoke Hamaliel, the guardian angel of the colonel who heads the base. “So much pain, so much sadness, anger and darkness have infested their souls. Especially with the one I’m in charge with,” Hamaliel concluded with a sad note.

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You! You! And you!! Get ‘em the f**k outta there!!!

Enemy fire!! Enemy fire!! We’re taking a really bad pounding here!!!

Medic! Medic!! Where’s the g*****n medic?!!

We’re losin’ him sir!!

We just took another hit!!

Dammit!!! Where’s the f*****g backup!?!!

He’s gone!!!

We’re dropping like g*****n f*****g flies here!!!

Backup!! Do you copy? Backup!! Answer back, for f**k’s sake!!!

Briggs, you BASTAAARRDD!!!

His eyes flew open in panic as the air from his lungs came in a series of rapid, hoarse gasps. His face was clammy and covered in a film of cold sweat.

S**t …

Fort Gunderson commanding officer Colonel Jarman Briggs scrubbed a hand across his face and stared at the ceiling. For a moment, he wondered why his fingertips felt strange … warm like flesh, but smooth and stiff. And then he realized it. The hand that scrubbed his face was no longer the flesh-and-blood one he was born with …

It’s crazy to think that he’s been functioning quite well with a top-of-the-line cybernetic left arm for 10 years and he still misses his old one …

You dumb a*****e … that’s why you lost your arm … and your friends …

He sighed. The start of another new year didn’t stop the nightmares. It still went on, the same as the years before …

Dragging himself out of bed, he blinked several times and looked around his quarters. It was a regulation 10-square meter room that contained a single metal bed with a twin-size memory foam mattress and a metal nightstand. Half a meter away was an industrial-style work desk with a holo-comm system and LCD computer that is activated by an iris-activated scanner with an accompanying swivel chair. To a corner on the right, a hidden sliding door led to the adjoining bathroom. Completely standard military regulation compliant, nothing has changed. A pressure sensitive pad beneath the door’s entrance opened and he entered the bathroom. As soon as he stepped in front of the ceramic sink, a stream of cold water appeared in front of the faucet. Several splashes of the bracing liquid woke him up and he reached for a face towel on the heated rack. A holo-mirror appeared in front of him, reflecting the craggy lines of his middle-aged face, the sprinkling of grey stands in his close-cut kinky hair - and the shadows of bad memories in his eyes.

These quarters have been Col. Briggs' “home” for many years, and he definitely wasn’t expecting shallow things like the interior decor to change anytime soon.

Which was just the way he liked it.

Better to be somewhere boring and safe than the Aristarchus Lunar Base during the Great Intercontinental War …

Stepping out of the bathroom, he absently pressed an indention on the tiled wall next to his bed which served as a button that activated the concealed refrigerator behind it. A small square panel next to it slid back, revealing an aluminum tumbler. Returning to his bed, he flipped a notch to open the drinking spout and tossed his head back to take a deep swig of the cold liquid in it. He released a puff of breath in satisfaction. 60-proof hard liquor mixed with a specially concocted LSD derivative, his poison of choice. It will be good enough to make him numb for a good minute or two so his brain won’t keep replaying those memories …

He took another swig …

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“Hardly a day goes by when I don’t grieve for him,” Hamaliel sighed.

Nahaliel placed a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Any self-respecting angel would, my friend.”

“The nightmares continue, sometimes for weeks on end. He sets himself apart from the people he leads. He keeps to himself, turning his back against any form of comfort or healing, and only drowning himself with vast amounts of those vile alcoholic drinks.”

“Not that it ever really helped him,” sighed Tadhiel, another angel.

“Or them,” added Rehael.

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There was another presence that Fort Gunderson’s surveillance system was unable to detect, and it was in a slouched sitting position as it lounged carelessly on top of the concrete walls that marked the outer perimeter.

It was, in all truth, something that Nahaliel and the others would consider their greatest enemy.

“Heh,” Talmon the demon smirked, revealing needle-sharp teeth.

Look at these losers … all huddled together whining and clucking like a bunch of wet chickens …

“S**t’s gonna hit the fan real soon - and it’s gonna spatter on you guys.”