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I'm getting back into writing after a long break.
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I tapped the mute key on my terminal.
"Boris! Where's the QS-19 document safe?"
The sleepy NCO looked up from his morning tea. All our shifts had been rearranged by the crisis.
"Nineteen? Sub-basement. In the vault."
"Seriously? Okay…" I unmuted the mic. "Mr. Secretary, please transmit confirmation code."
A tense few seconds passed as a progress bar filled before blinking green.
"Hold, please." I bounced the SecDef back into the departmental call queue, and sprinted for the door, thankful for the emergency-relaxed dress code that let me wear sensible shoes that day.
Who puts emergency plans in the sub-basement?
I waited for the elevator, ignoring standing orders to use the stairs when on alert. Leaving the SecDef on hold for too long is a career-ending move.
Fourteen floors lower, the room somehow still lit with archaic LED strips, I struggled with a rusty keypad and retina scanner embedded in an unimpressive gray-painted steel door.
Finally, a sad little speaker beeped, and the door swung inward.
Comments (1 so far!)
Very good follow up. The details are effective as are the observations and thoughts of the narrator.
- #3105 Posted 2 years ago
Inspired by (sequel to):
We weren't ready for the aliens, but should have been.
They first got our attention with a series o…We Weren't Ready
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 8 times and rated 0 times.
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