Solaris Rising Read Online Free Page B

was going on below. The really scary stuff at Point Zero was invisible.
    The young lieutenant sitting across from me looked tired and ill. They burned out quickly here on the Perimeter – the constant stress of keeping things from getting through the fence, the constant terror of what they would have to do if something did. A typical tour out here lasted less than six months, then they were rotated back to their units and replacements were brought in. I sometimes wondered why we were bothering to keep it secret; if we waited long enough the entire US Marine Corps would have spent time here.
    I leaned forward, raised my voice over the sound of the engines and said to the lieutenant, “How old are you, son?”
    The lieutenant just looked blankly at me. Beside him, I saw Former Corporal Fenwick roll his eyes.
    “Just trying to make conversation,” I said, sitting back. The lieutenant didn’t respond. He didn’t know who I was – or rather, he had been told I was a specialist, come to perform routine maintenance on the sensors installed all over the Site. There was no way to tell whether he believed that or not, or if he even cared. He was trying to maintain a veneer of professionalism, but when he thought nobody was looking he kept glancing at the windows. He wanted to look out, to check on his responsibilities on the ground. Was the Site still there? Was there a panic? Had a coyote got through?
    It had been a coyote last time. At least, that was the general consensus of opinion – it was hard to be certain from the remains. The Board of Inquiry had found that the breach was due to gross negligence on the part of the officer in command. The officer in command, a colonel I had met a couple of times and rather liked, had saved Uncle Sam the cost of a court martial by dying, along with seventeen of his men, bringing down the thing the coyote had become. You could tell, just by looking at the lieutenant, that he had terrible nightmares.
    The Black Hawk made another wide looping turn over Sioux Crossing, waiting for permission to land. Looking out, I thought I could see my old house. The city had been evacuated shortly after the Accident. It had taken weeks to clear the place out; even after dire stories of death and disaster, even with the cloud hanging over the Site, there were people who refused to leave. The fact that the skies by then were full of military helicopters, some of them black, hadn’t helped. The government had handled the whole thing poorly, and there had been a couple of armed standoffs between householders and the military. Then a bunch of asshole militiamen had turned up from the wilds of Montana, vowing to oppose the Zionist World Government or the Bilderberg Group or whoever the hell they believed was running the world. I was glad I’d missed the whole thing.
    Further out, I could see the buildings of the Collider in the distance. From here, all looked peaceful. Apart from the cloud, towering over everything, it was as if nothing had ever happened here.
    The pilot eventually got permission to make final approach and we landed in a park on the edge of Sioux Crossing. The park was ringed by prefabricated buildings stacked four high, offices and barracks and mess halls and control rooms and armouries and garages surrounding a big white ‘H’ sprayed on the ground. The lieutenant jumped down as soon as the door was opened, and the last I saw of him was his back as he strode away from us towards the control centre.
    “Talkative fucker,” Former Corporal Fenwick commented, hopping down from the helicopter beside me.
    I sighed. A figure in fatigues was coming towards us from the control centre. The figure passed the lieutenant, and they snapped salutes at each other without breaking step.
    “Welcoming committee,” said Fenwick. “Nice. I approve.”
    “Shut up, Fenwick,” I muttered.
    The figure was the base commander, Colonel Newton J Kettering. He marched up to us and saluted. Fenwick returned the