Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 100/?] (Patreon)

93 Hours After the First Round of Interloper Interrogations. Signal Station. Hallway Interchange en route to the Administration Wing.

Lysara

It’d taken less than five minutes to get all the aerial survey drones configured for each of their respective operations.

It’d taken another ten minutes however to ensure that network connectivity was established through the daisy-chaining of signal repeaters on repurposed drones. Most of which were the less-capable, but equally as important survey or support drones, whose illustrious careers as vent-crawling trailblazers were now cut short for the purposes of becoming what was ostensibly a glorified signal node.

Still, their relatively small size and maneuverable stature, owing to their arachnid-forms, would make them a hard target for anything to take out effectively; thus ensuring some degree of security for a consistent and continuous signal feed through the otherwise impenetrable halls and back up towards the surface where Vir’s presence was more or less… well… omnipresent.

“You guys are really, really over-reliant on tech, you know that?” Evina managed out in between the prep process, prompting Vir to quickly interject.

“The setup process is the worst part. The best part is actually enjoying the fruits of your labor. That’s always how it is with tech. You’re more than welcome to explore every nook and cranny of this place on your own two feet and at your own pace if you’d prefer.” Vir retorted with a sly tone of voice, prompting Evina to cackle softly under her own breath.

“Nah, I was just messin’ with ya Vir. Thanks for performing overwatch, you’re doing ancestors’ work.” 

The pair ended that little back and forth with a mutual snicker, prompting me to raise a brow at how quickly the pair were becoming not only cordial, but familiar with one another.

Ten minutes later, and a pattern of operations had been successfully established by the drones, whereby signal repeaters were dropped at semi-regular intervals; at about the edge of signal decay before moving onwards.

This meant there was no longer any need for us to hang back in order to potentially intervene in assisting with the drones at this early stage in the operation. 

Which meant we were now free to carry out our part of the operation, as we began marching our way down towards the administration wing, as Vir continued updating us on what he found throughout the rest of the facility.

93 Hours After the First Round of Interloper Interrogations. Signal Station. En route to the Administration Wing.

Evina

The appearance of several screens at the top left hand corner of my field of vision was… distracting to say the least. However, it provided unique insight into other areas of the facility that would’ve otherwise taken hours to cover in any meaningful capacity. 

And it’d only been fifteen or so minutes since the drones were allowed to wander freely.

The veritable army of machines acted as a force multiplier in more ways than I could’ve ever imagined was possible.

And I was once again here for it.

“We’ve reached the end of the medical wing’s hallway.” Vir uttered over the airwaves, showing what appeared to be a dead-end with only a few doorways leading to five rooms. “This seems to be about eighty percent shorter than what we observed on the moonbase… is this typical for planetside facilities?” 

“Yup, usually. They only lead to a handful of clinics, some in-patient wards, a few minor operating rooms, two major ones, and like a labor room so yeah. It should be the quickest one to survey, along with storage. They both take up a lot of volume per room though, so don’t let the short hallway mess with your expectations.”

“Noted.” 

With that, I watched as the drones entered the rooms.

Within them… were yet more signs of abandonment. 

Or more accurately, signs that the place wasn’t even inhabited in the first place. 

Gurneys and stretchers were strapped to their posts in a way that not even the most well-oiled and disciplined bunker would’ve put the effort into maintaining.

Medical charts, the electronic kind that usually failed after the first year of use, were placed exactly where those instructional videos showed them to be. 

Moreover, not a single bed in the in-patient department had been moved or shuffled out of place. Which, whilst a dream for any hyper-strict bureaucrat, was just not the boots-on-the-ground reality of any bunker in existence. 

It didn’t take more than half a year for the stricter procedures to be ignored, or for certain improvements in the workflow to be found and adopted naturally.

Which meant that a reshuffling of equipment, supplies, and overall organization was practically guaranteed to happen; something that was eerily absent here.

As everything, just like the intake offices, was absolutely untouched.

The reality of which was seen just a few moments later, as one of the drones eventually found its way into the combined storage room of both the operating and labor rooms.

It was fully stocked.

Moreover, not even the Do Not Remove seals had been tampered with; meaning not even the skeleton crew meant to operate the facility had been sent down here. 

Shelf upon shelf of and row upon row of medical supplies were left sitting there, yet remaining dust-free due to the clinic’s high-performance air filtration systems.

The wastelander inside of me was practically foaming at the mouth just imagining how much all of those supplies were worth in barter considering the rapidly-dwindling medical ‘supply chain’ of the wastes.

But that part of me was overruled by just the sheer oddity of seeing something that felt like a blast from the past — a glimpse into a reality that should not exist, and couldn’t have existed past the very first day of intake.

“This place is like a time capsule.” I muttered out, as the drone’s vantage point soon shifted to that of the storage facility’s entrance.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Lysara responded soon after, as we found our cautious walk had dipped in speed, probably for the better as well given how off everything felt about this place.

The storage facility… was effectively just like the medical storage unit, but taken to the next level with what amounted to several warehouses’ worth of space being completely jam-packed from floor to ceiling. 

Everyday supplies from hygiene products to toiletries, canned foods to nonperishables, clothes to sewing kits, remained fully stocked and untouched. Crates upon crates of these items were packed alongside large scale industrial equipment and heavy-duty repair kits, all of which were typical of the average bunker and very much familiar to me… but never had I seen them so completely full.

It was that latter fact that was throwing me for a complete loop.

But it wouldn’t be the only thing to do so. 

Because as the drones approached what should have been the end to the storage facility, they inexplicably came across something that shouldn’t have been there — another door.

One that not once in any of my iterations, had I recalled seeing or hearing about in any bunker.

Neither Lysara nor Vir needed any prompting for them to start forcing it open, which proved to be a piece of cake even in spite of its bank-vault looking features.

The lights turned on as quickly as it detected the presence of the drones, as we were treated to something other than the bare-concrete and gray-painted utilitarian aesthetics of the storage facility. 

The floors in this massive room were tiled, and so were the walls. The whole place looked more akin to a high-end research facility more than anything. 

Those thoughts however were quickly overruled by the discovery of wall-to-wall cylindrical drawers with what appeared to be barcodes and little faded pictures of plants next to them.

These drawers, upon closer inspection, were built into what looked to be ice-cold tanks; if the icy condensation on them were of any indication. 

“A seed vault.” Lysara surmised, somehow managing to highlight certain features such as the various tubes, pipes, and leaking coolant fluid dripping on certain parts of the floor. “Is this… common in your typical vault, Evina?”

“No.” I replied promptly. “I mean, we do have some seeds just in case we need to jumpstart civilization, sure. As well as a pretty extensive cache of the typical sorts of seeds we use in our hydroponics. But this? This is way, way beyond the little fridges we have in the back of the storage facility, or even the most intense of perma-bunkers hydroponics projects. This… this is fricking next-level.”

“Noted.” Vir commented, as we rounded out the seed vault, and brought that part of the mystery-bunker’s investigation to a close. “Two corridors down, two to go for me.” 

“We’re working on catching up, Vir, just hang on.” Lysara responded, just as we were met with two doors on either side of us deep within the admin wing’s straight corridor.

Turning towards one another, we decided on the right one first, entering it to find a typical council chamber… without any of the local bunker flair you’d find after a few centuries underground. 

This place looked sterile, hearkening back to pre-war business-formal aesthetics, as my first iteration was quick to pick up on how standard all of this looked.

Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary just yet, at least not in the admin wing.

After a few moments of searching, we quickly found ourselves heading to the next door, which definitely wasn’t normal. 

“This is wrong.” I commented, as Lysara began picking and prodding at what seemed to be another conference table. This time, with a map of the local area neatly placed in the middle of it, and several pieces of blank paper placed neatly at each and every seat. 

“Another conference room?” Lysara offered.

“One that shouldn’t exist.” I countered. “You’d typically find the security chief’s room here, or at least a security adjutant, or something related to security opposite of the council chambers. This… this is just another meeting room, without any security control panels, access terminals, or heck, not even a weapons locker or anything here.” I announced as I began rummaging through filing cabinet after filing cabinet, uncovering only books, atlases, and neatly folded maps of the entire continent. “What the heck’s the obsession with geography here? And what’s-” I paused, as I pulled out a massive series of files, all of which had CLASSIFIED written in bold on all of them.

Lysara noticed this almost immediately and helped me scatter the folders across the conveniently-placed conference table.

Without even uttering a single word between us, we began shuffling through the alpha-numerically coded files, opening them up to find even more maps. 

This time however, they were maps of what appeared to be something not meant for civilian eyes.

There were military bases, airports, radio and radar facilities, harbor and logistics hubs, all of which were highlighted and annotated in excruciating detail.

Pushing forward, we even found several files watermarked with the word PROPOSALS, each of them were just iterations of the same maps from before, except this time with roads and rail lines that didn’t exist, and airports that I’d never heard of. 

The more we went through this particular file however, the more we uncovered places that had never existed on the continent. 

From farms to towns, to states and borders that were categorized by alpha-numerical code. 

All of our questions and more were eventually answered after what felt like hours of searching, as we turned to the final file in the set, finding what appeared to be a document that broke down each of the various non-existent locations. 

Though the contents within were still limited, as if written to reference a bigger, grander document that wasn’t here — it still provided enough context to figure out what was vaguely going on. 

“These are post-war proposals.” Lysara deduced, at just about the same time that the same idea hit me. “Or at least that’s what I assume them to be—”

“You’re right.” I interjected, still refusing to take a seat, as I instead leaned over the piles upon piles of documents that’d begun stacking up high since we started our impromptu investigation. “And before you ask, the answer is no. This isn’t common nor typical in your regular bunker. There were home-grown plans, sure. But nothing this extensive.” I took another breath, before reaching over to another nondescript filing cabinet, labeled only by a single ominous word in bold — CORRESPONDENCES. 

The lock that was on it, similar to the rest of the cabinets, was dealt with swiftly with the aid of one of Lysara’s soldier drones. 

However, upon opening this one… we were met with nothing. 

Nothing but rows upon rows of empty folders, marked only with ascending numbers and not much else.

“What the heck’s going on here?” I managed out under an exasperated breath, prompting Lysara to gesture back towards the hallway.

“There’s only one way to find out.” He responded calmly. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes, let’s.” I nodded, leaving the documents behind in a scattered mess, and closing the door to a room marked only with the number 100. 

(Hey everyone! I can’t believe we made it to chapter 100 of Humans Don’t Hibernate! I can’t thank you guys enough for sticking around with this series for all this time, and I can only hope that the series continues to live up to expectations! Thank you so much guys! This story, its characters, and the universe it’s in still means a lot to me, and I can only hope that I can continue to do it justice! :D)