Shadowsiege

Prologue

Prologue

Prologue

They sat in an office, the younger man and his older colleague. They faced each other across the worn desk, each reclining in chairs that creaked whenever they moved. Their drinks remained untouched. The bare walls reflected the coldness of the light from the ceiling tiles.

This wasn’t a room to be enjoyed, or one to call attention to itself. And that was fine, because this conversation was one for the shadows.

“So things are in place?” the older man asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

“The situation is contained,” said the younger. “I foresee no problems that cannot be overcome.”

“But I’m still concerned. Our primary contact‌…”

“Remains accessible. Do not worry.”

The older man shrugged. “It’s my job to worry.”

“Understood. But your concerns are unfounded.”

The old man paused, then seemed to dismiss the matter. “So the evolution is real?”

“Potentially. When the subjects reach re-emergence we’ll know for sure, but indications are positive.”

“And the anomaly?”

“We need to assess.”

“Always. But your personal thoughts?”

The younger man raised one eyebrow, as if this was an impertinent request. But the old man was used to this, and he simply waited for a response.

“The situation was unforeseen, even in our wildest models.” The young man spoke as if reciting a speech. “There is only a minute probability of replicating the event. I don’t believe we can risk the whole operation, so I still lean towards removal.”

“But he is contained? The situation is being monitored?”

“Of course. But‌…‌containment is not sufficient. That has failed us before‌—‌your decision, I believe.”

“Just because the outcome was not what we desired, don’t assume the decision was not the correct one.” The old man kept his tone level, refusing to rise to the bait. “Besides, the decision ultimately rests with the company.”

The younger man snorted in derision, but looked suitably repentant when the old man glared. That was the problem with youth‌—‌it had no patience. It had no understanding of the need for things to run their course.

The old man eased back, letting his fingers tap a rhythm on the desk. “So you would remove the anomaly from our calculations. But what of those awaiting re-emergence? Are they not also unknowns? We did not envisage infection, after all. What would you have the company do with them?”

“They are a major leap forward. They require study and observation, of course, but they bring us extremely close to the ultimate goal. The anomaly?” He shrugged. “He’s a freak. He doesn’t belong in the program.”

“And so, as you have stated, you would have him removed.”

“Yes.”

The old man waited, and was unsurprised when the man across the desk sighed. His shoulders slumped, and his weariness washed across his face.

“To be perfectly blunt, I would sleep a lot sounder if Haven itself was removed.”

The young man didn’t meet his eyes, and again the old man was not surprised at that. And his colleagues sentiments? Again, unsurprising. Because the old man was thinking exactly the same. There were too many unknowns, and too many ways things could end poorly.

He, too, would rest easy if the base and all its inhabitants simply ceased to be.