“Why would that affect this facility?” 

Lois reached out with her arm, and Smythe grabbed on. She helped him out of the pod, but his legs began to wobble. Instead of holding steady. She moved away entirely and let him plop to the ground. 

“That’s for shooting me,” Lois said curtly. “The insurrectionists have managed to find two of these facilities…”

The word insurrectionist certainly did not inspire confidence. The masses were clearly not going to stand by as the rich and powerful along with their governments left them to suffocate on the dying surface.

“Command revised their courses of action once the space ports were destroyed,” Lois said.

“Destroyed?” Smythe asked. “Who did it?”

Ever since the ‘rusty fog’ began to choke out all life on the planet, the major players established an uneasy détente. I doubt we trust each other any more than we did during the Second World War. 

“The people,” Lois said in a way that implied she knew more about the situation than she was letting on. “When it became clear that it was indentured servitude or death, they chose the latter.”

“Why would that affect this facility?” 

“Oh, I’ll have to add that detail to the scenario,” Lois said while typing in something on her data pad. 

“You said something about a change of plans?”

Smythe was part of a secret government program that created several facilities like this one to house a large number of agents, scientists, and other key personnel. The Ark program was plan B after their preferred way of waiting out the ecological extinction of the planet was in the comfort of a cabin orbiting the planet. 

“Command revised their courses of action once the space ports were destroyed,” Lois said.

“Destroyed?” Smythe asked. “Who did it?”

“Change of plans I’m afraid,” Lois said. “How did you know I was the mole?”

Had Smythe been honest he would have simply told her that he did not see the gamble as a loss. Their interactions were often strained, and that was putting it mildly. Half the staff asked him if they once had a history, which was funny considering they batted for the same team. 

“You were far too calm, your clothes were clean, and there was no bruising on your fists,” Smythe said. 

The latter he knew from experience, having tasted her knuckle sandwich when he made an inappropriate quip. Smythe was clearly in the wrong, and he knew it, but that moment formed the basis for their professional relationship.

“Stop it right there,” the man behind Lois said. “Here is exactly—(what you are going to do.)”

Smythe did not hesitate, the assailants on either side were clearly relaxed, expecting him to play their game. He fired off several controlled bursts from the weapon, the first aimed at Lois to throw them off. The shots landed on both her and the man behind her. The other two made use of the way the weapon rode up. Each had shots starting from their lower rights, with two or three at centre of mass and another at the right shoulder. 

Before he had time to make a quip, the world faded to black.

He took a left and fired off a shot burst at one combatant at the door. Where there is one…

Again he gave the entrance a wide berth, this was the control centre. It came as no surprise that it would be defended. What did catch his eye was the hostage the three men had with them. 

She was short, with an exaggerated hourglass shape, dirty blonde, and blue eyes.  This was Lois Quinn, the station’s quartermaster, and from first glance she looked to be no worse for wear. I’ve seen her more frazzled after bringing back the car with a few bullet holes in the trunk.