We are the seals. We go and fight missions that seem impossible, until we win. This time we volunteered to fight for the enemy. Once in we turned their fighters into willing prisoners of war, got them asylum and a new start. They were just kids roped into being soldiers. Well, blow that for a game of soldiers! It was time they went home... or to a new home... whatever we could do. There are many ways to decimate an enemy army. We did good. We stopped the war much faster. Less parents lost their kids. More civilians lived. This is what being a seal is all about.
This routine mission is feeling less “routine” all the time. The complex that was so archaic above ground has given way to state of the art equipment below and the insistence for someone of my expertise is becoming more apparent. If I wasn't such an idealist I'd turn around right now; I can't think of a pay-check high enough to make me want to find out what's behind the metallic doors. For something subterranean the proportions just aren't right. The headroom is pushing twenty feet and the width would take the interstate no problem. The cost of this extra space makes no sense, not when you're this deep in rock. You'd never know it though, if you woke up here this could be some windowless penthouse maze, but it isn't.
Whatever diversion Kiki cooked up has worked, there hasn't been any resistance at all. The silence is so absolute that my breathing is loud to my ears and I notice every step onto the highly polished walkway. There is a retina scan of course, but Kiki takes care of these things. One pickled eyeball and I get the gentle hiss of pneumatic doors.
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