STALEMATE

PART ONE:

I woke up in a panic, grabbed the rusty clock on my nightstand, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only 10 AM. It was a miracle the damn thing still worked. All the non-critical electronics on the island had long turned to junk.

I climbed out of my bunkbed and walked past rows of others on my way to the bathroom. It was hard to believe so many people used to share one space.

My toothbrush sat carefully balanced on the side of the sink. I winced as I saw my reflection in the mirror: pale skin, heavy eyes, and open sores across my face.

As I brushed my teeth, my eyes wandered to the poster on the wall beside the showers. A cartoon man in a yellow hazmat suit pointed to a bulleted list of side effects.

REPORT ANY SYMPTOMS TO YOUR SUPERVISOR, it read.

The symptoms included nausea, fatigue, brain fog, open sores, ulcers in the mouth, abdominal pain, and diarrhea.

I chuckled. That list sounded like a normal day for me. I finished brushing my teeth and showering before putting on a yellow hazmat suit, just like the character in the poster.

The morning sun bounced across the inside of my helmet as I stepped outside. The catwalk to the main chamber always had the best views. Past the cragged rocks, there were calm ocean views in every direction.

The sky, however, was a different story. I traced the trail of putrid smoke rising from the column above the main chamber. The clouds above churned and shifted, shimmering with all manner of hues. There was no doubt: It was getting worse.

Over the years, the main chamber entrance had become a shrine to the past—a reminder and a motivator.

The sides of the rusted metal door were adorned with the only photos I had left of my family. They were glued to the metal, permanently attached so the wind wouldn't carry them away.

On the left was my father, dressed in his military uniform and with the same stoic expression he always had when he was alive.

"Don't worry, Papa, I'm keeping up with our work," I said.

My eyes went down to the photo beneath it. It was my favorite photo of my mother. We were on the beach—I couldn't remember where—but she was wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat, and I was wearing a matching one in a smaller size.

The last photo was of my family. It hurt every time I looked at it. I often wondered where they were, if they had somehow survived the Fall, and if they even remembered me.

I tapped a long string of numbers into the keypad beside the door. The mechanisms groaned as the door swung open. The main chamber had two floors: the top was a communications array, and beneath deep underground sat the main vault.

I walked dusty monitors and servers that worked tirelessly to collect data, pressing a button to call the main elevator. A panel slid open, and a small retinal scanner protruded from the wall.

I leaned in to scan my right eye and leaned back once I heard the chirp of a confirmed scan. The doors slid open, and I started the long journey down.

Within seconds, the Geiger counter built into the arm of my suit started to click and chatter. I lifted my arm and looked at the gauge, watching as the needle climbed higher and higher.

The elevator reached the bottom, and I stepped out to see the intricate and forboding door of the main vault. A single circular window in the center was the only way to see inside.

Beside the door, a desk sat adorned with equipment that I didn't understand and a monitor that always displayed the same flashing message: BREACH DETECTED.

I approached the door and touched the glass window. Bright flashes of color came from within. A profound sadness washed over my entire body. The thing inside was crying for help, but I couldn't oblige. I had a job to do.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling my hand from the window.

I sat down at the desk beside the vault door. My body went through the same motions as always: I pulled the second lever, hit buttons three, five, and six, and then turned the key on the left side.

The message on the screen changed. PACIFICATION IN PROGRESS, it read.

I returned to the elevator and held my hands over the sides of my suit’s helmet. Haunting screams followed me well into the elevator ride, echoing through the bowels of the planet.

Next came the earthquake, like the thing below was furiously shaking its chains as it screamed. I braced myself as the elevator swayed in its shaft. Like every other day, it only lasted a few seconds.

When I reached the communication array on the top floor, I sat down at another desk and typed a simple message on a keyboard:

DAY 3652, GAIA STATUS: PACIFIED.

A message came back on the screen almost immediately: ACKNOWLEDGED, PETROVIA THANKS YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh as I shut my eyes for a moment of respite.

It would not come, though, as a blaring siren suddenly rang out. I shot back up, checking the screen for signs of what was happening.

The message had indeed changed. PERIMETER BREACH, it said in flashing red text.

I ran out of the room, sprinting across the catwalk back to the barracks. I opened a chest at the foot of my bunk bed and pulled out a Petrovian SK-47, an automatic assault rifle that was standard issue for all soldiers. The difference with this one is that I had never fired mine.

My mind raced as I checked the clip and ran back outside to another catwalk that led south to the archive. The only entry point on the island was the southern shore at the dock; a natural barrier of jagged rocks surrounded the rest of the island.

I cut through the archive, passing rows and rows of bookshelves detailing the war, the Fall, and the thing locked deep beneath the ground.

I threw open the doors leading to the dock and took the concrete steps two at a time, barely able to see through the foggy window of my helmet.

When I reached the bottom, I turned and spotted a figure walking toward me. He seemed non-threatening, carrying only a thick folder bursting at the seams with papers.

He adjusted his rounded glasses and froze mid-step when he spotted me. I raised my rifle, and he, in turn, raised his hands. Several of the papers in his folder escaped into the wind.

"Don't move!" I shouted. My hands shook as I curled my finger around the trigger.

"Please, don't shoot; I mean you no harm!" the man shouted back.

It didn't matter; the rules were clear. I exhaled and pulled the trigger.

PART TWO:

I had never been on a boat before. In fact, I'd never seen an ocean. The rocking of the waves, the churn of the ship's engine, and the smell of ocean air were too much for my stomach to handle.

"Didn't know you folks could get seasick," the captain chuckled.

I stood up, one hand grasping the railing as the other wiped fresh bile from my lips.

"I suppose we're both learning something new today, then. How much longer until we arrive?"

The captain scratched his coarse grey beard, mumbling as he plucked the lit cigar from his mouth.

"About two hours, I'd say. What do you want with this old place, anyway?"

I walked over to a pair of chairs on the deck beside the wheelhouse and collapsed into one of them.

"It's one of the few places still standing from before the Fall. Call it a professional curiosity."

The captain laughed. "Sure, professional curiosity," he shrugged, "Well, the truth doesn't matter to me; your money spends the same as anyone else's."

After a few breaths, I felt the nausea finally relent.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," I said.

The captain nodded, his gaze fixed on the ocean before him. It was a short walk to the guest cabin; the boat was not meant to carry more than a few passengers.

I shut the door behind me and sat at a small wooden desk. Papers spilled out from an open folder.

Most were covered with the phrases CLASSIFIED and TOP SECRET.

Entire swathes of text were blacked out, but enough remained to be useful to me in my research.

I dug into the pile and pulled out a document labeled ARCHIVE #67. Aerial photos of an island showed multiple buildings connected by catwalks that stretched between them like spiderwebs.

The island used to house about forty Petrovian soldiers, but it was decommissioned after the armistice of 2082.

I flipped the page over. On the opposite side was a wall of black ink covering the text below a section called THE GAIA VAULT.

I had lost count of the hours I spent going through these documents, chasing this secret that Petrovia had buried deep beneath the surface of our world.

The excitement and anxiety mixed like oil and water in my stomach. I had barely slept the two days it took to reach the remote island. I packed the papers back into my folder and lay on the bed beside the desk.

Just a few more hours.

The captain's voice broke through the silence, jolting me from a restless sleep.

"I think you should see this!"

I half-climbed and half-fell out of bed, trying to reach the cabin door. I ran outside and toward the boat's bow, quickly realizing what the captain wanted me to see.

The island approached on the horizon, but above the old metal structures, the sky churned to the clouds with a strange, almost oil-like consistency.

Colors danced within the strange shapes, creating an almost hypnotic effect. I had never seen anything like it.

"Wasn't like that last time I came this way," the captain remarked.

"How long since you've been here?" I asked.

"About a year, give or take. You still want to dock?"

"Of course, I'll get my things," I said, returning to the guest cabin.

I stuffed my papers into the leather folder and grabbed my coat. When I returned to the bow, the darkened skies were hanging overhead, turning day to night in the blink of an eye.

The captain deftly guided the boat toward the dock, cutting the engine as he stepped out to tie a rope onto one of the posts.

I stepped off the boat as well, grateful for solid land. The captain extended his open palm, awaiting his payment.

"Yes, of course, one moment," I said, pulling on my coat and adjusting my glasses. I reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a stack of brightly colored bills.

"Half now and half when you return, as we agreed."

The captain counted the money and nodded. "I'll be back in twenty-four hours."

He quickly undid the rope and climbed back onto his boat. I watched him drive off toward the horizon before taking a deep breath and climbing the stairs toward the Archive.

The building was impressive—a monolithic blend of concrete and metal, topped with a golden dome.

A loud siren blared across the island as I reached a concrete landing. I froze, looking around for any signs of life. In the distance, I spotted a figure dressed in a faded yellow hazmat suit. My blood turned to ice when I saw the rifle in their hands.

They raised their gun, and I instinctively threw my hands into the air.

"Don't shoot, I mean you no harm!"

I only had a moment to consider if they heard me before a gunshot rang out.

PART THREE:

The man with the rifle slowly let the breath out of his lungs as his vision wavered and his heart galloped in his chest.

The bespectacled man on the doc stood perfectly still, his hands in the air as he looked down for any sign of a bullet wound. He found nothing.

The man with the rifle emptied the chamber and loaded another bullet.

"Hey, listen to me! I'm not here to hurt you."

The man with the rifle paused at the sound of another human's voice. It had been so long. It was enough to make him hesitate.

"This is a military facility; civilians aren't allowed!" the man with the rifle shouted back.

The bespectacled man stepped forward, his hands still in the air.

"I'm aware of that, but to my knowledge, this archive hasn't been in use since the armistice. It also looks to me like you could use some help."

The man pointed to the sky, gesturing at the oily black spreading like ink on a page.

The man with the rifle looked up briefly and thought about the thing locked up deep underground.

"What do you know about it?" the man with the rifle asked.

"Why don't we start with names? I'm Noah; I'm a scientist."

"Corporal Pavel Stanislav, badge number one-alpha-two-three-niner-zulu."

"Okay, Corporal, this isn't an interrogation; I don't need your badge number. Why don't we put the gun down, and I can explain why I'm here?"

Pavel lowered the rifle, overriding years of military programming that had conditioned him to act before thinking. Noah lowered his hands and smiled.

"Are you from HQ?" Pavel asked.

Noah furrowed his brow. "No, I'm not with the Petrovian military; I'm an independent contractor. I was hired to visit decommissioned archies like this and report on their status."

"Why would they need to send someone? I report the status to HQ daily. I’ve been doing it for years.”

Noah's breath hitched in his lungs. He never was a good liar. "That's odd; there must be an issue with the connection. Things have been degrading since the war ended. As I'm sure you know, maintenance is not exactly Petrovia's top priority.”

The wind started to pick up. Pavel watched as Noah desperately tried to keep the papers in his overstuffed folder.

"Let's discuss this inside," Pavel said.

The two men went into the main archive. Noah had to stifle his amazement as he gazed upon the numerous shelves of books and ornate display cases, all filled with relics and history lost to the greater world.

"Incredible," Noah whispered.

"It truly is. Come, have a seat here," Pavel said, gesturing to one of the tables.

Noah draped his coat over the back of the chair and sat down. Pavel set his rifle down, removed his suit's helmet, and sat across from him.

Noah’s heart sank when he saw the sores on Pavel’s face.

"Now, tell me why you're here," Pavel said.

"Well, as I mentioned, I am an inspector and chronicler sent to catalog the information in Petrovia's various archives. For posterity."

Pavel's eyes wandered down to the papers on the table in Noah's open folder. They were certainly Petrovian documents.

"Let me see what you have here," Pavel said, reaching for one of the papers.

"No! These are classified!" Noah said, reaching out to grab Pavel's arm.

That's when Pavel saw it, a barcode tattooed onto the bottom of Noah's forearm.

"I knew it!" Pavel shouted, grabbing his rifle from the table.

Noah cursed under his breath as the skin on his right arm peeled back. From inside, a small pistol emerged, mounted to a metal anchor that ran parallel to where his bones should be. It snapped out with machine-like precision, aiming directly at Pavel.

The two men sat in silence.

"You think you're clever? You Anduvian spies are all the same! Nothing but a machine masquerading as a human."

"Pavel, please, I don't want to hurt you," Noah said.

"I don't care that you have a weapon in your arm; it's no match for my speed!"

"Pavel, please. All I have to do is think about firing; this weapon will deliver a lethal shot in less than a quarter of a second. Just put your gun down, and let's talk."

"What does a machine want with the archive anyway? Why are you here?"

"I'm not a machine, Pavel ."

"Yes, you are! You weren't born; you were manufactured."

"If I'm just a machine, why would I come here and try to reason with you? What possible purpose could I have to appeal to your humanity when I could end you and be done with it."

Pavel shook his head. "No! No more mind games! You are here to steal, to sabotage!"

"Pavel, the war has been over for ten years. When was the last time you heard from the Petrovian military?"

Pavel's eyes scanned the room as his mind searched for an answer.

"I...it's been, that is to say, they..." he trailed off.

"You've spent every day following a protocol for a country that no longer exists."

"No, you lie!" Pavel shouted.

Noah stood up slowly, the gun in his arm accounting for the movement, keeping itself trained on Pavel's head.

"When was the last time you saw your family? Do you have a wife? Children?"

Pavel took one shaking hand off his rifle to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"I made a promise!" he said.

"Yes, and you fulfilled your duty to your country."

"No, I made a promise to my father. He told me to make sure it never escapes."

Noah's eyes went wide. "What are you keeping here, Pavel? Is Gaia here?"

Pavel slapped his head. "No, I shouldn't have said that!"

“What’s your plan, Pavel? Are you going to shoot me? If not, I’d say we’re at an impasse.”

“I don’t want to shoot you; I want you to leave!” Pavel shouted.

“I can’t do that, my friend.”

“I made a promise! Why can’t you understand that?” Pavel asked, lowering the rifle to meet Noah’s gaze.

Noah took the opportunity to grab Pavel’s rifle barrel. He tore the gun from Pavel’s hands and threw it onto the ground.

"You have to set her free, Pavel! You know this as well as I do, but you’re so set in your ways that you can’t see clearly. Tell me I’m wrong!”

Pavel fell onto his knees, burying his face in his hands, and began to sob. All of his training, all the promises he made to his country and his father, they didn't matter anymore. The weight of it all was crushing him.

Noah’s gun retreated back into his arm, and skin crawled over the hole.

"We may have been enemies once, Pavel, but no more. It's time to undo the sins of our leaders."

"But, Father said if Gaia gets out, the world will end again. He told me she must remain in Petrovian hands for the sake of everyone."

Noah laid a hand on Pavel's shoulder. "Your father said that because someone else told him it was true, and that person believed it because someone else told them it was also true."

Pavel composed himself and looked up into Noah's eyes.

"They lied to us?" he asked.

"I don't know, Pavel. Everything I've managed to gather about the Gaia project spoke of it as a weapon to end the war, but all it did was cause a never-ending stalemate between our countries, one that’s slowly killing our world.”

Noah helped Pavel to his feet. Pavel's entire world was crumbling around him. He felt confused and terrified, but most of all, he felt deep and profound regret.

Pavel shook his head. "I am the machine, not you. For ten years, I did what I was told. For ten years, I listened to her screams as I subdued her. For ten years, I questioned nothing and did what I was told! What does that make me?"

"It makes you a good soldier. Now that you’ve fulfilled your duty, it's time to set Gaia free."

Pavel nodded. "And what will happen then?"

"I don't know, but you don't need to worry about that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to free her," Noah said.

"No, I should do it," Pavel said.

"The radiation alone has already done enough damage to you. I’m immune to it. Tell me how to get to her, and I will see it done."

Pavel shared the process and codes needed to access the vault deep beneath the archive. Noah diligently took notes.

"I have a boat coming back in 24 hours. I want you to take it."

"What about you?" Pavel asked.

"This is the last stop on my journey."

“But why? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to; I have my reasons. I just want you to leave in my stead. Start fresh. Get back to your life.”

Pavel grabbed Noah and hugged him. Noah was shocked, but he ultimately returned the gesture.

"Thank you," Pavel said, "It seems I was wrong about you. You're no machine; you're an angel."

"Thank you for letting me free her. I made a promise like you, and I intend to see it through."

Noah gave Pavel the funds to pay the captain in the morning, and after that, they parted ways. Noah went down to the vault while Pavel carefully gathered his things.

He tried to pull the photos from their place on the wall outside, but they would not move without tearing. He would have to leave them behind.

The next morning, a ship's horn blared in the distance. Pavel returned to his shrine and placed a hand on the photo of his wife and children. He smiled as tears blurred his vision.

"I'll see you soon," he whispered.

Though the ship captain was concerned about the sudden change in passengers, his questions ceased when he saw that Pavel had the money for the trip's second leg.

Pavel stared at the horizon as the ship departed, eager to take the first step into the next chapter of his life.

Meanwhile, Noah was deep underground, standing at the vault door with his hand on the glass. He had been there all night.

Alarms blared around him as the facility's sef-destruct systems prepared to destroy the evidence of Petrovia's crimes against the cosmos.

Gaia would survive, but Noah would not. He took out a small photo from his pocket and stared into the eyes of his maker, a person he had never met but one who had given him a task greater than he could have ever imagined.

Noah closed his eyes and held the photo close as explosions tore through the facility and the vault ruptured, freeing the thing known as Gaia.

Pavel watched the explosion in the distance and felt a renewed sense of purpose for the first time in over a decade. The war was over, and now, the healing could finally begin.