Ryker Petrović

[Ryker]

Dayton, 2044

The reactor core itself was not exactly where the power rods were located. Yet one more layer of protection encased the rods from where he presently studied the turbine system. His gaze flicked at the black pools, imagining the confinement shells buried under their obsidian surface. The fourth, final barrier between the world and the radioactive rods, the confinement shells were made of lead. The rods were buried within them. Of course, none of this was plain to the eyes. He only knew the basic diagrams Wioletta’s reports made them study. But as he waited for the seconds to tick until time zero, another wave of menace made the hairs on the back on his arm stand up.

He rubbed his sleeve just as someone came to stand beside him.

“You okay?” the man asked. He was a site surveyor in his forties, running the usual checks. Ryker knew all about the man, another part of mission prep, knowing the identity of all those to cross their path on the inside.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, glancing at the man’s name tagged to his coat.

“It’s Steve, right?” he offered to shake hands. Ryker’s accent wasn’t quite as flawless as Johann’s, but he easily passed for American. The blonde hair and blue eyes helped. Plus he could pull off that American charming cocky son of a bitch better than many.

“Yeah, that’s right. Thanks for coming up. Memphis site doing well these days?” he asked. Steve had been with Dayton for three years. Had transferred from Atlanta originally. He still had that southern accent too.

“You all have it better than us, but it’s holding together,” Ryker replied. The badge on his coat said his name was Paul. Paul from Memphis. He didn’t have the southern accent though. Mostly because Ryker couldn’t get it right and he didn’t care enough to try any better. He was originally from Pennsylvania.

Steve tapped his radioactivity badge, indicating he better get back to it. They only had so much allowable time on the inside after all. Ryker shot him a mock salute and a lopsided smirk that fell to stillness as silent as the watery pools once Steve’s back was turned.

He was thirty seconds late pulling the rig, but he could improvise.

Mossimo’s voice buzzed Ryker’s ear to hurry his ass up. The turbines ran mechanically. There was no way to stop them except to disrupt a release valve, and that fucker ran on regular batteries. Alone, Ryker quickly slipped a copper and wire battery interruptor on the valve. Within the space of about forty-five seconds, all three of the high pressure turbines and two of the lower pressure ones were slowing.

The disrupted valve indicators alerted their system, but Ryker was already on the other side of the reactor by then. Steve came running, his footsteps thumping on the steel walkways.

Ryker couldn’t leave yet. He had to remove the interruptors once Johann’s work was completed in the command center. Mission orders said they had to delay long enough to force the control rods into the water to halt the nuclear reactions, let the water pressure build up inside the containment shells to just below explosion pressure, then reverse the process.

The nuclear reactor would be offline, but the secondary heat would build just enough to make the world hold its breath, then all would be well. They would walk out with a nuclear power plant defunct and crisis averted. No melting skin.

Ryker and Steve hurried to the indicator panels. Ryker went through a mockery of the checklists to determine the source of the problem. Steve was on the radio, relaying what was happening. Standard protocol said that when the reactor was compromised, there would be no entrance or exit. Their fates were sealed. Steve was justified to be worried. Sweat slicked his brow.

Ryker knew his part inside out. He was in front of an enormous panel of instruments. Sensors and lights flickered colorful warnings. Gauges were going up rapidly.

“Control rods are descending!” he yelled to Steve. His voice boomed echoes inside the massive chamber. Both of their gazes immediately fell to the black pools of water. The surface was still silent as the night sky, but deep within something was happening. Steve paled. 

Plan part one: check.