Steam filled the spacious restroom as Alexander Morr finished his morning shower. As the days went by he slowly made his morning routine last longer to delay the time before the inevitable. He finally resigned himself that he had wasted enough time and finished his dawdling. After toweling off he slipped on his white long sleeve dress shirt with a crisp line of starch on the sleeves that matched the black dress pants with the line down the middle. While he hated his new job he understood that a certain degree of professionalism was expected of him and he respected that. His true passion had always been science like his father who helped study the Gray. Politics was a dull topic but one he needed to master to get his goals accomplished.

He stepped out of the restroom still fastening the buttons on his shirt and headed for the bedroom to find his socks and belt he had forgotten to get ready with his other clothing. He slowly cracked the bedroom door and mentally kicked himself for not shutting the hallway light off beforehand as the crack in the door spilled light over his sleeping wife. He crept in and shut the door hoping to have avoided waking her up.

“Forgot your socks?”

“Sorry.” He replied to the groaning voice coming from the bed.

“It’s alright, I told you to wake me up before you leave anyway.” She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, still groggy.

“But if I woke you up, I’d never want to leave.” He stepped over to the bed and leaned in to kiss her. Her black hair was a tangled mess from tossing and turning through the night. The right side of her face was still red from where she had been laying on it and her cute brown eyes were partially stuck shut. Even so, she was beautiful and he knew he wasn’t the only one to think so. Her father was the previous Director, God rest his soul. Cancer had taken him like so many others as it was the only real threat to the Bastion’s medical prowess. Being the previous Director’s daughter gave her a certain degree of pull in the political world and Morr needed that...

He finished kissing his wife and retrieved his socks before playfully pushing her over and telling her to go back to bed. She obliged and he stepped out of the room to finish getting ready.

“Keycard, wallet, ID” he mumbled to himself as he stepped out the door while patting his pockets to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Once satisfied he headed down the white corridors to the metro system where he would make his way to work. As he walked he passed several residents who smiled and greeted him with the same friendliness they repeated every day. While he reciprocated the gesture he secretly despised everything about them. It was all a facade from the smiling to the warm greetings. Everything about the political world was hollow and Morr desperately wished he could have gone into the Gray program like everyone in his family before him. The strong linage of scientists ended with him but as his father told him. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good.

“Good morning Director!” A passing resident cheerfully smiled at him. To which he smiled back in return while he considered his dead father’s words and if his own sacrifices would truly be worth it.

It didn’t take long for the Metro that spanned the entire Bastion to get him to his Office which also housed the Board of Director’s chambers where the old men sat and pretended like they had a purpose. Director Morr sat down at the head of the long rectangular conference table with his nameplate situated in front of him. The room was filled with the old bastards who all were trying to pursue their own goals while occasionally doing something good for the Bastion. Which usually meant them staying out of the way so progress could be made. Morr hated meetings but he hated the Board of Executives even more, so a meeting with the Board was hell.

“You have the results from the latest scans?” Morr asked Samples as the meeting started. Samples was the Executive over the Venators and surface deployments. He was one of the few Executives Morr respected given Samples time in the BDF. Despite being born in the Lower Caste Samples had risen in the ranks to an Officer and eventually Commander. His story of how he crawled from the mud in the trenches to a seat at the Boards desk was truly aspiring and he held the respect of not only the BDF but the Lower Caste. Morr kept that in mind as he not only respected him but weighed how difficult it would be if he became a problem since removing him would likely cause a riot.

Each person at the table had a monitor screen facing them that allowed them to interact with each other. Samples pressed a few buttons and in an instant, the files appeared on Morrs own screen so he could examine them.

“Looks like the thermal generator wasn’t fully operational yet. We hit it before they sat up the power transfer cables so we can’t track it back to whatever hole they’re in. I’ll take responsibility for that.” Samples held his head up despite his self-accusations. He was probably the only honorable man at the table Morr thought to himself.

“Nonsense Samples, we gave them more than enough time to finish it, it’s not anyone’s fault.” Morr wanted Samples on his side so giving him a pat on the back in front of everyone wasn’t a bad idea he reasoned.

“What’s the next step?” Morr added.

“A while back we found files for a military bunker that apparently had no record of power consumption.” Samples tapped another button and a map of Idaho and Wyoming popped up on a holographic display in the middle of the table.

“The files indicate this bunker was meant for long term housing of military personnel, similar to our satellite outposts. Problem was they never finished construction before the bombs dropped.” Samples cleared his throat and took a drink from the glass of water in front of him before continuing.

“While the bunker wasn’t finished it never received power from an outside source or so the financial records indicate. Those same records also make this one of the most expensive bunkers in the area. We’re betting it has its own power station.” Morr held up a hand to interrupt him.

“Did the prisoners from the thermal generator have anything to say about their plans?”

Samples shook his head. “No sir, we don’t believe they would have been high enough in the survivor’s command structure to know anything.”

Jackson, the Executive over research and development in fields pertaining to marine biology, audibly scoffed. “Command structure is a bit of a stretch for them isn’t it?” The insult brought out a smirk from the other Executives. Morr furrowed his brow and stood up from his seat.

“You don’t think they have a command structure, Mr. Jackson?” Morr asked inquisitively.

Jackson still grinning looked over at the Director and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they have a ‘leadership’ structure.”

“How many BDF soldiers have the surface dwellers killed this year alone?”

“I...no idea?” Jackson replied while exaggerating his confusion with his hands.

Morr walked around the table behind the other Executives. It was obvious they didn’t take him seriously. After all, he was the youngest Director the Bastion had ever seen. He predicted the only reason he got the position was because they all wanted it for themselves and needed to compromise and pick someone they could control together. He was determined to show them that was a mistake on their part.

“Well I’ll tell you Mr. Jackson, it was 74.”

“Alright?” Jackson replied still not seeing where the Director was going with his little speech.

“Do you know how many BDF soldiers we lost last year? I’m assuming not, it was 53. The year before that was 21, so what does that tell you.” Morr made sure to talk fast as if he was upset with Jackson’s behavior, in truth it was all a show.

“Means we need to up the recruitment for BDF?” Jackson shrewdly answered.

“Means they’re getting better, Mr. Jackson. If we don’t end what little organization they’ve managed to piece together they WILL turn into a problem and not just for the poor bastards we send outside.” Morr finished his mock tirade and sat down. He did his best to sound irritated and mildly angry. Yelling at the Executives would only make his life more difficult but he weighed Sample's opinion as more valuable than Jackson’s since his plans didn’t require the support of the marine biology division. Which he wasn’t even sure what they did on a day to day basis.

Jackson nodded his head like he finally understood but Morr predicted he’d gossip about the Directors inability to focus on the important matters once the meeting was adjourned.

Morr motioned to Samples to continue his presentation and hoped he appreciated the act.

“As I was saying, the Bunker is the next logical choice that the survivors would go for. It’s in the area we’ve encountered them the most and the files for it weren’t highly classified so they’d most likely exist at any other military database, which we know they have access to. It’s my recommendation to the Director and the Board that we deploy the Venators at that bunker to secure it once satellite scans show surface activity.”

Morr chewed the inside of his lip, a habit he only recently started since he got this job. He carefully eyed the plans Samples had laid out. The man was an excellent tactician but often he’d overlook the long-term strategy.

“Would it not be more practical to have the Venators do the interrogation at the bunker? If they could extract the information from the prisoners, they could proceed with reconnaissance on the survivor base. All we’d need to do then is deploy the BDF and level the base.”

Samples rubbed the back of his neck as if something was wrong.

“You have a problem with that Samples?”

“No problem sir, just Venators don’t do interrogation well.” Samples replied in a humble voice as if not wanting to offend. Morr took this as a sign that he was beginning to respect his opinion, which was good.

“They’re Venators, they do what they’re told. I want the surface dwellers' latest base located before the month is up. The Gray program hasn't had considerable resources to work with in almost a year."

“Very well, sir.” Samples responded in a stern military tone, indicating he’d get it done.

“Anything else we need to know?” Morr added.

“We’ve noticed on the last scan there was movement and a heat signature in the bunker. Most likely a small Gray nest from the size, surely nothing the survivors couldn’t handle. Maybe soften them up for the Team, as if they need it.”

Morr took about a minute to finish reading over the plans. His people in the Gray program assured him they were close to controlling the creatures, they just needed more raw material. With the surface dweller base, they could avoid another repulsive purge using there own lower castes. Finally satisfied with the plans he cleared his throat and addressed the room again.

“I move for the execution of Mission 2305-43 as seen on your monitors with the Board's approval?”

Green tally marks replaced the map on the holographic display as the Board members all checked their screens, indicating their agreement. Morr wondered if even half of them knew what they were agreeing to or if they had spent the whole meeting sleeping and messaging their young assistants. The changes he was going to implement once everything was in place would take care of the Board and ensure the Bastion successfully completed its purpose.

“Igne natura renovatur integra” The board shouted in unison before ending the meeting, the Bastions informal motto.

Through Fire Nature is Reborn Whole.

“Cricket I swear to whatever God is out there, I’m going to beat you to death if you hit me one more time with that towel!” Rose’s loud voice echoed through the shower room as he threatened the other Venator who backed up a few feet while laughing.

“Big man in a pissy mood eh?” Cricket chuckled while he finished drying off from his shower.

“They took 25% of my rations away, so yeah I’m hungry which means pissy”

“Maybe if you didn’t try to lift the whole damn bench press and went for reps not weight, you’d lose a lil muscle. They probably going by that height to weight ratio chart, doesn’t consider muscle.” Grinch added to the conversation as he finished cleaning his boots.

“Well, that’s stupid.” Rose mumbled as he opened a locker to get his clothes.

Baron stepped in the locker room adjacent to the shower and slapped the nearest locker a few times to get everyone s attention. The metal clanging made a harsh echo in the tiled room.

“Listen up! Pale Horse is deploying in the next 24 hours, Black Horse is too but not with us so stow your shit and be ready for it!” The crowded locker room shouted back “Yes sir!” in reply. It was always welcome to get the hell out of the Bastion, regardless of the mission.

After the Teams finished getting dressed they went to the armory to look over their gear and prepare. It usually turned into shit-talking each other while occasionally working but regardless they were always ready when the order came down to move out.

“Hey, Warden when’s the last time Red Horse got deployed? I feel like they've been on ice forever.” Rook asked while scrubbing carbon off his rifle’s battery coil.

Moses, who had been walking by carrying an orange he lifted from the mess when the cook wasn’t looking, slapped Rook on the back of the head.

“What the hell was that for?!” Rook exclaimed as he grabbed the back of his head, confused.

Moses sat down on the bench across from him and leaned in close while peeling the orange, not bothering to look up.

“Have you gone to the Cryo tubes?”

“Not since waking up last?” Rook replied while eyeing Moses befuddled.

“Tin isn't with us anymore. Don't ask about a team and remind everyone we lost someone, check tubes first. Pull that shit again and I’m gonna take you in the sparring room alone.” Moses emphasized ‘alone’ and stood up to check his own gear. Rook's mistake had been a minor one but the Teams were very tight-nit and losing someone was hard.

Rook bit his cheek and turned around to Warden.

“Hey, I*”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know.” Warden interrupted him before he could finish apologizing and Rook went back to cleaning his rifle, albeit much quieter.

The armory was one of the few luxuries the Bastion gave the Venators. While it was necessary to store their equipment they went above and beyond, giving them full diagnostic stations for the suits, racks of every weapon they could ask for, and all the support gear they could imagine. The Teams knew the room like the back of their hand and could find everything from para-cord to replacement thermal coils for the repeater in no time despite the racks upon racks of shelving.

Baron had finished gathering up his team and was inspecting their suits as was standard procedure before a mission. He couldn’t remember when he last found a real problem with anyone’s gear but he didn’t want to take the chances of skipping it.

“Grinch you going to clean this rotatory link on the DC12 to DC13 link?”

“Next on my list Cap’n, just finishing up with sparky here.” Grinch slapped his oversized electromagnetic cannon he prized more than his soul if they had one.

Baron wasn’t worried about the dirt on the rotatory link but inspections gave him something to do. He had prepped his gear the night they got back from the last mission. Sleep didn't come easy for him lately unless it was in a Cryo tube.

“Check this out, I’m going to weld a hook on my rear neck brace so the next time I get stuck in a pit like that time in Austin you guys can pull me out faster.” Target who acquired his name from always being the first one survivor’s shot at, proudly showed off his plans to Rose. Who rubbed his chin like a scientist reviewing plans for something important and not just a piece of titanium being slapped on a suit.

“Don’t you weld shit before your Cap’n looks at it.” Baron yelled from across the armory as he fingered Rook's rifle.

“Yes sir!” Target yelled back like a child who was told he couldn’t play outside. Rose snickered at his misfortune and went over to finish his own preparations for the upcoming mission.