Tilly didn’t want to stand there and argue with Sue Lin. Her instructor had it in her mind to rescue the people left behind—a noble gesture. But at what cost? Losing her life in the attempt? The air did feel thin, and drawing breath seemed more difficult. The atmosphere in the dome had changed, which meant the structure had been penetrated in at least one location.
Tilly took the lead down the ladder. When she hit bottom, she directed the light upwards for the others so they could find their footing. She estimated the lower passage to be 30 feet underground. With everyone down, she shone the light around the base of the ladder. The corridor looked like a roughly hewn tunnel excavated through the lunar rock. The walls and floor were covered with thick plastic cement. She found a control panel on the wall marked with writing. EMERGENCY UTILITY COORIDOR 009. Under that it read, CAN BE USED FOR ALTERNATIVE FUNDS TRANSFER. Tilly pulled an unmarked lever. Nothing happened. Pushing a button produced a buzz. Then a bank of overhead lights flicked on, with an orange halogen glow. The lights disappeared in the distance down the U-shaped shaft. Tilly took the lead at a fast walking pace, pocketing the mini light.
“It must be an emergency generator or something,” said Fia. “It’s a shame these entrances weren’t plainly marked.”
“Maybe they were built just for the elite class,” said Dorothy. “They didn’t mention them in the orientation seminar.”
Just then, the shaft trembled with a prolonged seizure. They braced and held on to each other. An eerie sound followed, like that of a huge ringing bell that had a deep, base resonance. Those were heavy, solid impacts. Tilly knew that the Moon was being strafed and rung to its core. She’d never heard of it happening in the past.
They came to their first pressure door after another ten minutes. Lever-operated from both sides, the huge metal hatch stood ten feet tall. It took two of them to throw the lever, and all of them to swing it open. They shut it after them and continued on. Tilly picked up the pace. The corridor angled left then straightened out, the dogleg turn that Sue Lin had mentioned. They found the second pressure door moments later. They had to work hard to free up the lever mechanism, but finally opened the door. They closed it but left it unlocked.
Tilly had no way to judge the distance they had traveled. She estimated they had covered at least a half mile of passage. They approached a third pressure door that sat partially open. Above it, a placard read EMERGENCY SHELTER 009. Pulling open the door revealed a large gymnasium-sized room, filled to capacity with sleeping cots, bedding, counters, shelves and wardrobe closets. The same orange lights, set in the ceiling ten feet overhead, illuminated the room. Huge ventilation grates gawked from the roof; thick pipes ran from one end of the ceiling to the other. Tilly felt an unearthly still and dampness in the room as she walked down the aisle with the others. It looked like it had never been used. Looking back, she saw the outline impressions of their shoes in a fine layer of dust. What most amazed her was the paint scheme of the interior; the walls, ceiling, and floor were bright pink. The cots stood out with a coat of olive green. Stress reliever? It brought back visions of the FTALC induction center.
Dorothy walked toward an alcove and threw some drapes back. “There’s a full kitchen in here,” she said, her words echoing. “Looks like a full stockroom beyond it, with what looks like water tanks.”
Tilly investigated the area toward the other end of the main room and found an anteroom that served as a shower and toilet facility. Whoever had built the structure had thought of everything. Nearly housing all the comforts of a modern home, it looked large enough to sustain at least 300 people for a limited amount of time. The way it was laid out with a basic design and fashion, it resembled one of the ward dormitories. She joined the others.
Fia stepped up to the wall opposite the kitchen and reached out to touch it. Curious, Tilly stepped up behind her and looked at a square section of the wall that appeared wrinkled. They touched it at the same time and it tore. Fia stripped off a huge square of paper, revealing a 2-D flat screen underneath. Dials and buttons lined the bottom row of the screen. Dorothy joined them.
“It must be connected to the emergency broadcast system,” said Tilly. “It wouldn’t be for entertainment.”
“You’re right about that,” said Fia, and twisted some dials, pushed a few buttons. The screen blinked on, showing a test pattern. She tried different channels. All of them showed the monotonous test pattern. It issued a white static noise when she turned up the volume.
“Nobody’s broadcasting,” said Dorothy. “At least, not yet. It must be mass confusion up there.”
“It could be mass deaths up there,” said Tilly, and trotted to the kitchen alcove. All of the appliances were made of stainless steel, including the bottom cupboards. She flung them open, finding utensils, pots, skillets, dinnerware and cups. The last cupboard held four large plastic containers, all of them white and stenciled with a large red cross. She opened one up to reveal a large supply of medical supplies, including morphine and other painkillers. The kit included a portable cardiac defibrillator and a couple dozen oxygen masks, with small canisters. She closed the case and picked it up by the handle. She called out to Dorothy and Fia, “You two stay here. I have feeling we’re going to be busy in a few minutes. Get everybody settled when they come through the hatch. Treat the wounded. I’m going as far as I can topside to help direct the traffic down here.”
“You be careful, Tilly!” Fia warned. “We don’t know what’s happened up there.”
Tilly ran through the entrance hatch, closing it behind her. She started down the corridor at a steady trot. She had no wish to wear herself out or lose her breath by overexertion. She had oxygen in the emergency case if she needed it. When she made it to the next pressure hatch, she had to catch her breath and rest for a moment. She heard a commotion up ahead—a rabble of voices--feet tramping over the floor. She swung the door open. A crowd of people filled the corridor a dozen yards down, some stumbling and some limping.
Tilly waved her hand. “Everybody this way!” She ran up to a miner who had a teenage boy in his arms. The miner’s forehead was bleeding. “There’s a lot of civvies and wards still up there,” he huffed. “Couldn’t get them all.”
Tilly took the boy’s limp arm and checked for a pulse. Negative. She saw that the boy’s head was caved in. The miner was unaware of it and might have been in shock. Rather than raise a panic, she jabbed her finger at the open hatch. “Get him to the emergency shelter as fast as you can.”
The miner refastened his embrace on the boy and trotted off. Tilly gave the people cursory checks as they moved up the corridor, offering first aid to anyone who needed it. More people, overcome by shock and injuries, crawled and stumbled through the passage, some of them screaming for help. Tilly’s eyes filled with tears, and her hands shook. She pushed her way through the oncoming crowd, seeing more horrific injuries. She thought of Sue Lin and what might have happened to her.