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“You getting this?”

“Yes.”
 
There was a pause, then Carter cleared her throat.
 
“I don’t think those cracks are that old.”

Mason followed the cracks as they seemed to converge, stepping past a support beam.
 
He paused, looking at the beam.
 
It was charred and black along one side, the side facing where the cracks in the ceiling were converging.

That’s when he saw the body.
 
It was covered with a layer of carbon, barely recognisable, black from head to foot, the corpse curled up in a foetal position against the floor.
 
Water had mixed with the ash, a pool of dark stretching out around it.
 
Mason checked the feed.
 
The body was there in digital too.

“I think we’re getting warmer.”

Carter snorted.
 
“Don’t you think that’s just a bit in bad taste?”

“What?
 
Oh.
 
Right.”
 
Mason’s mouth tugged at the edges, the expression more habit than feeling.
 
“Bad choice of words.”

“Accurate, though.
 
Find it, Mason.
 
We can’t afford to lose this one.”

They came out of the darkness at him then, eyes milky from the grave.
 
There were seven of them, their shambling gate bringing them into the Tenko-Senshin’s beam.
 
Their grasping hands reached for him.
 
The feed —

Mason pulled the trigger, the scream of the weapon deafening in the basement.
 
The blaze of the flechettes, bright and angry, stabbed across the floor between him and the walking corpses.
 
The heat from the weapon sparked and kicked at the air, and one of the corpses started to burn from the heat even as it was pulled apart, falling in pieces.

Then they were gone.
 
Flames licked up from the floor, where something had fallen as it burned.

“Mason!”
 
Carter’s voice was loud in his ear.
 
“What—”

“The feed, Carter.”
 
Mason coughed again.
 
“They
were on the feed
.”

“I don’t—”
 
She stopped.
 
“That’s impossible.”

“You can see them, can’t you?”
 
He walked over to the burned patch on the ground.
 
It was an arm, cut and torn from the Tenko-Senshin’s barrage.
 
He poked it with a gloved finger.
 
“And you can see this.”

“The dead don’t walk, Mason.
 
We know the hallucinations are just…
 
They’re an effect, from the rain.”

“This look like an effect?”

“No, but…
 
Wait.
 
What’s that?”
 
Mason’s optics flickered once, twice, then a reticule highlighted a section of an arm.
 
“That tattoo.”

Mason leaned forward, poking the arm with the barrel of the Tenko-Senshin.
 
The tattoo was typical military-style, the falcon, globe, and anchor faded with age.
 
A barcode was etched underneath, the six-digit service number faded to illegibility.

“Give me a second,” she said.
 
“I’ll enhance that.”

Mason’s optics flickered again, picking out the barcode and service number.
 
A section popped into relief, image enhancing algorithms kicking in.
 
A sound was coming down the link from Carter.
 
“Are you…
 
Jesus.
 
You’re humming.”

“Yeah.”
 
She went back to humming.
 
“I love my work.
 
What can I say.”

“It’s hardly the time, Carter.”

“Oh.
 
Right.”
 
She stopped humming, and a chime sounded.
 
“It doesn’t matter, we’re done.
 
That arm belongs to…
 
John Smith.”

“I’m not in the mood.”
 
Mason rubbed a hand over his face.
 
“His name’s actually John Smith?”

“Yeah.
 
From Nebraska.”

“John Smith, from Nebraska.
 
What’s his arm doing here?
 
And when did he die?”

“Well, that’s the thing.”
 
A military service record started to download to Mason, the pages flipping over in the top right of his optics.
 
“According to the Marines, he’s not dead.”

Mason nudged the arm, then stood up.
 
“Looks pretty dead to me.”

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Carter.”

“Yes, Mason?”

“I’m a field agent.
 
I didn’t study sociopathy.”

“Sociology.
 
I’m a sociology major, Mason.
 
Amongst other things.”

“Whatever.”

She sighed, then paused for a moment.
 
“It’s got nothing to do with sociology.
 
It’s just logic.
 
The reason why… Specialist Smith doesn’t have a deceased date on file is because you only just killed him.”

“Specialist?”

“Career Retention Specialist.
 
It’s in the file.”

“He was…
 
Wait.
 
He was in HR?”
 
Mason looked up at the darkness around him, then let the Tenko-Senshin’s beam fill the spaces between the columns with light.
 
You’re babbling.
 
Get your shit together.
 
Only little kids are afraid of the dark
.

“It’s the Marines, Mason.”

“Christ.
 
I thought they shot people.”

“They do.
 
And they have an HR department to make sure they retain people who are good at shooting.”

Mason blew out a nervous laugh.
 
“Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“I know you don’t like HR, Mason, but this is a bigger issue, ok?”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’re like dealing with a child.
 
A retarded child.
 
The atmospheric effect?
 
You remember.”

“Sure.
 
The effect.
 
The rain.”

“Right, the rain.
 
We figured it made you see things.”
 
Carter coughed.

“It does.”
 
Mason nudged the arm with the toe of his boot.
 
“I saw a dead man walking.”

“No,” said Carter, “you didn’t.
 
You saw a live man walking, and then you made him a dead man.
 
It becomes even more imperative that we find the technology for the Federate.
 
You need to get to that buyer, and acquire the asset.
 
To use your word, this is powerful ‘stuff.’”

Mason chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, looking around at the bodies.
 
Some were still burning.
 
“They looked dead.
 
They were attacking.”

“Wait.
 
I’ll show you.”
 
Carter spun back the tactical overlay to the time that Mason opened fire.
 
“See?”

“Ah, Christ,” said Mason.
 
“I just shot a bunch of homeless guys, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” said Carter.
 
“But that’s not the interesting bit.”

Mason walked amongst the remains of the bodies.
 
“What did Specialist Smith get kicked out of the Marines for?”

“Discharged.”

“What?”

“They call it ‘discharged,’ Mason.”

Mason sighed.
 
“Ok, Carter.
 
Discharged.”

“He was attacked.”

“It’s the Marines.
 
Gonna happen.”
 
Mason gestured around him.
 
“He just got attacked again, after attacking me.”

“You should read the file.”

“Pretend I don’t have time for that.”
 
Mason heard something out in the darkness, turning to point the Tenko-Senshin at it.
 
There was nothing there.

Carter flicked the file through, the discharge papers dropping into Mason’s optics.
 
“He was trying to performance manage someone, and got hit in the head with a chair.
 
He couldn’t walk properly after.”

“So I just killed a cripple?
 
Way to make me feel better, Carter.”

“The point is, Mason,” she said, sounding exasperated, “that before, we thought the rain made you see things.”

“It does.”

“Right.
 
But it also makes you see different things.
 
Things that are actually there can appear different.
 
That’s assuming,” she said, “that you believe you saw dead people attacking you.”

“You’re not supposed to read my psych reports.”

“I get bored at night.”

“Most people sleep.”

“Most people aren’t quite as high-functioning as I am.”
 
She sounded just a little too smug for Mason’s liking.
 
“So.
 
Which is it?
 
Did you just gun down a bunch of homeless guys in cold blood, or did the rain make you think a bunch of homeless guys were actually dead guys?”

“I need a drink.”

“Later.”
 
Carter coughed again, then her voice turned more formal.
 
“You should finish your sweep.”

Mason nodded to himself, then kept walking through the darkness, towards the centre of — what?
 
The beam of light from the Tenko-Senshin picked out bits of detritus on the ground, a lump of fallen concrete here, a mouldering box there.
 
He passed another charred support column, this one cracked and broken in the middle, rebar showing through the breaks.

The light played over a smudge on the ground, nothing more than a smear of carbon.
 
“I’m pretty sure that used to be a person.”

“A person?”

“An illegal.”

“It’s not illegal, Mason—”

“You know what I mean.
 
There’s no implants.”

“Or the fire was very hot.”
 
She paused.
 
“I think you must be close now.
 
Be careful.”

Mason’s light picked up something in the darkness, another support beam, blasted and twisted, concrete chunks missing in the darkness.
 
Beyond that, the floor sank into a smooth depression, the curve looking like the bottom half of a sphere.
 
The concrete had been pushed down and cracked, as if something round and tremendously heavy had sat there.
 
The ceiling was broken in a loose ring.

“There’s no debris.”
 
Mason played the light up to the roof, noting where the top of the object must have punched through to the floor above.
 
Water trickled in over the edge.

“I see what you mean.
 
Where did the roof go?”

“I’m guessing this is the centre of the blast.
 
Whatever it was.”
 
Mason played his light around the edge, picking up the remains of some scorched cables.
 
He followed them back to the remains of a re-enforced case, the charred and twisted top about waist height.
 
An Apsel logo was still faintly visible on the leeward side.
 
“Wait.
 
What the…”

Carter paused for a heartbeat, two.
 
“Is that a…
 
Is that the Federate’s logo?
 
Is that our logo on that box?”

Mason grabbed the edges of the lid, pulling hard.
 
With a creak and a flaking of carbon, the box opened.
 
There wasn’t much left inside, mostly melted metals, burnt plastics, some glass.

“What is it?”
 
Mason let his optics kick over to thermal.
 
The innards of the box were cold, lifeless.
 
If it was Apsel tech, it had been burned out by whatever had happened here.

“I can tell you what it isn’t.
 
It isn’t a reactor.”
 
She was humming again.

“Sure,” said Mason.
 
“Back to my question: what is it?”

“See if you can find a serial number.”

“Come on, Carter.
 
Look at it.”

She sighed.
 
“Fair enough.
 
Wait a moment.”

Mason started to lift fragments out of the box.
 
His hand came up against a piece of metal, mostly intact.
 
He brushed a thumb against the carbon scoring on the side.
 
“Check this out.”
 
He held the metal at arm’s length, pointing the beam from the Tenko-Senshin at it.
 
The light picked out the Apsel logo, and the words
APSEL FEDERATE — ATOMIC ENERGY DIVISION
.

“That’s —
 
it’s us.
 
You came here following a reactor signature, and you found a box of junk.
 
Junk we made.”
 
Carter sounded almost confused.

“Maybe.”
 
Mason tossed the piece of metal back in the box.

“We can burn it.”
 
Carter paused briefly.
 
“I’ve got the satellite online.”

“For Chrissakes.
 
About time.
 
Can you kick off a strike?”

“It seems the best way.”
 
Carter paused.
 
“Let me send this back up the line, see if they want to send a recovery team here.”