General Fitch glanced nervously around the command center. He'd been living here in the mountain for over two years and he wasn't sure if the apprehension he felt was because he'd be leaving what he considered to be home, or because his death was so soon at hand. Because he was sixty, it was impractical for him to tie up valuable space in one of the many shelters throughout the country. The General would be close to eighty years old before it would be safe to leave the facility. Knowing that and having been part of the team which had developed the criteria for people selected for shelter, he hadn't even inquired about getting a space. His most significant regret was that he would never know whether all this hard work had paid off.

Brad Warren stood beside him in the command center. This was only Brad's second time at the mountain; most of the last year and a half had been spent coordinating training for the ten thousand sleepers. They were awaiting the arrival of Travers and RJ who were due sometime in the next hour.

“Were you able to get all your gear stored?” Fitch asked.

“Yeah. It's cramped, but I've seen worse. The hard part was trying to determine what to keep and what to say goodbye to. Actually, I've got it better than most; since Jill and I are bunked together, we have the space for two and that makes it much better. The single quarters are much smaller.”

“True, and there are only quarters for seventy-five people. As soon as the sleepers wake up, the equipment comes out of the sleep chambers, and the partitions go up. Most everyone will get an oversized cubicle to live in,” Fitch reminded him.

“Just thinking about it makes me like my quarters all the more. By the way, are you all packed?”

“Yes, I had to get the commander's quarters cleared out for RJ. I assume she'll move in when she gets here this evening . I have a chopper picking me up later tonight.”

“You really have done a fantastic job here Matt.” Brad praised.

“Thanks, I had a bunch of excellent people working for me.”

While they were talking, Nick, one of the communications techs spoke up. “General, UH-60 inbound from the southeast requesting permission to enter our perimeter and land.”

“That should be them,” Brad commented.

“Good, grant them permission and have them report up here as soon as they can,” Fitch told the technician.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is everyone else here?” Brad asked.

“Still waiting on a few stragglers, one of whom is that young nuclear engineer you've been having all the problems with.”

“Carter? I should've known. RJ had a chat with him, and he was doing okay for about a week, but then he reverted to his usual arrogant and obnoxious self.”

“It sounds like he'll be a real handful; better you than me,” the General said with a smile.