Fallout by Ariel Tachna

said. “I’ll deal with Number Five because I want to run some diagnostics anyway. You and Lyrica can come find me when you have something I can actually help with.”
    “You just don’t want to deal with Tucker.”
    “There is that,” Derek agreed, “but I really should check the circuits in Number Five. They aren’t built to withstand that kind of radiation for long.”
    “Put a hazmat suit on, at least a lower grade one since Tucker hasn’t bothered locking those up, before you take the covering off Number Five,” Sambit said. “If that kind of radiation could damage Number Five, just think about what it could do to you.”
    Derek looked down at his dosimeter. “I’m thinking.”

Chapter 7

     
    D EREK spent two hours running diagnostics on Number Five, switching out circuits, cleaning and oiling gears, and generally doing everything he could to avoid having to go find Lyrica and Sambit while they argued with Tucker. He couldn’t follow the conversation, but he heard raised voices now and then, enough to let him know they were indeed arguing.
    When he finished with Number Five, he opened a browser and searched for information on radiation sickness. Not that he thought they were in any immediate danger, since their dosimeters measured how much radiation exposure they’d had since they arrived and they hadn’t sounded any alarms, but he wanted to know what to watch for just in case. He read one article and shut the browser, sick to his stomach at everything he’d seen. Nausea, vomiting, headaches, fever, dizziness, cognitive impairment.
    Death.
    He’d known that before he came. He remembered reading about Hiroshima in his history classes and the effects, both immediate and lingering, of the bombs dropped there and in Nagasaki. He just hadn’t thought about it in connection with himself. Not really.
    He ought to call his mother, just in case. He couldn’t tell her where he was or what he was doing, but he could tell her he loved her so that if he didn’t make it, they’d be the last words he said to her. “Come here, Fido,” he called, needing the reassurance of the dog’s company.
    Fido stood up from where he’d been sleeping just beyond Derek’s reach and padded closer, laying his head on Derek’s lap. Derek rested his forehead against Fido’s shoulder and stroked the solid body. He couldn’t die. He had to take care of Fido, radiation sickness be damned. He’d simply have to dodge that bullet one way or another.
    “That’s a very comforting sight.”
    Derek looked up from Fido’s side to see Sambit at the entrance to the room where he was working. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, and the corners of his mouth were tight. “What did Tucker say?”
    “He ranted for a while about exceeding our authority by taking Number Five out without his permission,” Sambit began.
    “Fuck that,” Derek said. “Number Five answers to me, and I don’t answer to him.”
    “He thinks you do,” Sambit said with a sigh. “When he was done with that tirade, he started in on the readings and the conclusions we drew based on them. He challenged the accuracy of them, although Lyrica shot that down pretty quickly by citing the readings on our Geiger counters when we went outside yesterday. Then he blew off the suggestion that the system was compromised. He has one goal, as far as I can tell. To get the plant running again.”
    “That would be fine if it weren’t dangerous,” Derek said. “Can’t he focus on getting the other two running again and let this one close?”
    “You’d think so,” Sambit said, rubbing his temples.
    “Is your head bothering you?” Derek asked sharply, the descriptions he’d read too fresh in his brain to ignore the signs.
    “It’s just stress from dealing with Tucker.”
    “Maybe it is, but headaches are also a sign of radiation sickness,” Derek said, his stomach churning at the thought of Sambit coming down with the awful symptoms he’d read