Second Shift - Order (Part 7 of the Silo Series) (Wool) by Hugh Howey Page B

extracting the note Mrs. Crowe had written. “Delivery for Officer Jeffery.”
    One of the security men took the note. Mission was pressed against the barrier by those behind. A woman who belonged was waved through. She hurried toward the proper security gate leading into the main hall, smoothing her coveralls with obvious relief. There were crowds of young men being given instructions in one corner of the wide hall. They stood at attention in neat rank and file, but their eyes were wide as the stairwell.
    “What the hell is going on?” Mission asked, as the barrier was parted for him.
    “What the hell isn’t?” one of the security guards rejoined. “Power spike last night took out a load of computers. Every one of our techs is pulling a double. There’s a fire down in Mechanical or something, and some kinda violence up in the farms. Did you get the wire?”
    Mechanical. That was a long way away to nose a fire. And word was out about last night’s raid, making him self-conscious of the cut on his nose. “What wire?” he asked.
    The security guard pointed to the groups of boys. “We’re hiring. New techs.”
    All Mission saw were young men, and the guy talking to them was with Security, not IT.  The security guard handed back the note to Mission and pointed toward the main security gate. The woman from earlier was already beeping her way through, a large and familiar bald head swiveling to watch her ass as she headed down the hall.
    “Thanks,” Mission said to the guard, hurrying away from the crush of people. “Sir?” he called out as he approached the gate.
    Jeffery turned his head, the deep wrinkles and folds of flesh disappearing from his neck.
    “Hmm? Oh—” he snapped his fingers, trying to place the name.
    “Mission.”
    He wagged his finger. “That’s right. You need to leave something with me, porter?” He held out a palm but seemed disinterested.
    Mission handed him the note. “Actually, I have orders from Mrs. Crowe to deliver it in person.” He pulled the sealed envelope with the crossed-out names from his courier pouch. “Just a letter, sir.”
    The old guard glanced at the envelope, then continued reading the note addressed to him. “Rodny isn’t available.” He shook his head. “I can’t give you a timeframe, either. Could be weeks. You wanna leave it with me?”
    Again, an outstretched palm; this time with more interest. Mission pulled the envelope back warily. “I can’t. There’s no way I can just hand it to him? This is the Crow, man. If it were the Mayor asking me, I’d say no problem.”
    Jeffery smiled. “You were one of her boys, too?”
    Mission nodded. The head of Security looked past him at a man approaching the gate with his ID out. Mission stepped aside as the gentleman scanned his way through, nodding good morning to Jeffery.
    “Tell you what. I’m taking Rodny his lunch in a little bit. When I do, you can come with me, hand him the letter with me standing there, and I won’t have to worry about the Crow nipping my hide later. How’s that sound?”
    Mission smiled. “Sounds good, man. I appreciate it.”
    The officer pointed across the noisy entrance hall. “Why don’t you go grab yourself some water and hang in the conference room. There’s some boys in there filling out paperwork.” Jeffery looked Mission up and down. “In fact, why don’t you fill out an application? We could use you.”
    “I . . . uh, don’t know much about computers,” Mission said.
    Jeffery shrugged as if that were irrelevant. “Suit yourself. One of the boys will be relieving me in a little bit. I’ll come get you.”
    Mission thanked him again. He crossed the large entrance hall where neat columns and rows of young men listened to barked instructions. Another guard waved him inside the conference room while holding out a sheet of paper and a shard of charcoal. Mission saw that the back of the paper was blank and took it with no plan for filling it out. Half a chit right