Hyper

[Location: Decontamination Depot t3rm1nu5 - Cafeteria]

Linda walked through the swinging double doors of the darkened cafeteria and took a second to prop each one open. The soles of her soft shoes squeaked a little on the freshly waxed tile floor as she took a few steps toward the wall to her right. The space began to fill with light as she flipped an electrical switch to turn on the overhead fixtures. A row of evenly spaced circular L.E.D.s each hung by a thin wire from the ceiling and illuminated the cafeteria food line with its various machines and large shiny cooking griddle. Orderly rows of straight L.E.D.s lit the dining room and the rest of the area around it.

The cafeteria was about the size of a typical high school gymnasium. The light tan tile on the floor had been polished to a smooth gloss and the plaster walls were painted flat white. Tables and chairs spread themselves randomly throughout the room as the exposed ventilation ductwork brought fresh air into the space. It wasn’t a five-star restaurant, but in the grand scheme of things, the cafeteria was pretty nice.

Linda’s guests—the refugees from Earth—would enter the cafeteria line and receive a blue plastic tray and plastic utensils wrapped in a white paper napkin. The first stop of their dining experience was the cold sandwich machine. Each day Linda would fill the machine with synthetic granules which were the building blocks used to create the various bread covered delicacies. The granules had originally been made and packaged on Earth but with the infection occurring, all production had moved to Mars. The machine was capable of making fifteen different sandwiches with twelve different types of meat and six different garnishments. All of it was a product of the granules so it was one hundred percent synthetic but it came very close to tasting like the real stuff.

The only thing lacking were the vitamins and minerals of the real food. A bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwich synthetically created by the machine looked, tasted, and smelled just like the sandwich your mother used to make for you back on Earth, but the bacon was almost completely void of protein and the lettuce and tomato had only a trace of vitamin C. Because of this, the inhabitants of D.D.315 were required to receive vitamin and mineral injections each week.

If the dining guest was not interested in a cold sandwich, Linda could grill them something hot on the large stainless steel griddle top. She could make hamburgers, steaks, and anything from a list of more than twenty items. Here too, all of the food was synthetic and had been developed for maximum shelf life. Engineered ground beef and steaks that required no refrigeration and had an expiration date of twelve years were the main ingredients for many of the dishes, but Linda was a skilled chef and was able to cook, season and present the food she had created in a way that made it look and taste extremely appetizing. Linda knew that Charlie loved her cooking and she always kept him well fed.

She had been interested in cooking since the day she saw a commercial for an Easy Bake Oven. She received it from her parents as a gift for her fifth birthday and played with it constantly throughout her childhood. She imagined herself as the chief baker in a fancy restaurant, pretending to bake wonderful cakes and mouthwatering pastries. Her obsession with baking continued into adulthood and was the reason she had applied for the cafeteria job at the Tuscaloosa State Penitentiary.

At the prison she honed her cooking and baking skills and prepared great amounts of delicious food for the inmates. Her specialties were large kettles of spicy white bean chili, enormous platters of lasagna, some of the best hamburgers in the state of Alabama, as well as chocolate frosted cupcakes with a little whipped cream in the center.

The last machine in the cafeteria line was the liquids dispenser. It was designed to create any type of juice, milk, tea, water, or soft drink known to man in less than fifteen seconds. The technology was wonderful and had been used on Earth-orbiting space stations for years. Linda had to install palm sized flavor packets into the machine about once a year to keep it running. The machine employed a system that would extract humidity from the air, filter it, and use it in the liquid mixture, and with a hydrogen compressor facility on the depot, there was no lack of humidity in the air. Even though this type of dispenser could create a wide variety of beverages, this style of machine was not capable of making alcoholic beverages, as specific machines with tight regulations and exorbitant taxes were designed for that purpose.

Linda walked into the dining room and began to straighten the chairs and tables to make them more organized and presentable for her guests. The dining area had twenty-five square tables, each with four chairs. Fifty or sixty guests was the norm, with only the largest refugee transports filling all of the available seats. After a few minutes, she turned and looked around the cafeteria to check on the work she had done and make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She placed her hands on the hips of her blue jeans and nodded.

Okay, looks good. We’re ready to go.

Her heart lightened when she saw her husband Charlie walk through the double doors, but what came in behind him caused her stomach to tighten into a knot. Two men holding stun-rifles across their chests walked in and behind them was a large cube structure she was not familiar with. It was about six feet in every direction, had a bright metallic finish to it, and was floating about a foot off the floor. The glistening silver surface was computer generated because it appeared to be slightly pixilated. The metallic structure kept pace with the men. There were two more behind it carrying rifles, each with a serious look on his face and tactically observing their surroundings. Linda’s eyes were locked onto the procession as the knot in her stomach pumped tension through her body.

All four men wore black battle armor with the word Security emblazoned across the chest in white lettering. One piece of the armor surrounded the upper body from neck to waist. It was made of reinforced kevlar and provided protection against traditional small arms fire. The armor that covered the lower portion of the body appeared to be made from the same material, was articulated, and went from waist to ankle. Pieces of the material covered the front of the upper and lower legs. The rear of the leg was covered in the same manner and all of the pieces of carbon fiber were held together by an elastic type under garment. Each man had a communicator ear piece with a small black mic positioned in front of the mouth. They all carried a side arm in a holster on the hip as well.

Linda noticed a concerned look on Charlie’s face but he quickly looked away as he led the four men and the metallic structure toward the rear of the cafeteria. Her husband’s expression causing Linda’s stomach to clench even more. Charlie rearranged a few groups of tables and chairs that Linda had just straightened to create an open space and instructed the men to set down the structure. They followed his directions and the silver square box slowly lowered itself to the floor. The four men let out a unified sigh of relief, slipped their stun-rifles onto their backs, and allowed their serious expressions to soften.

Linda walked toward the group as Charlie pointed to her and said to the four men, “This is my wife, Linda. She’s a great cook and can pretty much make anything you want.”

The men walked toward Linda and the first to arrive—a tall imposing man in his middle thirties—said in a Ukrainian accent, “My name is Jozef Baca. I am the squad leader of this group.” He gave a twisted smile out of one side of his mouth, slightly bowed, and extended his hand as a customary pleasantry. He wore a pair of black glasses with the left lens hiding a scar between the top of his cheek and the lower part of his eye.

She graciously shook Jozef’s hand and pleasantly smiled. “Welcome to D.D.315, Mr. Baca. I’m Linda, your host. I hope your stay with us is an enjoyable one.”

Jozef stepped aside and next in line was Tom Salsbury. He was about six foot two and two hundred and twenty-five pounds of daunting muscle. His shoulder length black hair was straight and greasy, pieces of it hanging in his face. The lower portion of his face was covered in black scruffy stubble indicating he had not shaved in two or three days. He wore a sleeve-less shirt under his armor and his large muscular arms had a coating of perspiration that made his naturally tanned skin appear grimy. Thick, bulging veins ran up and down his biceps as colorful tattoos of angry hellions and savage dragons wrapped around each of his arms from shoulder to wrist. He reached his large, calloused right hand toward Linda, displaying the tattoo of a snake that wound around his forearm and ended on his palm. Inside of his hand, the words Born to Raise Hell had been inscribed.

“My name is Tom…Tom Salsbury.” His smile released an invisible cloud of rancid breath while it revealed a mouthful of twisted and deformed teeth—one of them in his lower jaw had turned black. “Like the steak.” His thick bottom lip hung open slightly and gave the impression that his gene pool must have been spiked by some type of horrific beast at one time.

When Linda had worked at the penitentiary, a little nervous adrenaline always ran through her veins because of the vulgarity and disrespect displayed by the inmates. That feeling came back to her as a few drops of fear mixed with her curiosity as she looked at Tom and began to compare him to the prisoners she had seen at the penitentiary.

His physical appearance was intimidating, but what worried her most was what she saw in his eyes. Even with a twisted grin on his face, his eyes were cold, black, and lifeless. They provided a clear message that said he had experienced years of tragedy and tribulations.

Linda cowered and stepped back a little as Tom’s paw swallowed her delicate hand. While she was intimidated by his large physical size and sinister appearance, she was also trying to stay clear of his body odor mixed with the overpowering smell of cigarettes.

Tom moved aside and another man stepped up to make his introduction. He owned a friendly smile, a kind set of eyes, and he had a whisper of a southern twang mixed into his voice. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. My name is Jack Ford. It looks like you have quite the cafeteria here and I can’t wait for you to grill me up something tasty.” He patted is stomach with his hand while his white teeth glistened through his grin. “I’d love a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.” He pointed toward the griddle and an eager look covered his face as he waited for an answer. “Can you make that here?”

From this first impression, Linda thought Jack was a genuine and friendly guy—something she didn’t see every day and very different than the other two guards she had just met. Her pretty face glowed as she smiled graciously and nodded. “Certainly.”

Jack’s eyes widened with excitement. “Great! I’ll take a side of pancakes with butter and syrup and oh—almost forgot—some of those small cubed fried potatoes as well. I just love those things. Yeah, mix them in with the eggs and it’s just heaven in your mouth. And then a nice cup of warm coffee to wash it all down.” He snapped out of his culinary day dream for a second, gently shook Linda’s hand, and gave her a quick nod and a wink.

She continued to provide him with a welcoming smile and pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. Linda was an attractive woman and she had a feeling that Jack thought so as well. “Well Jack, we’re happy to have you here on D.D.315. As soon as you’re ready, we can get your stomach filled with eggs and bacon and whatever else you’re hungry for.”

Linda shot Charlie a quick look and the edges of her mouth turned up just a bit as she tried to calm any jealous inclinations. Linda watched as Charlie glanced back with a slight smile and a loving nod of reassurance.

As Jack stepped away, the last man introduced himself. He looked to be of American-Hispanic decent and stood about five foot ten. He had short jet black hair and a smooth, clean shaven face. He seemed young—Linda guessed somewhere in his young twenties.

Without making eye contact, he shook Linda’s hand and introduced himself with a low and timid voice. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. My name is Ruben Sanchez.” Looking frustrated and lost for words, he glanced at his feet, then at Linda again, and stepped aside.

Charlie walked next to his wife. “The guys will be here for about a day. They need to refuel and they have a minor repair to make. One of their repulsors isn’t working.”

Linda looked at each of the crew members and then said to Charlie, “So it’s just these four? No one else? I’m used to having larger groups of refugees from Earth.” She rested her hands on her hips.

Jozef replied. “Yes, ma’am. It’s just us four—plus the prisoner.” He turned toward the metallic cube and nodded.