The Van Helsing Resurgence

TRIPLE, VENTI, SOY, NO FOAM LATTE

"How did we get main power up and running again?" Mason asked confused.

Their original estimate had been in the order of weeks, but the fusion generators were roaring back to life now. When operating normally, they would be silent and undetectable to humans, functioning at frequency ranges that were beyond a human's ability to detect. In contrast, the ramp up procedure made them impossible to conceal. While the machinery whirled back to life, the sound increased lock-step with the power levels, reminding him of gas turbines spooling up on an airliner.

For a moment, the building vibrated in harmony with the generators. The startled group looked to one another because this scenario was never meant to happen. If this were to turn into a positive feedback loop, the building would come crashing down.

Fortunately, the speed increased just enough to cancel out the harmonics. Soon, the main power would be restored and they could get some answers, or so they hoped.

Brett, who was preoccupied with the generator start-up routine, answered once he was satisfied, "Breanna activated a repair drone."

"So I leave for a couple of hours and you find a repair drone that none of us knew about?" Mason asked.

Brett shrugged before answering, "She found it while snooping around in the inventory database."

"Breanna!" Mason yelled, but by now, the generators were nearly silent, so it came across like he was furious.

"What!" Breanna snapped back. A few seconds later, her head peeked out from the floor above and she asked, "You called, Oh Captain, My Captain?"

"Stop that!" Mason exclaimed before adding, "Why were you searching through the inventory?"

Breanna was enjoying getting under his skin. While this had been a rough night for the lot of them, she was still bored of these petty squabbles. She needed an escape, but for now, the where and the who was still up for grabs.

Breanna let out a long woeful sigh before replying, "I thought it was time well spent compared to staring at a blank screen."

"So, you didn't know we had one?" Mason asked.

"No," Breanna said in a bored tone. "Did you?"

The act of throwing the question back in Mason's face was her way of avoiding conflict. While Brett could get away with his antics, she had no such leeway.

Georgians in their true form functioned like insect colonies here on Earth. Enclaves of Georgians were primarily composed of female workers, a small group of drones, and the Queen. Mason, Brett, and Breanna had all been workers, so gender had not been a factor until they were selected for this expedition.

Mason and Brett ended up with naughty bits on the outside and quickly developed traits that came with that toolset. Mason became the authoritarian ass who led by edict, while Brett played the part of the court jester.

Breanna had been assigned a female body, which opened up a whole array of alternate attack vectors. While the men could draw conflict by threatening some unwritten patriarchal rule, she possessed the ability to bypass most safeguards all by using her assets against the opposite sex.

Although effective, Breanna soon learned that she preferred the company of other women. There was a softness, a connection that existed during those liaisons that eluded her with men. Her age of discovery coincided with the Roaring Twenties, an era when empowered and hedonistic women were also open to exploration.

While Mason questioned Brett on what was known of the repair drone, Breanna pulled out her mobile from the depths of her pocket. She flicked through the interface until a certain name made her heart skip a beat. Without a second thought, the fiery redhead sent out a ping into the night.