The years went by.
In the Capital, an archivist found reference to a “Station X”.
He brought the discovery to his superior’s attention.
“Sir, there’s no record that these men were ever relieved.”
The commander examined the documents. “Send a team.”
The transport landed just short of the windswept outpost.
The archivist and two soldiers disembarked and approached the entrance.
A single old man was there to greet them. “You finally came,”
he whispered.
“Where’s the other one?” asked the archivist.
The old man was silent. He pointed at a rough pile of rocks.
“I see. In any case, you can stand down. We’ll take you back
home.”
The man from Station X’s eyes welled up. “This is my home.”
“As you wish,” said the archivist. He motioned for the
others to follow him back to the transport.
“Wait,” said the man. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“What was the button for?”
The archivist shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s
classified. Just be grateful you never had to push it.”
The old man nodded once, and then returned to his post.
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