Ragnarök Contingency
"What kind of moron hangs confetti and streamers everywhere in a work zone?" Harlowe complained as we walked into what, according to the previous team's last broadcast, was the facility's control room. He made a beeline for the big, glowing red button in the center of the main console. I barely managed to slap his hand away before he could press it, getting an angry glare in response. "The kind who believes in making things as idiot-proof as possible," I retorted, pointing with my free hand at the strip of white paper above the button. For extra emphasis, I read it aloud. "Self-Destruct. Do. NOT. Push." "And how was I supposed to know that, Taurien?" I ignored racial jab. I...