Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Nine. I'm not telling him.

Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Nine. I'm not telling him.

It had taken Bob three weeks to successfully cast Mana-Sight without the aid of the System.

He took solace in the fact that he'd only been able to spend thirty minutes a day practicing, although the hours he'd spent each day puzzling over the successes and failures of that practice was best left unmentioned. He preferred to think that he'd only need eleven hours of practice.

"I know," Bob told Monroe, "Kitty is so hungry," he shook his head woefully. "How could I neglect the most handsome kitty in the world?"

Monroe was sprawled in front of, and partially over, his food bowl. The big Maine-coon was making it clear that his end was nigh, as he hadn't eaten in over eight hours. Monroe mreow'd weakly, signaling that his strength was rapidly fading.

As Bob pulled a bowl of fish chunks out of stasis, Monroe managed to rally the last of his strength as he fell on the bowl like the starving kitty he clearly was.

"How dare I," Bob commiserated as he ran his hand through Monroe's ruff. "Starving a kitty like that," he shook his head again.

Monroe began to purr as the world was once more put to rights. Bob gave up on leaning over and sat down beside the feline of mass consumption, giving in to the desire to deliver a good thorough apology petting.

The long days took a toll in more ways than one, and towards the end of the month he'd noticed that he started to lose track of time. There were connotations to that which didn't bode particularly well.

He was really looking forward to his vacation. Dave and Amanda had asked him to help with the latest round of D&D players before heading to Hawaii, and he'd agreed. Eddi and Wayna would be joining them, along with Bailli and Erick. Bailli in particular had been quite enthusiastic as she'd looked through pictures of the islands.

Bob wanted to try scuba diving, parasailing, and surfing. He was determined to enjoy his life, when and where he could. The ability to convert water to breathable air, and the reality of his endurance making the bends a none issue only added to his enthusiasm.

"I bet you'll love surfing," he told Monroe.

The big cat's rumbling purr was all the answer he needed.

"I don't understand why you are upset," Annisa looked perplexed. "The King is going to make sure as many people as possible are saved. Your leaders should be grateful that he's willing to take on the burden of planning and executing the evacuation."

"I can't speak for anyone else, but it feels like we're surrendering our autonomy," Mike grumbled. "He basically kidnapped the heads of our governments, and told them do as they were told or he'd put them in time out."

"From what I understand, he only put the dissidents into stasis," Annisa replied.

"It just doesn't feel right," Mike shook his head. "Intellectually, I know that this was likely the only way he was going to receive the cooperation he needs to pull the evacuation off, but it still rankles."

"I'm simply grateful that the King's edict regarding military personnel doesn't apply to those who are retired," Annisa leveled a winsome smile toward him. "I would have been awfully lonely if you were in stasis for a year and a half."

Mike opened his mouth, then closed it. He'd been ready to agree with her, and offer some sort of sentiments along the lines of missing her as well. He shook his head. Too much time spent in close proximity to her tended to skew his thinking.

"I noticed that the Endless have begun constructing a tower at the Redoubt," Annisa offered, breaking the silence before it became even more awkward.

Mike nodded. "It's hard to tell them no when they're trying to hard to help," he muttered. "One Dungeon, and not the deepest one, is a tiny part of the debt we owe those kids."

"You do know they don't see it that way?" Annisa asked.

"That's because they're young and idealistic," Mike replied, "whereas the Old Guard is compromised entirely of bitter, cynical old men, and we have no illusions as to just how much we owe the Endless. While they aren't facing a great deal of danger, what with their affinity crystals and path, mistakes and accidents can still happen. They've risked their lives to aid us, asking for nothing in return. That's the sort of behaviour the Corps recognizes."

"Have you heard from Bob?" Annisa asked.

Mike blinked, mentally shifting gears. "Not for a week or two, he's been delving pretty hard, I don't think we'll see him until it's time to collect the King's crystals and then he's going on vacation. You aren't the only one looking for him, but he's not interested in being found."

Mike had received multiple requests looking for Bob. The change over from civilian to military personnel at Glacier Valley was due to start next week, and without the training and discipline of the services, the powers that be were looking toward Bob to have him teach a few classes in proper dungeoneering, with an eye towards molding those being taught to become teachers themselves. Hell, they might use actual teachers.

He'd appeared on the flight deck, checked the breeze, and then turned into a giant flying lizard, only instead of flying away, he'd turned around twice on the flight deck, and like a cat, he'd flopped down.

The Captain winced as the fifty-foot long tail twitched, coming dangerously close to smashing into a Hornet.

"Maybe it's like a waterbed to him, sir," the Leiutenant offered. "Hopefully he'll get tired of it and go back to sleeping where ever it is he normally sleeps."

"I'm guessing he sleeps wherever he wants."

The Captain wasn't sure, but he thought Ensign Roberts was the one who had muttered that unfortunate truth.

"Sir, a message from the Washington, sir," this time he knew it was the Ensign who offered him the slip of paper.

'You appear to have some sort of experimental aircraft on your flightdeck. In the interests of joint exercise planning, please submit the specifications for the new bird, including diet and disposition.'

He sighed, and handed the slip back to the Ensign. "Relay it to the crew, Ensign, we might as well have laugh with them."

Ed was once again contemplating just exactly when his life had become this surreal.

His position on Thayland was being revised, and as he was technically a civilian, he was being rushed through a Dungeon in an effort to level up.

The upcoming mothballing of the military personnel had stuck a wrench in the well oiled gears of Glacier Valley, and as he'd been part of the project since it's inception, the responsibility for transitioning over to a work force of civilians had fallen on his shoulders.

The President had decided that it was important for him to have real experience with delving the Dungeons and all the other attendant functions, which left him scrambling to catch up.

His days had gotten awfully long.

His phone began beeping and he sighed in relief. His summoned monster finished stomping on a scorpion and he headed to the Gateway. His delve was done for the day, and he just knew that a small mountain of paperwork was waiting for him.

Military personnel had the blessed trait of following orders. They would complain, as was their god given right, but they would accept the realities of a situation far more readily than civilians. He'd had to deal with complaints about the food yesterday.

Two soldiers were escorting him to the entrance, having been entrusted with his safety, and one of them, a young woman coughed to get his attention. "If you don't mind me asking sir, why a Hippopotamus?"

"My daughter loves them," he replied with a smile. "I figured if I was going to summon some sort of animal, I might as well summon one that would make her happy. And," he added, "they're awfully effective."

Passing through the Gateway, he portaled to his office, and sighed as the expected mound of paperwork met and exceeded his expectations. What was wrong with being level fifteen, he grumbled internally. The push to get him to twenty-five, which entailed ensuring his summoned monster was at max level, was a significant time sink. Time that he needed to spend responding to inane complaints.

He picked up the file on the top of a stack. "They don't like the cots or the blankets," he muttered in disbelief as he read through the politely worded but firm request for alternate bedding.

The truth was that he had no love for the cots either, or the slightly scratchy blankets. But when you had as little time to sleep as he did, he was grateful just to have a place to lie down and hide from the world while he slept.

It was all the King of Greenwold's fault. It turned out that he had very specific ideas about how the evacuation should be carried out. Military personnel were to be placed in stasis immediately, while civilians who were not essential to the function of society were to be the first offered the chance to stay out of stasis, grinding crystals and levels.

Ed had to admit that the IRS was a logical place to start. The King had very strong opinions about tax law, namely that taxes should be ten percent. Exceptions were to be made only by the King, and the person coming before him to offer their reasoning for an exception had better have one hell of a reason.

All that said, Ed was having to deal with pampered beaurocrats who had an exaggerated notion of their place in the world.

If there was a sliver lining to the whole mess, it was that there was a strong correlation between loving numbers as an account, and loving numbers as a roleplayer. A full thirty percent of the IRS employees had leapt at the chance to become Adventurers. At least until they'd been fed MRE's, which Ed was willing to admit was three lies for the price one, and been offered cots and blankets in shared tents.

With a sigh, he sat down behind his desk, and began drafting a response that didn't sound like he was calling the people who submitted it idiots.