Vol. 3 Chap. 144 Rocks, and Their Discontents

Vol. 3 Chap. 144 Rocks, and Their Discontents

Truth looked over the ritual space. After careful examination, looking closely at the micro-engraved gems, the achingly precise line arrangements, the Enochian cyphers written into the floor then filled with mythril; after a detailed forensic examination he reached a firm conclusion.

I dont have the faintest goddamn idea what goes on in here.

In his defense, he consoled himself, there were clearly big pieces missing. There were several engraved circles, squares and triangles where things were clearly intended to be placed. Whatever wound up slotted in there would likely change the whole operation of the ritual. There were also a lot of lines and spell formations that just ended abruptly, or seemed only half written. Not unfinished- split in half horizontally. Presumably the other half was written on something else. Just waiting to be plugged in.

He tried tracing the lines of magic through their winding and intersecting paths. Tracing them along floors and up over walls. Some of them were etched into wires, run through pipes in the walls. Another one of those things he had heard of, but never actually seen. Usually a heavy-industrial thing, or when you were very concerned about potential interference from atmospheric cosmic rays.

Did they have them in alchemist towers? He seemed to remember a maintenance journal mentioning that. Mass producing potions and pills required very specific magic profiles, and isolating your enchantments from even minute interference was considered the basics of the basics. High end beastcrafting too. Never relevant in anything Truth expected to work on, though. Streetlights and air conditioners didnt mind micro-thaum energy density variations. The enchantments were comparatively coarse; they wouldn't even register the difference.

This was something being built to a higher standard. He traced the lines of shimmering silver and tarnished gold as they formed complex interlocking geometries, occasionally vanishing into a wall, floor or ceiling, before reappearing at random somewhere else.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that the ritual room was set over the Prototype lab. The Prototype lab with its three story tall ceiling. Meaning that this second-floor ritual room was connected via direct spell connection with the formations and constructions being made below. His eyes dragged back to the empty center of the room where the locus of the ritual was clearly intended to be.

You couldnt fit Sally in there. You could fit that weird sarcophagus thing, though. What would that achieve? Truth had no idea. Probably nothing good for Sally. Or, ultimately, him. He looked around the room one more time. He was tempted to try and tamper with the spells somehow, but he really didnt know enough about what was going on here to do so in a way that wouldnt be immediately obvious. It wasnt the time for loud moves. Not yet.

He had personally confirmed the presence of two high levels. Fingers crossed they were only Level Eight. If they really were Starbrite mental clones, and if Starbrite really was some kind of next level being, he might not take their high level as a threat. Got to feed the dog meat if you want it to guard well. You arent really paranoid if they really are out to get you, and the whole damn planet was out to get Starbrite. Had been for decades.

Truth crept down the halls, the tension firmly settled into his guts. He could feel the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing alert, waiting for that gust of air that would be the only warning of an ambush. Incisive was up and running as always, but he kept remembering how Dr. Sun managed to get the drop on him. Truth had never really figured out how he managed that.

He could hear his heart beating. The footfalls of the researchers, laborers, soldiers in the base echoing off the white walls and polished concrete floors. Knowing that mixed in to that sound were the footfalls of trolls, or some random person with a blessing or talisman that let them see him. It only took one person. One second. A single glance. And then he was dead. There might be a little noise before it was all done, but he was dead.

Truth found himself diving in and out of rooms almost at random. When the stress got too much, he would shadow someone into their lab, or work station, or whatever. One time, in a very, not-awkward-at-all moment, he found himself standing in the bathroom. Trying to calm himself in, as one of his romance novels put it, the room of ease, as everyone else strained for release.

Truth leaned over and whispered in his ear. You know, they wouldnt be asking about how things feel in the tunnels unless they knew there was something to feel. This is management we are talking about here. They dont give a fuck about feelings, they care about numbers. They want results. Which means they expect you to hear something. They know damn well something is coming and they are using you and the squad to find it the hard way. Now, orders are orders. No getting around that.

The old mans head was starting to nod. More firmly at that last bit. He was clearly very used to following orders. Truth knew how that went.

Orders are orders, and regardless of anything else, the job needs to be done. No shirking. Job needs to be done, and done right. Solid nods there. So that means your job now includes finding whatever they are looking for and figuring out how to keep your squad alive. Because thats always been your job too.

This got narrowed eyes and a slow exhale. Truth could see the wheels turning in the mans head, as he started reframing things he already knew.

Everybody keeps their ears open. Even if its hard to hear or see, you can still hear or see something. And once you do, you need to run back to the door as fast as you can. Even if it means not every security check is perfect. Perfect isnt the goal. If something does go seriously wrong, so what? They are the ones trapped in the tunnel, not your squad. Your job is to find the enemy and keep your squad safe. Everything else is secondary. Important. But secondary.

That was probably about as far as he could push that. Truth started moving around the room, finding ears to whisper in.

Did the maintenance guys really fix the air and tem seals? They say they did, but did they really? Thats a lot of suits to maintain every day. Wouldnt be crazy to think they missed something.

Funny how you dont really get used to the lava. You should. You know how to work in those tunnels. But any little fuckup and you are dead. And there would be nothing you could do to save yourself.

They have to be coming through the ground. Cant do anything to us in the air, doing even less coming in on the surface. So they gotta be coming through the mountain. Through the lava tubes. If it was you running things, billions of earth demons and fire demons would come boiling up out of the lava to hurt you bad before hauling you to Hell.

Hes looking at you again. Now. With everything going on. He wont take a hint. You are about to do something crazy dangerous and hes not even paying attention to the job. You just want to get the job done, hes going to get you killed because hes an asshole.

Around and around he went, throwing handfuls of paranoia like confetti at a funeral. Nothing rebellious. Nothing against Starbrite. The workers just wanted to do their job, but they were going to get them killed. And They could be anyone. Blind trust was not a thing that existed in Jeon. Lots of ears primed to catch dripped poison.

They suited up, and made their way to the checkpoint. A lot of tension in those eyes now. A lot of closed body language. Truth made his way as quickly as he could back to the supervisors office. He wanted to see how his experiment panned out. How they would react when pushed. Because Starbrite Security wasnt dumb, and if he could think of it, they could think of it too. So how, exactly, would they handle problems at the mining site?

He looked over at the supervisor, the light bouncing merrily off the parts of his scalp unprotected by the comb over. Sorry buddy. Your day is about to get really interesting.