The Phoenix Fallacy_Book II_Norm

by Jon Sourbeer,

  “Sorry, Wouris, you’re on clean-up. Find another way in if you can, but we can’t miss our opportunity to get inside. You heard Keats; she was doubtful about our chances to get into the facility. We have to go now.”

  “What about the guards?”

  “I’m counting on them not being missed. Hopefully, the arrival of that new Overlord will keep everyone in the base overly preoccupied.”

  “But–“

  “No time, Wouris. Good luck.” Janus leapt between the closing doors, followed closely by Marcus, Celes, Ramirez, and Lyn. The doors slammed shut as they fell.

  Was it rash, Clara? Janus thought as the daylight disappeared behind him. There’s no going back.

  Chapter 12: Into the Depths

  Janus executed a swift tuck and roll as he fell on top of the transport, sliding off the edge and landing catlike upon the pad. The noise from the machinery lowering the pad, so carefully masked outside, was nearly deafening inside. A couple of mechanics stood waiting with tools and fuel for the transport as it settled to a halt at the bottom.

  I think they need to focus more on oiling the landing pad, Janus thought as he slunk behind a charging station. Motioning to the team, they slid quietly from the room as the echoing noise of the lift slowly subsided to be replaced by the clanking of tools. They moved swiftly, no more than five dark flashes at the edge of the mechanics vision, and disappeared around the corner – leaving the pair none the wiser.

  Regrouping in a parts storage room just beyond where the mechanics worked, the five checked their weapons surrounded by fans and motor pieces. Now in the relative dryness of the rocky cave, Janus could feel the pores of his armor slowly open, allowing air to flow. With the mechanics clanking noisily behind them, Lyn erred on the side of discretion and signaled to the huddled group: (What) now, (oh) fearless leader?

  Janus smiled, well, not too much discretion. He signaled back rapidly, using a mix of short and long signs. Stick (to the) plan. Presume Wouris (will) remove Inferni up (top). We (operate) independently now, assume no contact (with) Wouris. Be aware – Wouris’ team (may be) inside.

  Formation(?) Marcus asked.

  Rotating point. Passages (look) narrow, (so) tight formation. Point (and) rearguard (will be most) important.

  The hall outside the landing bay was deserted, but the sound of clomping boots and excited voices could be heard echoing distantly down the hall. The team advanced slowly, leap frogging one another from room to room, eager to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. The experience was nerve-wracking – it was a tunnel, cutting a jagged path through the earth that left them exposed as they skulked along. Blocks and edges of natural rock stuck out at odd angles from the wall, cutting their visibility, and narrowing the passage even more. Water pipes and electrical lines hummed with the rush of water and power, running every which way along to the roof of the passage. Low supports made the experience even more claustrophobic, and the heavy metal floor slowed them down as they crept to avoid the thumping of their boots upon it.

  Crouched behind Marcus as he peered around a corner, Janus heard Lyn whisper to herself, “Why don’t they ever have one big sign saying ‘SECRETS HERE’?”

  Janus gave her a look. She smiled and then looked apologetic as she mouthed ‘sorry’.

  He felt ill at ease in the underground facility – not even the narrow alleys of the slums were this claustrophobic and twisted. They had to be moving straight under the mountain.

  Rooms were placed in a seemingly haphazard fashion along the central tunnel. Every one so far had been filled with empty bunks or latrines, or the occasional storage locker, which left Janus a little bewildered. Either the facility had never reached full capacity, or every S.T. in the base must have been turned out for Alastor.

  The thought made Janus even more nervous, as they had yet to encounter a single trooper outside of the landing pad. It seemed impossible to think that with the number of S.T.s that must be running around, they could do anything other than trip over themselves in the tiny facility – but where were they?

  Middleton must be having a fit.

  The thought came unbidden to his mind, bringing a smile to his’ lips. While he was working to ruin Middleton’s day later, whatever this other Overlord was doing must be making her day miserable now.

  The long tunnel suddenly opened up and the noise level increased dramatically – three different tunnels split off in separate directions. The sound of heavy boots and loud voices echoed all around. The tunnel to the left displayed an outline of a Dryad fighter on ground; the tunnel to the right showed a picture of a wrench, and the third – straight ahead – showed an outline of a plate and fork.

  (Which) direction (?) Celes signed.

  Janus was at an impasse as he examined all three branching tunnels. Splitting up to cover all three tunnels seemed like a bad idea, but the more time they took…Where would Middleton hide her secrets?

  After a moment’s consideration, Janus smiled, signaling the team: Straight.

  The tunnel resumed its jagged path, again with few branching paths, and the oddly placed rooms. Peering around a corner, Celes signaled. S.T. Patrol Incoming. Eight.

  Janus quickly signaled for retreat only to turn and find Marcus signaling frantically from down the hall behind him: No (go!) Incoming Patrol(!)

  Janus glanced around, down the hall near Celes stood a closed door. They had not scouted it yet, but it could hardly be worse than being caught in a narrow hallway between two patrols.

  Janus waved his hands rapidly, pointing to this objective: Door(!) Go(!)

  Celes immediately flung open the door, signaling Clear, and leapt inside. Ramirez and Lyn were hot on her heels. Janus stopped at the door, ready with his weapon, as Marcus sprinted towards the open hatch. He jumped back to let Marcus tumble inside as Celes swiftly and silently shut the door.

  Moments later, the sounds of the marching patrol could be heard passing the room, followed shortly by the patrol in the other direction. The footsteps slowed as they passed the door. That hall is narrow, Janus thought.

  Janus took a moment to examine his surroundings. As appropriate for the plate and fork symbol, they had stumbled into a small kitchen and pantry.

  “The layout of this base is extremely odd,” Lyn mused, gently tapping a hanging ladle over a large stove with a finger. “Makes it tough to move around.”

  “This facility can’t be a troop deployment center,” Marcus remarked, looking at the small pantry. “Unless there are about a hundred more rooms like this and the Troopers don’t mind tripping over each other.”

  “Too bad… I was looking for more skulls to knock around,” Ramirez said dryly.

  Everyone stared at Ramirez for a moment, but no one laughed. His expression made it difficult to tell whether he was joking or not. Ramirez shrugged his shoulders and carefully selected an apple from an open bag, chewing it reflectively. In between bites, he added, “Follows a natural cave system.”

  “Of course,” Celes exclaimed, placing an open hand on one of the walls of exposed rock. “That explains the strange layout. The tunnel simply follows it and rooms are placed wherever space is available. But why build a facility like that, why not build it normally, unless…”

  Janus snapped his fingers and the pair exclaimed, “There wasn’t enough time! Middleton must have had to construct this place in a hurry and in secret.”

  “But we still don’t know why,” Marcus said.

  Janus signaled for Lyn, who carefully opened the door and peered outside. “Clear.”

  He turned to Marcus with a smile, “Let’s go find out.”

  Resistance increased significantly after their first run in with the S.T.s, and now patrols appeared regularly, forcing the team to move even more slowly and duck into doors and dark corners with alarming frequency. The sound of marching boots was a constant thrum in their ears, and only their quick wits and careful movement allowed them to leap in to the rooms quickly enough to hide. Most were no differ
ent from before – simple barracks, supply rooms, kitchens, and latrines. And every one was devoid of a single soldier.

  Every S.T. had been turned out for Alastor’s arrival, and he communicated it as such to his team.

  (But) why(?) Lyn signaled.

  There was no sign of the overall purpose of the base – it seemed no more than a poorly constructed, hastily built deployment center. As they moved deeper, a few of the stone rooms began to show signs of tunneling, and expansion, beyond the natural cave system. There were several smaller kitchens, and equally tiny mess rooms to go with them. Janus guessed the base would normally need to run at the pinnacle of efficiency in order to function properly, but Alastor’s arrival seemed to throw it into a new level of chaos.

  More tunnels branched off from the main, linking to areas with the same pictures of a Dryad and a wrench. Janus presumed these were the hanger and the armory, but the real problem was that they provided new directions to be ambushed. The sheer scope of the cave system was a stark contrast to its cramped size.

  It was clear that even to this day, work was being done on the facility to make it larger and better, as the halls had been reinforced and widened the deeper the team moved. But still, the facility was of a highly inconvenient design. It was if someone had built a house and put the bedroom and the kitchen a quarter-mile apart. Middleton must have truly been rushed to construct the base, and had been fortunate to find such a place that could accommodate.

  A couple of tiny mess halls, another kitchen, three pantries, an armor fitting station later, Janus crouched in a small alcove of rock that acted as a power relay station. The main hall was partially visible through a fissure too small for an S.T. Apparently, some places in the base hadn’t even warranted doors.

  “I swear that same group of S.T.s has passed us at least four times,” Lyn said, peering through the fissure as a patrol disappeared around the corner.

  “Half these S.T.s look about to collide with each other when they pass by, and most aren’t even patrolling. They’re carrying boxes and boxes of supplies, or something.” Marcus noted.

  “All clear. For the next 30 seconds,” Lyn whispered sarcastically from her vantage point above the corridor.

  Celes cleared her throat, “Janus, it is getting almost impossible to move through the base. I know most of these rooms are empty because of whatever the S.T.s are up to, but sooner or later we’re going to get caught.”

  “And we can’t sit around. Someone’s bound to realize that a few of their comrades aren’t waking up from guard duty,” Marcus added.

  Lyn waved at the group excitedly. Janus looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

  She pointed at Ramirez, “Ramirez has an idea.”

  They turned to look at Ramirez, who was crammed deep into the tiny crevice to hide his considerable size. Janus had been surprised when he had so easily climbed through the fissure into the tiny room.

  Ramirez grunted. “Do what you did before.”

  Janus was curious but slightly confused, “What did we do before?”

  “You told us Wouris dressed up in an S.T. suit to move around the base. Do that.”

  “Yes, but Janus and I pretended to be prisoners, that wouldn’t fly here. We haven’t seen any prisoners,” Celes said.

  “So get everyone a suit,” Ramirez said simply.

  “But where will we do that?” Janus asked. “We can’t just go knock out a few S.T.s. We would end up damaging any suits we tried to take from them.”

  Ramirez looked up at Lyn, who was smiling. She pointed to the wrench sign across from their tiny fissure. “Why, in our very own S.T. suit shop. Of course, we will be receiving a five-finger discount.”

  Chapter 13: The Man in the Painting

  Old, rusting armor, scattered wrenches, and partial plates littered the armory.

  “This must have been the old armor room, before some of the expansion of the base took place.” Lyn said, holding up a bent shoulder plate.

  “Look at this garbage,” Marcus said, “some of this armor looks like it has been sitting here for 20 years.”

  “Fortunately for us,” Celes said with a smile, “S.T. suits haven’t changed much. They must just use this room for spare parts now, but there is more than enough here.”

  Lyn stumbled forward in a large suit, just peering out from over the bottom of the helmet. “Still, we might need to perform some quick adjustments,” she said.

  It took nearly thirty minutes to equip everyone and some delicate ‘fitting’ to squash Ramirez into one of the suits, but eventually everyone was relatively comfortable in their new uniforms.

  They soon ran into another problem. “No weapons,” Marcus pointed out. Not a single Zeus was to be found.

  “They must be handled by another bay,” Lyn groaned. “What should we do? We can’t go around carrying ODIN issued weapons.”

  “And none of us care for the prospect of going unarmed,” Janus agreed. He paused for a moment, “Most of the patrols are carrying supplies, anyway.”

  Celes kicked a couple of large crates, and smiled, “Something like this?”

  Janus nodded appreciatively, “Exactly. Put all the weapons in the crates. Strap your pistols in an easily accessible place inside your suit, if possible. We might need them.”

  Ramirez handed his pistol to Lyn, who had considerably more room in her suit than he had.

  As they grabbed the boxes, the door slid open. The little group turned in surprise to the door. “You five, what are you doing?” a Trooper Captain asked. Janus cursed silently in his suit and lacking a better option, made a motion to the crates and the junk around them. The inside of his suit suddenly felt very hot.

  The Captain looked around the room for a moment. “Good, good,” he nodded appreciatively. “Overlord Middleton wants anything we can grab on those transports in the hangar. Just keep loadin’ ‘em up. I’ll send some others to stop by this shop and pick up what they can. Good work.” Without another word, the Captain stepped out the door and hustled off.

  Shaking his head, Marcus raised his visor and smiled, “Looks like things are finally going our way.”

  Lyn laughed, “Well, we better get a move on then. That certainly can’t last for long.”

  Janus nodded seriously, “Let’s go.”

  “Keep in mind that we probably have additional strength in these suits, but they haven’t been properly calibrated for us,” Janus whispered as they walked. “We won’t have the same strength as the rest of the S.T.s, nor do we have Wouris experience to compensate for it.” Janus paused, taking Ramirez’ position on one of the two crates the team was carrying. Celes and Marcus shared a crate; he and Lyn the other. “Ramirez, you’re the biggest, most menacing S.T. I’ve ever seen; you’re on point. Clear a path for us and don’t let anyone push you around.”

  Ramirez let out a small chuckle, clearly enjoying the prospect.

  “It’s too bad we don’t have an Infernus suit for ya Ramirez, then no one would get in our way,” Lyn added with just a slight hint of adoration.

  Ramirez coughed slightly and shifted uncomfortably.

  Janus, Celes, and Marcus had a hard time suppressing their laughter.

  Travel through the base suddenly became a breeze, and speed was their friend. The S.T. suits were awkward, and limited, but comfortable enough, especially after Marcus taught them how to lock the arms of their suits into one position, so the armor carried all the weight of the crates.

  It soon became apparent that the base truly was in a state of chaos. S.T.s ran about without rhyme or reason. More side tunnels appeared, some were clearly new, others glowed with dim lights that gave the impression they had been abandoned. Patrols ran along all of them. At one particularly crowded split, an Infernus was desperately trying to stop as many patrols as he could while another kicked open crates in frustration. Many were completely empty; others carried standard supplies and food. When the first Infernus hurried to stop a patrol coming down the left fork, the t
eam rushed by. The second Infernus simply ignored them as he struggled to pry open a locked box.

  “It makes no sense,” Marcus said after they had cleared the split. “Why are entire squads of S.T.s doing nothing more than hauling crates of junk back and forth up the halls? And why is a single pair of Inferni trying to stop them?”

  “It’s a shell game!” Janus said, finally making the connection.

  “A what?” Celes asked.

  “A shell game. They’re popular in the slums. One person hides a prize: food, money, whatever, under a shell. They then mix up that shell with several others. Another person bets that they can guess the shell the prize is under.”

  “Doesn’t sound too tough,” Marcus said.

  “It is all about deception, and usually the person betting loses. A good Sheller will remove the prize before the bettor even takes a guess. The Inferni must be part of Alastor’s guard. But if it is a shell game, then Middleton—“

  “—is likely removing the prize!” Celes breathed. The team ran faster.

  After several minutes of hard running, Janus suddenly realized the frantic rush of S.T.s had died down. No patrols or agitated S.T.s bustled down this way. He slowed the team, acutely aware of the clattering of their heavy boots.

  Now moving as silently as they could while still appearing natural, Lyn and Marcus gaped in wonder as the passage became statelier and straighter, suddenly ending in great oaken doors. Lyn opened the doors silently, peering inside and motioning that the way was clear. She pushed them open to reveal a large, square room filled with great paintings, tapestries, and sculptures. It was decorated just like Middleton’s estate at Cerberus. His unexpected visit there with Clara now seemed so long ago. But it could only mean one thing: they had entered Middleton’s personal quarters.

  Smaller doors led off the sides of the room, and a great hall lay before them, but it was the art that captured Janus’ attention. They were not of Cerberus. A great bird made of fire seemed to be the center of every piece. Janus paused, examining the title at the bottom of a particularly graphic painting depicting the fiery predator burning away a huge army. “The Rise of the Phoenix”.