by Jason Kent
The key's origins were lost. It had been recovered from the home of an antiquities dealer named Frederick Rufus. Unfortunately, Rufus tended to deal with less-than-reputable buyers interested in high-end artifacts. Rufus was found dead after trying to pass off a cunning reproduction of an Ardennes master's painting as an original. The fake painting, ironically titled 'Peaceful Glade' was slashed to pieces and left near Rufus' body. While cataloging the trove of artifacts in Rufus' luxurious home, the police called on the Reticort Museum. The museum staff had discovered the Key. Unfortunately, the investigation revealed no supporting documentation among the cache of thousands of other artifacts.
Explosions outside brought Dupont back to the present. Out of the large windows, pillars of smoke were visible. Defense Force tanks and armored personnel carriers blocked the streets leading to the museum. Dupont knew this wasn't in order to preserve the priceless works of art and artifacts under his charge. The museum complex sat at the intersection of seven avenues radiating out into the city. The city founders had seen fit to lay out the square and place the museum here in an attempt to emphasize the central nature of history and art within the culture of the people of Ardennes. Now, the layout of Reticort's streets ensured the museum was about to become ground zero in the fight for control of the city. Dupont knew if the soldiers saved the city and lost the museum, they would consider that the price of victory. If anyone were to save the treasures housed within the walls of the Reticort Museum, it would have to be him.
Dupont gave the key one long last look then laid a layer of protective foam over the artifact. He carefully closed the lid of the packing case and engaged the locks. He stood and nodded to the two young assistants waiting at a respectful distance, pensively shifting from one foot to another. Finally given their cue, they rushed forward, relieved to be on their way as it was clear the fighting outside was drawing ever nearer.
"Please ensure this case is safely transported to Vault 77," Dupont instructed. As the interns lifted the crate, he stopped them and looked each of the young men in the eye with a stern expression. "There will be repercussions if the object is damaged in any way."
The men nodded and hurried off as best they could with their cargo. Vault 77 was deep under the museum. The designers of the complex had taken advantage of a series of abandoned salt mines to create a secure storage area for the collection they envisioned would someday be housed here. Little did they know that the caverns would be needed during such dire times.
Dupont's eyes followed the precious case until the men disappeared through a door marked 'Museum Staff Only!' Satisfied the key was on its way to safety, the curator turned his attention to overseeing the rest of the staff hurrying through the halls as they packed the other artifacts. A crash drew his attention to the domed foyer.
"For the love of all that is Holy!" Dupont shouted and rushed to see what irreplaceable work of art had been lost. He glanced up at the bones of the huge meat-eating lizard. It was an extinct native of Ardennes, rearing up to attack an equally large and long dead herbivore. The display was impressive and the full skeletons were quite rare. Dupont grieved there was simply no time to disassemble the display and transport it to a safer location.
Dupont muttered, "Sorry boys, you're on your own!"
Chapter 13
Museum Tour
Sparrow watched with interest as Kate's eyes flew open. The other woman had the temporarily unfocused look which often accompanied her visions from Nemus.
Kate turned her gleaming eyes at the pile of bones nearby and met the skull's eyeless stare. Almost reverently, she said, "Dupont was right here..."
Merrick furrowed his brow. "Dupont?"
"Gared Dupont," Tarun stated.
Merrick glanced at the archivist. The man's penchant for handing out information one spoonful at a time tended to get on everyone's nerves. Merrick was the only one of the marines not to have exploded in frustration at the Tallinn. Merrick simply stared at Tarun, fully expecting a complete answer.
In response, Tarun cleared his throat and volunteered, "Gared Dupont, PHDs in history and xeno-archeology, was the last curator on record here at the Reticort Museum." He tilted his head toward Kate, his eyes glowing with violet light. "Watcher, has Nemus revealed additional details to you?"
"Yes," Kate said. She took a moment to organize her thoughts before she added, "The Curator was here in the museum and packed the key himself." Kate used her small flashlight and shined it along the alcoves lining the domed room. The beam glided over numerous cases until one caught her eye. She flicked the light back and hurried over to the empty stand. Kate called over her shoulder, "The key used to be on public display! It was right here!"
"Empty, of course," Tarun noted needlessly as he stopped at Kate's side. He studied the description of the key on a dusty plaque then bent to examine the square block of marble supporting the shatter-proof case.
Sparrow studied the red fabric lining the interior of the display. Even after all these years, her high definition sensors could detect the indentations in the fabric where the key had rested. Sparrow smiled at the thought of how excited Dupont must have been to hold the artifact in his hands; she'd seen the same look on Tivon's face when she'd finally gotten the chance to carefully examine the Olympus Chronometer back at the Archives.
"This Dupont," Ross asked, "he moved the key?" The big marine glanced into the alcove then resumed his study of the deepening shadows crowding into the room all around them. "We should keep searching. The key obviously isn't here anymore. So where'd this curator guy hide it?"
"He sent the key to Vault 77," Kate said. "There's a storage area down in an old converted mine beneath the museum." She glanced over to a dark corner and pointed her light at a set of double doors. "The men carrying the case with the key went through those doors."
Merrick nodded to Ross and gestured with his chin toward the doorway. Ross checked behind him once more before trotting over to examine the doors.
Tarun sucked in his breath and gave a tsk. But, he did not look up from his close study of the picture of the key hanging askew on the wall behind the empty display stand.
"Spill it, book boy!" Dagger snarled. She jabbed a finger in Tarun's face. "I am so not in the mood to play twenty questions with you!"
The archivist reluctantly turned to face the others. "I'm afraid we will have our work cut out for us!"
When Tarun offered no further explanation, Dagger rolled her eyes. The pilot growled, "And?"
"The salt mines may be difficult to pass through...undetected." Tarun fell silent again.
"Don't make me hit a librarian," Dagger warned. She curled her hands into fists and showed them to Tarun.
"Archivist," Tarun corrected dryly.
"There's something going on below us," Sparrow said. She spread her arms wide and scanned the floor. She took a few steps away from the others. Kneeling, she removed her helmet and placed her glowing palms against the marble floor. The Link Sprite tilted her head to one side and absorbed the inputs from the sensors in her palms. It took only a moment for her to sort out the vibrations and temperature readings she was able to gather. "I'm detecting machinery. Lots of it."
"Like the wrecks out on the battle field?" Kate asked.
"No," Sparrow said. She looked back at Kate with her silvery eyes. "The equipment below us is quite functional."
"As I indicated, there is a high likelihood of activity in the salt mines," Tarun said. "During my studies with Nemus, we uncovered that the inhabitants of Reticort, some of whom we met out in the street, have taken to living underground. As we discussed, below the street level, they can avoid most of the direct effects from the bombardments which have become daily events here. Unfortunately for the local citizenry, the timing of the attacks is erratic so they can only venture out of their shelters after the daily attacks occur. They have learned, through many hard lessons, this is the least likely time for a follow-up shelling."
"But the mine was converted to
storage for museum artifacts," Kate remarked.
"True," Tarun said. "But, as Master Sergeant Merrick pointed out earlier, the populace has taken refuge underground using whatever facilities they could access."
"So there's a bunch of disgruntled people hunkered down in the museum storage vaults?" Dagger said then snorted. "Maybe we should put on disguises. You know, blend in!"
"You misunderstand me," Tarun said.
"There is a factory running below the museum," Sparrow clarified as she stood.
"Exactly," Tarun confirmed. "A small arms munitions factory to be precise."
"Is the key still in Vault 77?" Merrick asked. During the conversation, his eyes never stopped scanning the dark entrance or the arches leading to the museum's other halls. "Factory workers we can deal with. But, we need to know if the artifact is there."
Kate and Tarun exchanged a look.
"Well?" Dagger exclaimed, exasperated. "Is it or isn't it?!"
"Nemus cannot be sure," Kate replied.
Dagger stared at the archivist for a long moment. Finally, she raised a hand and said, "Wait a minute, let me get this straight! Are you telling me we've been following the directions from an all-knowing tree, who, as it turns out, does not really know everything?"
"Nemus' connection to the past and present is primarily with living beings," Tarun said by way of explanation.
When Dagger gave the archivists a blank look, Kate added, "Nemus can't see inanimate objects, just what other living creatures experience. If no one has seen or interacted with the key since it was put away, Nemus wouldn't have any further information to work with."
"So," Dagger said, dragging out the word, "the big tree saw Dupont remove the key and place it in the Vault?"
"More or less," Kate said, thinking of the men who'd carried the key away through the doors. She didn't think this was the time to admit she hadn't actually seen anyone place the key in the vault. But, it was clear this had been their intention. Apparently, Nemus knew the men completed their task or he would have given Kate a vision showing where they key had ended up. Likewise, if someone were to have moved it in the intervening years, he would have provided additional information.
Presumably.
Dagger squeezed the bridge of her nose.
"Nemus' insights—" Kate attempted to explain further. She desperately wanted Dagger to understand the limitations and frustrations which went along with having a nearly all-knowing being in your head.
The pilot held up her hand. "Please, no more. Let's just use what we have and find the key. Then we can get our rears back to Blade." She turned and stalked away, grumbling, "Because I could really use a drink..."
Kate merely nodded. She also figured this was not the time to mention that, although she'd gotten a flash of the general location of Vault 77 below the museum, she had no idea exactly where it was. From her experience with both Knowl and Nemus, she figured it must not be too hard to find or else she would have been given additional details.
The 'Museam Staff Only' door creaked. Ross poked his head through and called, "You have got to see this for yourselves!"
"Great, more surprises," Dagger muttered, but limped toward Ross.
Kate was halfway to the vault entrance when a deafening explosion rocked the front of the museum. She grabbed Sparrow and pulled her to the ground. Kate glanced over to find Merrick was doing the same with Tarun. From what Tarun said, the shelling was sporadic and supposedly occurred only once a day. Was Reticort being hit again because of their arrival?
Dust rolled across the floor, but no more blasts could be heard outside.
Not someone attacking, Kate realized, someone looking for them!
"Move!" Merrick ordered. He urged Kate toward the stairway where they'd last seen Ross. The dust was so thick, she was able to see no more than a meter in any direction. He made sure Kate and Sparrow were on their feet then turned to aim his rifle at the sound of footsteps pounding over the metal doors, now a convenient ramp leading right to them.
"Someone's coming!" Sparrow hissed.
"No kidding!" Kate coughed and grabbed Sparrow's hand. Together, they sprinted through the swirling dust. She held her hand out in front of her and hoped Ross didn't start shooting before they all managed to get out of his line of fire. She ran into the wall, jamming her wrist back painfully. Louder than she should have, she called out, "Tral!"
"This way!" Ross' voice called quietly through the blinding dust.
The sound of the pounding footsteps stopped.
Sparrow pulled Kate to the right, toward the marine's voice. Kate felt a firm hand on her arm then she was pulled through a door, a darker rectangle against the gray. Just enough light leaked into the stairwell for her to see the faces of her friends. She staggered on the steps leading downward but Sparrow's firm grip kept her from falling down. Kate looked around and took a quick head count. Tarun and Sparrow were with Kate on the steps. Dagger and Ross stood on either side of the doorway, their weapons aimed out into the dust still blowing through the museum.
Merrick materialized out of the gloom. "Lights out! We've got company!"
"No tral," Dagger replied.
"Yeah," Merrick agreed and motioned for Ross to close the door until there was only a narrow slit for them to watch the hall outside. In a hushed tone, he added, "I don't think these guys are from the local militia."
Curiosity got the better of Kate and she edged up behind the trio to peer out into the museum.
At first she could see nothing through the settling dust and fading light. Then, she spotted a shadow gliding slowly into the domed room. More shadows materialized. From the way they moved, using their weapons to cover every corner and their steady pace, Kate got the sense this was a well-trained team of soldiers. At first she wondered what the Ardennes military expected to gain by tracking them here. The figure in the middle of the formation reached down and picked something up from the pedestal containing the pile of bones. The breeze coming through the newly opened door was finally able to blow away some of the dust in the air. This allowed Kate to make out the figure of the large humanoid more clearly. He was holding the huge hunter's skull in one hand.
Kate's mind reeled as the skull provided her with a fresh frame of reference. She'd been staring at it not five minutes ago. It was immense, easily a half meter long and weighing several hundred kilos. Yet, the figure was holding it with one hand as if it were made of paper mache. The newcomer was very tall with broad shoulders and obviously possessed immense strength. As he turned his head to examine the skull, the light coming through the high windows caught on polished bony plates circling the alien's head like a crown.
Kate had seen these guys before and Merrick was right; they weren't from around here.
The alien trooper peered at the skull in his grip for a long moment. He snarled and squeezed his huge hand. The massive skull crunched and broke into a dozen pieces.
"Ater," Kate breathed. She covered her mouth as the skull-crushing alien turned his head to look in their direction. Eye shine flashed in his dark face as he let his gaze rove over the museum's interior. Everyone around Kate tensed, ready for a fight. But, whether it was the darkness or the remaining dust floating through the air, the Ater did not spot their hiding place.
One of the other Ater clicked his teeth. He reached down and picked up Sparrow's helmet.
The lead Ater hissed and carelessly tossed aside the bone fragments in his hand. The pieces clattered loudly as they skittered across the floor. He motioned with his long arm and clicked his teeth together. The group of Ater started moving again.
"Down the steps," Merrick said under his breath after the last of the Ater disappeared through an arch leading deeper into the museum.
"Great," Dagger replied just as softly, "I've been waiting for the behind-the-scenes tour."
As quietly as they could manage in the dark, everyone made their way down several turns of the steps. When they reached the fourth landing, Ross cracked a chemical
stick. In the feeble yellow light, everyone looked ill.
"Ater. Well, this isn't good," Dagger noted as she bent down to rub her leg. "Dang, any more steps and Princess might have to operate again." She nodded that an impressive steel door. "Please let that be Vault 77."
"You wish," Ross replied. He handed the light to Sparrow then spun the big wheel set into the door. Bolts clicked. Ross reached for the handle and looked back over his shoulder. "Welcome to the Underground. Mind the gap."
As the door opened, Kate could not help but gasp.
The steel door led onto a walkway hanging out from the wall, jutting into a huge chamber. Ross had been serious when he'd warned them to be careful; there was no railing between them and the four story drop to the floor. Machinery, crammed into every available square centimeter of the subterranean chamber, churned with a deafening noise. And moving like ants, the workers of Reticort serviced, oiled, and fed raw materials into the hungry forges and presses.
"This is an amazing utilization of resources during this era of hostility," Tarun commented.
Kate looked closely at the underfed, poorly dressed, dirty workers. She immediately thought of a dozen better things for them to be manufacturing rather than shells and bullets. Then she tore her eyes away from the factory workers and noticed the white walls for the first time. Several levels of walkways, just like the one on which they stood, ran all around the walls of the chamber. Tunnel entrances with heavy doors, like the one they'd just come through, were set into the doorways. One in particular caught her attention.
"Vault 77 is through that door," Kate announced and pointed to the far side of the underground hall. Nemus passed a feeling of smugness to Kate. She muttered, "Stop it!"
"So, we just take a stroll in plain sight," Ross said, "and then walk out with the key?"
One of the workers turned a grease-stained face up towards them. The woman squinted and began to raise a hand in greeting. Then something about them registered as wrong to her. She shouted something they couldn't hear above the clatter of the steam engines or thump of the hydraulic presses.
