"Yes, Tech; what do you want? Can't you see I'm at work?"
"You called me, Administrator," the heavy-set individual replied, his tone sullen and resentful. "Don't you remember?"
"What are you blathering about?" Armitage snapped, distracted. "I called nobody. I don't even recognise you."
The Technician, whose name-tag read 'Muller', rolled his eyes. "Oh, so I'm losing my mind, am I? 'Report to the Control Room, immediately', you said, and you summoned me by name.
"I had a full psych workout not six weeks ago, and I checked out as sane. I can show you the report if you like. If anyone's losing his marbles around here, it's not me."
He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the Administrator.
"Just you remember who you're talking to!" Armitage warned. "Show a little more respect, or it'll be full Pacification for you, my friend. You should be doing your job, not bothering me with some ridiculous fantasy."
"That's what I was doing when…"
A second white-garbed figure entered the room, breathless and flustered. Armitage recognised her, and he knew she was not one to barge into a room unannounced. "Santini; what is it?" Armitage demanded.
"I was hoping you could tell me that, Sir," the white-haired woman gasped, her spectacles askew on her nose. "I came as soon as you called me."
"I called nobody!" the Administrator insisted, frowning. "What's the matter with everyone today?"
With a convulsive jerk, Armitage grabbed the zoom control on the camera and focused on the image of the younger mage, Grimm. The youth sat with his eyes closed, his face a picture of peaceful composure.
Armitage closed in on Grimm's eyelids. Where he would have expected to see traces of eye movements beneath them, he saw nothing. Grimm's face resembled that of a statue, without the least hint of animation.
Manipulating the camera controls with sweaty fingers, Armitage focused on the boy's chest, watching every fold of his silk robes for an indication of movement. Breathing hard, the Administrator zoomed in on a single ripple in the sheer fabric, until he could almost see the individual threads of the cloth. Nothing moved.
Is the video playback corrupted?
Armitage switched to the camera in the Control Room, and the scene appeared normal. He waved his right hand, and his image responded at once, without a trace of stutter or image corruption.
"If the Administrator has quite finished with me, can I get back to that big, pink-eyed bastard I was conditioning before you called me?"
Armitage ignored the male tech, stabbing the comm stud with a vicious gesture.
"For heaven's sake, Armitage, I'm working as fast as I can!" Terrence yelled. The senior Technician's patience seemed to have been stretched to the limit. "You have no idea…"
"Terrence; just hang fire for the moment!" the Administrator screamed into the microphone. "Something is going on, maybe something bad, and I mean to get to the bottom of it!"
Another comm channel bleeped, a red light above the stud showing an emergency call, and Armitage, feeling cold panic seeping through his bones, swung around to the relevant security monitor.
This time, it was a security guard; an officer. A trickle of blood seeped from a cut over his eye, his body armour was smoking and damaged, and his face was red and sweaty.
"Lieutenant Martin here, Sir; all hell's just broken loose in Brown Sector." The man's quivering voice seemed close to sheer panic. "It's like a bloody abattoir here; I've got eight casualties, six of them fatal. Two guys in robes are on the loose, and nothing seems to stop them. My number-two, Grouillard, emptied a full clip into the older one, but he was cut to pieces instead of the target. Another guard turned into dust before our eyes. Some of the others were just blown apart. It looks like they're coming straight for you, Sir. What should we do?"
The Administrator's heart pounded. He had seen what a Mage Illusionist could do, and he now had no doubt that the image of inaction that the security camera in the mage cell was nothing more than a magical illusion; somehow the Questors had escaped!
"Abort the VX run, Terrence; abort, abort, abort!" he screamed into the mike. Security has been compromised!"
Turning back to the image of the wounded security squad commander, Armitage pressed the relevant button and yelled into the microphone, "Stop them at all costs, Lieutenant. I don't care how you do it, just…"
At that moment, the door to the Control Room burst from its hinges, slamming into the chamber with such force that Armitage's ears popped. The battered, flying piece of metal neatly decapitated Santini, who fell to the floor in a spray of blood, and it smashed into a bank of equipment, sending a shower of sparks into the room.
Armitage realised his worst nightmare had come to pass as he saw the two Questors standing in the doorway, and he felt warm liquid trickling down his right leg.
The burly Technician, Muller, seized a length of metal pipe, interposing himself between the Administrator and the two robed figures.
"If you want a fight, you've got one, freaks," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You just…"
The younger mage raised a hand, and shouted a guttural, unintelligible phrase. Muller flew across the room, as if shot from the barrel of a cannon, impacting against the wall with a wet thump. He slid down the suddenly red-stained wall to the floor and lay still.
"Greetings, Armitage," the older magic-user hissed. "You have made the very worst mistake of your life by angering a pair of Guild Questors. Give my regards to He Who Reigns Below; you will be meeting him soon."
Suffused by a sick, cold sense of purest horror, the defeated Administrator covered his eyes with his right arm as the mage raised his hands above his head. He heard the thaumaturge's rising chant and prepared himself for death, but the chant stopped abruptly.
Not daring to think he had been spared by some miracle, Armitage lowered his arm a little, to see the two magic-users measuring their length on the floor. Terrence stood over the older specimen, holding a pipe-wrench, and a blond Technician stood at his side, the steel pipe in his hand.
The Administrator drew a deep, shuddering breath. After a squad of heavily-armed guards had failed to stem the relentless advance of the two Questors, the mighty mages had been defeated by simple blows to the head. A harsh laugh arose from Armitage's throat at the absurdity of the situation, rising in pitch almost into the heights of pure hysteria, and tears rolled from his eyes as he fought to control himself.
"Thank you, Terrence," he gasped, between paroxysms of cackling laughter, as he looked at the two prone figures. "What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure I don't know," the senior Technician said. "Anyway, I guess we ought to…"
His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the ten-inch length of steel that seemed to have sprouted from the centre of his chest, transfixing him to the wall.
"I…"
A fountain of blood gushed from Terrence's mouth, and he fell silent, still fixed in place by the piercing metal.
The fair-haired Technician whirled around, and Armitage looked on in renewed panic as the man spiralled to the floor, a dagger sprouting from his right eye. After a couple of twitches, he lay still, as the black-clad elven thief stepped into view.
The lifeless form of Terrence angled forward and fell to the deck as the albino, Tordun, withdrew his blade, wiping the blood from it on the fallen tech's clothes.
"Did you forget us, Armitage?" Tordun growled, whose massive, muscular bulk seemed to fill the vacant doorway. "A reckoning is due, and we are here to collect payment. If the two mages are dead, you will pay double, I assure you; they owe me payment for my participation in their Quest."
Crest knelt to the motionless figure of Grimm, and Tordun tended to Xylox, each of the warriors keeping a wary eye on the Administrator.
Armitage stepped forward, his hands outstretched in supplication. "Listen, fellows, I…"
His voice faltered to a halt as he saw the huge swordsman stepping towards him, his blade raised in a threatening man
ner.
"Shut up, Armitage," Tordun said. "You are not going to wriggle out of this; you are going to die. That is all there is to it. The only question is just how painful that has to be. It is up to you, my friend."
****
Technician Deeks heard alarms sounding in the distance, and he guessed the cause. This, he thought, is the time to act, while those bloated fools, Armitage and Terrence, are occupied with trying to defeat the two magic-users.
Deeks made his way from his hiding place to Lab Three, where they were holding the girl, Drexelica.
He hoped the two Questors would not make Armitage's demise an easy one. Deeks had been brought up under the thumb of the hated Administrator, and every aspect of his life had been mapped out for him since his birth, with no room for negotiation or free choice. At the age of fourteen, he had been assigned the post of Junior Computer Technician in the Behavioural Sciences department, despite his singular lack of interest or desire in that vocation. On many occasions, he had made his objections clear and unequivocal, always stopping short of outright mutiny, but to no effect.
More than once, Terrence had threatened his rebellious underling with full Pacification, the implanting of a neurotransmitter control transducer in his brain, and Deeks had seen the effects of these devices in other nonconformists; the conversion of an intelligent, feeling human into a happy, compliant zombie. They were not going to do that to him; he would kill himself before he would allow them to cut open his skull and tamper with his very personality. Deeks hoped the thaumaturges would leave Terrence alive: he wanted to oversee the painful demise of the Senior Technician himself.
He felt confident he would now be able to foment an uprising within Haven. The grey imp had given him all the ammunition he needed. Throughout the complex, Deeks knew many people who shared his views, but who had not been subjected to the full Pacification treatment because of special skills that might be lost to the treatment. Deeks knew only his facility with the computers and other lab equipment had spared him from this fate. He had undergone occasional drug treatment, but frequent applications had rendered him all but immune to the drugs' effects.
The tiny monster had wanted Deeks to transmit its message to Test Lab Six; instead, he had broadcast it throughout the entire complex, freeing many grateful slaves who must be now only too keen to join the Technician in the establishment of a new order, with their saviour, Deeks, as its head. With his hands on all the controls, the Tech would have no problem in diverting the loyalties of even the Stage Three converts to his own purposes.
Deeks took care to keep his head down as he passed the numerous security cameras, consulting a clipboard as if deep in analysis, and he reached Lab Three without incident. To be sure, alarm bells were ringing throughout the complex, and he saw groups of armed security guards stationed at several intersections, but he was sure that nobody was concerned with the whereabouts of the lowly, insignificant Technician Deeks at this perilous time.
The Tech swept his security pass through the card slot on the lab door, but he was greeted by a dull buzz, and a flashing red light told him his access had been denied. Frowning, he studied the card, wiped the magnetic strip on his white coat and tried again, with the same outcome.
So that bastard, Terrence, locked me out, did he? Deeks thought. Is he ever going to be surprised when he finds out I know some access codes that he doesn't even know exist!
He had not made a complete waste of his life as a Technician, and he had spent a lot of time delving into mysteries of the security systems.
Still, that was not going to get him through this door, so he pressed the 'Attention' button by the card slot. After a few moments, the door opened, and he felt pleased to see the familiar Technician Redmond standing in the opening. This should make things a little easier.
"Hey, Deeks, what's going on here?" Redmond asked. "First, we had that message over the PA, and now there are all these alarms. What's up?"
"Oh, you know; the usual security SNAFU, Redders," Deeks lied with a fluency born of years of practice. "Pacification didn't take on those two wizards, and they're on the warpath. As far as I know, it's a bit messy, and Terrence wants me to take this girl back to the Security block until things blow over."
Deeks glanced over Redmond's shoulder, and he saw the girl sitting, passive, dull-eyed and beautiful, in the corner of the room. Her long hair flowed in gleaming cascades over her back, and she wore a seductive, clinging dress that left little to the imagination. To the unwillingly celibate Deeks, she represented amatory prospects beyond his most lustful dreams.
Redmond folded his arms across his chest. "Why didn't you just swipe in?" he asked, with a trace of suspicion.
"Ah, you know, Redders. I left my card in this coat when it went for washing," replied Deeks. "Bloody thing doesn't work worth a damn now."
Redmond frowned. "I can't let you take her without written authorisation from Terrence or Armitage," he said. "You know the rules as well as I do, Deeky: if it ain't in writing, it ain't worth a damn."
"Oh, come on Redmond, all hell could be breaking loose out there," the portly Technician whined. "Cut me some bloody slack, won't you? The situation isn't exactly what you might call nominal right now. Believe me, I'd rather be in my bed right now, but I have my orders.
"All I know is that Terrence told me to take the girl. You can check with him if you want."
Deeks gambled that Redmond would not go that far: although a loyal Haven man, he would surely not want to risk the Senior Technician's wrath by interrupting him during a possible emergency situation.
At last, Redmond stepped aside. "Okay, Deeky, take her, then," he said shaking his head in apparent resignation. "To tell you the truth, this little bitch has been more trouble than she's worth; she tried to take my eyes out with a bloody metal comb before the drugs took hold. She bites, too. I had to use a double dose, so you shouldn't have too much trouble with her."
That's just what I wanted to hear, Deeks thought.
He would hack into the central control system and give himself sysop privileges, erasing all traces of his actions from the database; then, he could find himself a nice little love-nest until everything had resolved itself. Sated and satisfied, he would be in good shape to take command when the people of Haven cried out for a new leader.
"Oh, just one last thing, Redders," he said. "Better give me a few ampoules of those meds. I don't want her turning nasty on me."
"Sure thing, Deeks; all I can say is, you're welcome to her," Redmond said.
Deeks suppressed a smile as he led the docile, bleary-eyed girl out of the lab: this was going to be good.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 11: Impasse
Grimm sat up and shook his pounding head in an attempt to rectify his blurred vision. That was a mistake; the room seemed to swirl around him, stirring nauseous sensations in his stomach and sending hot waves of pain through his head.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, Questor Grimm," a familiar voice said, and Grimm managed, with some difficulty, to focus on the figure in front of him.
"Oh, hello, Crest," the Questor muttered.
As his vision cleared, he saw a scene of devastation within the Haven Control Room. Shattered equipment sparked and sputtered, illumination flickered fitfully, and dark-red stains covered a large part of the room. With care, he managed to turn his head without causing additional distress, and he saw the mighty albino, Tordun, standing in an empty doorway, brandishing his sword and shouting dire imprecations at an unseen foe. Armitage was cowering under a bank of technological equipment, his ashen face a mask of sheer terror.
To his right, he saw Xylox massaging the back of his neck. The senior mage wore an expression that promised bloody retribution to whoever might oppose him, and Grimm knew his ill-tempered colleague was no forgiving soul.
"What happened, Crest?" the young thaumaturge asked, turning back to the elven thief. "I remember Questor Xylox blowing in the door, and then
… nothing. What devilish Technology laid us both low with such consummate ease?"
Despite the pain in his head, he had not forgotten his solemn promise to Xylox to use only formal speech until the Quest was resolved.
"Ah, Questor Grimm, you were a little too unwary of more mundane threats, such as this." The thief lifted a thick rod of metal from the perforated metal floor. "You were hit on the head; nothing more. Just give thanks to your little friend, Thribble. He managed to free Tordun and me in time to save your skins."
The imp's grey, stubbly head popped up from one of Crest's many pockets.
"Yes, it was once again your trusty, quick-thinking friend, Thribble, who saved you, human!" the tiny demon crowed. "I sent the message that freed you from Armitage's rule, I stopped them from shooting noxious vapours at you, and I freed the two warriors; what stories I shall have to tell, when I return to my own kind!"
"Your modesty and humility overwhelm me, Thribble," Grimm said to his netherworld friend, in a deadpan voice. "Nonetheless, I thank you for our deliverance. You are a resourceful fellow, and it is good to have you around. I will not try to leave you behind again; as far as I am concerned, you may accompany me on all my future Quests.
"If any," he muttered: Xylox's threat to have the young Questor dismissed from the Guild still hung over his head like a dark thundercloud.
"Thank you, Questor Grimm," the demon replied. "Humility is one of my besetting virtues; indeed, I believe that I am one of the most modest…"
"A soldier is approaching!" Tordun cried from the doorway, cutting off Thribble's self-indulgent monologue. "He is waving a white flag of truce; what should I do?"
"Is he alone?" Xylox asked.
"So it seems," the mountainous albino rumbled.
"Let him come," Xylox said. "A single man can pose little threat to the four of us."
"Very well, Haven man," Tordun yelled into the corridor. "Approach with your hands in plain sight, and leave any thoughts of deception or misguided heroism at the door. We have Armitage here, a lot of important-looking machinery, and a pair of very angry Questors with sore heads."
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