by Tao Wong
Hours later, I watch Labashi walk away. I shut my eyes, leaning back. The negotiation was…
“Horrible. This is a bad, bad idea,” Ali finally speaks up, staring at me.
“Yeah, I know.” I exhale, shaking my head. “But it’s my choice. We need the bodies. Without more help, we’re screwed. And the Dwarves aren’t willing to help. Now come on, there’s someone else we need to speak to.”
Ali grumbles but says nothing as I climb aboard Sabre. I look back at the Fort. Gods, I actually enjoyed my time here—hunting, killing, being alone. No one to care about, no one to worry for. Just me and the Apocalypse.
“Oy! I thought you said we were going, boy-o.”
I snort. Yeah, enough with the maudlin nonsense. There’s work to do.
“Aiden.” I walk in as he finishes class. I’ve been waiting outside for the last ten minutes, practicing my own Affinity.
“John,” Aiden replies as he puts his notes on the table and turns to stare at me.
“Lana tells me you turned down joining us.”
He nods firmly. “Yes. I’m sorry, I know you need everyone who can come. I just… I can’t.”
I take a seat next to him. “Because of what happened last time?”
He nods, fear clear in his eyes. “I… I don’t want to die.”
“Few of us do. I understand. Thank you. For coming out when you did. For teaching me what you can. If… well, if we don’t come back, get the kids out. Head south. There might be something left back there.”
“What do you mean?” Aiden says.
“Dawson’s gone and Carcross won’t last if—”
The mage cuts me off. “I mean, if you don’t come back.”
“Oh. This is our final toss,” I answer, lips twisting. “We either win or we die. If we don’t stop the Spores, they’ll keep growing and growing, and eventually, they’ll hit Whitehorse and swarm us. We have to win this. Now.” He clasps his hands together, fingers shaking, as I continue. “So go south. If we don’t come back, get everyone that you can out.”
Aiden nods jerkily, looking at me before looking away, unable to meet my eyes. I give his shoulder a squeeze before I walk off, stopping only when he calls my name.
“How do you do it? I want to… I want to be braver, but I can’t,” he whispers.
“You’re asking the wrong person.” I don’t turn around as I stop in the doorway, a hand on the doorframe. “From my viewpoint, you’re plenty brave.”
He laughs bitterly, and I leave before he can recover and realize I never answered his question. I don’t have an answer for him, at least not the one he’s looking for. How do I tell him that it’s not because I’m brave but because I’m too fucking scared and angry to stop? How do I tell him that every time I stop and think, I see Haines Junction, or that damn village in the middle of nowhere, or Tahar?
I walk outside into the sunlight and shake my head. No, I have no answer for Aiden. His reaction is the sensible one. Mine—well, mine’s certifiable.
“We don’t have enough people,” Jim states again, his fingers tapping the 3-D map of the dungeon and the surrounding areas.
We don’t have a lot of the actual dungeon mapped, and all of what we do have comes from my drones which, frankly, is rather worrying. A major recent change to the area is the battlements and walls now surrounding the dungeon entrance, a hastily constructed series of defenses meant to contain any incursion. It won’t hold against a major push, but it’s sufficient to contain the occasional Frakin that wanders out and keep other monsters away.
“Even if we take my people off the walls, I see at least a half dozen different passages there. My people can’t stand up to these Frakin,” Jim adds.
“Yes,” Vir answers, rubbing his chin. “We might have to hit and pull back, drawing small numbers out to us.”
“Very dangerous work,” Capstan adds, pointing at the entrance chamber and the chamber beneath. “The Frakin could attempt to overwhelm us at any time.”
“What of the virus?” Richard asks.
The group shrugs.
“Might work, might not,” I answer before sighing.
“We sure the Spores aren’t part of the dungeon?” Richard says.
Vir answers that one for me. “Yes. We confirmed that via the Shop. The Spores are an invasive species, not dungeon owned. Of course, they eventually could be, but as of this time, they aren’t. If we wipe the dungeon, we can always sweep it later to confirm.”
Since the big meeting, a smaller group of us have been meeting more regularly, trying to work out a plan that will keep most of us alive. The group consists of Vir and Capstan, who have the most System-related battle planning experience, and Jim, who surprisingly is a former infantry sergeant in the army. Richard, Jason, and I drift into the conversation occasionally, throwing what help we can, but at the end of the day, we’re civilians trying to plan a battle. We’re mostly here so that we know what is going on.
The problem is, we’re outnumbered and time isn’t on our side. The longer we take, the more the Frakin will increase in numbers. While our people might upgrade in Levels in the meantime, the fact stands that it only takes a few Level 50 Frakin to overwhelm a single Level 40 Adventurer. Better weapons, better tactics, and better coordination can help tilt things in our favor, but the numbers still aren’t on our side.
If the Frakin acted like normal monsters, they wouldn’t swarm and cluster. We’d have a chance to fight them in smaller groups, whittling down their numbers in a series of battles. Unfortunately, the Spores are sentient and have shown a willingness to swarm us and lay traps.
“I have a partial solution to the number problem,” I say. “The Hakarta have agreed to let us have three platoons of their men. Level 40 or so each, but they’ll be coming with their full loadout.”
Vir looks at me, startled, then his eyes narrow, “Hakarta. The same ones you fought before?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you come in contact with them that you were able to arrange a contract?” Vir asks, his voice cold.
I just smile at him. His eyes narrow in suspicion until Capstan taps the table to get all our attention.
“Lieutenant, it is done. I assume there is a price involved?” Capstan says.
“Yes. We’ll need to pay them ten thousand Credits per platoon for their involvement, and their share of the loot of course,” I say.
People wince. Still, thirty thousand Credits isn’t that much when you take into account a full platoon of five Hakarta will share it. Of course, I don’t mention the favor I now owe Labashi, the one he can call in at any time. I hedged the favor to ensure that he can’t make me use it against my friends or the City, but otherwise, it’s pretty open-ended. That’s on top of me needing to continue to feed him information of course.
Capstan nods, rubbing his chin. “With the three platoons, we should be able to keep the human hunters on the walls. That will give us enough men, barely, to cover the dungeon itself.”
I stare at the map as Vir and Capstan hash out the details with occasional input from Jim, figuring out the best way to fit the Hakarta in our plans. All this talk and we’ve basically come up with three major strategies, dependent on what we find inside.
The first is simple—the virus reverts the Frakin and the dungeon back to its “normal” state. That means scattered groups without overall coordination. This is our best-case scenario, and if it happens, we can split the teams into smaller groups to clear the dungeon before we finally get to the Boss. It’s also the least likely option, but we do have plans for it.
The second scenario is if there’s no effect, or mild effects, and the Spores continue to act like the way they have before. In that case, the Frakin are likely to group together, attack in waves, and attempt ambushes. In such a scenario, the goal is to establish a beachhead in the first cavern, set up fortifications in it, and weather the attacks. That leaves us a fallback position in the tunnel where a secondary set of fortifications will be mad
e, then the walls. We’ve also mined the entrance and the ground above it so, if necessary, we can cause a landslide that will give us enough time to vacate the dungeon’s vicinity.
We’d decided against trying to bury the dungeon entrance entirely since there’s no way to know if there’s another exit. Or worse, if the Frakin are able to dig themselves out. Of course, if we do fail, Jim’s men have orders to drop the entrance. As much as we’d like to know the layout of the dungeon, the cost of it in the Shop is exorbitant.
The third scenario is probably the most dangerous. If the Spores feel truly endangered, they might pull back, forcing us to come into the dungeon after them. As Jim’s already noted, even after a few caverns, there are multiple passageways and potential entrances. Some, probably most of them, will peter out and dead-end. However, until we can verify that, we’ll have to guard each. That means we’ll have to move in slowly and carefully, checking each area. Worse, if there are multiple passageways that connect, we could be forced to split our force to cover each of those potential passages until we meet up again.
Depending on how deep and where the Spores decide to have their last stand, we could be extremely dispersed if we try to cover all the exits. If not, we run the risk of being flanked. It’s not a great situation and why we’re all hoping it’s either one of the other scenarios. In either case, Xev’s hard at work putting together multiple drones and signal repeaters for us so that we can scout out areas and keep in touch.
We’ve debated rolling in a couple of bombs and setting them off to clear the area before moving in deeper. Jim pointed out that the narrow corridors and their Mana-strengthened nature would ensure that the blast forces were more concentrated, giving us more bang for our buck.
Unfortunately, Vir and Capstan overruled him. For one thing, we have no idea how big the entire complex could be—we could be wasting Credits by purchasing bombs and setting them off without hurting anything. Even if we did manage to catch some Frakin in the explosions, if the dungeon has more than one floor, the blast wouldn’t cross the floors. And of course, we just don’t have the Credits to buy something powerful enough to ensure that all the monsters die. It was why most times, dungeons were still cleared the old-fashioned way—one floor at a time with small parties.
The night before the big day, the Nugget is hopping. I drive by on Sabre and almost go in but decide against it, stopping only long enough to visit the Shop and stock up on more grenades, missiles, and projectiles. I’ve loaded my Altered Space with as much of each as I can unreasonably see myself using already, so buying more is my version of fretting.
In the end, I head home. I might not need much sleep physically or mentally, but there’s a calming emotional release in the emptiness that a good night’s rest can bring. I drive slowly through Riverdale, knowing that icy patches lie hidden underneath the latest dusting of snow. We need a better solution for the roads, like so many other problems, but I push it out of my mind. I have other things to deal with.
At home, I find Lana and Richard seated around the dining room table that’s connected to the open kitchen. For once, Richard is without a female companion. Instead, the two Pearsons are chatting quietly, accompanied by a single husky each. Even then, the large dining room is crowded.
Richard greets me, waving me to a chair. I take it after some maneuvering, seating myself and smacking Bella on the nose not too gently as she tries to lick me. Licky dog.
I greet the pair, looking around the kitchen. “No dinner?”
“It’s nearly ten,” Lana says, shaking her head. “There’re leftovers in the fridge.”
“Huh.” I nod, eying the blocked off stovetop and fridge.
Seeing my predicament, the pair send the dogs out the door, freeing me to cook.
“You guys ready?” I ask.
“As much as we can be,” Richard answers for them both. “I’m just glad that Leonard is certain the infected Frakin won’t be poisonous for the dogs.”
“Oh.” I pause in heating up the stir-fried rice. I never even thought about how we’d be feeding their pets.
“And you, John?” Lana asks.
“This is what I do, babe.” I turn around to flash her a cocky smile and a wink.
The redhead looks startled for a moment before bursting out laughing, Richard joining her.
“Please. Don’t do that ever again,” Richard says, shaking his head. “It really doesn’t suit you.”
I snort, face collapsing as I turn back to my leftovers. They’re still chuckling behind me, and I find myself smiling slightly. As I’m busy and awkwardly placed to carry on the conversation, they end up recounting stories of their shared childhood and their dad’s sense of humor. Really? Putting Lana’s first set of car keys in Jell-O was meant to be funny?
When I’m ready, I walk back to the table with the plates of food and plop myself onto my seat before pushing a pair of plates out to them. I don’t even have to ask if they’ll be joining me—putting food in front of System-enhanced fighters is a guarantee of it being consumed.
As we eat, we talk, all of us avoiding the topic of our upcoming delve. Everything that needs to be said has been said or will be said. In time, Mikito joins us, pointing out that our increasingly loud conversation is keeping her up, before she snags a potato. For a time, we just talk and eat, worries about tomorrow pushed aside. The past is pain, the future uncertainty. The present is all we have, and staring at my friends, it’s enough.
Chapter 20
“I really wish the weather would make up its mind,” Richard grumbles as he stomps through the slush pile of mud and snow as we finally reach the dungeon.
Fun thing about being in the Yukon in mid-November—the temperature doesn’t always stay beneath zero. So all that snow we received in the last few weeks—it’s melting on its own, leaving the ground a mushy, slimy mess.
I duck my head to hide my smile as I walk easily on Sabre’s armored legs, then I realize he can’t see me beneath my helmet anyway. Tromping through the underbrush in the mecha is easy and doesn’t involve getting my feet muddy. Of course, Richard could try riding one of his pets like Lana and Mikito are doing with hers, but Richard seems happier just grumbling.
When we finally reach the dungeon, I marvel at the changes since my last entry. A wall of concrete and earth has been thrown up around the entrance, and a pit faces the entrance. In a snaking path to the dungeon, stone spears stick out, making sure that no monster can get a running start to their jumps. Just outside the entrance, there’s a clear area to allow our dungeon parties to gather. Of course, that ground has been heavily mined. Four watchtowers are set along the wall, mostly to allow the guards to watch for incoming threats from the wilderness. Each watchtower also holds one of the four shield generators and beam canons we’ve borrowed from the city defenses.
The entrance is as well guarded as we can make it. If things go to hell, we’ll need to rely on these defenses to save our asses. I survey the area once more before I dump the drones and signal repeaters out from my Altered Space for everyone else to grab. People stream in in spurts over the next fifteen minutes, picking up their extra gear before grabbing some last-minute rest.
“Lana?” I murmur.
She looks up at me from where she works, stroking and petting her pets. “John.” There’s a hint of wariness in her voice.
“Be careful. Watch the sides and remember, your pets are there to keep you safe.”
For a moment, her lips tighten before she smiles and kisses my cheek. “Yes, Dad.”
I sigh, really wishing she didn’t have to come. Really, I wish none of us was here, but that’s the nature of our lives now. As Richard walks up, I nod to him and murmur, “Watch out for her, will you?”
“Of course.” He shoots me a disdainful look and I accept it. She is, after all, his sister. “You’re the one up front and center.”
I nod then turn away, looking over the gathered group one last time. Arrayed before me are warriors and mages, fighters
and healers, my allies and enemies, because I asked them to be here, because I said it was necessary.
To one side, Aiden leans against a nearby tree as he finishes throwing up. Mikito rubs the older man’s back in an attempt to comfort him. Jim is walking among his people, talking softly and bolstering spirits. The Yerick squat, playing a game of stones that seems to consume their attention, but occasionally they glance at the dungeon entrance. There’s a hush among the group, a stillness that makes people speak softly, as if speaking loudly would break the spell of peace and signal the start of what we all fear.
I spot Jason standing next to Rachel, their hands clasped. He sees me and mouths, “Not a game.”
I nod. No, this isn’t a game, and I wonder how many of these people will be dead before the day is over. As I think that, I note the new blips that have appeared on my minimap.
“Everyone, play nice. We’ve got incoming friendlies. Friendlies,” I repeat, hitting the external mic to ensure that everyone hears me. Don’t want anyone shooting the Hakarta as they make their way to us.
Twenty-five large infantry soldiers walk through the trees. They move in formation without thought, spread out in a way that screams organization even to me. Six and a half feet tall at the shortest, some going up to seven, and all broad across the shoulders. Their mottled green-and-brown camouflaged armor blends in with the surroundings as the group stomps forward, beam rifles and plasma grenades strapped to their bodies.
“John.” A hand touches armor and strikingly intelligent eyes meet my gaze. “Sorry we’re late. We had a small delay coming in.”
I step forward, offering my hand to Labashi. “Not at all. Surprised you’re here, and with so many others.” Unspoken is the point that I can’t afford him or the additions.
“Orcs? The Hakarta are orcs?” Jason splutters, staring at the group, and Rachel squeezes his hand to shut him up. He quiets down, though not without adding, “At least they’re Uruk-hai.”
“My employer decided he was not interested in having an infected dungeon in his territory,” Labashi says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “We are here at his request.”
