Day 109.
From what we've learned, a combination of information from the informant and analysis performed by other members of the Moderation, we can't just barge into the place, it's far too well defended: we'll have to find another way in. Hence the rings. The Trojan Horse was nothing compared to what we'll pull.
The Crucible, Shadowveil. 05:49.
If they had had the concept of an air lock, that's what the inhabitants of the highly secured military research facility known as the Crucible would have referred to as their front doors.
The archmage stood within the large chamber as the enormous duriron doors slammed closed behind him with a thud that seemed to rattle his very teeth.
He dropped his wards with a sigh, feeling naked and vulnerable without them and almost immediately beginning to feel the jumpiness of mana oversaturation.
He fidgeted with a couple of the tassels on his robe, deprived of his usual fidget spellform while the security scans ran. The hissing of outside air being replaced with the purified Element itself, the flash of manafire that scoured false substances and illusions from his face and body, and the sudden tingling scent of truthmint in his nostrils, these were known to him. The routine had long since lost its novelty, become boring. He had nothing to fear, for he had nothing to hide, and the additional time the security measured cost him to enter the facility had long since begun to grate on him.
Several minutes later, as the duriron doors on the other end of the chamber slowly ground their way open to reveal a tired-looking Quariss on the other side, the archmage in the air lock who would be his replacement was already there before them waiting impatiently. His wards fairly leapt back into place only seconds after the conclusion of the rather intrusive scans, pushing mana expenditure back up to nominal levels and relieving the oversaturation pressure that was already threatening to fatigue him.
The new archmage strode through the doors as they opened without acknowledging his peer, focused instead on reinitializing his mana probe net. Quariss by now had learned that attempting to engage him in conversation was a fruitless effort, and passed him in silence.
The archmage brushed past the junior mage preparing to take down his name and record his mana signature as having entered the facility, forcing the younger woman to trot behind him as she asked for his signature.
The fact was, Alloman was having a bad day. It was his third shift in the past two months, and he hated being on call. Somebody in the upper echelons of the politic was getting nervous about something.
**The Shack, outskirts of Velia, 14:39. **
Oliver trailed behind as Gideon approached the shack cautiously, spells at the ready and mana suppressors activated. A moderate snow was falling, obscuring their tracks as they made them, cooling the sunlight from the double suns to a watery gray.
The bare lower trunks of the pine trees surrounding them did little to obscure the cabin as they approached. Oliver first smelled, then saw the smoke coming out of the chimney of the cabin as they drew near.
The two of them approached the cabin, spells readied and prepared for either fight or flight should the situation demand it. By unspoken agreement, Gideon was the one to knock.
The door opened after a pause, allowing a pair of eyes to peep out. Then, after another pause during which the owner of the eyes surveyed them suspiciously, the door swing wide open, revealing a familiar gray-haired woman.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Oliver exclaimed, unable to help himself.
It was Sindra, the leader of the Moderate cell in the city he'd come from, looking both as matronly and threatening as ever.
"Well, this will be fun," said Tiro, stepping out from behind the door frame with a wide grin.
----------------------------------------
Approximately twenty minutes later after the initial shock had settled, they were settled down in the cabin talking strategy, tea in hand. It had a couple of couches and chairs, generic hunting apparel on the walls, a couple of stuffed deer heads gracing the walls. Hunting cabins were, it appeared, universal across worlds.
"So. How are we going to do this?" Sindra was asking. "When leadership told me we'd be working with you, all they would say was that you had a way to get in, but that you'd need our help once you were inside." She took a sip of the tea they'd made at the hearth, looking for all the world like a friendly, warm grandmother instead of the steel-hard terrorist leader and killer she was. It was a disconcerting juxtaposition.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
"We have a strategy to bypass the wards both on the way in and on the way out, thanks to our insider," said Gideon, "But we need a backup plan to complete the extraction in case things go south. We can't afford to screw this up. If the Empire figures out that we've located their base of operations and that we know how to bypass their security measures, they'll raise security even further and probably move their spell research again. This is the only shot we've got."
"The only shot you've got at getting home, and that we have of saving our world," Sindra confirmed.
"Both of our worlds, actually," interjected Oliver. She looked at him and he stared back, unabashed.
"And we're going to be the heavy hitters," said Galen from the other couch after a pause. "We'll be the ones to take the hits if there are hits that need to be taken."
"That's right," said Gideon. "We'll have to be willing to pay any cost in order to pull this thing off. Is that going to be a problem?" asked Gideon, voice low.
"No, not a problem," said Sindra, with a sharp glance at Galen. "It's an honor to be working with you, and we understand the situation."
"The situation?" asked Oliver. Clearly it was the wrong time for the question, but he had to know.
Gideon glanced at him. "They know we're from Earth, and they know how important what we know is to their cause. And they know if anybody walks away, it needs to be us."
Oliver nodded. This sat ill with him, but he hadn't survived as a soldier by rejecting the realities of warfare. Then sat up further as a thought occurred to him. "If this is a battle for the future of your world, and we're valuable pieces, then why risk us going in at all?"
Sindra began to say something, but Gideon cut her off. "It's like we were saying earlier, Oliver, like the chess analogy. Sometimes you have to risk pieces of the greatest value to get the greatest reward. Sometimes you have to send the queen into enemy territory. In the endgame even a king becomes a combatant."
The Moderate leader was nodding. "As you say. We cannot afford mission failure. We've received more word from the higher-ups that the informant is getting nervous. They're planning on disseminating the spell soon. If we screw this up, the information on how to summon more of you will spread even further, and all hope will truly be lost."
"Not to be the pessimist, but I don't understand," admitted Tiro. "Why haven't they already spread it?"
"To spread an incomplete spell is more than dangerous, it could mean that the spell is forever corrupted, due to how the neural network — er, the System — works. If you and I upload two versions of a spell, how will they interact with one another? How will they be identified? What if it gets them confused?" clarified Oliver. He and Sung had been over this a number of times.
"I feel this conversation is getting off track. To get back to talking strategy," Gideon interjected. "As we discussed, the spell won't allow any living beings without the correct authorization through. And there are booby traps all around the ground along with comprehensive monitoring systems and manual patrols. Some of the most advanced security technology the Empire has developed, all in one place."
"And if that wasn't enough, they have manned patrols throughout the grounds and the facility itself, most accompanied by automatons invulnerable to emotion, illusion spells, bribing, or persuasion," said Sindra, smoothly taking back the reins of her side of the conversation.
Gideon nodded. "It seems like you're up to date. You'll know, then, that the security system extends not only below the area, but also above it, like a dome, meaning that no living thing can get within a thousand feet of the Crucible without triggering spells."
"That's what we've been trying to figure," said Tiro, from where he was leaning on the back of the couch above Sindra from behind it. "How are you going to break the wards?"
"We're not going to break the wards," Gideon said. "We're going to go through them."
"But no living thing—"
"In this," he said, holding out his hand. His ring glinted in the firelight, and suddenly there was its double sitting in his palm, a ring withdrawn from a ring.
There was a pause. "What am I looking at?" asked Galen, looking non-plussed.
"It's a dimensional storage ring."
"I know that. But how does it help us? You want us to get in it?"
Gideon nodded, smiling at him.
"But… that's impossible. It's a dimensional storage ring. You can't breathe in it. People have tried."
"You can't breathe in it because the air within a dimensional storage isn't breathable. But if you were to take it out and stick breathable air in it, you'd be just fine."
"Take it… out? Take the very air out of a ring? Is that even possible?"
"It's possible," said Oliver, leaning forward over his crossed legs from the chair he was sitting in. "We've tested it. And it should do the trick. According to Sung, we won't trigger any of the wards while we're in the ring. Well, he called it a dimensional anchor, but I digress."
"So that's why we're doing this now," said Sindra, looking as if she'd just understood something. "You've only just worked this out."
Gideon nodded. "Thanks to him," he said, gesturing to Oliver.
An odd look flashed over Galen's face briefly, too quick to be discernable. Oliver thought it might have been relief, or something close to it. Perhaps satisfaction.
"It's a plan, then," Sindra said. "We'll need to spend some going over the details, and then we'll reconvene in a couple days for pickup."
"We'll be here," confirmed Gideon, taking a sip from his own mug. Odd, to be planning an act of terrorism over tea in a hunting lodge. But sometimes that was the way of the world.
"Just one more thing then, I think," she said. "Where does our dragon come into the picture?"