For now, he descended into the ruins with a spell for light. Meadow couldn't resist following him, but only one of the guards wanted to do more than "keep watch outside". He gave both companions boots like his for a little more safety.

"Let's see where that trinket came from." The floor here was decrepit, cracked stone. Bits of it had been swept out recently to remove moss and slime. Before long he reached a dead end where the recent explorer had given up after a little scraping and prying. Solid stone... but it was an interior wall.

"Open sesame," Arlen said, and pushed it away like clay. The muck cleared from the growing hole. Stepping through it took him to a better preserved room where the far wall was metallic, and had a door with a keycard lock. He tried not to look smug before seeing if the key would work. But the old mechanical door clicked open without much jiggling, and he took a bow.

Rubble crashed from the ceiling beyond. It echoed down a staircase. Arlen walked cautiously down and saw no serious water damage. "A sturdy area. Not sure we can pass this door, though." This one was metal like the last. He might be able to tear through the surrounding rocks if the key didn't work.

While he was contemplating that, the door slid open.

He stood in silent fear. The room beyond was active. Rows and rows of dirt gardening trays filled it, each with harsh lights set into stone. Stray vines ran riot across the floor and walls. Some of them pulsed slowly. Trickles of water and the breath of ventilation stirred the fragrant multicolored plants.

"How?" asked Meadow.

Arlen called out, "Hello? I come in peace."

A voice spoke as from several gurgling mouths. Coming maybe from hidden speakers, or from vines. "Greetings, colleague. It is a good day. The main facility has woken up, and you read as being registered as part of Project Catacomb. Have you come from the main facility, then?"

The language baffled Arlen at first. It was alien, not that of the islanders nor any Earth tongue he knew. He did understand, though. "If you mean the place with the shifting walls, I was there recently, yes. Where are you?"

"Here." The voice guided him to a wall of dark glass where armored plates had slid into place, letting him see only glimpses of an immobile shape within. Humanoid, mainly, with an elaborate helmet of hoses.

The guard drew back. Meadow said, "A Builder? Alive?"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"The local life-forms are not authorized in the facility."

"They're with me," said Arlen. Whoever this relic was, it seemed to have accepted him as an employee, or something, despite physically resembling the natives. "Do you have a name? Have you been asleep here?"

It took a long time to answer. "It's been so long... no, I don't think so. Not much. I continued working no matter what. I was called Sachin." The shape within the tank twitched and dark liquid sloshed. "Time! Time has passed! You can't be one of the old group. They would have rescued me. They abandoned me. Or they died. Did they die?"

Arlen bowed his head. "My name is Arlen. I'm sorry to say, I haven't met others like you. I am continuing some of the research of your people, though. Can you tell me about this Project Catacomb, first of all?"

The old gardener said, "I was not authorized to know the details. It was a high priority, on par with the other projects."

Meadow asked, "What is it saying? What are you saying?"

Arlen relayed what he understood of the conversation. Then he asked, "What were the other projects?"

"Project Ring, I wasn't supposed to know." Sachin began laughing and its echoing voice babbled for a while. "It was too slow. All that work, all that power. Maybe it killed them all. Now Project Flask..." More laughing. "My specialty. We ran low on materials but I bred more here."

"To do what?"

The vines pulsed all around the room. "To fill the lungs of every disgusting treacherous enemy with blood and bile! To make them pay!"

Arlen stepped backward, eyes wide, tail twitching. He was standing not just in some ancient broken factory, but in a chemical weapons plant. Composing himself, he said, "Sachin, this place is poisoning the island and probably the ocean."

"The local life-forms are of no concern outside of the work. But they're not the enemy either. Is the external damage significant?"

Arlen asked his party, "Would you say the building is significantly damaged?" He got some incredulous nods. He told Sachin, "I'd say so."

"Then it is a security problem. The material needs to be contained in case of enemy capture or harm to our personnel. I seem to have lost sight of the lower production area. I can authorize you as a temporary transfer and the others as your assistants. Have you any doubts about their loyalty?"

"No, sir."

Sachin went quiet for a while, seemingly lost in thoughts of old bureaucracy. A vine studded with crystalline parts shifted closer to Arlen, and he said, "That enchantment field on you! I've seen nothing so complex, unless..." He gave a long and ragged laugh. "So one of the rumors was true. The project paid off. You are a superb repairman, aren't you?"

Arlen said, "I know more about machines than most people around here. This power from the Catacomb lets me shape stone and create iron."

"That's all? If the theory wasn't a fake to throw the enemy off, you should be fixing and shaping and creating other things. Depending on how well it worked, I suppose."

"I'll try more things, then."

"You were obviously trusted to test the... well, it would have been known as a 'shaper field'. Go and clear out the basement. It should be easy for you."

Arlen asked, "What's the plan after that? The spill needs to be contained."

"Yes, the spill. And then I can resume research until new orders come."

"Does that mean more production?"

"Not at this time. It would need to be authorized."

Arlen was glad for the lack of updated orders. For now, it sounded like he and Sachin were agreed on solving the problem.