Bull was digging, in an ambiguous direction that he hoped was straight up. It was hard to tell; he had taken a solid crack to the skull before he reflexively shielded himself, and his mortal senses were pretty shit in comparison to what he was used to. But he kept having to pull his feet out of the rubble, so he supposed that was as good an indication as any. Crazy bastards. Why drop your own ceiling? Just let me out, fuck. His head felt weird, soupy. Probably a concussion, though it could also be the lack of air. His dinky little second realm Mend Flesh made it go away for a little bit, but it kept coming back.
Empowered by Apelike Strength, he dug his fingers into the stone and levered something free. It slid past his face – more evidence that he was going upwards – and one handful at a time, he moved his little pocket of not-stone in a direction.
Every other minute something ephemeral swept over him, and his Path pulled his mind in like a turtle hiding its limbs. He couldn’t quite recall exactly when it had started being able to do that, it wasn’t like he was even very angry at the moment, but he wasn’t going to question it for now. He needed all his focus to dig, to splay out his spiritual sense into the rock above and avoid blundering into an area that would just cave in on him.
He clawed out another handful of stone and let it slide down. Another. Another. His sense shrank down as he strained it, the toxic environment wearing at his bare spirit. Something hit his eye, and he blinked – but no, it wasn’t just rock dust.
His sense speared out, as far as he could force it. Water? That hadn’t been there last time he had looked. And there, if he strained his eyes… Shining through a winding thin crack was a dim red light, so faint and wavering it might just be his brain making something up.
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It had been six years since Dog Eats Dog had felt the tremble of a cave-in, so similar and so different from the more directed rumble of a warrior’s technique, but his body was already moving before his mind had woken up. All the old instincts flared back to life the moment his legs felt that old familiar vibration, and he was out of the sauna and into a capillary tunnel before the first crack was visible.
“Quake! Brace! Brace!” The words were leaving his mouth in a bellow even as his forebrain remembered that there wouldn’t be any Tunnel Dogs this far up – he was in the Bunker, all the earthmovers would be mining or out with the army.
Make my own brace, then. Dust came off the ceiling as he shouldered the hallway’s brickwork, pouring heat in and shaping molten stone into a hollow tube – then a second and third and more, until he was trapped in a forest of glassy tubes that would hopefully keep the ceiling from buckling in this section. He was wired, beyond wired, his entire body trembling at he pressed his back to the wall, waiting to see if his shoddy attempt at a brace would hold.
Seconds passed. The tunnel was clogged with dust that he was only now becoming aware of, too tuned into the feeling of vibration in his bones to care about any other sensory input. More time, and his body started ratcheting down from pure panic to something more resembling a rational person.
Not Dead. That’s good. He looked down the tunnel, picking out rubble through the gaps in his stone tubes. Can still see all the way to the far walls – wasn’t as bad as I feared.
Only now, half a minute since he had sprang out of the sauna, did an alarm start to ring. The high-pitched E-E-E-E-E was impossible to ignore, but to Ded it remained secondary to the faint grinding still coming from all around. Based on the damage, must be a single-floor collapse. From below, so that’s either the psychics or the agriculture. More likely the agriculture levels; the Psychokinetics liked to keep their tunnels close in, narrow and sturdy, unlike the sprawling demands of the farming fields.
The dust was mostly finished, the loose bits as collapsed as they would get – as long as they weren’t disturbed.
Ded ground his teeth. The proper thing would be to stay put and wait for rescue, but… The Bunker was more deserted than it had ever been, now that the garages had been moved up to the surface proper and the long spiral ramp gave a more scenic route up and down. It was just a few paper pushers and the men who still elected to live here – and him, because the sauna up here was still a lot easier to get to than the ones way down below.
So I’m probably gonna have to save myself. They’re not gonna rush too much for such an out-of-the-way spot; no, they’ll wait ‘till the farms are all cleaned out before even touching up here. Fuck, they might not even realise it went up this high for a day or two.
And so with his fists clenched, Ded put his miner’s instincts to the side and started re-melting a section of braces.
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The closer he got to the light, the hotter the water became, and the more it filled his little crevasse. He felt like a boiling lobster, trapped alive in a closed metal pot as the temperature climbed – until he remembered that he could just cast a shield. The thin membrane of light covered his body, reducing the immediate peril back to merely drowning, or pulling too much rock down with a careless movement and crushing himself. Stupid, forgetting that. Definitely a concussion.
But he had something to work toward now; seeing the light was invigorating. Bull had no idea how long he dragged himself up towards that flickering red ghost, but it felt like an eternity. Like he was back in that riot of thought they called the liminal space, where time and distance were mere suggestions.
He crawled, slithered, making just enough room for his head before pulling himself up. His shield gave out from how hard he was scraping himself, and he was scalded before he could cast it again. But handspan by handspan, he advanced.
His sense noticed it before his eyes did; the end of the crevasse, a space right above that was just air. A Stuttering Step pushed him up through the last metre of stone, and… He was free.
His breath was short, from both exertion and his head injury. The shallow “Hah, hah,” the only sound in the dim room other than the trickle of running water. Right. The water.
He could barely see anything, but touch and smell and his abused spiritual sense filled in the gaps; he was standing in a very artificial room, an extreme contrast to the naturalistic caves and caverns he had run through thus far. The walls and floor were tiled, slickly wet were they weren’t covered with grit, with metal grates that he guessed were meant to let steam in and condensed water out. There were benches built into where the walls met the floor, places to sit. I’m in a bath house, of all things.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
No vapour coming from the grates – but I suppose it wouldn’t, with the plumbing all smashed up. That was why the water had been boiling hot; a leaking pipe had been spilling its contents down his escape tunnel. Suppose I won’t be taking a bath here today. His burns ached slightly, the skin tight-feeling and hot. But no, the one was enough. Hah.
A ways away the smooth tiles were covered by a large metal thing, and despite the lack of light he could just barely identify it. Lockers. Hopefully unlocked… He shook his head. No, doesn’t matter, I can rip the doors open even if they’re welded shut. But first, I should try and deal with this concussion. Need to be at my best if I get caught again.
He sat cross-legged, mud squelching against his shield, and cast Mend Flesh until he hit the limit of his mental effort. His burns disappeared, and his head felt… Mostly the same. Then he slumped, and took a moment just to rest. Hopefully that does something. Shitty spell, but it was the only one short enough to memorise – no point if you bleed out before you can cast the damn thing…
Sitting on the sauna floor, Bull drifted in and out of consciousness.
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He picked his way through four tunnels, shoring up the structure where he could, before Ded realised he was naked. “Damnit.” Left all my stuff in the sauna. He wasn’t particularly attached to the clothing, but his gun and his keys were both sitting back in the locker. So he turned, and slowly backtracked. It was tempting to rush, now that he had already cleared the area – but no, that would be stupid. He wasn’t a proper miner, not anymore; his senses were learned, not a product of Comprehension. He could still work stone, barely, as long as it was molten, but assuming his patch job would be anywhere near as effective as the work of a professional would be, again, stupid.
So he moved slowly, properly, feeling out the stone and making sure he didn’t put his weight on anything that’d move. But despite his caution, it was still a lot faster the second time through. He gingerly stepped around the bend, keeping his eye on the suspiciously tilted doorway.
And laid eyes on something unexpected. There was a guy on the floor, half-leaning against the lockers. He was caked in dust and mud, his clothes torn all to shit.
Ded breathed in, almost called out, but a moment before he did the details started to filter in. That’s no Junk Dog. Look at him; smell him. His eyes were close-set, his nose jutting. And the faint scent of his blood was familiar, but not in a good way.
That’s not Lu, but he smells like him. Part of his clan? Inside, a fire that had been long banked crackled and spat. Could he tell me what happened? Where Lu went, why the commander made Cobo Lonesome?
The man’s chest stopped rising for a fraction of a moment, and Ded knew that he had just noticed him. He hesitated; here was the potential answer to a lot of questions he had been keeping, sitting on the tile. But it’s also a potential threat. Lu… I knew a lot less about him than I needed to.
The foreign warrior moved bullet-fast, and Ded made his decision.
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The alien evaded Bull’s jabbing palm with a move he hadn’t expected; the man burst into flame, deep red tongues flicking over his upper body but leaving the flesh unharmed. Bull backpedalled, refreshing his shield; despite pulling away before the flames had touched him, the weak membrane had popped from the heat difference alone.
Not a bad defense. Let’s try something a little less direct. An Air Cutter and a Light Ray burst towards the flaming figure, but they both seemed to unravel before making it to his skin. He sent a second disk of sharp wind at the man’s exposed feet, but the flames ran low to intercept.
Then the man charged. He bellowed something, and Bull cast a better shield before taking the charge head-on. He’s leaving glowing footprints – better to not let him move around, carve away too much of the battlefield. The man’s shoulder hit his glowing buckler, and the light rippled but held its structure. Bull smiled, and heaved the man to the side. Good. I feel a bit better, but I don’t have too many big spells in me right now. But this guy was no Fatty, Tiny, or Mind-Reading Chief Asshole. He should be able to take care of this pretty quick.
In the light of the fire, he could make out his opponent’s features; he looked a lot more human than the freaks. Different group. One of the civilians? Didn’t matter; even the peasants around here would be able to cultivate.
He bellowed again, a strange sound, and waved his arms. Pillars of flame coalesced, blocking the way between the two. Oh? Not confident? Or he was stalling; backup could arrive at any moment. Bull started lining up forms in his head, preparing two spells. Let’s not mess around. The room is getting hotter, I should finish this before my shield goes. He prepared to Step through to the other side of the pillars-
But something about the man’s bellows caught his ear. Is that..? He had heard the natives speak in their natural voices, heard that psychic fuck mangle Modern Imperial, had ‘heard’ actual telepathy from some of his jailors. This was close to the second, though it was rough, not actually forming coherent words.
He strangled his qi, keeping the spell from completing. “You trying to talk to me, ugly?”
The flaming man’s bellows stopped, then started again. The pillars of flame grew dimmer, and he raised his arms.
…Oh, this is absolutely stupid. I should just kill him and get out of here. But some of Lu’s descriptions were coming back to him. He let go of both his Stuttering Step and Stone Breaking Pressure Finger, and instead started putting together a spell that he had been forced to learn when he had been chosen for the breaching team, all those months ago. It was slow; he had cast this one all of a half-dozen times in total, and not recently.
Telepathic Bond. “[You trying to talk to me, friend?]”
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“[You talkin’ to me, ugly?]”
Ded was honestly surprised that had worked. He had only heard Lu speak a few sentences in his native tongue, a strange lilting thing that set his teeth on edge. But it seemed close enough to cloudspeak that he could bullshit it.
“[Yeah.]” Okay, I’m talking to him. Now, what in Stingy-Eye’s bloody name am I going to talk about? “[Why are you in my sauna?]”
“[Beans.]” The man’s mouth didn’t match what he was saying, and his voice was different, a low and dangerous drawl that was similar in spirit, but separate in substance. And if he focused, Ded could actually hear the real words in the background, still incomprehensible. Yeah, that’s telepathy.
“[Beans? What’s that mean?]”
The warrior gave a little shake of his head. “[Get away from her, you sick fuck.]” The words sounded angry, but his expression didn’t match.
Oh. That guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, does he? “[Look, I’m gonna assume I sound as weird to you as you do to me.]” The man narrowed his eyes. Now that Ded had a second to look at him, he could make out a truly staggering amount of scars on the guy’s face and arms, and see even more through the tears in his robe. Related to his Comprehension? Might be a cultural thing, but Lu didn’t have anything like that. Definitely not natural; attacks that disrupt regeneration don’t leave clean lines like that. “[But I got a lot of question for you. Do you know Lu? Taller than you, real thin?]” Ded mimed out Lu’s height and width as he spoke.
The man was silent for a long moment. Then, he gestured to the lingering flames from Ded’s techniques. “[That’s my brother. I’m your brother, Lou. Give him the gas, we’ll see what comes out.]”
“[You want me to put out the fire?]” He hesitated. Is that actually what he’s asking? And if it was, was it the right thing to do? I don’t know this guy. He showed up in the middle of an earthquake… With every passing moment this was seeming like a shittier and shittier idea. Damnit, Dog. You’re supposed to be the smart one. Figure it out.
He exhaled, and the fire disappeared. But he kept up his personal shield; no need to be too trusting.
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“[Lu? I might know a guy by that name.]” Bull raised his brow sarcastically. “[But I’m having trouble remembering, what with it being so hot and all.]”
The flaming man’s lip curled. “[We didn’t start the fire?]”
Damn, I knew the spell wouldn’t work right, but… He couldn’t tell if they were even on the same page. When Bull heard Lu, was that because it was what the native was saying, or because the spell was telling him what he wanted to hear?
But the next moment the pillars came apart, leaving a scattering of dancing sparks that lingered for a second before dying. Encouraging.