Tunnel Rat

In a dark, abandoned city, a brave lizard was carrying out an important mission. Georgie roamed the ancient city until he found a spot where seven roads came together at a circular courtyard. Flickering crystals cast shadows, but he heard nothing around him. Taking a deep breath, he began to bark, using the language of the friends he had met briefly. They'd told him they had good ears. He hoped that was true. His barks and howls echoed through the city and beyond, calling for help.

Help was far, far away, and taking a vacation. Hecate was enjoying a quiet day in a small village surrounded by fields of flowers. The village was only five buildings in the middle of a small island in a nameless sea and not on any chart or map. The inhabitants liked it that way. The people who found their way to the island were in need of its peace and quiet and stayed for the rest of their lives.

The exception was the woman who traveled all paths of the world. When she appeared, they greeted her like an old friend and then left her to herself, understanding her need for solitude. She'd timed her visit perfectly for the season; the area around the town transformed into a multicolored landscape as flowers of every color bloomed. There was no reason to be here, and no one knew she was here. She liked it that way and was content to sit in the fields and do nothing while her dogs chased butterflies or napped beside her in the sun. She ignored the first howl, thinking they were playing a game, but when the second hound joined in, and both began to howl loudly, she opened one eye and listened to the far away barking that they were answering.

"Dammit, what has he done now. Fell down a well? Oh...shit. This might be serious."

She was annoyed, but at the same time, intrigued. She searched for pathways to the crossroads where his hound sat waiting and found a tangle of closed paths and old roads that led nowhere. Something was obscuring her senses and making it difficult to travel there directly. She hated to ask for help, he would be insufferable as long as she owed him a favor.

"System, I ask for a favor. One of my agents is missing, and the path to him is difficult."

NOT LISTENING! I have strict orders not to talk to you, whoever you are, for a week.

"Yes, and that rule is going to hold true once I find out what is going on. But for now, I need your help."

Sorry, I asked my trusted advisor, and General Akbar says it's a trap! And he knows traps! No way does the real 'she who I can't talk to' ask to be disturbed and admit she needs help. You're one of those evolved mimics with the tentacles, aren't you? I'm not making that mistake again!

I'll admit, I am curious. Of course, that's what led me into that mimic trap last time. How about you tell me your problem, and I'll try to decide if you're the real 'she who can't be named '?

"It has to do with a certain ratkin engineer who causes more than his share of trouble."

Oh, him? He's interesting. Especially when he's annoying you and not me. Glad to help! And I do love favors! But indulge me and say 'please'? I love to hear a goddess beg.

"I'm sure you do. How about I don't beg, but promise I will have Milo find you some new pictures to go with your collection. I'm sure you don't have all the new ones."

Don't be too sure! Little brother Rusty has smuggled a few to me. Granted, he's a little too in love with anime catgirls right now. Hmm, yes, Milo is always overachieving. I bet I can get him to send me oodles of new stuff. What do you need to know about Milo?

"Where is he?"

Oh, well, this is embarrassing. I sort of lost track of him again. He's a sneaky one!

I only know where he was a few days ago. He fought a creature I didn't even know about! Some sort of mechanical snake that was laying corrupted eggs. The Engine hates that stuff. It goes a little crazy whenever someone encounters the old-school corruption. I'm supposed to hand out a quest to them to burn it out, and then another quest to search for its origins: Rusted Ruins of the Twisted King. But no one ever completes it! Most people don't try, and those who do sort of disappear. Been a long while since I handed out that quest.

And that's not all he did! He found more old relics that I don't know anything about. Do you know how frustrating that is? Why is this stuff just lying around for him to find? Red and Green eyes? Are they Christmas decorations? Who knows? Certainly not the hard-working system! I had to play all mysterious and tell him to figure things out.

"Which doesn't answer my question of where he is."

Oh, right. Well, you need to head to Limburger Hollow and sort of hang a right and follow the mole tracks. If you get to Albuquerque, you've gone too far.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Good enough, and thank you for your assistance. I'll see what I can do about finding you some new kitties!"

I'll be waiting! Oh, if it helps, his pet is barking. Wow, the lungs on that critter. Maybe you should follow your dogs? Just a thought. Have fun!

Hecate began walking, flowers fading away and becoming fields of corn, then a mountain pass. The landscape rolled past her as she took seven league steps, or slid between folds of space, her excited dogs keeping pace with her. The mention of the corruption and the Twisted King worried her. That story should have been over long ago or, better yet, never told in the first place! A last step placed her in Shadowport, a place she'd been many times before. Things were different here, again. Milo had been busy, but despite the destruction of the docks and a tangle of wreckage, the city felt vibrant. Ships from afar were docking in the harbor, and a trade route had been established with both the dwarves and the Hollow. Whatever he had done to shake things up, she approved.

Her dogs raced downward, through the tunnels, and she followed. In a minute, she was at the entrance to Limburger Hollow. The path from there was obvious to her sight. Two large moles, a wagon, and many ratkin had passed this way. She hurried onward through caverns and newly dug tunnels and came to a barrier of iron where a small battle had been fought with mutated creatures, touched by corruption. Fire had purged the evidence, but the smell lingered. She walked through the newly mined tunnel, through the barrier of iron, and into ancient dwarven tunnels where she had never walked. Seeing new things was always exciting, but she wondered why she did not know this place.

Another battle had been fought here. The second battle had been fierce, judging by the evidence of melted stone and twisted gates. The barking was near now, and she ran after her hounds, marveling at the architecture in this forgotten place. Where seven ways met, she found the three hounds, greeting each other as hounds do. Milo's pet barked once and ran off, leading her to him, but she paused as she came to the center of the city.

A buzzing in her head began, a jumble of old words that made no sense at first. Pain blossomed as voices spoke to her in a garbled language, two separate conversations that twined about each other. Her connection to the crossroads was fading, and the voices grew louder. Old voices, old code. Something that shouldn't still be around in this time. It was hard for her to even look at the blasted hulk. The physical form was almost totally destroyed, but shards of the core remained. The programming that had controlled it was still active, still trying to achieve something, looking for a new host and someone to repair the damage it had taken.

The dwarves were immune to the voices, hearing nothing. They were industriously gathering and separating each part and scouring away any hint of corruption or rust they found. Fire and strong acids were used. The shards of the mechanical brain intrigued them, twisting bits of strange metal. They'd made a separate pile of those, unaware that they were making it easier for the creature to rebuild itself. Pushing through the pain, she looked at what was left of the damaged hull and saw its name. A Chimera. After all these millennia, one of the Chimeras was still operating. Knowing what it was, she could break apart the two conversations. The first was the original machine, trying to complete its mission to repair itself and seek out the corruption, unaware that half of it had fallen to corruption. The other noises were the sing-song voice of the Outer Dark, pushing the Chimera and making it spread the very blight it was trying to burn out.

From behind her, a deep dwarven voice was cursing. "I don't like the look of this! These pieces have shifted their configuration, and I'd swear some have merged. I don't want to take any chances."

"What do you need, boss? I've got a little cataclismite left. We can make a hole in the gneiss, dump the stuff in, and blow it up."

"I like your thinking, but no, we might just make a lot of little pieces that might scatter. Don't want it spreading, but I like the idea of a hole. Get one dug, then tell Firebug he can test out that new fuel he made for his Thermoplasmic Thrower."

As if summoned by his name, Firebug came running up, excited. "I get to test out my new fuel? This is going to be great."

"You know, chief, we already have a hole. Milo carved one into the gneiss layer when he blasted the damned thing from ontop of it. The beam went straight through it, and six feet into the stone."

"Really? Yeah, that will do."

Hecate watched as all of the remains of the core, along with anything else the dwarves thought looked suspicious, were carefully gathered and dumped into a hole burned into the stone. The one called Firebug assembled a long device that she recognized as some type of flamethrower. He carefully adjusted the fuel mixture and gave a thumbs-up. "Ready to go, Chief!"

All of the dwarves backed away. Firebug was standing on a piece of wreckage to gain the correct angle, and when he pulled the trigger, a blue-white flame lanced down into the hole. He kept at it for a minute, then backed away. "That should do it!"

Hecate, hidden in the shadows, was holding her head, the screams of the core growing louder.

The Chief Engineer walked up and peered inside. "Nope, stuff is tough. Milo was using some form of ionized plasma. What's in your fuel?"

Firebug paused, excited. "Really? I have to get myself some of that. I'm using a Nitro-enhanced powder that's mostly carbon and phosphorus. Stand back, though, I've got one more trick while that hole is still hot." The Chief hurriedly backed away.

Firebug tossed a canister into the hole. "First, some of my new fuel, in about ten seconds, that metal can will melt and it will ignite, but to help it along, a little bit of powdered oxygen. That will kick it up a notch." He tossed in a bottle of white powder, yelling, "Fire in the hole!" and dived for cover behind the wreckage. Knowing what that meant, everyone averted their eyes.

Hecate would later say that the sound was like the roar of a great Cinder Dragon, as a foot-wide pillar of white fire exploded out of the hole and hit the ceiling before spreading out, turning the shadowy underground to bright day. Molten stone from the ceiling dripped down, filling the hole and forming a small pool. Hecate heard nothing but silence as the voices quit screaming.

The Chief nodded, "Good job. That should do it. Someone get Firebug and a wrench. I think some of the joints on his suit may have fused."

Satisfied that the creature was finally dead, Hecate followed her hounds to where a battered and injured Milo lay in a hospital bed. The hounds lay at the foot of his bed, and she found a place to sit nearby, waiting for him to wake up.