Page 61 of Challenged

I complete the ridiculous picture with a small pickaxe, then head up the stairs and out into the ground floor corridor.

The blood is still spattered across the wall - not a figment of my overworked imagination. I think about what Rardek saidabout Basran and his tribe. Turned from Lina’s path. I get the feeling they met a bad end here. The kind of end they deserved.

Emerging from the hut, I blink against the sun, my eyes grown used to the dim emergency lighting. It’s early, the sun not even all the way risen, but it’s bright, and I’m forced to pause a moment, shield my eyes against it. When they’ve adjusted, I lower my hand, take a good look at the area around me.

It’s much as it appeared in the dreamspace. A clearing around the base, surrounded by dark, imposing trees. It feels familiar, and yet, seeing it in the real world is somehow so much more than in the dreamspace. The wildness of the forest hits me like a punch in the gut.

I’m not built for this place. So not built for this place.

You do not need to fear. Not when you have a master hunter to protect you.

I know he was only teasing, but Rardek’s words are a comfort all the same. It’s nice to have some warm, teasing words echoing round in my head instead of Baxter’s angry voice.

Gripping my pickaxe a little too tight, I take my first steps outside. There’s a fire burning near the edge of the forest, several raskarrans and humans gathered around it already. I aim for it, ignoring the bemused stares at my choice of outfit, focusing only on a familiar form amongst the big, green bodies.

As if he senses me coming, Rardek rises from where he was bent over a pack, stretching to his full, impressive height. His eyes lock on me, and sure, there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lips, but it’s overpowered by the heat in his eyes. Heat enough to burn the hazmat suit right off.

“You ready?” I say to him.

Liv’s expression is carefully bland as she steps up beside him. “Rardek tells me you found proof that the people here left because of the sickness.”

“Yeah, I did. And I’m about to prove that the trees here are dying because Mercenia accidentally poisoned them. If you want to come along.”

Rardek leads the way, his long stride forcing me to take three quick steps to each of his. Liv is not in such a hurry, trailing behind. Another raskarran comes up beside her, smiling as he falls into step with her much slower pace. Fortunately for her, we don’t go far. It only takes a few minutes to arrive at the tree.

Rardek guides me to the place where his buddy put a foot through the badly rotten roots. Badly rotten, I suspect, because they’ve grown up around one of the sprinklers that was installed to spread the chemical around. The stink of the gunk is even more potent in the real world, especially contrasted against the otherwise sweet, fresh smell of the air.

No taint of smoke and pollution. Just greenery and freshness. It’s… nice. I could get used to it.

But not the rotten stink. I pull the hazmat suit’s mask over my face just to shield my nose from it.

“Is this stuff dangerous?” Liv calls. She’s standing a decent distance back.

“Not from over there. Probably not from here, either. I just don’t want to get it on me.”

I reach a hand towards the roots, intending to have a grope around and see what I can feel, but Rardek’s hand shoots out. Closes around my wrist. I look at him, trying to convey with my eyes that it’s fine.

“Can you tell him the suit will protect me from the chemicals?” I call back to Liv.

“A bit beyond my language skills. Uh, Rardek. Infran. Angie infran.”

Whatever she said, it does the trick. Rardek’s fingers uncurl, releasing me. I shoo him back and he goes, taking two large stepsaway from me. I scowl at him, shoo him again. He smirks and takes another two steps. It’s probably enough.

A quick rummage around the hole Anghar’s foot made doesn’t reveal any pipework, so I grab my pickaxe, using the pointed end of it to scrape through more roots, digging deeper into the ground. It’s not more than a minute before I feel the end scrape against something hard. I reach back into the hole, scooping the roots I’ve just mulched up aside until I can see the pipe.

“Bingo,” I say, then call back to the others. “This is the bit that could get messy.”

I push the tip of the pickaxe into the ground next to the pipe, sliding it underneath. Then, with all my weight, I pull on the handle. For a moment, nothing happens, until, abruptly, the pipe shifts. The ground rips, more roots breaking apart as the pipe bends and lifts. I stagger back, unbalanced by the sudden movement. The uneven ground beneath my feet doesn’t help, and I fall, landing hard on my butt. But the indignity can’t touch my triumph.

Because there, jutting out from the pipe, is a sprinkler. Just as I expected there would be.

I crawl over to it, inspecting it. The sprinkler is blocked with a buildup of mud and gunk, but it only takes a bit of scraping with my fingers to fully reveal its shape. As I’m doing it, I see that bending the pipe has cracked it. The fact that there isn’t liquid spraying out of it confirms something I’ve suspected all along.

Low level warning: Tank B.

The chemical has been used up. Mercenia almost certainly planned to be here for longer than the eighteen months they got, but more than five years without a resupply? I didn’t think it was likely.

I shake the mud and goo off my hands as best I can, then pull the hood from my head, lowering the mask carefully without touching my face.

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