Page 91 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
Level Seven was larger, housing most of the service staff. Here they found the first signs of the tremor's impact—a cracked water pipe dripping steadily onto the floor, some fallen ceiling tiles. Nabin made notes on his tablet while Hassan called for his maintenance crew.
"Should we wake Lord Navuh?" Hassan asked as they approached the access to the service level below.
"Not yet." Nabin punched in his security code. "No point disturbing him or the ladies for minor damage."
They took the emergency stairs that were rarely used. The metal steps echoed under their boots, the sound strangely hollow in the confined space. Emergency lighting cast harsh shadows on the concrete walls.
"I've always hated this place," Hassan muttered. "Feels like descending into a tomb."
Nabin couldn't argue. There was something menacing about Level Eight and moving even deeper underground, away fromeven the artificial comfort of the residential levels. The air grew cooler and carried a mechanical smell.
As he punched in another code and opened the secured door at the bottom of the stairs, the underbelly of the pyramid opened before them like an industrial cathedral. The ceiling soared twenty feet high, necessary to accommodate the massive machinery that kept their underground world functioning. Water pumps the size of tanks hummed steadily. Electrical panels lined one wall, their indicator lights creating a constellation of green and amber. The waste-processing systems occupied their own section, mercifully sealed and sound dampened.
"I'll check the water systems." Hassan walked toward the pumps. "You take electrical?"
Nabin nodded, though his attention was drawn to the far wall and a series of vault doors. Five in total, each secured with electronic locks that responded only to the highest security clearances. In eleven years, he'd never seen them open.
"Still wondering what's in there?" Hassan followed his gaze.
"Aren't you?"
"Self-preservation trumps curiosity, my friend. Some doors are better left closed."
Wise words, but Nabin couldn't help speculating. What was behind those square locker-style doors? Gold? Diamonds? Or something more exotic—the kind of treasures a man like Lord Navuh might accumulate over his never-ending life?
The guards whispered theories when they were a safe distance from the surveillance equipment. Some even claimed to haveheard sounds from behind the doors—mechanical noises or sometimes what might have been voices. But guards stationed too long underground often heard things that weren't there.
He forced himself to focus on the electrical panels. All the readings were normal. No tripped breakers, no unusual power draws. The backup generators showed full fuel reserves and recent successful test cycles.
"Nabin." Hassan's voice carried an edge that made him turn. "Come look at this."
The engineer stood by the far wall, his flashlight beam playing across the concrete surface. At first, Nabin saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then Hassan placed his palm against the wall and held it there.
"Feel," he said.
Nabin pressed his hand to the concrete. It was damp. Not wet enough to be visible, but definitely carrying moisture that shouldn't be there.
"When did we last have the dehumidifiers serviced?" he asked.
"Six weeks ago. They are working fine. It's not the dehumidifiers." Hassan moved his flashlight beam slowly across the wall. "There—do you see that?"
Thin lines of mineral deposits traced patterns on the concrete like spider webs. It was the kind of buildup that came from water seeping through microscopic cracks over time.
"How long would this take to form?" Nabin asked.
Hassan knelt, examining the deposits more closely. "Depends on the mineral content of the water and the rate of seepage. It couldbe months or years. However, what bothers me is that this wall faces the interior of the structure. Any water reaching it would have to come from above or..." He paused, frowning. "Or from below."
"The water table?"
"Possibly. When this place was built, it was supposedly far above the water table, but that can shift. Volcanic activity, changes in rainfall patterns, and underground streams finding new channels." Hassan stood, wiping his hands on his pants. "We should run a full diagnostic. Moisture sensors, structural scans, the works."
Nabin considered their options. A full diagnostic would involve reports, which would mean waking people, potentially alerting Lord Navuh to a problem that might be minor. In his experience, the lord did not appreciate false alarms.
"What's the worst-case scenario?" he asked.
Hassan removed his glasses, cleaning them slowly with a cloth he'd produced from his pocket—another nervous tell. "Worst case? Hydrostatic pressure is building up beneath the foundation. If water finds a weakness, it doesn't knock politely. It comes in hard and fast."
"And best case?"
