Indigo #128 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonmagitech) wrote2016-06-30 04:48 pm
dragonmagitech) wrote2016-06-30 04:48 pm
Entry tags:
Infiltration
If you listened closely, you could hear movement in the lower tunnels, the old maintenance ones that had stood empty since Whipsmart finished the hydraulics system.
“I say we send a team down there,” spat Marth at the security meeting. “We don’t know how far they go, what they connect to. Anything could be poking around down there. Waiting to strike.”
“We can’t send in a team unprepared,” Albion said. “As you say, anything could be down there.”
“The ‘Claws can handle it. So could we, if Bully weren’t so busy, but she is, so we send the 'Claws.”
“I thought she’d asked you not to call her that.” Albion’s fins rustled in amusement. “Anyway, we can’t send the Dapperclaws. They’re still recuperating from the last Serthis incident, and without a healer we can’t speed things along.”
Marth snarled. “Fine,” she said, “but when this cliff comes tumbling down I’ll tell everyone who to thank.”
The sounds persisted for a week or more, disturbing the sleep of those who lived in the lowest tier of alcoves and putting almost everyone on edge, but no one was willing to investigate without a guard, and none of the guards would go down. And despite her snapping and growling Marth wouldn’t go either, not without a full security detail, which failed to materialize. If Marth couldn’t defend herself against whatever it was, then perhaps it shouldn’t be provoked.
Then one day the hydraulics system ground to a halt.
There was a moderate panic. The power had gone out before, there had been water shortages before, and Bulletin was careful that only top-tier personnel knew exactly why it had happened this time. She also called a meeting, in a chamber lit by Felicity’s mushroom experiments, of the heads of security and their best guards. It was a rather smaller meeting than expected; of the Dapperclaws, most powerful fighters in Sparkspell, only Darnell was in good enough shape to attend, and the only other fighters near that caliber were Heron and Gandrous. Marcus also appeared, coiling in a corner with his usual sullen expression, but he was on the lower end of the scale as far as strength went.
“I told you,” Marth said, and didn’t even have the grace not to look pleased with herself.
“We can’t be sure it’s connected,” Albion said, fins twitching. “And that would make it not our responsibility. Besides—” He swung around to face the other guards. “Do any of you know how to fix this thing?”
There was some nervous shuffling. Gandrous said, “I could run water magic through the system, but I can’t keep it up for long without a nearby source.” Heron snorted derisively, and he sighed. Darnell just shook her head and explained that she didn’t even know enough magic to light the way down.
“The plans were lost when Whipsmart left,” Albion continued, “and I doubt anyone could reverse-engineer—”
The doorway was illuminated, rather abruptly; the light was a greenish blue. An enormous black head inserted itself into the room, followed shortly by a mottled pink and grey Skydancer.
The intruders scanned the room and exchanged a few glances, and the Skydancer, Klaus, nodded. “That one,” he said, and pointed.
Marcus blinked in confusion. “You’re coming with us,” explained Serenade, “while we fix the machine.” And somehow no one had it in them to argue.
The engineers didn’t really need a guard, in their opinion; Serenade alone could hold her own quite well against a threat, even without any combat training, and Klaus had several small explosives and other, cleverer little devices to defend himself. But there was no way they’d be allowed down her unprotected under the circumstances, so they’d picked the least chatty guard to take along. He lived up to expectations, flapping silently along behind them and brooding just outside the reach of their lamplight.
They worked for nearly two hours by the greenish light of the lamps, occasionally calling warnings or orders to each other down the tunnels, but mostly in companionable silence. Something clanked, something else started to whirr, and then—
“Ser,” said Klaus, and rappelled down to the floor. These tunnels were huge for him, being Ridgeback-made, and he’d made extensive use of his pulley system to work. “I think—”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence; Serenade’s head had already snaked down the tunnel to see, followed shortly by the rest of her. Down in the shadows behind one of the pumps, an enormous and normally submerged structure, were a pair of glowing purple eyes. They cringed back when Serenade shouted for Marcus.
The sullen Spiral moved with surprising speed, diving in front of them in an instant, but something else was faster, a green blur that pinned him to the ground by a wing and screeched, “Do not touch him!”
Then a silence which stretched uncomfortably as they all stared at each other. The green dragon was a lean Skydancer with quite large wings, and she glared at them all as if daring them to knock her aside. Serenade could do it quite easily, but she refrained.
“Do you have a name?” said Klaus, slow and precise, when it became clear no one was doing anything.
“Natalya,” chirped the Skydancer, glaring at him. After a few more seconds, wherein he stared at her patiently, she looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s just—my mate—”
“I’m fine,” said another voice, and the owner of the purple eyes emerged. A dark Spiral who seemed to have some trouble moving his lower body, wincing when his claws brushed against the side of the pump.
“We had some trouble,” Natalya explained, “and I needed somewhere safe for Bellwether while I went and got help, so I disabled the pump. I…didn’t realize it was that important.” She looked sheepish. “We don’t use machines like this where I’m from.”
“What were you doing down here before?” asked Serenade, but she was met only with silence.
“Right,” said Marcus, startling everyone; he’d wormed his way out from under Natalya’s claws and now hunched in the small space between Serenade’s neck and the wall. “I’m taking you two in. He needs medical attention, clearly, and while I don’t approve of aiding infiltrators we all know what my advice is worth around here. I don’t know what the General will do with you,” he said, with what might have been relish in someone more emotive, “but I can’t imagine it will be fun. Come.”
And, astoundingly, they did. Well, it was the only way they were going to get any sort of help.
The engineers watched them go.
“They’ll be trouble,” Klaus said.
“Maybe,” Serenade said, and restarted the pump.
“I say we send a team down there,” spat Marth at the security meeting. “We don’t know how far they go, what they connect to. Anything could be poking around down there. Waiting to strike.”
“We can’t send in a team unprepared,” Albion said. “As you say, anything could be down there.”
“The ‘Claws can handle it. So could we, if Bully weren’t so busy, but she is, so we send the 'Claws.”
“I thought she’d asked you not to call her that.” Albion’s fins rustled in amusement. “Anyway, we can’t send the Dapperclaws. They’re still recuperating from the last Serthis incident, and without a healer we can’t speed things along.”
Marth snarled. “Fine,” she said, “but when this cliff comes tumbling down I’ll tell everyone who to thank.”
The sounds persisted for a week or more, disturbing the sleep of those who lived in the lowest tier of alcoves and putting almost everyone on edge, but no one was willing to investigate without a guard, and none of the guards would go down. And despite her snapping and growling Marth wouldn’t go either, not without a full security detail, which failed to materialize. If Marth couldn’t defend herself against whatever it was, then perhaps it shouldn’t be provoked.
Then one day the hydraulics system ground to a halt.
There was a moderate panic. The power had gone out before, there had been water shortages before, and Bulletin was careful that only top-tier personnel knew exactly why it had happened this time. She also called a meeting, in a chamber lit by Felicity’s mushroom experiments, of the heads of security and their best guards. It was a rather smaller meeting than expected; of the Dapperclaws, most powerful fighters in Sparkspell, only Darnell was in good enough shape to attend, and the only other fighters near that caliber were Heron and Gandrous. Marcus also appeared, coiling in a corner with his usual sullen expression, but he was on the lower end of the scale as far as strength went.
“I told you,” Marth said, and didn’t even have the grace not to look pleased with herself.
“We can’t be sure it’s connected,” Albion said, fins twitching. “And that would make it not our responsibility. Besides—” He swung around to face the other guards. “Do any of you know how to fix this thing?”
There was some nervous shuffling. Gandrous said, “I could run water magic through the system, but I can’t keep it up for long without a nearby source.” Heron snorted derisively, and he sighed. Darnell just shook her head and explained that she didn’t even know enough magic to light the way down.
“The plans were lost when Whipsmart left,” Albion continued, “and I doubt anyone could reverse-engineer—”
The doorway was illuminated, rather abruptly; the light was a greenish blue. An enormous black head inserted itself into the room, followed shortly by a mottled pink and grey Skydancer.
The intruders scanned the room and exchanged a few glances, and the Skydancer, Klaus, nodded. “That one,” he said, and pointed.
Marcus blinked in confusion. “You’re coming with us,” explained Serenade, “while we fix the machine.” And somehow no one had it in them to argue.
The engineers didn’t really need a guard, in their opinion; Serenade alone could hold her own quite well against a threat, even without any combat training, and Klaus had several small explosives and other, cleverer little devices to defend himself. But there was no way they’d be allowed down her unprotected under the circumstances, so they’d picked the least chatty guard to take along. He lived up to expectations, flapping silently along behind them and brooding just outside the reach of their lamplight.
They worked for nearly two hours by the greenish light of the lamps, occasionally calling warnings or orders to each other down the tunnels, but mostly in companionable silence. Something clanked, something else started to whirr, and then—
“Ser,” said Klaus, and rappelled down to the floor. These tunnels were huge for him, being Ridgeback-made, and he’d made extensive use of his pulley system to work. “I think—”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence; Serenade’s head had already snaked down the tunnel to see, followed shortly by the rest of her. Down in the shadows behind one of the pumps, an enormous and normally submerged structure, were a pair of glowing purple eyes. They cringed back when Serenade shouted for Marcus.
The sullen Spiral moved with surprising speed, diving in front of them in an instant, but something else was faster, a green blur that pinned him to the ground by a wing and screeched, “Do not touch him!”
Then a silence which stretched uncomfortably as they all stared at each other. The green dragon was a lean Skydancer with quite large wings, and she glared at them all as if daring them to knock her aside. Serenade could do it quite easily, but she refrained.
“Do you have a name?” said Klaus, slow and precise, when it became clear no one was doing anything.
“Natalya,” chirped the Skydancer, glaring at him. After a few more seconds, wherein he stared at her patiently, she looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s just—my mate—”
“I’m fine,” said another voice, and the owner of the purple eyes emerged. A dark Spiral who seemed to have some trouble moving his lower body, wincing when his claws brushed against the side of the pump.
“We had some trouble,” Natalya explained, “and I needed somewhere safe for Bellwether while I went and got help, so I disabled the pump. I…didn’t realize it was that important.” She looked sheepish. “We don’t use machines like this where I’m from.”
“What were you doing down here before?” asked Serenade, but she was met only with silence.
“Right,” said Marcus, startling everyone; he’d wormed his way out from under Natalya’s claws and now hunched in the small space between Serenade’s neck and the wall. “I’m taking you two in. He needs medical attention, clearly, and while I don’t approve of aiding infiltrators we all know what my advice is worth around here. I don’t know what the General will do with you,” he said, with what might have been relish in someone more emotive, “but I can’t imagine it will be fun. Come.”
And, astoundingly, they did. Well, it was the only way they were going to get any sort of help.
The engineers watched them go.
“They’ll be trouble,” Klaus said.
“Maybe,” Serenade said, and restarted the pump.