by Ramy Vance
"But Ansalm isn't orcish."
Fred pursed his lips, impatient. "No, but he's conveying instruction based off what orcs have told him. Am I right, Ansalm?"
The audio feed crackled slightly, but Ansalm's voice still came through strong. "More or less," he admitted. "I haven't really seen much of these tunnels before. This is mostly what I've heard talked about."
"Are you saying that you don't know where we're fucking going?" Beth shouted before realizing where she was, clasping her hand over her mouth as if she could somehow still silence her words.
"No, I do know where you are going. I just haven't described it to every MERC who wanders into the Dark One's fucking territory. Now are you going to take the turn or are you going to wait to get caught?"
Beth and Suzuki took the turn. They continued down the meandering tunnels, heeding Ansalm’s instructions as they went, occasionally stopping to speak with guards who had questions as to why a human was being led unchained throughout the prisons. Fred was able to easily dissuade any of the orcs by dropping his fictional rank to the viceroy. That was until one particularly nosy orc named Thrak wouldn’t leave his line of questioning alone.
Thrak had already held up Beth and Fred for nearly ten minutes, asking inane question after inane question. Suzuki couldn’t figure out if the orc was extremely suspicious or just extremely stupid. Most of Thrak’s questions tended to be concerning what the specific details of Fred’s mission to the viceroy were. Suzuki was prepared for this, though. He had rehearsed an entire monologue on trying to better the rights of the workers in the prison. When Thrak got to questions, Suzuki took over Fred’s mouth and started talking. By the time Suzuki had finished his Marxist lecture, a look of vague concern had come over Thrak’s face.
Thrak leaned against the wall and touched his club to his head. “Wait a minute,” Thrak thought aloud. “So, what you’re telling me is that us workers aren’t being treated fair?”
Fred clapped his hands together to encourage Thrak to continue using his brain. “Exactly! You aren’t being treated fairly at all. These are practically slave conditions.”
“Well, I mean, we are pretty much slaves.”
Thrak turned and pointed to the microchip attached to the nape of his neck.
Fred waved Thrak’s concerns away. “Yes, yes, I can see that you are microchipped, but have you truly lost yourself? Do you wake up in the morning and struggle to remember what Thrak needs or what Thrak wants?”
“Uh…yeah, all the time. I don’t really remember ever wanting anything before wanting to serve the Dark Lord.”
“And is this how you wanted to serve the Dark Lord?”
Thrak shook his head and sighed heavily. “No. I used to be a warrior, a cousin to one of the five chieftain warlords. Very distinguished. Very respectable. And now…well, even if I wanted to serve the Dark One, I didn’t want to do it in this shithole. No one wants to be a fucking prison guard. It’s fucking bullshit.”
“Which is why I’m here. Just because we have to work doesn’t mean that it has to be shit work. Once our voices are heard, things are going to start changing around here. These are assignments that orcs and goblins actually want. So instead of treating you guys like the grunts, like the idiots, like the—”
“Slaves.”
“Exactly.”
Thrak nodded as he thought, scratching his chin in a contemplative gesture that one does not often see orcs making. “You know what,” Thrak exclaimed. “I got a buddy who you should talk to. He really likes this kind of talk. He’s always going on about these big ideas and how things around here need to change. I think that he’d have some useful stuff to let you know about. You know, for changes.”
“Uh…I’m actually on a pretty tight schedule. I don’t know—”
“And we can get that human bitch a collar so she won’t run off on you.”
Fred’s eyes darted over to Beth. Her face was still sullen, taking on the look of one already beaten and broken. If she had heard the orc, she didn’t show it.
Thrak reached forward, grabbed Beth’s hand, and jerked her forward.
Fred’s scales rustled as he crouched low and prepared to fly at Thrak. He could rip the orc’s throat out within a few seconds and be done with the whole situation. Just as Fred was preparing to do just that, a group of orcs and goblins came walking down the tunnel, talking animatedly with each other. They stopped and greeted Thrak, who beamed at them, saying, “Hey, guys, this is the viceroy’s guy. He’s here to try and clear up some of the bullshit.”
Fred smiled and waved weakly. “Yes. Don’t spread the word, though. There’s no easier way to kill a union than needless talking.”
The orcs and goblins muttered among themselves. Apparently, “union” was not a word that had slipped into their language.
Thrak pulled Beth forward again. “Come on, we don’t have a whole lot of time to waste. We’re not too far from my friend. He’s going to get a fucking kick out of you.”
Fred followed Thrak past the group of goblins and orcs who were watching Fred much closer than he had been comfortable with. Killing Thrak was out of the question now. His disappearance would be noted. Perhaps he’d even be missed. And if he didn’t return to his post in a timely fashion, they might send someone looking for him. Ansalm had been capable of leading them this far, but Fred doubted that the dwarf could direct them on how to escape from an angry, orcish mob. Following Thrak seemed like the best bet.
Suzuki tried to reach out to Ansalm without speaking. He was going to push his HUD to find out just how big of an upgrade Chip had given him. Besides, Suzuki hardly understood the technicalities of how body-swapping and HUDs worked. Fred obviously wasn’t wearing Suzuki’s HUD. Now that Suzuki thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he was wearing his HUD half the time. He never felt it on his face unless he needed it.
Hmm… Suzuki thought. That is kind of odd. Suzuki benched the thought and turned his attention to reaching out to Ansalm. He imagined himself calling Ansalm, dialing a number, and he imagined the dwarf’s face in his mind’s eye.
There was a click in Suzuki’s mind, an audible click, and then Ansalm started talking. “What the hell are you guys doing?”
Suzuki sighed a breath of relief, and he figurately patted himself on the back. “We almost got caught,” Suzuki explained. “We’re being led by some orc named Thrak.”
“You met Thrak? And he actually talked to you?”
“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” Suzuki asked.
Ansalm narrowed his eyes. “Thrak is the single meanest, toughest orc on that tunnel grouping. Did he say where he was taking you?”
“Said he had a friend who would want to talk about orc working conditions.”
Ansalm threw his arms up in exasperation. “Are you trying to start a fucking union? MERCs really changed their espionage tactics since I did training.”
“I’ve sort of been making it up while I go.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing is working. Thrak’s taking you straight to the captain.”
“You fucking serious?” Suzuki muttered.
“Completely. I’m going to sign off. Orcs around here are starting to get suspicious. Reach out if you need anything, all right? Good luck.”
“Thanks. Good luck to you too.”
Thrak continued to lead Fred and Beth down the stone tunnels. Suzuki noticed that there was less stone in the walls of these tunnels, though. There were steel reinforcements that could be seen. A bright light shone at the end of the tunnel.
Suzuki felt Fred turning inward to speak to him, saying, “I can feel Ros’ten. The bee is here.”
The light from the other side of the tunnel was almost blinding. As Fred’s eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that Thrak had just led them into a giant circular room. The room was sleek with a futuristic look, and it stretched straight up into what must have been the summit of the mountain. Various tables and desks covered the floor. Orcs and goblins in white jackets walked
back and forth between the tables, stopping and talking, sharing notes on holographic notepads. The walls were covered in cells. Instead of steel bars like Suzuki had seen in the lower levels of the prison, these cells were closed off by what looked to be pure energy. The cells stretched all the way up to the top of the mountain.
Orc and goblin scientists whizzed by on floating dollies. They zipped around from cell to cell, taking notes. The whole place had the feel of a medical facility ripped from the most recent pulp sci-fi novel. It looked extremely out of place in an orcish hell pit in Middang3ard.
Fred’s eyes were bewildered. Even he was impressed. He turned to Thrak and asked, “What is this place?”
“Research and development. It’s where all the eggheads go. I mean that in a good way. My friend is an egghead. Looks like an egg, at least. Sort of.”
Thrak continued to guide Fred and Beth through the swarming hub of scientific advancement until they came to a large metal table. A man lay on the table. There was an apparatus over his head which connected to a computer monitor next to the table.
A quiet sigh came from Beth. Fred turned to face her, and he could see that she was breathing heavily. This was no doubt the captain.
Thrak slapped Beth across the face. “Keep your eyes to yourself, human,” Thrak shouted.
Suzuki surged forward, held back only by Fred’s will. Hold yourself back, Suzuki, Fred whispered internally. If you give us away in here, we are dead.
I’ll fucking kill him, Suzuki growled.
No doubt. Now may not be the right time, though.
Thrak pointed to one of the descending, floating platforms. “There’s my friend,” he exclaimed.
The floating platform landed directly in front of the steel table. A qulippoth stood on the platform. It was a massive number of black tentacles attached to a bulbous black body that was smooth like dolphin skin. The qulippoth had one eye that took up most of its body, its red iris looking like a ring of fire floating in a sea of snow. It rubbed itself with its tentacles, flicking away a thick layer of mucous that its body was secreting. As it rolled off of the platform, its tentacles reached for the computer monitor and its body jiggled and pulsed.
Thrak stepped forward, ready to introduce the parties at hand, saying, “Zeke, this is my friend Fred. He’s got some really interesting ideas that I think you’d be interested in. Seems like you two would get along.”
Zeke turned his massive, cyclopean eye on Fred and Beth. If it were possible, the eye grew even wider.
All of Fred’s scales rippled and stood on edge as he growled under his breath. Suzuki felt himself being forced farther away from Fred. It did not feel intentional. It happened so fast that Suzuki assumed it was an instinctual reaction. Whatever this thing was, it put Fred on edge in a way that Suzuki had never seen. Suzuki struggled not to drown in the waves of unconscious material coming from Fred. Somehow, he stayed above it all and pulled himself closer to what was going on.
Fred and Zeke were circling each other. Both were hissing, though it was difficult to discern where Zeke’s voice was coming from. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Zeke shouted.
All around the sterile room, orcs and goblins stopped what they were doing to watch what was happening.
Fred reared up on his hind legs, shot out a thin blast of fire, and roared, a much louder sound than one would have assumed his small body was capable of. “What the fuck are you doing here, Ezekiel?” Fred asked. “That is the real question.”
Zeke’s tentacles launched forward, wrapping Fred up faster than he had time to react, snaking toward his neck. Fred countered by biting down hard on Zeke’s tentacles, causing the qulippoth to screech in pain as it rolled away, slapping Fred in the face as its massive eye teared up. Zeke wiped away the tear and turned to look at the computer monitor that Beth’s captain was hooked up to before looking up and snapping his tentacles at the workers in the facility. “Get your asses back to work,” Zeke shouted. “There’s nothing to see here.”
The orcs and goblins throughout the facility turned their attention back to work, occasionally sneaking glances to see what else was going to happen.
Fred’s scales continued to bristle as he approached Zeke, who looked as if he were trying to pretend that Fred had left the room. Finally, Ezekiel sighed and turned to face Fred. “I thought you were helping the other side,” Zeke said. “What are you doing here with a human prisoner?”
Suzuki could feel something deep and important welling up in Fred. The imp was going to open his mouth and say something that could damn the mission. Suzuki was interested to know what it was since he still couldn’t put together anything about the imp. This was not the right time, though. This was the single worst possible moment to learn anything about Fred and his relationship with other eldritch creatures. Suzuki did the only thing that he knew would help. He took control of Fred’s body, only for a second, centering himself in Fred’s mouth, saying, “I never defected. I was only a spy.”
Zeke turned his body to face Fred as his tentacles absentmindedly stroked Captain Wyatt’s cheek. “A spy. Honestly, Fred how dense do you think I am? I should have you brought in right now, history aside. You can’t think you can just show up here and—”
“I’m not lying. It was my assignment. You know that those of us who aren’t chipped are the only ones capable of that.”
Suzuki tensed. That statement was a gamble, a very well-thought-out gamble but still, not a certainty. From what Suzuki and Fred had seen, there were eldritch creatures who served the Dark One. If they did serve the Dark One without the microchip mind control, it would make sense that they were the ones who could be trusted with the cognitive function to lead a double life.
Zeke looked up with an eye much sadder than Suzuki felt an eldritch creature had the right to have. “We thought you betrayed us,” Zeke said softly.
“I am no traitor,” Fred spat. “I am more loyal than most. I am loyal enough to sacrifice my stature, my reputation, to be seen as nothing more than a pawn by humans. That is the extent of my loyalty.”
“Then how has your spying brought you here?”
Suzuki pushed forward to speak for Fred again. “Initially, I was sent to infiltrate the MERCs. After I lost my first human, through no fault of my own, I was able to secure another. He also was weak-willed and pathetic. After his death, I returned to the Dark One to be given a new position. I was… in disgrace. The best that I could get was this remedial position, reporting on the working situation of various facilities.”
“How the mighty have fallen.”
“Indeed.”
Fred asserted himself back over his body, not quite flinging Suzuki out of his mind, but rather, slightly nudging him away. Still, it was done with a sense of urgency that betrayed Fred’s actual intentions. “Why are you still working for him?” Fred asked.
Zeke looked away from Fred, which required turning his entire body away. “We are both ancient,” Zeke started. “We have seen worlds and races come and go… yet we are still so young. There were so many older ones before us. Do you know what my parents wanted to do? They wanted to convert the universes to screaming madness. That was their one hope: to wake up one day and see the jabbering, mindless mouths of mortals screaming in confusion and chaos. Then they had me. All that went out the window, but I still want that. I want what they couldn’t have. Does it really matter how we get there?”
“So, what do you do here?”
“The Dark One has put my talents for influence to good use. I’m responsible for designing and augmenting the different rings that link the microchips to his will.”
Suzuki was instantly curious, but he knew that there was no way for him to outright ask Zeke to explain himself. This was going to take a little bit of weaseling. Fred moved aside for Suzuki to come to the forefront again. “What would need augmenting?” Suzuki asked.
Zeke laughed, an eerily robust sound. “You probably don’t know anything about the rings, huh? You were bef
ore all of that, self—sworn just like me. I don’t see why you would have bothered learning, especially if you were deep undercover. The microchips don’t do the controlling. They’re just receivers. What actually controls them is a ringtone, broadcast over millions and millions of miles. The tech in the microchips is impressive. They have nearly limitless range, something that we’ve worked hard to keep MERC and the military from getting. The ringtone is where the real magic lies, though. It’s a digitized version of my parents’ song, the same song that drove the roving tribes of El-Kador insane with rage. That’s what I augment. I change the tones to accommodate different races. I’m slowly building a symphony if I want to be grandiose. You see, just like my parents had wanted, the whole universe will hear our song.”
“How do you augment it?”
“Detailed note-taking.” Zeke chuckled. He pointed to Captain Wyatt before turning a knob on his computer terminal.
Wyatt screamed and his body convulsed beneath his bindings, his teeth clenching hard and his eyes rolling back as foam frothed from his mouth. Each second looked unbearable, his veins nearly ripping from his skin as he thrashed.
Zeke turned off the machine and Wyatt went still, the only indication he was alive the rising and dropping of his chest.
Suzuki tried to catch Beth’s face from the corner of his eye. She was emotionless. He wondered how she could stay so calm. If he had seen anything like this happen to Beth, he would have been unable to contain himself. Suzuki was glad that Beth could be so stone-faced, though. If she had lost her shit at that moment, they would have been goners.
Zeke leaned over Wyatt’s body in a very matter-of-fact fashion, the way that a doctor examines a patient. The only difference was that there was no benevolence in the action. Even morticians looked more loving than Zeke did at that moment, his massive, singular eye glaring at the human who still twitched as electric spasms rocked through his body. “You see, each race has a different frequency for control,” Zeke started to explain. “Some of the…lower races…have lower frequencies. It is hardly a challenge to control orcs or goblins. They already have caste systems. They are still stuck in the infancy of war. Their cultures haven’t evolved enough to separate themselves too far from the organic song of the cosmos, the song that the eldritch, my fathers and mothers, sang. They respond easily and quickly to the ring that was initially designed for them. They become obedient but have no idea why. Because of this minute distinction, they are able to obey and never lose track of themselves. They retain their autonomy in some regard, and are able to serve as if they were born to do so. The rings designed for eldritch creatures are completely different. In most cases, they don’t even work. Luckily, nearly all of the eldritch old ones have chosen to be here. The few who wish to have nothing to do with the Dark One have fled to parts of the universe unknown…for the time being.”