Chapter 90: Chapter 86: The Bitter Math
??Ned didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t even wait for Will to stop coughing. He simply turned on his heel and walked out of the longhouse, his boots thudding against the packed dirt with the steady, heavy rhythm of a man who had long ago run out of buckets for the fires he had to put out.
??"Don’t let them die yet," Ned’s voice drifted back from the doorway, low and clinical. "I can’t interrogate a corpse, and I certainly can’t use one for labor."
??The heavy fiberglass door groaned shut, and for a mont, the only sound in the longhouse was the hum of a flickering halogen strip and the wet, ragged sound of Will’s breathing.
??Then, the side door creaked open.
??Two won entered, pushing a rusted tal cart that squealed in protest with every rotation of its mismatched wheels. They weren’t wearing the matte-black plasteel armor of the guards. They wore grease-stained canvas aprons over thick flannel, their arms covered in a map of chemical burns and old scars. The lead dic—a woman with gray-streaked hair tied back in a severe bun—stopped the cart in front of Will. She didn’t offer a smile.
??"Hold still, surface-born," she rasped. Her voice sounded like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. "I’ve got three shifts of Artificers with lung-rot waiting for . I’m not wasting ti on your pride."
??"Delightful," Elyas muttered, eyeing the industrial shears. "Is this the part where you tell us your leader is a misunderstood saint, or is he just another executive who likes the sll of his own recycled air? I’ve seen his type in the upper sectors. They build a fence, call themselves kings, and keep a private stash of real coffee while the workers eat dirt."
??The dic stopped. She didn’t look up, but her hands tightened around the shears until her knuckles turned white.
??"You think he’s a king because he can still read a spreadsheet?" the dic asked quietly. She looked up then, her eyes hard and cold. She pointed a scarred finger toward the floor—toward the miles of rock and corporate steel above them. "P.A.C.I.F.I.C. designed those dormitories as a self-executing burial. The ’Sink’ command was a one-way trip. To the world upstairs, we’ve been dead for five years. We are a rounding error in a demolition report."
??Maddie’s breath hitched as she looked at the "Mass Coffins" through the window.
??"The only reason we’re breathing," the dic continued, "is because Ned was the one who signed off on the hydraulic schematics. He didn’t just ’save’ us. He knew the pressure-thresholds of the primary slurry-lines. He knew that if we dropped at a specific angle, the dorms would settle into the reservoir pockets instead of being crushed flat. He didn’t stop the execution; he redirected the grave. He turned us into ghosts that P.A.C.I.F.I.C. can’t find because they think they’ve already buried us. Now shut up and take your dicine."
??She reached into a lead-lined box and pulled out a thick, oversized syringe filled with a viscous, sickly neon-yellow fluid.
??"Yellow-Jacket," the dic said, clicking the plunger. "Builder-grade adrenaline and a shot of refined biomass stabilizer. It’ll get you on your feet. It’ll also lt your liver if you take it twice in a week. Consider it a surface-tax."
??Before Will could protest, she slamd the needle into the side of his neck.
??Will didn’t scream, but his entire body went rigid. It felt like soone had poured boiling battery acid directly into his carotid artery. His vision exploded into a strobe-light kaleidoscope of neon yellow. His heart, which had been fluttering like a dying bird, suddenly slamd against his ribs with the force of a sledgehamr.
??[Item Consud: Artificer’s Adrenaline (Industrial Grade)]
[Status: HP restored to 20%. Pain suppressed.]
[Warning: Cellular Instability detected. Burn Rate: 1% Max HP loss per minute.]
??"There," the dic said, pulling the needle out with a cruel lack of finesse. "You’ve got fifteen minutes before the ’instability’ starts eating your heart. Eat."
??She kicked a dented tin bucket toward them. Inside were four bowls of a thick, gray-brown sludge that slled of sulfur and scorched hair.
??"Armored Fowl stew. It’s the only thing in this hole that has enough calcium to keep your bones from snapping. Try not to choke on the gristle."
??The dics vanished as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the Faction alone. Maddie took a tentative bite, her face contorting. "It tastes like a burnt tire dipped in gravy."
??"It’s... crunchy," Elizabeth whispered, poking at a piece of calcified cartilage.
??[Condition Acquired: Calcified Marrow]
[Effect:
5% Physical Resistance for 60m]
??"So. Not just a suit," Will rasped, the Yellow-Jacket stim vibrating in his teeth. "A man who knew the chanics of the grave."
??He closed his eyes for a second, focusing on the biological tether in his chest. The Allison-ping was no longer a soft pulse; it was a white-hot needle of desperation. Every minute he sat here eating bird-sludge was a minute he was losing.
??The fiberglass door opened.
??Ned returned, but the executive-coldness in his eyes had been replaced by a raw, jagged edge of duty. He wasn’t moving fast, but there was a weight to his steps that made the dirt floor feel like lead. He walked to the desk, staring at a cracked, handheld tablet.
??"Sir!" A runner burst in behind him. The man was covered in an oily black ichor that slled of rotted tal. He was clutching a jagged bite wound on his shoulder. "Tunnel Seven! The primary seal didn’t hold! They’re through!"
??Ned stopped dead. He didn’t flinch. "The Iron-Gnashers?"
??"Dozens of them," the runner gasped. "They bypassed the noise-traps. They’ve got the Artificers pinned in the crawlspace behind the secondary bulkhead. Twenty n. Sarah is in there. Baker is in there."
??Ned’s eyes suddenly flared with a soft, blue-grid light.
??[Skill Detected: Colony Oversight (Rank: Unknown)]
??The executive stood perfectly still, his gaze piercing through the walls of the longhouse. He was seeing the pressure drops in the pipes, the fluctuating power grids, and the twenty life-signatures trapped in a narrow, tal throat of a tunnel.
??"The Gnashers are Level 45 vermin," Ned muttered, his voice a flat, dead rasp. "They eat through plasteel like wet cardboard. If they breach the secondary bulkhead, they’ll hit the primary water intake for the entire reservoir."
??He looked at the runner, his expression devoid of volatility. It was the look of a man who had calculated this loss a dozen tis before.
??"If the reservoir is contaminated, the colony is dead in forty-eight hours," Ned said. The words ca out like stones falling into a well. "I can’t send a security team. I can’t risk the armor. If I lose the guards, the periter falls."
??"Sir..." the runner said softly. "The Artificers. They’re still alive. We can hear them banging on the door."
??As if to punctuate the plea, a distant, rhythmic thud echoed through the pipes—the sound of desperate hands striking a tal bulkhead from the other side.
??Ned closed his eyes. He didn’t roar. He didn’t slam the table. He just looked at the blueprints like a ledger of debts he could never pay.
??"Move the welding crew to the Tunnel Seven junction," Ned ordered. His voice was a cold finality. "Seal the bulkhead. Flash-weld the seams. Vent the oxygen from the crawlspace to starve the Gnashers’ tabolism."
??"Sir... Sarah... she’s still—"
??"I know who is in there," Ned interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with the nas. "I’m the one who has to tell their families why they had to be buried a second ti. Move the crew. Now."
??Ned turned away, resting his forehead against a support beam. He wasn’t slumped in defeat; he was simply holding the weight of the order.
??Will forced himself to stand.
??The Yellow-Jacket stim flared in his vision, a sickly neon yellow. The Burn Rate was ticking down. Every heartbeat was a 1% loss of his maximum HP potential.
??"You seal that tunnel," Will rasped, his voice a jagged, blood-thickened rasp, "and you’re just P.A.C.I.F.I.C. with a better excuse. You’re just another executive burying the workers to save the overhead."
??Ned turned, his eyes bloodshot and weary. He didn’t get defensive. "I have people who fix pipes, kid. I don’t have anyone who can stop twenty Iron-Gnashers in a confined space. If I send my guards and they fail, everyone dies. That’s the math."
??Will took a step forward, his black-mycelium arm smoking slightly as the stabilizer fought the chemical burn of the adrenaline.
??Behind him, the air pressure shifted. Genghis Khan manifested in the cramped space, a spectral giant standing behind Will’s shoulder, giving a single, solemn nod of approval.
??"You have us," Will said.
??Ned looked at the 20% HP hovering over Will’s head. He didn’t scoff. He looked at it like a businessman looking at a high-risk asset. "You can barely stand, kid. You’re a walking corpse."
??"A walking corpse with a Mythic skill that tears space," Will countered, leaning on the table to keep his legs from buckling. "And I have a Vanguard who can hold a line while I do it. We’re disposable assets, Ned. You don’t have to risk your ’essential’ personnel. You send us in. We clear the Gnashers, we save your builders."
??Maddie stood up, grabbing the Santa Mon halberd. Elyas was already checking the edge of his blade. Ned looked at them—really looked—and saw the yellow strobe in Will’s eyes. He knew exactly how much ti Will had left.
??"Why?" Ned asked. "Why take the risk?"
??"Because you have the back door to Level 4," Will said. "And I’m in a hurry."
??Ned stared for a heartbeat, then reached into his pocket and tossed a master-override keycard onto the table. "Level 4 is a vault. Airtight. But the builders left a bypass in the plumbing vents. This card opens the secondary ventilation shaft."
??Ned reached into a drawer and tossed a heavy, lead-lined pouch to Elyas. "Corrosive Slugs. Don’t use them on anything that isn’t tal-plated, or you’ll lt your own boots. It’s the only thing that slows a Gnasher down."
??He stepped closer to Will, his shadow looming over the table. "Save my builders, and I’ll give you the bypass code. I’ll give you everything you need to get your girl back." He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder—a heavy, grounding touch. "But if you’re not back before that stim burns out your heart, I’m sealing the tunnel anyway. I’m not losing the reservoir for a group of surface-born rcenaries."
??Ned flicked a digital map toward Will’s UI. "Get moving. You’re burning overhead, and we’re already deep in the red."
??Will looked at the map. He looked at the 14-minute tir. As they marched out, a guard in patched plasteel armor watched them pass, spitting into the dirt. There was no mockery, only a grim, hollow hope. "Just make sure the Gnashers don’t eat the keycard, kid. We’ll need it when we haul your bodies out."
??Will didn’t look back. The Allison-tether was pulling his chest so hard it felt like a hook was buried in his lungs.
??[Threat Detected: Iron-Gnasher Swarm (Elite)]
[Recomnded Level: 45-50]
[Current Party Average: 32 (Exhausted/Critical)]
[Tir: 14:12 Remaining]
??"Maddie. Elyas," Will said, turning toward the door. "Let’s go kill so vermin."
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