Slumrat Rising

Truth tried to think quickly. He could more or less guess where the old doctor’s hate was coming from. He would hate him too, if the situation was reversed. “I was in a bodybag on the way in. Would your hatred extend to giving me directions out?”

“Yes.” Dr. Sun had a wonderful set of teeth, Truth noticed. His ‘smile’ was displaying almost all of them.

“Fantastic. Well. This has been…” Truth groped for a word, failed to find one, and decided that it had simply been. Maybe the doctor would take his advice. He couldn’t force it regardless. He directed his attention towards his various blessings. The doctor was right- they were going haywire with all the extra energy running through him. When he sorted all of this energy out, it would be a Hell of a boon. Wasn’t going to be anytime soon, though.

“Any chance of a cane, or an IV stand to lean against? No, apparently not.”

“It’s a morgue. Generally, though not always, those things are not needed here.”

Truth eased himself off the metal tray he had been standing on. He could support his own weight. Good first step. Now to see if he could literally take that first step.

“Out of curiosity, did you ever consult on a bioweapons program?” Truth asked. He was leaning on the tray pretty hard, but his feet were mostly cooperating. It was sort of like learning to walk and operate heavy machinery at the same time. Doable, just not advisable.

“No, absolutely not. Bioweapons, you see, are monstrously evil. And I, according to several international awards, am not.”

“Said the torturer’s assistant. Ah well. On the off chance I do die, or just… you know, generally, keep your eye out for an exciting new plague breaking out. Nothing to do with me, you understand.” He made his way to the end of the tray, carefully turned the corner, then again, then started walking back down the other side. He was getting more coordinated. These few seconds weren’t being wasted. “Let me tell you about something I found buried a meter underground behind a cheap restaurant in Confen.”

Truth reached the wall, turned around and tried to walk back without leaning on the tray. It was touch and go to start with, but he managed. He was reasonably stable by the time he reached the corner and made the turn. This time, he made for a desk three meters away. Just a few steps, but it felt like crossing a chasm.

Dr. Sun was glaring at him.

“I can see you want to demand to know if I’m telling the truth, but your ability to read my body in minute detail isn’t showing any hint of my lying, and your brain can’t think of any reason I would lie about this. After all, even if you did help me get out of the hospital, that wouldn’t necessarily prevent other plague boxes from opening.”

“Yes.” The words came ground out.

“Lots and lots of contingency plans, by lots and lots of people. Most of them wouldn’t work to begin with, and all of them work at cross purposes.” Truth made it to the desk. Victory. Next stop, the coat rack by the door. This was five meters away. Still. Needs must. “It’s the truth. As complete and plain as I can manage.”

“So why tell me?”

“Because you are a man with a lot of family. A person with a lot of people he cares about beyond his family. And most importantly, you are the best doctor in the world. Apparently. Personally, I doubt you can squat or bench enough to make it as an Ortho, but I guess for a medicine doctor you are probably… fine.”

“Boy, don’t you go using those words like you know what they mean.” Dr. Sun’s eyes were hooded, but Truth could easily imagine them darting around, watching the connections in his mind come together. “Any idea why this… thing was made?”

“Lots. Nothing more than speculation, though. My two best guesses are that they are threats to defend against invasion or they will be used to fuel some grand sacrificial ritual. Guess number three, which is mostly based on my own prejudices, is that they are sheer spite and revenge, possibly on Starbrite’s part.”

That got another grunt out of the doctor. Truth had safely made it to the coat rack and examined his options. There was no way he was going to pass for a doctor given how he looked. Not without Incisive and the Blessing of the Silent Forest. And a shower. And a change of clothes. He looked, in a word, exploded. Also…

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“Am I emitting dangerous amounts of cosmic rays?”

“Dangerous-ish. Certainly any metal you hang around is going to be toxic for Level Zero people for a while. This whole body storage array is completely contaminated and will need to be thrown out. Everywhere else in the room? Or this hospital? They will probably be fine unless they go around licking the doorknobs you turned.”

“Fantastic. I assume this is trackable?”

“Easily.”

“Double fantastic. Anything you can pass on about those creepy eyeless watcher-homunculi Starbrite has been deploying?”

“No, I’m in the dark on them too. Evil things.”

“This day just gets better and better.” Truth sighed, and pulled on a windbreaker someone had left behind. He shambled over to the sink and gave his face a quick wash, ran his fingers through his hair, and got the dirt off his hands. “Best I can do for the moment, I think.”

“Mmm. Tick tock, Hell Prince.”

“Nah, I gave up on being a prince the day we first met. There’s no future in it.” Truth walked towards the door. He couldn’t move above a slow walk, but he was steady on his feet. All the enforced stillness had let him patch up the worst of the damage. He could move.

“Oh? What do you see as a growth industry?”

“Well, if you manage to stop that plague, scrap merchant and subsistence farmer are looking pretty sweet. As is roving cannibal raider. There’s a job with real possibilities for advancement. Look, you do you. I’m off to see a man about a job.”

“Do tell.”

“Got to get the other half of that ticket off world, right?”

“What job are you asking for, then?”

“Ticket Scalper. Almost as good as being a prophet.” Truth eased the door open and slipped into the hallway.

The hallway was empty as far as the t-junction it terminated at. At the junction were a pair of hard cases, both in armor and carrying an impressive loadout of charms. Truth had a brief hope of stealing their uniform and using it as a disguise, but they weren’t wearing the faceplates. The air had a subtly unpleasant feel to it. Simultaneously greasy and gritty. Some active magic effect. He couldn’t figure out what he did.

He looked at his hands, then the rest of his body. He wasn’t glowing or shooting sparks everywhere, so there was that, at least. An anti-glamour or anti-charm spell? It kinda-sorta felt like that, but also not really. He shrugged. Not his problem at the moment. His problem was that this hallway was an empty tube between him and two armed, armored, guards. Guards that might currently have their back to him, but would certainly look around when they heard footsteps.

Stretch out with the foot, just skimming above the floor. Ball of the foot goes down, then, gently, the rest of the foot. Repeat with the other foot. One step at a time. No breath to betray him. One step at a time. Just like the old days. Everyone is bigger and stronger. Have to be sneaky. Have to just fade into the background, and pretend you aren’t even there.

One step, then another. Closer and closer. One of the guards picked up a charm and casually snapped it. Truth froze. The greasy, gritty feeling in the air suddenly intensified. There was a long moment, then the other guard nodded and pulled a little sheet of engraved metal from the harness on his chest. He gave it a couple of taps. The guards looked at it for a half minute, then minutely nodded and put the bit of metal away.

Some kind of infiltration detection system. That, and a way to report in somehow. I don’t recognize the talisman. Must be new.

Funny. He could see the logic in something that was looking for invisible or glamoured infiltrators. What kind of sneaky guy would walk down the hall in a windbreaker and their bare feet?

Truth didn’t really remember which way he came in from. Didn’t matter in the immediate moment anyhow.

The guards were wearing helmets and soft neck armor. Smart of them. Truth planted his feet and pulled his arm up and back, like he was holding an invisible ax. He called the Tongue to his hands, but rather than grab the hilt, he held it by the blade. He swung forward and down as hard as he could, letting his weight ride on the swing.

The pommel smashed into the first guard’s spine, just below the helmet. The other guard started to turn, fast, much faster than Truth would have thought he could manage. He quickly grabbed the hilt of his sword, watching the guard’s mouth open to yell. The Tongue punched through the open mouth, through the back of the throat, through the spine, through the soft armor, and into the wall behind the guard.

Not quite bloodless, but pretty damned good. Truth gently keeled over and fell on the floor. That… took too much out of him. He needed a minute. He didn’t have a minute. Silently groaning, he pulled himself to his feet. He looked at the two guards. They weren't remotely his size. He didn’t even think he could fit into their pants, let alone their dainty little shoes. Didn’t he have a change of clothes in his storage ring? He did!

A quick change of clothes later, pausing only to loot everything portable on the bodies and leave “The Anomaly and the Artifact Belong To The King! FREE JEON!!” carved into the wall. At this point it was probably wasted effort, but every little bit helped. If nothing else, he could see it winding up the doctor. How did the old man plan to spin his escape? Truth shrugged. He really didn’t care. He had a choice to make. Left or right?

There were no signs on the wall, but there were colored stripes. One going left, two going right. He went left.

Two more bodies. Working stiffs. Less important than a single ass-hair to their bosses, but they would have killed me if they caught me. It’s insane, and the most normal thing in the world. Everybody needs to eat, and if someone is handing out food, they’re the boss. And what the boss says, goes. And they defend the boss, because otherwise, how do they get the food? Not wondering where the food comes from in the first place.

He staggered down the hall, his sneakers somehow noisier than his bare feet were. He did his best not to touch anything. At the very least, the sneakers and the distancing should make it a little harder to track him. Hopefully. Maybe. Was he hearing… footsteps down the hall? From behind him. Seems like he made the right choice about which direction to go, but it’s not like the lights weren’t on. Soon as whoever it was came around the corner, they would see him. There was an intersection up ahead. He tried to speed up.

The noise was getting louder. Lots of footsteps. Lots of boots on the ground. No chatter, though. Whoever they were, they were disciplined and focused on the job at hand. Could he run? His body screamed back “Hell no!” Nothing to do but push on.

He made the turn- it wasn’t a hallway, it was a door. Locked. The Tongue licked out. Unlocked, and very unsubtly. He shoved into the room, closed the door behind him as carefully as he could. Lots of big tubs, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Part of the laundry operation?

“Someone check that noise.”

“Yes Sir.”

Damn!

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