V2Ch2-Unfinished Business

“Who the hell was that guy?” Officer Ross wondered aloud, staring into the impenetrable darkness that had swallowed up the intruder and Jan Roest. Once they’d fallen beyond some invisible place, he couldn’t see a thing.

The disturbing thing was that Perception was one of his higher Stats. He should be able to see them. But there was something off about that black void.

“Who cares?” Rostov replied glibly. “No one else has survived being thrown into that darkness, right?”

Ross shook his head slowly. They had already thrown one prisoner over the cliff’s edge experimentally, when Rostov had felt they had enough of a surplus to waste a human life.

They’d never seen the prisoner again. They hadn’t even heard him strike bottom. The inky blackness below seemed endless and impenetrable. No one was eager to explore it further after that.

Moloch had apparently informed Rostov after the fact that the area was the edge of the Orientation terrain. There should be nothing beyond it, or so Rostov claimed.

But if Moloch really knows so much, why did we do the experiment of throwing somebody in? Ross questioned. Moloch seems to be on the line to Rostov every few hours, considering the rate at which he makes public pronouncements about the wishes of his god. But how much of that is Moloch, and how much is Rostov? And how much does Moloch have the ability to tell us anyway? If that void is a place the sun don’t shine…

“Are you coming, Officer?”

Ross turned his head to face the swordswoman who had just been fighting alongside him.

“I guess so, Hilda. It just doesn’t sit right with me to leave things unfinished.” He gestured at the black void. “We have no way of knowing if he’s dead. I’d hate for that guy to come back.”

“Does your ability still detect him, then?” she asked, tone betraying a slight curiosity.

“Well, no,” he admitted.

“Then don’t make trouble for yourself. He’s dead. You still have to live.” She turned away, marching to catch up with the rest of the group.

Ross recalled that Hilda Rohm had been one of the more reluctant of those recruited by Rostov. The Prophet had his ways of persuading each of them, or they would have been left behind in the clearing when the wolves came. But she was the last one to begrudgingly follow him, despite whatever he’d whispered in her ear.

Probably, she’s giving me advice for my own good. I’m sure she hates Rostov as much as I do. He turned and gave the cliff’s edge one last look.

Still, somehow I don’t think we’ve heard the last of this shithead.

—

Mitzi Roget felt and heard her joints creak noticeably as she rose from within the tent she shared with her husband. She was trying not to wake him for now, so the noise was annoying.

Not as annoying as it was before this all started, she noted. Before, the limbs sounded like teenagers stepping on dry twigs in a slasher movie. The volume was much more muted after several points invested in Fortitude, which seemed to have improved her overall physical health as well as increasing her Health bar.

And Alan didn’t stir.

Mitzi walked out towards the edge of camp. Dawn was barely breaking, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. No one was nearby except a teenager and a mother on shift for guard duty. She exchanged quiet greetings with them as she passed. She stopped in a place where the trees began to grow too thick for a person to casually walk through.

And she stared off into the distance. He had been so confident he would return alive, come what may. But she saw nothing.

“Come on,” she said to herself quietly. “Be there. Somewhere.”

Mitzi looked around, as if she would need to be especially vigilant to spot James when and if he appeared. As if he wouldn’t make a big spectacle of himself. She smiled thinking of the way he had returned from his spider hunt. She swallowed nervously.

Don’t make us give your family this news!

But she waited there for almost an hour, and the camp’s leader did not appear.

At last, Alan came and found her. He took her by the hand, and she let herself be led back to the center of camp, where people were now breaking their fast.

Mitzi ate the meat without tasting it. She hoped they would have all their usual food groups again soon. And she couldn’t help but think that James had probably killed whatever animal they were eating now.

“We think it’s time that we all meet and talk.”

She turned and looked up to see Cliff standing behind her, looking down at her and Alan.

“Oh, you mean the leadership group?” Alan asked, his tone ironic.

Cliff either missed it or chose not to engage. Hard to say for sure which it was, knowing him.

“Who’s we?” Mitzi asked.

“Me. Chava.” Cliff replied. He seemed a bit impatient this morning, though Mitzi couldn’t particularly fathom why. He should be in a great mood; there was a power vacuum for him to try and fill.

“I suppose you’re right,” Alan said. He sighed. “I wish it could be under other circumstances.”

You’re writing James off, Mitzi realized. I never thought Alan would. I know I said it was a suicide mission, but I suppose everyone else thought so too. Somehow, I thought we were all waiting for him to come back at any moment.

They finished their food quickly and convened a meeting of the council of elders in Chava’s tent.

“We’re meeting this morning, because our dear leader has failed to return from his mission of mercy in the most dangerous area we know of in the forest,” Cliff said.

“We must decide what to do next,” Chava concurred.

“I don’t think there’s much deciding to do personally,” Cliff added. “It was clear what James wanted us to do, and I think he was right.”

“You mean we leave?” Alan asked.

And Cliff simply nodded.

I don’t think James has ever mentioned having any kind of tracking Skill. If he had, killing the spiders would have probably been much quicker. So we’re abandoning any chance of him ever finding us if we leave! We’re abandoning him.

“I don’t think this is right,” Mitzi said slowly. “James is—I can’t easily put words to everything James has done. But I think it’s fair to say that none of us would have had a shot at surviving this place if we hadn’t met him. The three of us—” Here she looked from Cliff to Alan—“had no clue how to survive in this place. We almost died fighting a couple of wolves. The Rodriguezes were bottled up in a small, isolated place with no food, and he risked his life to save you.” She was surprised to find tears pressing at the corners of her eyes. “You’re leaving him for dead!” Her voice broke, and she had to exhale a deep breath.

“It’s what he wanted,” Cliff broke in quickly. “He didn’t do all of that crap just to let us die—”

“Missy is right,” Camila interrupted, drawing a smile from Mitzi. “We cannot leave James behind. I don’t know him well, but I already know what he would do for strangers, let alone his friends. I can’t believe you could abandon him after a single night! Leave him to fend for himself I think he would die for any of you! Maybe we could organize a rescue mission.”

“A rescue mission for the rescue mission?” Cliff asked. He tried to sound skeptical, but Mitzi just found his tone nasty.

This is why I wanted James to be the leader and not you! she thought. You would sacrifice any of us to save yourself. And James, whatever his faults, isn’t that way. If the way he’s behaved in recent days is any indication of his character, he really would die to save us. With a smile on his face.

Mitzi took a deep breath and prepared to rebuke Cliff. But Alan spoke first.

“I think what my friend here is trying to say is that James has been very good to us. He’s a hero, no doubt about that. And I’ll never forget him, for as long as I live. But he’s probably dead now. He almost certainly died while trying to do the right thing, which is laudable. He wouldn’t want the whole Rodriguez family to die with him. The problem we have is that we have to think of the living here.” He fixed Mitzi in his gaze. “Staying here means putting the Rodriguez family in danger. That’s why James thought we should move on and get further away from this evil cult.”

Alan turned to Camila. “And sending a rescue party after James would only get us noticed by the cult more quickly. Unless we’re prepared to send everyone there and go to war with a group of people who defeated James, we wouldn’t stand a chance. I don’t think it’s wise to throw away everyone else’s lives to save one man. Even an indispensable man.”

Mitzi wanted to argue further, but she knew her husband was right. He was being the rational one this time. But she wished he could be swept up in his emotions, as he had been at other times in this forest. She wished the two of them could go, even on a suicide mission, to rescue the young man who had been their protector.

“It’s resolved, then, that we will prepare to move camp away from this threat?” Chava half-asked, half-stated.

There were three reluctant nods, and one nod with very little hesitation from Cliff.

—

Nikolai Rostov sat uncomfortably, staring into the fire.

The longer he served as Moloch’s instrument, the more accustomed he became to the searing pain in his eyes, the numbness in his ass cheeks from sitting on surfaces for long periods, and the way his limbs fell asleep after long periods of conferring with the god.

What he had not yet accustomed himself to, however, was the effect on his brain.

It was more than merely uncomfortable to stare into the flames and connect with his god. Every contact with Moloch left him slightly diminished. Old memories burned away. He could no longer remember his father’s face. He was fairly certain that in one session connecting with Moloch, he had lost his ability to cook.

The effects were intense enough that Rostov could only bear to connect with Moloch once per day.

Fortunately, thus far, the things he’d lost were not things that Rostov would miss. He wasn’t sentimental about his deadbeat Dad, and he now had attendants who jumped at his command—and naturally brought him his every meal. But he was conscious that at some point, he would begin losing things that mattered to him.

The god hadn’t warned him about this, but had said something along the lines of, ‘use this power sparingly’. Rostov sometimes wondered if Moloch had thought he would’ve rejected the Class and Job if he’d known that they carried such dangers to his mind. That the power he held came with terrible tradeoffs. His candle burning twice as bright for half as long and so on.

But no.

Moloch had to know him better than that!

Rostov finally rose, and two of his acolytes leaped to his side.

“Prophet, what is your will?” asked one. Her name was a bit hazy to Rostov just now. Hopefully not something permanently lost, because she was rather appealing. Freckled, with attractive facial features, in a pointy sort of way. Strawberry blonde. Perky breasts.

The other acolyte, while a little older, was also attractive. But she was forbidden fruit. Officer Ross’s wife. He couldn’t touch her and maintain the balance of his camp. Not without killing Officer Ross, who remained useful and barely kept on-side through the influence of the very same wife.

So many complicated considerations one must balance as a leader, Rostov thought, bemused. But I think I’ll reward myself with the blonde girl tonight. I can at least do that much. I can imagine that Catherine is there with us.

He had been very well-behaved since arriving in Orientation, but his interpretation of Moloch’s will did not exclude the odd bit of fun.

He did not hesitate in issuing a command. “A new sacrifice for Moloch. No, make it two sacrifices today! That is His will. We must maintain His favor.” He didn’t really think losing Moloch’s favor was a danger, but he knew where his bread was buttered.

Rostov strode away from the fire, searching for one of his trusted lieutenants.

“Ah, Kassim!” he said. “How did the check for the prisoners go?”

He had ordered a headcount for the prisoners just before going into his trance. He assumed they should all be there, but no sense in getting sloppy. A few days ago, Moloch had informed him that a group of humans was heading his way, running away from the Dead Swamp. With any luck, he would have the opportunity to acquire some new sacrifices. It simply wouldn’t do, to have prisoners running loose, potentially warning them away from the Rostov camp.

And it turned out, contrary to his expectations, there were in fact prisoners running loose.

“My Prophet.” Kassim wiped his forehead nervously.

Officer Ross, who was standing nearby, visibly rolled his eyes.

“Speak your truth, Kassim,” Rostov said a little more impatiently than he intended, slightly needled at seeing Ross.

“My Prophet, the prisoners are, eh, almost all accounted for. You have my word that we will track the other few down.”

Rostov resisted the urge to ask how other prisoners had escaped. Time enough later to find and flay the incompetent guard who had let them slip away while Rostov and his finest fighters chased the intruder.

“You have dispatched a search group, then?” he asked.

“Of course, Prophet!” Kassim sounded relieved at the question.

“Good. It is of the utmost importance that they not warn others, or we will be forced to migrate and take our hunt on the road.” He rounded on Ross. “And you, why haven’t you accompanied the searchers? With your Skill, I assume you could be of some use?!”

“You know very well that isn’t how my tracking Skill works.” He sounded distinctly unimpressed by Rostov’s annoyance. “I have to mark the person first. It’s not about following a trail like some hunting dog. What about you, anyway? Did you manage to find out what happened to our intruder? Or where our trio of guests from yesterday happen to have ended up?”

“The intruder is dead,” Rostov lied. “And Moloch shows me that the elderly couple and their young friend are far from here. They were not involved in the night attack on our camp.”

In truth, he had no way of knowing this information. The Solar Sight that Moloch had granted him allowed him to see the world as Moloch saw, from the perspective of the sun looking down on the world, but it still took time to find what he was looking for.

Rostov had been able to appear omniscient during the early days of Orientation, because he could navigate perfectly to where they were going, avoid danger every time as long as they only moved during the day, and find easy kills for the group. His perfect information and powerful abilities, coupled with Moloch helping him select the correct people to join him, had allowed him to create an unquestioning following. But it was much easier to have seemingly perfect information when he only had to focus on finding things in a specific area, as opposed to when he was conducting a broad search.

“I suppose you want me to just take that on faith,” Ross said. “Well, don’t forget, I know exactly where you came from, pal.”

“Everyone knows where I come from, Officer,” Rostov countered smoothly. “It’s made no difference to anyone but you.”

I dearly wish I could sacrifice him, he thought. Get rid of a headache and increase my enjoyment of this place, in one fell swoop. Moloch thinks I still need him. But perhaps if we run low on sacrifices, I’ll have to make a tough executive decision.

He smiled at the thought.

—

Mitzi stood with her back to the camp once more. Everyone was in the last stages of packing up the camp, and the sun was just about to set. They planned to move at night, when Moloch couldn’t see their activities. Increase their odds of getting far away from any potential reprisals.

But Mitzi still wasn’t ready to leave. She couldn’t let go of a last scrap of hope. She wanted to see a big figure come lumbering through the trees, smiling and perhaps slightly apologetic about taking so long to return.

Maybe, just maybe…

And suddenly she saw a figure moving toward the camp through the trees!

She rejoiced for a moment, but then her blood chilled.

There were several figures, and none of them looked like James.