Organica-Mechanus: Devil in a shell

Year: 2083—3 years before the formation of the 'Unified Coalition of Four' in Uretia between Humanity, Elves, Dwarves, and Beastkin.

Location: 25 miles beyond the Arema-Diadan District of the forbidden fallen zone—underneath the abandoned main battle base of humanity's 29th mechanised forces.

*SCRAPING OF SCREWDRIVER ON PLASTIC.*

A faint spark and a soft scratching noise intensified in the cold, damp, and dreary cavern, blending into the gentle pull of a cold draft emanating from the pried-open security door deep within the shadows. The thick, hand-cracked hydraulic rod wedged in between the slabs of rusted metal that wanted to close sat firm, unwavering with its simple task.

*SCRATCHING FADING OFF.*

As the scratching died out, a soft shuffling of something living moving about could be heard taking its place in the small cave in a blanket of near-total darkness, only to be fought back by a small dangling lamp that was shone over a dead computer station on the other side of the space away from the lone wedged-open door, the light inadvertently catching the sharp tips above of the glistening stalactites.

A wide metal panel, covered in unworking lights and slits, coupled with the worn and broken unknown small rectangular ports of old, sat lifeless and forgotten to time as the rust laid claim, the paint long gone.

*SHUFFLING ALONG THE CAVE FLOOR.*

Something moved away from the tight enclosure underneath the open access port of the computer panel and reached towards the wall, where a single thin piece of aged square metal with punched grills lay against the damp rock wall, destined to find its rightful place as it moved away from its resting place.

The rustic panel slowly lifted up and slotted back into its home from unknown hands, fitting perfectly into the curved grooves on either side, carefully concealing the dust- and web-covered heatsinks, fans, and electronic components that disappeared out of sight as the panel slid down all the way, locking into place with a gentle click that confirmed its old position.

Along the edge of the computer station, bolted into the grinded-out flat stone wall, a tactical gloved hand came into view, gripping the rusted metal top of the panel and leveraging the rest of the hidden body away from the concealed components they had tinkered with underneath.

*SUDDEN GRUNT.*

A tall, darkened form rose up and positioned itself in front of the wide panel while another gloved hand folded a multi-tool, hiding the numerous bits in a swift, scissor-like motion; a muffled young voice emerged from beneath the single filtered full-faced gas mask.

Assistant Hecke: I really hate these old systems. Hopefully, that did the trick! (Moving his hand downwards.) Hopefully...

An index finger extended and pressed down on the large red button that read 'On/Off' ignoring the warning underneath that was partially gone as the large, slightly rusted, waist-high rows of red and yellow slits flickered for a second and then died out; Heckle pressed the button again, this time more frantically and with growing frustration, pressing it harder than needed.

Heckle: Come on, just work! WORK! (Pushing the button several times.)

*CLICKING OF A BUTTON.*

Once more the panel lit up and died out, lasting longer on the second attempt; some of the slits lighting up more than before, slowly turning green, while others remained as they were before going silent.

A gloved hand raised up to slap the side of the computer station and fell down in a hard, fast swoop, the strike reverberating through the thin metal and around the small cavern and down the prized open door behind Heckle as he shouted through the tight mask, his words being as clear as they ever could.

*LOUD SMACK AND SHAKING OF STEEL SHEET ECHOING IN THE CAVERN.*

Heckle: COME ON, WORK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! (Open hand closing into a fist.)

Through the abuse, rows of green lights flickered from under the slits and became static on the rusted panel for a final time, not a single red or yellow light appearing in defiance to the violence.

Heckle: Right on!

Proud of his handiwork of brutal technological chipnomancy, Heckle smiled widely, pushing his hidden cheeks to the side of his face and against the tight elastic polymer of the mask; the fabric straps tightened around his head, digging into his short hidden dark hair under the hood. The folded multi-tool disappeared into a trouser pocket below as he listened to the computer whir to life, the fans inside spooling up to a steady hum.

Heckle: Sometimes a bit of tough lovin' is all that is needed. (Eyes shifting, noticing something atop the board.)

On the cracked but still functional monitor embedded into the board along the top, a flurry of red text appeared, reflecting into the transparent curved eye ports in the mask.

Heckle scanned the escalating lines of words and numbers that appeared faster than he could read, adjusting his posture, almost leaning to discern the report, with the hope that it wouldn't entail further exploration underneath, no longer smiling, a seriousness taking over his voice and posture, but not his sense of humour.

Heckle: Beepitty, boopitty... Let's see what we have, Computitty... Next time I won't be as merciful as using only a hand. (Shaking his boot.) Okay... (Reading the monitor in his head.)

---------------------------------

O/S 21.0809.73 (A.E.R.)

-: Time: Error -Calculating ERROR-

-: Date: Error -Calculating ERROR-

-: Networ: Error -Searching ERROR-

Diagnostic:/ RUN/: o2+-AP-OF-L-WPS-CP

Loading-:o2+: -2%, -10%, -13%, -20%, -55%, -55%, -55%, -59%... -66%... -71%... -74%.

-: Report: 74% -: Nominal, within safe parameters. -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

Loading-:Air Pressure: Sensor 'A' to 'E.'

-: Report: Error -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

Loading-:Operational fans: '30' of '42' functioning along 'A-E'

-: Report: Nominal, within safe parameters -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

Loading-:Lights: Error missing: 'CHIP L:990.'

-: Report: Error -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

Loading-:W.PS: Error missing: 'CHIP L:990.' -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

-: Report: Error -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

Loading-: Containment protocol: Scanning...

-: Report: Error -Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.-

-: A.E.R: Ready for activation... WAITING... WAITING...

-: Updating 'LOG' to Sub-Level-B... Error.

-: An error occurred while attempting to establish contact with Sub-Level-B.

-: Please contact an electrical engineer on Sub-Level-B.

---------------------------------

Heckle: Not great, but not entirely bad... At least the oxygen works... That's the main thing. (Squinting at the screen.) I don't know what 'W.PS' or the whole 'Containment Protocol' is about. (Turning to look behind him, then back to the panel.) Is it safe for whatever that is to be off, professor? I doubt anyone living is even in Sub-Level-B... let alone an engineer who could give us a hand in getting it to work anyway.

Heckle, no longer leaning on the ageing panel, moved away, leaving the screen alone that added no new relevant information to blink on, still trying to contact Sub-Level-B with futile attempts, now aiming his gaze to the narrow passage on his right that was just wide enough for a single file of people to walk down engulfed in darkness.

A small lamp rocked as an older, muffled voice, also wearing the same full-faced mask with a different filter design, spoke out from behind Heckle, preparing to answer the lingering question.

Professor: Let sleeping systems be what they are.It would be far safer for them to be off, trust me... As long as the air is working, that is all we need. Now, let's get a move on; we have wasted too much time here as is.

*SHUFFLING OF FEET.*

A smaller figure behind Heckle began to move and lower something to the ground as a faint orange light shifted from the computer panel and streaked across the rough stone floor, the light barely touching the feet of the taller man who moved away from the computer panel.

Heckle: If you say so... (Looking at the lamp on the ground.) We will pick it up on the way back, unless there is a charging port where we are going.

The simple question, yet to receive an answer, lingered.

Heckle: I take that as a no then... You know, it is a good thing you brought me along and lucky it was a modular system with compatible chipsets, or else you wouldn't be going anywhere in this antiquated rust bucket of a so-called 'Battle Base.' (Looking to the computer panel.) It appears that the main board for the air-recirc-scrubbers is operational, at least for the time being. Well, it's either we breathe or we can see... Beggars, after all, cannot be choosers, right?

The little form in the rear spoke up with a growing sadness.

Professor: A wise decision, as for the lamp, shamefully no... and this 'rust bucket,' as you so eloquently put it, once housed the original prototypes of the 'Aquillian Battle-Mechs;' a lot of people held their ground here until the very end and a lot of knowledge died with them. Please have a little respect... If not for me, at least for the dead.

Heckle lowered his gaze and turned away, hearing the sombre tone in the man's voice that infected his own.

Heckle: Shit... Sorry about that... I didn't know.

The little shadow in the rear continued to speak.

Professor: Well, now you know... Also, luck beggars, and choosers have no part in any of it; what you do and know is what changes the world. Please don't think intelligence comes from regurgitating what that little screen typed out, it won't impress me in the slightest. Indeed, you have your uses and still do. I thank you for your skills nonetheless on getting that thing to work... (Moving his left free hand forward.)

Gently pushing past Heckle, a small, gloved hand moved to a box that was hastily screwed into the wooden beam leading to the entrance of the tunnel, slowly pushing and twisting a red button with the words 'Twist and Turn to ON/OFF for A.E.R.'

Professor: Also, you forgot one important thing, young one..."Let there be air." (Releasing the button.)

*SLOW TURNING OF METAL IN THE DISTANCE.*

As the button depressed, locking it into the on position, the sound of fans whirring up and picking up momentum began to spin, increasing their speed as a sudden flow of air grew in force, coming from the tunnel ahead and pushing past the pair. 

Interested eyes from Heckle looked over the old button with a surprised expression.

Heckle: A locking switch? Talk about safety and old. Shit...Well, at least it works... All we need now is a little bit of light and we should be good to go.

Heckle felt around for something as a slight wave of embarrassment took over him for not seeing the switch right next to him, quickly feeling along his abdomen and pulling against a small strap on the tight-fitting suit, forcing the velcro to cry out, freeing something to fall into his open palm.

A short, transparent plastic rod with a domed end was being pointed away and to the right at an angle, aiming into the tunnel as the small form behind Heckle moved closer.

Professor: The switch consists of two connectors, one located on the board, which you so gracefully got working... and the other on the beam here; it is advisable to take precautions to ensure safety, especially down here; you don't want to be trapped in a long tunnel with dwindling air supply. (Pointing his hand forward.) Now shall we? We don't have a lot of time left... Unless you want to be left behind.

*FAINT CLICK OF A SWITCH COMING FROM THE TORCH.*

The torch flickered for a second as the flurry of microscopic bulbs warmed, fighting off the cold to become a steady stream of soft blue rays, igniting the rod into a bar of solid light, shooting beams of light to the front, sides, and slightly behind; the condensation that had built up on the transparent glass shielding of the torch's domed front evaporated in an instant.

Two heads looked down, then back up, adjusting their eyes to the sudden bloom below coming from the torch that moved along the curved walls and into the centre of the tunnel, beating back the abyss with ease. 

Heckle: Well, let's get a move on, into the abyss itself...

*TWO SETS OF FEET BEGAN TO MOVE FORWARD IN SINGLE FILE.*

No longer standing by the entrance of the tunnel, the two disappeared, fading into the distance. Eventually the abandoned lamp left on the ground grew smaller and smaller; the soft dying orange glow lit up the once open panel that barely read: 'A.E.R.' (Air Emergency Recurculator.)

The stick bulbs in the glass housing of the lamp finally succumbed to the void and died out.

A blackened foot appeared; someone or something was watching the light down the tunnel fade into the distance and began to walk forward, now following the light like a moth to the flame.