Bertolt leans back in his armchair, casting a fleeting glance forward before his head falls.
Bertolt: What's this? Are you planning on getting a job with Zeno, too?
Windsong: ...?
Bertolt: It says here you've been staying in this town for months, but it seems you're not on our list for "Potential Recruitment from Rayashki."
The smile on his face remains as affably saccharine as ever.
Bertolt: I should remind you, for you researchers, what you produce tells much more about you than your "efforts."
Windsong: That's precisely why I'm here.
Bertolt: Go on.
He finally deigns to raise his head up.
Windsong: Based on the recent investigations, I'm confident that there is a new energy source in the area that has yet to be discovered.
Bertolt: ...
Bertolt: And that's it? We already believed there was something here when we sent you out in the first place!
Bertolt: You were sent here to find it. Instead, all you do is confirm what we already knew.
Windsong: But you said that "perpetual energy" was just a myth, didn't you?
Bertolt: O-of course, it wasn't "just a myth," lady. Why else would we ask you to investigate here in the first place?
Windsong gives a frown that slips, quite intentionally, into a scowl.
Bertolt: Do you have anything else to report?
Windsong: No, but I do need your help. I will need an armed squad to come with me to the mining sites so that I can continue my investigations into this subject.
Windsong: I'm afraid I don't know how long it will take. It also depends on the number of soldiers you can spare for the task.
Bertolt: Aha!
Bertolt: You have a terrible sense of humor.
Windsong: I'm not being funny. You want more research on the new resource too, don't you?
Bertolt: Ms. Windsong, do you really think this is even a remotely reasonable request?
Bertolt: Critters are running rampant in the area, and you demand help to verify what is, as far as I can see, a highly questionable conclusion. Why should I waste Zeno's time and resources on this?
Bertolt: Not to mention putting the lives of our soldiers at risk.
Windsong: If you have doubts, please take a look at these files.
The researcher dives her hands into her bag but is met with a wave of dismissal.
Bertolt: And let me guess, you learned all this from your "study of ley lines"?
Windsong: I ...
Bertolt: To date, the theory of ley lines has neither been approved by the "Arcane Study Review Association," nor accepted by the "Project Assessment of Human Science and Technology." It has zero academic achievements, zero endorsements, and aside from the questionable example in front of me—zero researchers.
Windsong: That's all only a temporary setback.
Bertolt: Ms. Windsong, I sympathize with the awkward situation I have put you in. However, Zeno simply cannot afford to waste resources on a proposal without any solid evidence.
Windsong: I will give you something; all I need is a bit of help upfront. I promise!
The look in his eyes is glazed, bored, but Windsong does not falter.
Windsong: Did you not come here to deal with these critters? Then what's the fuss about? Can't you deal with them while accompanying me to these mining sites as well?
Bertolt's eyes widen, now unglazed, as he rises.
He paces silently, drifting at first, then proceeding to the windowsill.
Bertolt: I'm afraid you've got our intentions altogether wrong.
The windows close tightly, sealing the last whispers of wind from the outside.
Bertolt: Zeno is here for one thing only: a source of perpetual energy.
Bertolt: This is what you have been tasked to find, with the resources you were given. We won't approve any further requests until you have a solid lead. We aren't paying you for a charity mission.
Windsong: ...!
Windsong: So, then, you never planned on controlling the critters here. The squad you brought here was to control the town?!
Bertolt: A force sufficient to deal with critters would have attracted unwanted attention from our rivals. It is not in our interests to share this town or its resources. I'm sure you can see that.
Windsong: So, even if we do find the resource for you, you won't leave this town or its people alone.
Bertolt: We're talking about the ultimate energy source of arcanum. Do you think we will just walk away and leave it to be squandered by a bunch of ignorant peasants and miners?
Windsong: You should be ashamed of yourself!
Bertolt's smile fades like a bad aftertaste.
Bertolt: What we're going to do with Rayashki should be of no concern to you. We have made every arrangement for them.
Bertolt: We aren't monsters. Before the final decision is made, we will continue to help the locals as much as we can.
Bertolt: Including you.
Before the wild-eyed researcher can voice her dissent, Bertolt steers the conversation with well-practiced ease.
Wordlessly, he draws out an attractive-looking document and slides it across the table toward her.
Windsong: Is this ...?!
Bertolt: You seem surprised. Isn't it what you have always wanted?
Bertolt: With Zeno's endorsement, you will be able to teach your program in any university.
Windsong: ...
Bertolt: We have prepared this gesture of our good faith in you.
Bertolt: Now it's your turn to show yours. Forget about an armed squad. They have more important things to do.
Bertolt: You're on your own, my friend. But prove to us that you can do this job, and bring us the best answer you can give.
The pale letterhead stings Windsong's fingertips.
Bertolt: And this piece of paper will be yours when you complete your mission.
Windsong: I understand.
Bertolt: See that you do. Good luck out there, Ms. Windsong.
Deep footprints, now half-buried in fresh snow, trace the path of the researcher's determined march behind her.
Her courage, passion, and body temperature rapidly cooling against the blizzard.
Windsong: Was I out of my mind?!
Windsong: He was just trying to get me out of his office. He threw a carrot out of the window, and I chased right after it like a blinded mule!
Windsong: Still ...
Her hand lingers on the paper nestled within her pocket.
Windsong: Maybe this "carrot" is too good to let go.
With a sigh of resignation, she reaches deeper.
Windsong: Focus. Once I fill the gaps in my data, I will be able to pitch it to Zeno, and all subsequent research won't be a problem anymore!
Windsong: The primary food sources for Hoituk are raw minerals underground. Those processed metals only keep them from starving to death. They wouldn't have gone across any icy ocean just to gnaw on old equipment and trash.
Windsong: All I need to do is find a trace of their activities so that I can learn about their current conditions and, from there, locate their other food sources.
Windsong: Stay calm. Hoituk are gentle creatures. They rarely attack humans. I just need to be cautious.
Her internal struggles will have to wait, as more practical problems loom larger.
The blizzard has covered almost everything, leaving a few cans to poke out, rattling along with the wind.
Windsong: Crazy! Whoa!
Windsong: Alright, change of direction.
Windsong: If I were to look down instead of looking forward, maybe I should scan the area and follow where the ley energy is leading. Just like I did at Silbury Hill.
Windsong: Ahem! Of course, I hope the outcome will be different this time.
She surveys the expanse of boundless snow.
Windsong: Before all that, I need to clear out this place.
Windsong: Природа это числа и черты.
Windsong: Природа это мозаика цветов.
The soil churns in slurry waves along the seashore, a mix of mud, snow, and stone.
A violent resonance spreads beyond it, one to which she is completely unaware.
Hoituk?: hiss
Clearly, these creatures harbor some discontent at these scars on their land.
Windsong: Shoot! Now I've done it.
Windsong: Those vestigial digging teeth, the three-fingers-long tearing teeth—these are not Hoituk!
Hoituk?: hiss
They bare their teeth and claws in a rhythmic way, like a primitive pre-feeding ritual.
Windsong: These scaled wings must be for swimming. Then you must be ...
Windsong: Mutant Kikituk from the Olga area!
Windsong: ...
Windsong: You should be at the Olga Strait, hunting for migrating salmon and whales, not here!
Mutant Kikituk: roars
The Kikituks can no longer contain themselves and pounce towards Windsong.
COMBAT
Windsong sits slumped on the ground, gasping for air.
Their fury has not yet abated; the creatures hold their ground.
Windsong: ...
Windsong: Why would you come here? What inspired you to trek across the ocean, just to hunt for humans?
Her aggressors show no signs of understanding.
They inch closer, drool drooping from their mouths.
Windsong: D**n it! It seems, while their claws and teeth have degraded, their reflexes much quicker than a Hoituk's.
Windsong: They perceived my approach, even though I used my ley line reader as a dampener.
A rumble, distant then near, drowns out her sigh.
A gunshot hammers out nearby, the shot landing on one of the snarling Kikituk.
The bolt is drawn back. The familiar sound sends another scurrying away.
Windsong: ...!
Evgeni: Get out!
Evgeni: Get out of here! I'll cover you!
More gunfire thunders, over and over, until the last Kikituk abandons their position.
Windsong: Thank you, sir.
Composing herself, the researcher immediately returns to her work.
Windsong: Evgeni, the kids told me about a can pile. Is it nearby?
Evgeni: Can pile?
He furrows his brow, motioning with his eyes to some hilly snowdrifts nearby.
Evgeni: They must be talking about our waste metal. I'm afraid it's gone, Ms. Windsong. Maybe animals dug it all out, or maybe those little monsters ate it.
Windsong: Do you know if that happened before or after the runium mines ran dry?
Evgeni: I'm not sure.
Evgeni's brow furrows again, this time casting a surveying glance at her scattered instruments.
Evgeni: You shouldn't be here. There's nothing of value to find in this place.
Evgeni: And you're not supposed to be using this arcane equipment here, either.
Evgeni: We have a better way to deal with these fierce little monsters. What you're doing will just attract more of them.
His statement rattles her.
Windsong: You can drive away the Kikituks?!
Evgeni: Not anymore. We don't have much left to fight them off with. Zeno didn't bring any equipment for our team, let alone any weapons.
Evgeni: Go. Leave before it's too late.
He carefully checks the rifle in his hand.
Windsong: What if I don't want to just give up?
Evgeni slows down, making his inspection come across as even more deliberate.
Evgeni: I've seen your residence application. You say you are a researcher.
Evgeni: Then you should be clever enough not to go down a fruitless and dangerous path.
Windsong: I admit that what I'm doing here is reckless, and maybe I'm just motivated by my own selfish interests. But I can't just walk away from my commitments.
Windsong: You have lived in Rayashki for a long time. You know what "commitment" means here much better than I do.
There is a shift in his face as he turns away from her.
Windsong: I won't give it up so easily, just like the people here won't give away their land like nothing.
Evgeni: It's stubbornness. That's all.
Windsong: ...?
Evgeni: They should have gone to other places and put their talents to good use, rather than staying here to fight for nothing.
Windsong holds a stare, lifting her chin to match up to him.
Windsong: Is that why you gave away the town so easily to Zeno? Do you really even know your neighbors?
Evgeni: I have lived and worked together with them for decades. Don't be ridiculous. I just ...
Evgeni: I agree with Zeno's perspective.
Windsong: Tsk. I've been to many places, and I have encountered many people like you—stuck-up "leader types," making decisions on behalf of other people because "it's what's good for them."
Evgeni: And they should listen. Just as you should now.
He braces the rifle as he motions her back and scans the near horizon.
Evgeni: It's my responsibility to protect everyone, to do right by them.
Evgeni: I will make them see it tomorrow at the hearing.
Windsong: Ah!