NOVEL NEXT Chapter 96: Unsettling Hush—
A small fleet of Stolkgliders fanned out across the sky, breaking formation as each veered toward one of the three towers: Cetarro, Curvadoss, and Rortem.Through the rattling window of his glider, Morray leaned forward, shoulders stooped, his gaze thoughtfully locked on the ruin of Cetarro. The tower's tattered frame clawed upward like a wounded giant, half-lit by the spotty lighting that remained after the Inverse Sea had cleaned its entrails.
The Stolkglider shuddered as it decelerated, causing Morray's oversized weapons pack to nearly slip out of the hands of a disgruntled Romm. Who swore under his breath as he barely caught it. "Ugh… did we really need this thing? Shouldn't we stick to M.K gear because of all the Caused crawling around?"
Morray smirked. "Pack duty is what you get for sleeping through the briefings."
"Yeah, yeah." Romm pulled back on the pack with a grunt. "But man—what a shitty night to end up your slave—I mean porter. But I can pull any load knowing high command is going to chew the hell out of you and Commander Draell."
Morray scoffed, "Draell's used to it. Besides, there was no way we could've predicted this. A Retrocosmic Intrusion of this scale was beyond the Tarantulas' standard deviation. Forge wouldn't dream of using a tail event like this to sink Draell's reputation. If anything, if we manage to stop those dumb cinder blocks from crashing into the Vivathecca it might actually boost our squad."
Romm lurched in his seat as the weight of the pack dragged him forward when the Stolkglider touched down. "I hope so. We've been hurting for new recruits. The Coarseblood's the only one we've had in the last three months… and honestly, he's only hurt our numbers. I can't believe those idiots were antagonizing him."
Around them, the rangers snapped open buckles and checked their gear, the cabin alive with the scrape of metal and muted clicks as they disembarked.
Morray straightened, only to hunch awkwardly under the low ceiling as he moved to help Romm with the pack. "They all had their reasons—hate, curiosity, even fantasy. Fledgling Calamity Entities are rare, especially in the lower planuras like here."
They unloaded into the desolate remains of Curvadoss, their boots splashing in shallow water that streaked across the floor. The Stolkglider had landed in one of the Great Halls of the upper terrace—once a gleaming gallery of shiny gold, now stripped of color, its walls dredged in grime and drowned in water.
Romm looked around nervously. "Damn, this floor got absolutely drenched…Captain Morray do you really think the thing disrupting our comms is here?"
Morray flicked a pair of dice across his palm and let them tumble to the floor. "Yup—though it's probably about 90 floors above us…"
"Why did we land so far down?"
"Because of the lockdown systems. This whole mess triggered a pretty nasty defense, and even with Curvadoss having the weakest security it'd still be a headache to breach. Which means whoever is behind the disruptors is either among us—or one slippery bastard. The Abyss alone was enough of a pain but—damn it!"
"What happened?"
"I rolled a two and a one…" Morray sighed in defeat, already digging for a small flask in his pocket. "Pop it open," he said, pointing at the pack.
"Oh—right." Romm fumbled with the straps and scrambled to unpack it.
Morray slipped a pink tablet under his tongue and exhaled, long and weary. "The Abyss is enough of a nightmare, but now there's some other group of assholes trying to crash the towers into the Vivathecca, and the list of culprits is annoyingly long."
He walked over to the oversized pack that now revealed a familiar black box. He carefully opened the device and studied his selection for the day. "Could be the Court of Dissipation. Could be the Vennesat. Hell, maybe even Servinae. Could be treason. Or in the worst case scenario a High Ranking Abyssal—" Piece by piece, he began to assemble a weapon from the black box. "But if we're making educated guesses? I'd point fingers at Ghast's fan club."
Click—clack.
Morray racked the fore-end of a long shotgun-like weapon. "Besides the Vennesat, no one really benefits from having a Fleet Class Leviathan set loose in open waters. Or worse—one infected with the Cause."
"RANGERS!" A man suddenly barked from atop the Stolkglider. "Listen up! Our primary target is the ENN.Core on the 299th floor. Mission is twofold: restore comms and stop the tower's descent. Lockdown protocols have cut us off from the upper levels—gliders can't breach them. Elevators are dead. Survivors? Unknown. Infected? Unknown. That means we move through emergency accesses, floor by floor. We'll be splitting into two units: The Anaya Unit under me and the Hassle Unit under Captain Morray. The Hollows estimate we've got two hours before Cetarro is the first to collide with the Vivathecca." The ranger stopped for a moment, his gaze sweeping through them. "We cannot allow the Vai'tolant to breach containment. If that thing gets infected, it's over. Understood?"
A heavy silence answered.
"Understood!?"
The rangers present swallowed their dread.
Morray rolled his eyes, and raised a fist, sir," he muttered, the half-hearted salute earning only a few chuckles.
Romm and a couple others echoed him, but most of the rangers stayed quiet—still as a winter morning.
Morray exhaled through his nose, shutting the black box with a dull snap. He clapped Romm's shoulder and leaned close. "On my six. Stay close, keep your head on a swivel." he whispered, before clapping his hands loudly. "So, Gustav—how're we splitting up our units?"
"I ran random selection on my crystalcomm. Though you probably want your porter with you, right?" Gustav called as he dropped from the glider, his hefty armor rattling with the impact.
"Yeah, that'd be nice…" Morray lowered his voice. "Gustav, I've been meaning to ask—just between you and me, don't you think the weather's been harrowing tonight?"
"Duh, dickhead. It's been pouring all fucking night! And now we've got to deal with some roaches sabotaging us. I should've transferred to Vinozeta when I had the chance—sunny beaches and no infected. What a dream."The cover clattered open, and he hauled out the heavy hilt of an M.K. Claymore. "But here we are. Babysitting Servinae and their glorified fish tank."
Morray eased back, "Right… you know, Gustav, we should really grab a drink sometime."
"HAH! I'd only go drinking with you if your sister came along." Gustav said, inspecting the claymore's hilt.
"Dream on, big guy. She's in love with Mr. Crash-and-Bern." Morray said, rolling his neck as he turned away.
Gustav gave him low chuckle."That's fucking dark Morray."
"Ehh…" Morray shrugged. "By the way—what access is your team taking?"
"Sargosa was stationed here before on the west pillar, so we'll be taking the Pleasure access."
"Roger that. We'll go through the entertainment hall's emergency access."
"Sounds good. And tomorrow, drinks are on you, Mr. Hassle—sister or no sister." Gustav said, giving him a hard pat on the back.
"Roger. Mr. Anaya, don't go dying on me." Morray waved him off with a crooked grin.
"HAH. As if I'd ever croak…" Gustav muttered, eyes dropping to the display on his wrist. His tone hardened. "Alright, everyone! Listen up—I'll be reading out what squad you're joining."
And as the rangers on Curvadoss prepared to ascend. Across the sky, aboard Cetarro the sounds of chains clattering echoed through the desolate halls.
"Please kill me…" the casket groaned.
"You know I can't drag you indoors, stop complaining." Draell grunted, as he carried the heavy stone casket on his back. "You know maybe we should've waited for the other two. Because for whatever reason the freaking comms system went down AGAIN! They were working just fine a minute ago too…"
"Kill… me…"
"You're right… The timing on this blackout is pretty fishy." he looked around. Hmm. Say, do you know where we are?"
"Me…please…"
"Don't be like that! It's a huge building, and with the signs washed away, everything looks the same." He let out a long sigh. "I hope the other two are having better luck." he said, staring down the dreary halls of Cetarro.
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"Please kill me…?"
For a moment, Draell's grin wavered, his gaze slipping into the dark hall ahead. But he shook his head, a softer smile tugging back into place. "She's definitely alive." He answered as he picked up the pace towards a far-off window.
"Hm…" He stopped at the window's edge, leaning out he craned his neck upward. A spark lit in his eyes. "I just got an awesome idea."
"Kill… me?"
On another floor of Cetarro, making much slower progress, were the duo of Sey and Lucien. With M.K. blades in hand, the two were back to back, jumping at every creak and groan. And unlike Draell who had randomly chosen a direction, the two were using what few context clues they could find to orient themselves towards the entertainment floor.
"What the hell happened here?" Lucien muttered, prodding a pile of an unknowable black mass with his boot. "Egh—there was something hard in that one!"
"St–stop poking random crap." Sey said, shoving him with her elbow. "We need to figure out this stupid building first…" she let out a tired sigh. "Why did I have to sober up now! I was in the zone earlier…"
"Zone? Being sad and nauseous—that's your zone?"
"It's better than being awake and afraid." She mumbled fiddling with the settings on her helmet's visor. "Lucien, what settings are your visuals on?"
Lucien messed around with his helmet. "Uhhh… gimme a min—" His voice cut off as his eyes widened. "Sey. There's a live one."
Sey's nerves tensed like a steel wire, her pulse hammering inside her helmet, as Lucien's faceless visor remained locked on the darkness behind her.
"What's it doing?" she whispered.
"Watching…"
Sey dragged her feet as she turned, her visual module barely capturing the vague outline of a head peeking at them from the end of the hall.
"Lucien, look around us. See if there are more."
He nodded, his visor scanning the gloom, picking apart every faint figure behind every corner, door, and pile of rubble.
"Oh shit."
Three more. Two crouched on their right flank, half-shrouded in the recesses of a ruined storefront. And one, not far off, hunched inside the warped maw of a vent.
"Sey… do we run?"
"We can't… they'd catch up in no time."
"Then what?"
Sey tightened her grip on her M.K. Blade, her Kyyr blooming silently against the dark. "We enact the Purge Orders." she said, her voice a toll of bells in Lucien's mind.
Lucien's fingers locked around his hilt, knuckles trembling. His visor betrayed nothing, but his body shook against Sey's back, the two of them grounding each other through shared fear.
"Lucien, what were the settings?"
"It's under the Nyctalopia nodule—just make sure to adjust the rod sensitivity to around 10, otherwise the M.K. Blades will blind you."
"Got it…"
Vwoom.
Their blades ignited, searing light tearing through the hall. The sudden blaze washed over the Caused, drawing a chorus of hisses from every shadow. The flames cut through the tension, but there was no screeching, no attack. Just fading whimpers as they retreated into the dark.
"Th–they left?" Lucien whispered.
Sey scanned their surroundings, every shadowy crevasse, every off-putting silhouette in the dark, but found nothing. "They did…but why?"
"Maybe the fire? Who knows. We—we should keep moving. Right?"
"Yeah…" Sey murmured, her face tinged with unease.
They moved deeper into the drowned maze of plazas and halls, where water damage streaked the walls and the last remnants of life lingered faintly on the cold white tiles. Sey and Lucien had no way of knowing their path mirrored that of the rangers on Curvadoss—who, like them, stumbled upon oddities as they ascended.
Morray led his squad of twelve through the entertainment hall's gallery, toward the arcade's emergency access. By now they'd climbed high enough that the water damage had all but vanished. The lights still glowed overhead. From the ceiling speakers, a faint wash of static whispered like distant surf. Restaurants lined the gallery, tables still set, meals abandoned mid-bite. Clothing bags lay strewn across the tiles as though dropped in passing. But no people. No panic. No blood. Only the hush of white noise and the steady hum of lights, echoing in a place that should not have been this still.
Perhaps they had gone higher. Morray wondered, unease settling within.
To make things worse, the rangers with him were from other squads. Most were from the Nyrk Squad from Heilagjǫtunn. Strangers from the giant's shadow. They hadn't said a word since joining the unit. No introduction, no commentary, no chatter, just clinical silence.
On the other hand Romm and some clown from the Boreas Squad had become annoyingly chummy in the last fifteen minutes. The ranger's name was Rotner, and beyond not knowing how to shut up, he was honestly very much appreciated. Oblivious to the tension, he'd begun yapping about growth cells and food processing, of all things. Morray sighed, wondering if his incessant talking was some kind of coping mechanism.
There were also two more rangers with some ilk of humanity, also from Boreas, rangers Melvin and Tosrö. They were nodding along with Rotner's rambling, clearly accustomed to him.
Morray sighed as he kept leading the pack down Curvadoss Entertainment hall.
"So, whaddya think, sir?" Rotner sprung on Morray.
Morray frowned. "What?"
"I was asking ya about those darn fish-like Caused. See, I really think they're from the food plants up near Tīrma. I use'ta work up there before the whole mess down in Trant—we used to farm raise Stern Trout—ya know the fish with the orange guts. Anywayz the thing is, I was lookin' at them corpses, and I tell ya, they look like scales on a fish, identical—well, save fer the toothy maw and the freaky digits. But still, I swear that's what they were."
Morray raised a brow. "Hmmm…I'll definitely keep it in my mind."
"For real! Thanks sir—I'm glad you listened to me, 'cause darn it, the old man—I mean Commander Siegwick—he doesn't take too kindly to my ideas…" Rotner's tone wavered, the words spilling out faster than he meant. "Thanks for lendin' me an ear. I just… I got this feelin' something ain't right with our supply chain."
As he spoke, the glow of Curvadoss arcade came into view. Unlike the one on Cetarro, this place was alive. Bright lights washed the hall in pinks and blues, screens plastered across every surface with colorful characters advertising food and games. The ambiance was rather disarming, with the colors and synthetic smells swirling through the air.
Morray's gaze lingered on the spectacle. His gaze drawn to the food displayed on the bright screens. "So, ranger—what do you think is wrong with our supply chain?"
Rotner lit up, as they pressed into the arcade. "Ya see. I was stationed in Krreat about two weeks ago, I was working as security over at the Cyrkem Farm and—"
"Wait." Morray cut him off. "Were you unfortunate enough to work with a bum named Aria Hassle?"
Rotner blinked. "How could I forget her? Quite the looker, but… yeah. Bum, does kinda fit. Hassle… wait—Morray Hassle? By all that's gold! She yer sister or somethin'? I didn't mean to call her… uhh…"
"BUM!" Romm barked, unable to resist. "She's the laziest person I know. She'll do anything but work—trust me, I used to be in the same unit."
Morray chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah… that's my little sister. And from the sound of it, she didn't enjoy her work at Cyrkem." He exhaled, long and exasperated.
"Yeah, but she liked to talk a lot. Big talker—just like me!" Rotner said brightly.
Morray gave a faint half-smile beneath his visor.
"Anyways, as I was recounting, there were all these supplies that kept goin' missing. And it might not seem like it but I take my jobs very seriously, so as security officer I took the case into my own hands."Rotner gestured animatedly as the squad climbed a set of colorful, grass-colored steps. "First thing, I figured out what was disappearing—crates with live-wells built into 'em. Which are pretty expensive to lose don't ya think? Well, I began to track the damn things. Every single one, but somehow after they were sent to the lower tanks at least two of the crates would go missing. And hell, that really got my guts in a twist, because the lower tanks only hold large specimens like cold water Pastelo Trout and Horbet Skirms—ya know, big meaty things." He gestured widely with his arms. "I tried to get clearance fer an inspection, but the overseer mechanoid just wouldn't grant me access no matter what trick I pulled. Somethin's goin' on behind the scenes, I just know it. And with those fish Caused poppin' up? It's greasin' the gears in my head."
The group reached a seemingly empty corner of the arcade's second floor, the light blue glow bending on their visors as they stared at the wall.
Morray put a hand on Rotner's shoulder. "Well, ranger—um, sorry what was your name again?"
"Rotner Halo! At yer service."
Morray nodded. "Right—Rotner. If we don't die tonight I'll make sure to bring up to Commander Draell."
Rotner nodded excitedly, "You're a good man Mr. Morray Sir!"
Morray gave Rotner a final nod before running his hand along the wall, fingers catching on a subtle indent.
Click
The wall slid back with a hiss, opening onto a narrow passage that wound behind the arcade. The group was hit with stale air as Morray guided them inside, dust wafting through the air as they moved through a long, featureless hall drowned in sterile white light.
At the end of the corridor, the space opened into a vast vertical shaft. A platform elevator loomed in the middle, suspended over darkness. The squad closed in around the control panel fixed to the wall beside it.
"This should take us to the 295th floor—we're on Control for the time being—I'll update our protocol based on the situation."Morray said, stepping onto the platform. "Keep your heads on a swivel, we don't know what we'll run into. And for the love of the Fifteen, don't accidentally shoot Anaya's unit." He looked up into the darkness above the elevator shaft. "This whole comms blackout is such a pain." Crossing to the console, he keyed in the highest floor available.
With a hiss and a snap they began to rise, bright light erupting all around, illuminating the faces of all the rangers under their helmets. His watchful gaze studying every ranger present. Were they nervous? Afraid? Tired?
Morray tensed up.
In the flickering lights of the rising elevator he glimpsed the face of one of the Nyrk rangers.
In the flicker of the passing lamps, one of the Nyrk rangers came into view—wide-eyed, staring at the floor as if he'd just seen a ghost. As the light swept again, he caught the others. Same posture. Heads bowed, hands clamped on their rifles—not on their M.K. Blades like Romm or the Boreas rangers.
Morray kept his gaze steady, eyes sliding glassy over them as though nothing was amiss. But then he froze. One of them wasn't looking down. What the hell? The ranger's face was lit clear for a heartbeat—creased, twisted in a hollow, crestfallen stare, staring right at him. Morray forced his expression blank, eyes gliding past as if he hadn't noticed. His attention shifted to Romm, who was already nodding off beside him.
Morray took a deep breath. Well shit. The weather fucking sucks tonight. He thought to himself as the elevator took them higher.