Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 28 - City on the Mountain (Patreon)

Apologies for this being a bit late.  I scheduled it for 9AM (which is when the Royal Road chapters post) instead of 8AM (which is when I usually post the Patreon chapters).  Better late than never, though!

I’ve always liked to take things apart and see how they work. I think that’s why Remy steered me toward the [Cybernetic Engineer] skill. Even if it didn’t exactly work out how he wanted – he saw me getting paid a fortune installing high-end cybernetics for the elite – but I’m still grateful he put me on this path. Otherwise, I’d have never met Mira, and I certainly wouldn’t have figured out my place in the world.

Patrick Ward

As I followed the convoy for another forty miles or so, I continued to contemplate the information Freddy had revealed. In a lot of ways, I felt it was incredibly unfair that I’d never have a chance to be like him – or rather, like Zachariah or Isla, both of whom I’d seen in action. They had serious power, and they weren’t reliant on cybernetics or implants to get them there. But the more I thought about it, the more I saw it as a challenge. Ever since the day my uncle had given me a Tier-7 implant, I’d been running a race with a head start. No matter what else happened, I had more potential than just about anyone else on the planet.

Sure – I needed to work extremely hard to realize that potential, but I was still special in a way nobody else was.

But now that I knew about people like the Templars – and whatever other groups counted mystics among their number – I could see that I had something to work toward. A goal that would take the entirety of my focus to achieve. I was behind now, but Freddy had given me hope that I could change that. With enough hard work, I could reach those same levels of power, albeit via a different route.

That was enough to banish any resentment I might’ve held onto.

Besides, who knew if I’d have survived becoming a Templar, anyway? Lots of people didn’t, I was certain. And while I liked Freddy – and to a certain extent, every other Templar I’d met – I didn’t want to be beholden to a group whose overall goals I didn’t know, let alone understand. For all I knew, they were a murderous group of mercenaries who killed anyone who didn’t agree with their dogma.

Or maybe they were just a bunch of cowards.

I still hadn’t forgotten that they had all but abandoned Earth to the nonexistent mercy of the aliens. The Templars maintained a presence, but they were too frightened of the consequences to intervene in what amounted to an invasion. That was enough to make me suspicious of their motives, but not so much that I was going to label them enemies.

But I intended to go into any further interactions with my eyes wide open. Anything else just struck me as naïve.

My pursuit of the Pacificians continued until the convoy reached a mountain that, even in the middle of an impressive range, stood out. It was taller than any of the others surround it, and I could see the blue shimmer of a powerful Mist shield surrounding it. Moreover, I could also see the outline of a city at the peak.

In some ways, it reminded me of Nova, if only because it rested upon a giant disc that ringed the mountain’s peak. But in every way that mattered, I could easily see – even from so far away – that it was very, very different. For one, there was only one platform. For another, it gleamed with expensive building materials that put even the wealthy districts of Nova City to shame. Gold, silver, and clear glass abounded, screaming the city’s wealth to anyone who cared to notice.

The convoy pull to a stop at the base of the mountain, where a small but well-fortified outpost stood. It was a little smaller than Biloxi had been, but where that town had been rife with the corruption I’d begun to take for granted, this outpost was in pristine condition and manned by the same blue-robed androids with which I’d grown familiar.

I watched as the convoy’s passenger’s disembarked, and I was close enough that, with Observation, I could see the expressions of awe decorating their faces. Fortune wasn’t a bad city, all told; it was mostly clean, and its citizens seemed as well off as anywhere else I’d been. But the city atop the mountain was on an entirely different level, and even the drug-addicted and starving refugees could see it.

One by one, they were led into the outpost until the convoy was entirely empty. I noticed that none of the blue-robed guards spoke to one another, though. Perhaps they didn’t need to. The Pacificians were noted for being part of a hive mind, so it wasn’t out of the question that they could communicate telepathically.

Or maybe they were all equipped with abilities similar to Secure Connection.

Whatever the case, it struck me as more than a little creepy.

Once the convoy’s cargo – because that’s what those people were to the Pacificans, I was certain – had been discharged, the guards wasted no time before returning the way they’d come. I didn’t follow, largely because I knew where they were going. Instead, I continued my observation of the city on the mountain the outpost that barred entry.

Eventually, I saw a group of former refugees – I recognized a few of them from previous surveillance – board a ship that took them to the peak. However, there was another, much smaller group that was ushered into a separate ship that soon left the outpost and the city on the mountain behind.

There were a couple of key differences between the two groups. For one, the ones who’d been sent into the city all wore red robes that stood out amongst the blue-robed guards while the ones who were sent away were dressed all in black. Pointedly, the red-robes seemed much happier than the other group, many of whom looked like caged animals on the verge of an escape attempt.

The second thing I noticed was that the means of conveyance were also entirely different. The ship that went up to the city was just as bright and shiny as the mountaintop settlement itself, while the other ship was clearly meant for hard use that it regularly saw, judging by the fact that it was clearly made for practicality rather than to achieve some aesthetic standard.

That made sense. It was headed into the wilderness, after all. The dainty little white-and-gold ship that went up to the city would never survive in that environment. Still, it seemed important on a different level, at least to my eyes. The people who had been sent away were clearly second-class. Perhaps they were even prisoners. Maybe slaves, for all I knew.

My initial plan had been to infiltrate the area, but seeing that Mist shield, along with Freddy’s words of warning, had brought me up short. Hitting a Dingyt outpost was one thing, but sneaking into the main base of operations of a powerful alien faction was something altogether different.

For once, I chose the path of caution.

So, nestled in a crevice where I was certain I wouldn’t be noticed, I utilized my various skills to conceal my presence before deploying my camouflaging holographic display. Then, I settled down to continue my surveillance.

And I saw nothing.

Even after an entire day of constant vigilance, I witnessed nothing of note. Sure, the way those blue-robed androids stood around without moving or talking to one another was unnerving, but given what I knew about their nature, I couldn’t be surprised. Instead, I simply tacked that onto the list of suspicious activities and continued my watch.

By the second day, I was bored out of my mind, but I didn’t dare cut my observation short. Too often, I’d jumped into the fire feet-first, and inevitably, I’d gotten burned. Usually, I had the ability to see me through, but I wasn’t so naïve as to think that would always be the case. If Freddy’s warning was any indication, then I needed to alter my perspective, and quick. Otherwise, I might run afoul of someone far more powerful than I could ever hope to be. If I found myself facing off against someone with Zachariah’s power, I knew just how long I’d last.

And in the back of my mind, I had to acknowledge that human mystics were almost assuredly far less developed than those in the wider universe. My only solace came from the fact that it seemed that they kept one another in check. I didn’t have the full picture, but it was easy to imagine that the Templars’ main purpose was to keep other mystics from running roughshod over the rest of the universe.

However, there was a seed of hope there, too. Freddy had made it clear that I had the chance to reach as high as any mystic, albeit along a different, likely more difficult path. I was determined to walk it, though. A challenge was precisely what I needed to drive me forward.

Not that I really needed it. By now, I was addicted to my own progression, and I knew that, even without a proverbial mountain to climb, I would continue to improve. Not so that I could survive, which was a powerful motivator in and of itself, but rather, I would progress for progression’s sake. I enjoyed it, and if I was completely honest with myself, I had to acknowledge that, without that constant quest for improvement, I would have no idea what to do with the bulk of my time.

Patrick might have his hobbies. But me? Everything else paled next to the constant and verifiable improvement I could see on my own status as well as when my nature inevitably led me into fights with…well…everyone. Or at least that’s how it felt. I’d never set out to be abrasive or combative, but that’s how everyone interpreted my absolute refusal to let other people walk all over me.

And maybe I was a bit trigger happy, but that was just the world in which we lived. Anything else would simply invite challenge, which would inevitably lead to death. Maybe not my own, but the people I cared about – like Patrick – weren’t quite as durable as I was. It wouldn’t take my enemies long to reason that, if they couldn’t get to me, then those close to me would probably do just as well in getting me to do whatever it was they wanted me to do.

As I sat there, I sighed.

In the past few weeks, I’d discovered that I wasn’t quite as powerful – at least in the grand scheme of the universe – as I thought I was. Earth – and its people – was in its infancy, and established powers like the Dingyts or the Pacificians were more than any of us could handle. Perhaps that was the source of my uncle’s fatalistic outlook on the future. He’d seen far more than I had, and it was probable that he knew what awaited us in the wider universe. A bit of negativity was expected when that was hanging over your head.

But I wouldn’t fall into that trap. I couldn’t let myself. Not again. It had already poisoned my memories of Nova City – back then, I only let myself see the bad side of the city – and I wouldn’t let it infect anything else. I didn’t like the person I became when I looked at the world like that. No – I wouldn’t let it happen. Not again.

Those thoughts and much more flitted through my mind as I watched the city. Eventually, one day became two, and two days became a week. Still, I watched, taking breaks only for necessities like food and sleep. Even then, I didn’t let the mountaintop city out of my sight for more than an hour or two at a time.

And by the dawn of the second week, my vigilance finally bore fruit when I saw a transport descend from the peak to the outpost at the base of the mountain. There, I watched a group of brown-robed men and women – a first for that color – being ushered into a series of waiting trucks. Soon after that, the latest caravan set off from the city.

I followed, at least as much for the novelty as because I thought I’d exhausted the opportunities for new information to be gained by simply observing the city. So, I hopped on the Cutter, disguised it as a hoverbike that looked like it could barely run, and began tailing the new convoy.

They led me on a twisting path through the mountains for half a day until, at last, they reached another camp. However, this one was unlike any of the others. Cut into the side of a mountain, it was guarded by high walls, a powerful Mist shield, and enough blue-robed guards to make even me blanch.

But what made it different wasn’t the stout defenses. Instead, what alarmed me was the fact that all of those defenses were faced inward, as if they were intended to keep something in, rather than out.

Had I stumbled upon a prison?

Or was something worse inside that mountain?

I watched as the convoy entered the high-walled settlement – it was a fortress, really – but I had to find a higher vantage point if I was going to see the goings-on inside. So, I retreated a bit, climbing a neighboring mountain before finding a cliff that gave me a good vantage point. By that time, the convoy had already come and gone, but that was okay. I didn’t intend to leave anytime soon, and I felt certain that another opportunity to find out what was going on would soon present itself.

So, after letting Patrick know what was going on via our Secure Connection – I really did take that ability for granted, now – I settled in to continue my surveillance. As it turned out, the settlement was more of a slave camp than a prison, but the method of control was just as insidious as what I’d found outside my first Rift.

There, I’d found aliens that used a combination of slave implants, the positive reinforcement of chemical manipulation, and isolation to achieve total, unthinking obedience. Back then, I’d considered it foolproof. Certainly, the unfortunate humans who’d been enslaved would have never considered rising up against their masters. But such a state was difficult to achieve, and it was only really possible when it started early. Trying to introduce an adult to such a method would inevitably result in less-than-optimal control.

I hated that I knew that, but aliens weren’t the only ones who dabbled in slavery. I’d seen more than my fair share of slaves during the past three years, and I’d discovered that humans were just as prone to mistreating their own as the aliens were. Perhaps they were even worse.

In any case, the Pacificians seemed to favor a different method that hinged on leveraging their slaves’ addictions to keep them in line. I saw more than one dust fiend stumbling around in a stupor. Clearly, they weren’t intended to do anything that required fine motor skills.

As limited as the addicts were, their addictions dictated that they were easily controlled – provided the drugs kept coming. And for the aliens, dust was cheap, easily manufactured, and with ingredients that were readily available. Was it foolproof? No. But it was cheap and easy to keep them coming back for more, which seemed to be what the Pacificians were looking for.

I also caught sight of a new robe color – a satiny gold – that seemed to denote someone of importance. I wasn’t sure what that meant in an egalitarian society where everyone was part of a hive mind, but people seemed to treat the androgynous figure with borderline reverence. Still, they looked almost identical to all the others, so I had no indication of what made them special.

In the end, I spent almost a week studying the camp, and though I didn’t really find anything else important, I did get a sense of the rhythm of the camp. Every other day, they received another shipment of would-be slaves. And more troublingly, I saw that, each day, they’d take a set of mangled bodies and burn them in a furnace that seemed dedicated to that purpose alone.

Whatever was going on in that mountain, it was deadly dangerous.

Was this what had happened to Cyrilla’s brother? Or was he back in that mountaintop city living the blissful life of someone who was about to be inducted into a hive mind and given a brand new body?

I didn’t know, but with my interest piqued, I needed to find out.

It seemed like the puzzle was coming together, but I still hadn’t found Caden. Nor did I know if he was in that city on the mountain or the slave camp I had been watching for the past few days. Moreover, what did the different color robes mean? Certainly, the gold robe seemed to signify importance, but what about the blue ones? The black? The brown? I had so many questions and not enough answers.

Part of me just wanted to sneak in, find the information I needed, and then take it from there. I’d done it before, after all. But my recent experience with the Dingyts haunted me. They had proven that I wasn’t as infallible as I thought. And I suspected that if I stepped out of line with the Pacificians – especially on their home turf – they wouldn’t react as well as the gnomes had.

No - I needed to keep watching. As boring as that was, I knew it gave me the best shot of accomplishing my mission. And, of course, staying alive.

So, I settled in and continued my surveillance.