"Terrence; just hang fire for the moment!" the Administrator screamed into the microphone. "Something is going on, maybe something bad, and I mean to get to the bottom of it!"
Another comm channel bleeped, a red light above the stud showing an emergency call, and Armitage, feeling cold panic seeping through his bones, swung around to the relevant security monitor.
This time, it was a security guard; an officer. A trickle of blood seeped from a cut over his eye, his body armour was smoking and damaged, and his face was red and sweaty.
"Lieutenant Martin here, Sir; all hell's just broken loose in Brown Sector." The man's quivering voice seemed close to sheer panic. "It's like a bloody abattoir here; I've got eight casualties, six of them fatal. Two guys in robes are on the loose, and nothing seems to stop them. My number-two, Grouillard, emptied a full clip into the older one, but he was cut to pieces instead of the target. Another guard turned into dust before our eyes. Some of the others were just blown apart. It looks like they're coming straight for you, Sir. What should we do?"
The Administrator's heart pounded. He had seen what a Mage Illusionist could do, and he now had no doubt that the image of inaction that the security camera in the mage cell was nothing more than a magical illusion; somehow the Questors had escaped!
"Abort the VX run, Terrence; abort, abort, abort!" he screamed into the mike. Security has been compromised!"
Turning back to the image of the wounded security squad commander, Armitage pressed the relevant button and yelled into the microphone, "Stop them at all costs, Lieutenant. I don't care how you do it, just…"
At that moment, the door to the Control Room burst from its hinges, slamming into the chamber with such force that Armitage's ears popped. The battered, flying piece of metal neatly decapitated Santini, who fell to the floor in a spray of blood, and it smashed into a bank of equipment, sending a shower of sparks into the room.
Armitage realised his worst nightmare had come to pass as he saw the two Questors standing in the doorway, and he felt warm liquid trickling down his right leg.
The burly Technician, Muller, seized a length of metal pipe, interposing himself between the Administrator and the two robed figures.
"If you want a fight, you've got one, freaks," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You just…"
The younger mage raised a hand, and shouted a guttural, unintelligible phrase. Muller flew across the room, as if shot from the barrel of a cannon, impacting against the wall with a wet thump. He slid down the suddenly red-stained wall to the floor and lay still.
"Greetings, Armitage," the older magic-user hissed. "You have made the very worst mistake of your life by angering a pair of Guild Questors. Give my regards to He Who Reigns Below; you will be meeting him soon."
Suffused by a sick, cold sense of purest horror, the defeated Administrator covered his eyes with his right arm as the mage raised his hands above his head. He heard the thaumaturge's rising chant and prepared himself for death, but the chant stopped abruptly.
Not daring to think he had been spared by some miracle, Armitage lowered his arm a little, to see the two magic-users measuring their length on the floor. Terrence stood over the older specimen, holding a pipe-wrench, and a blond Technician stood at his side, the steel pipe in his hand.
The Administrator drew a deep, shuddering breath. After a squad of heavily-armed guards had failed to stem the relentless advance of the two Questors, the mighty mages had been defeated by simple blows to the head. A harsh laugh arose from Armitage's throat at the absurdity of the situation, rising in pitch almost into the heights of pure hysteria, and tears rolled from his eyes as he fought to control himself.
"Thank you, Terrence," he gasped, between paroxysms of cackling laughter, as he looked at the two prone figures. "What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure I don't know," the senior Technician said. "Anyway, I guess we ought to…"
His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the ten-inch length of steel that seemed to have sprouted from the centre of his chest, transfixing him to the wall.
"I…"
A fountain of blood gushed from Terrence's mouth, and he fell silent, still fixed in place by the piercing metal.
The fair-haired Technician whirled around, and Armitage looked on in renewed panic as the man spiralled to the floor, a dagger sprouting from his right eye. After a couple of twitches, he lay still, as the black-clad elven thief stepped into view.
The lifeless form of Terrence angled forward and fell to the deck as the albino, Tordun, withdrew his blade, wiping the blood from it on the fallen tech's clothes.
"Did you forget us, Armitage?" Tordun growled, whose massive, muscular bulk seemed to fill the vacant doorway. "A reckoning is due, and we are here to collect payment. If the two mages are dead, you will pay double, I assure you; they owe me payment for my participation in their Quest."
Crest knelt to the motionless figure of Grimm, and Tordun tended to Xylox, each of the warriors keeping a wary eye on the Administrator.
Armitage stepped forward, his hands outstretched in supplication. "Listen, fellows, I…"
His voice faltered to a halt as he saw the huge swordsman stepping towards him, his blade raised in a threatening manner.
"Shut up, Armitage," Tordun said. "You are not going to wriggle out of this; you are going to die. That is all there is to it. The only question is just how painful that has to be. It is up to you, my friend."
****
Technician Deeks heard alarms sounding in the distance, and he guessed the cause. This, he thought, is the time to act, while those bloated fools, Armitage and Terrence, are occupied with trying to defeat the two magic-users.
Deeks made his way from his hiding place to Lab Three, where they were holding the girl, Drexelica.
He hoped the two Questors would not make Armitage's demise an easy one. Deeks had been brought up under the thumb of the hated Administrator, and every aspect of his life had been mapped out for him since his birth, with no room for negotiation or free choice. At the age of fourteen, he had been assigned the post of Junior Computer Technician in the Behavioural Sciences department, despite his singular lack of interest or desire in that vocation. On many occasions, he had made his objections clear and unequivocal, always stopping short of outright mutiny, but to no effect.
More than once, Terrence had threatened his rebellious underling with full Pacification, the implanting of a neurotransmitter control transducer in his brain, and Deeks had seen the effects of these devices in other nonconformists; the conversion of an intelligent, feeling human into a happy, compliant zombie. They were not going to do that to him; he would kill himself before he would allow them to cut open his skull and tamper with his very personality. Deeks hoped the thaumaturges would leave Terrence alive: he wanted to oversee the painful demise of the Senior Technician himself.
He felt confident he would now be able to foment an uprising within Haven. The grey imp had given him all the ammunition he needed. Throughout the complex, Deeks knew many people who shared his views, but who had not been subjected to the full Pacification treatment because of special skills that might be lost to the treatment. Deeks knew only his facility with the computers and other lab equipment had spared him from this fate. He had undergone occasional drug treatment, but frequent applications had rendered him all but immune to the drugs' effects.
The tiny monster had wanted Deeks to transmit its message to Test Lab Six; instead, he had broadcast it throughout the entire complex, freeing many grateful slaves who must be now only too keen to join the Technician in the establishment of a new order, with their saviour, Deeks, as its head. With his hands on all the controls, the Tech would have no problem in diverting the loyalties of even the Stage Three converts to his own purposes.