Cyber Core, Chapter 61: We Interrupt This Search, With Wolves

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#Log Entry: Project Day 0019 ##Addendum 54: ​

Jilalyn transmits a soft grunting sound. "All right, Joachim," she adds, after a moment. "I'd rather see the tables tipped over onto their sides, somehow. You recall how Morarin used the bench-seat as a step-stool to get up on top of the table? Over." ​

"Acknowledged, and that is an excellent suggestion. Let me get a few more nanites on that. Over." ​

I spend a clock-cycle analyzing the structural integrity of every possible configuration of the bench-tables, and eventually settle on fusing the bases of two pairs of the things, then tipping them up on their short-ends so the tabletops barricades the door. It's not as stable as I would like, serving mostly as a visual deterrent considering how I can seal the doors from all four edges of the frame. Though, of course, even if the Fuin-Braetehls do pursue Jilalyn into the foyer, the barriers will certainly delay the larger and bulkier Human boys, which will give her and the others some precious extra time to run through the stairwell door and start on their way down to the valley-floor. ​

"All right, everyone, I'm going to set up the first-stage barrier just inside the door," I transmit when I've locked in the nanites' instructions. "Jilalyn, the front doors and path further into the foyer will stay open and clear for you, and I'll close and lock it behind you whether or not the Fuin-Braetehls are in pursuit. Over." ​

"What do you need us to do, Jilalyn? Joachim?" Scinjir asks. "Over." ​

"Do you have any ranged weapons or spells?" Jilalyn asks. "I wasn't sure about the magic, and we haven't really gotten a chance to discuss whatever other wonders from his homeland Joachim may have shared with you." ​

Scinjir releases an audible gasps, and I can see him clapping his hands over his mouth by way of at least two of the foyer-monitoring cameras. "The slingshots!" he gasps. "The paintballs! I completely forgot about them!" ​

"Lucky we both decided to keep them with us as part of our 'first watch' duties," Snatdrure adds. "But I seem to recall that you're the one between the two of us who took advantage of Joachim's offer to fabricate ones with more than just paint, Scinjir..." ​

Jilalyn transmits a strangled sigh, audibly grinding her teeth for a moment before she gets herself back under control. "Why don't you three give me another 20 breaths to make myself comfortable, before I sit through what I am by now certain will be an absolutely enthralling explanation of what a 'slingshot' is, as well as what 'paintballs' are." ​

##Addendum 55: ​

I have to give everyone credit. Snatdrure and Scinjir for managing to 'translate' the basic concept of a 'slingshot' into terms with which Jilalyn is already familiar. The principles of 'paintballs', however... ​

"Those... sound extremely interesting," she admits, most of her previous rancor forgotten. "I wouldn't necessarily have had much use for them, myself, during a recon-mission like this. However, it would have been quite a relief to have them up here and giving me cover from the ridgetop, or the foyer itself. Over." ​

"Understood, and agreed, Jilalyn," Snatdrure sighs back. "Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that we really need to know what those last two Fuin-Braetehls are carrying, I would tell you to abort the mission so we all could get some shut-eye someplace safe and leave those Human-boys to whomever wants to take the next watch. Over." ​

"So why don't we do that now, anyway?" Scinjir asks. "Jilalyn, aren't you getting kind of tired by this point, even with that wake-me-up tea from an hour ago? Over." ​

"I'm good for searching these last two and getting back to my bunk afterward, thanks, Scinjir," she answers. "As long as I get it done quickly. And I have to do this to make sure we know what we're up against with them. It doesn't seem too likely, but they may have some magical way to track Ulotamph. If that's the case, we may not be able to trick them as easily as we did those other two. Over." ​

"Argh," Scinjir sends back. "I really wish I had a better answer to that than I hate how much sense you make. Over." ​

"Just make sure that the Fuin-Braetehls don't get me if I have to run for the foyer, and I'll call it even," Jilalyn responds with a restrained chuckle. "Now, I'm about to drift out and search Number Five. Are you two ready to back me up if I need you to? Over." ​

"We'll make our way to cover behind the tables, then let you know when we're in position," Snatdrure tells her. "Over." ​

"What paintballs will you use, just out of curiosity? Over." ​

"Sudryal was the one who wanted to see what Joachim could squeeze inside the things, Jilalyn," Snatdrure says. "Thakhibi and me, we took the sensible option and just got some shaped stones suitable for hunting. Over." ​

Jilalyn lets five breaths pass before responding, "I take it that you... disapproved of whatever Scinjir chose? Over." ​

"I like smoke-bombs!" the Gnome protests. "And I want to see how well the colors show up!" ​

I watch him cross his arms and set his jaw, staring at the front doorway for lack of a better target for his huff. ​

Snatdrure elbows him. He glares back at her, but adds, "Over." ​

"Well, even a relatively small smoke-bomb in the right place could work well enough," Jilalyn responds. "We'll just have to hope that both of you are good enough shots that you don't hit me by accident. Over." ​

##Addendum 56: ​

While Jilalyn resumes her superb impersonation of a wisp of ground-fog and Scinjir and Snatdrure settle into position into their chosen hiding-spots near the foyer's front door, I decide that I can spare a clock-cycle or two to focus on the pre-programmed 'defense protocols' for the structure. ​

The relevant file-packets include, among many other things, a series of simple analysis processes that go over the relevant data I have regarding terrain, climate, stores of gathered raw materials, levels of manufacturing capability unlocked and brought online, and what I've managed to assemble for the physical structure of the building as a whole. There are a few other things relevant to determining how close my structure is to wholly-theoretical 'ideal defensive posture', but judging by the number of those that require reports from other processes, I decide to simply trigger the whole 'analysis suite' to run in sequence. ​

That's one clock-cycle consumed. ​

The next one gets spent on going over current status reports. Fancy Hat and Big Hands have made their way down to the fourth sub-level; according to the closest monitoring-rock, they haven't changed position in almost half an hour. What the monitoring-rock can pick up of their conversation leaves me about 76.39% certain that they're arguing, based on their respective vocal-tones and how often they speak, or shout, over each other. And, like I told Scinjir, it's challenging to pick out meaning from their somewhat distinctive version of Trade Tongue, even without whatever soil or forest-debris might have clogged their mouths when I first heard them and the rest of their group for the first time. ​

Is one of them demanding that they just call it a day and rest for a while? Do either of them even suspect that they've been trapped in any way, or are they still mystified by how they can't seem to get any closer to the two love-birds? ​

Heck, have they even noticed that the Labyrinth has no trace of deer-meat scent whatsoever, let alone of any other living things beside themselves? ​

I look over the record of what the rocks' proximity-sensors have showed me about their travels through the Labyrinth. I expect that the two of them are probably pretty cranky from going up and down and all around as much as they have, while never seeming to quite catch up to their 'targets'. With any luck, they'll just find some way to make themselves as comfortable as possible and get the rest that they passed up when they first decided to investigate the 'mysterious structure'. ​

Still, though, I make sure that the transceiver-units embedded in the Labyrinth walls closest to the 'exterior' doors leading out of my sub-surface structures still have power, and that the doors themselves are firmly locked. I also task a group of nanites to head for a point in the Labyrinth, along the cliff wall and halfway between the main subterranean structure on the lowest level and the furthest extent of gallery-excavation. I'm not trying to truly entomb the boys, so I feel obliged to at least let them have some water and food; they'll find a 'refreshment station'... eventually. ​

##Addendum 57: ​

Once I return more of my attention to the activities on the surface, I review the recent video-footage from the exterior security cameras to make sure I have missed nothing of significance. ​

It turns out that Jilalyn has completed her fifth search and returned to the safety of the foliage; again, at least three Jilalyn-paces away from where she had exited. I 'breathe' a silent sigh of relief; aside from the last Fuin-Braetehl rolling over on his ground-cloth to facing south again, nothing seems to have changed. ​

Jilalyn recovers her breath, taking 4.28 minutes to do so. At a guess, she really is running out of steam, even allowing for the brief 'snack break' she had allowed herself earlier. ​

"Jilalyn?" Scinjir transmits, peeking around the edge of the picnic-table to try and get a decent view of the Fuin-Braetehl 'camp'. "Joachim? What's going on out there?" ​

"Jilalyn has successfully completed searching the fifth target, Scinjir," I say, keeping my voice calm. "She's taking some time to regain her strength. Over." ​

Two sharp clicks sound over the channel. ​

Snatdrure breathes a sigh of relief. "Good, good," she responds. "Just one more and you can come on back inside..." ​

Three sharp clicks cut her off, followed by more rapid breathing. ​

"What the..." Scinjir manages, before three more sharp clicks sound. ​

All I can see from my cameras, even with the limited IR-sensitivity I've managed to cobble together, is what might be glimpses of Jilalyn's cloak, or gloves, or possibly boots through gaps in the foliage. I engage in the virtual equivalent of fiddling with one setting after another with all the feather-light touches, finally getting a composite image of Jilalyn making her way up the trunk of a tree to at least 10 meters above the ground. ​

"She appears to be... climbing?" I transmit. "I'd point out which tree she's in, but I'm not sure how well either of you can see it from where you are..." ​

"Forest wolves," Jilalyn finally manages to gasp, possibly from reaching a height where the Fuin-Braetehls won't be able to easily reach her even if they could pick out her position from all the other trees in the vicinity. ​

"Oh, no...!" Snatdrure whispers. ​

My cameras pick up Scinjir's lips peeling back from his teeth, eyes widening about as far as they'll go. ​

"Joachim... If there are more wolves than Orks out there, we may need to bring them inside for their own safety... Over..." Snatdrure breathes, the reluctance clear in her tone. ​

"Their safety?" Scinjir snaps back? "What about ours?!?" ​

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