King Ruin: A Thriller (Ruins Sonata Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Michael John Grist
in vitro, making mud-castles. At least they could have got some decent mud, I mean look at this stuff. It stinks. It's indecent."
They climb and Ray keeps talking. As they rise the water grows deeper, the mud thicker and riper, until all the walls are running with dirty water and droplets fall like waterfall rain down the ladderways. Doe's footprints begin to appear in the brown sludge before them, a straight path of perfect strides leading upward, and La speaks from the back.
"Thank you Ray."
He turns back, stopping his diatribe for a moment. La is looking at him like she's a real person.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Maybe," she says. She looks at her sister, squeezes her hand then lets it go, and reaches to her hip where the QC parabolic rests. "But we haven't heard anything from Doe since she left." she takes a long shuddery breath, and it's clear how much effort this is taking her. We don't know what's up there. We should be armed."
Ray grins, feels the old sense coming back more naturally now, and reaches for the parabolic at his own hip. This is how it should be, a proper chord working together. "So let's arm ourselves."
He stops talking, but it seems OK because now there's a new sound rumbling up from the depths, far below where the screw runs the keel of the sublavic. The engines are turning over, trying to catch.
"That must be Doe," he says back to them.
"It's not catching," Ti answers. "I should go down and check." She stops and starts to turn, but Ray grabs her arm.
"Not like that," he says. "Not again. You don't want to drown in this shit." He points at the muddy water underfoot, halfway up their ankles now and sucking at every step.
Ti's face flickers, perhaps a flicker of recognition for the last fate she met, then she smiles. "OK, I'll stick around. We'll ask Doe."
Ray is only too glad for this diffusion of responsibility. "Exactly, let's ask Doe."
The engines churns and sputters a few more times, then stall and are quiet. Ray leads them up the last ladder to the con, where Doe is standing with mud slathering her arms, chest, and face like a mask. Bits of it cling to her bleach-white hair like grimy dew.
She spreads her arms in resignation. Up here the sound of pouring water is louder than ever. "There's no mission folder," she says. "I looked in all the lockers I could reach."
She points down the hall to the captain's box, where all the locker doors are hanging open, blasted full of holes by QC fire.
"You didn't mess around, did you?" Ray asks. So laughs.
"The engine won't kick, I think it's clogged. All I can see out the periscope is black, swirling and turning. We're not in any Molten Core I've ever seen before."
"We're not in any Molten Core at all," says Ti. "The screw would work, if we were. There's nothing to clog in liquid rock, it's what it's designed for."
"So where are we?" So asks.
"Somewhere else," Ti says. She points up at the exit hatch. "Open that and find out."
They all look up. Ray remembers what happened when last they came this way. Ti was already lost. La was soon to go. Me smashed through the bricks, and the chord made for the Solid Core on grapnels of elasteel, leaving one dead tone behind.
All the gear is there. Ray doesn't know what they'll need, so he points to it all.
"Gear up."
They take QC parabolics, elasteel and grapnels, candlebomb wax and more fuse than before from the webbing affixed around the conning tower walls. Doe winks as Ray takes an extra reel of fuse.
"I need all my fingers," he says.
They harness up, HUDs on, and Doe mounts her shoulder cannon, two outsized parabolics at her waist, and slots a sawn-off musket and bayonet blade into a sheath down her thigh. Ray bundles a pop-tent, oxygen and other gas canisters, provision packs, Durance kits and flashlights, while So lumbers on the comm. gear, and La and Ti hastily slick muck off the ruckbags holding all their scientific equipment.
"Hear me, one two, one two," Ray says over blood-mic, into
They climb and Ray keeps talking. As they rise the water grows deeper, the mud thicker and riper, until all the walls are running with dirty water and droplets fall like waterfall rain down the ladderways. Doe's footprints begin to appear in the brown sludge before them, a straight path of perfect strides leading upward, and La speaks from the back.
"Thank you Ray."
He turns back, stopping his diatribe for a moment. La is looking at him like she's a real person.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Maybe," she says. She looks at her sister, squeezes her hand then lets it go, and reaches to her hip where the QC parabolic rests. "But we haven't heard anything from Doe since she left." she takes a long shuddery breath, and it's clear how much effort this is taking her. We don't know what's up there. We should be armed."
Ray grins, feels the old sense coming back more naturally now, and reaches for the parabolic at his own hip. This is how it should be, a proper chord working together. "So let's arm ourselves."
He stops talking, but it seems OK because now there's a new sound rumbling up from the depths, far below where the screw runs the keel of the sublavic. The engines are turning over, trying to catch.
"That must be Doe," he says back to them.
"It's not catching," Ti answers. "I should go down and check." She stops and starts to turn, but Ray grabs her arm.
"Not like that," he says. "Not again. You don't want to drown in this shit." He points at the muddy water underfoot, halfway up their ankles now and sucking at every step.
Ti's face flickers, perhaps a flicker of recognition for the last fate she met, then she smiles. "OK, I'll stick around. We'll ask Doe."
Ray is only too glad for this diffusion of responsibility. "Exactly, let's ask Doe."
The engines churns and sputters a few more times, then stall and are quiet. Ray leads them up the last ladder to the con, where Doe is standing with mud slathering her arms, chest, and face like a mask. Bits of it cling to her bleach-white hair like grimy dew.
She spreads her arms in resignation. Up here the sound of pouring water is louder than ever. "There's no mission folder," she says. "I looked in all the lockers I could reach."
She points down the hall to the captain's box, where all the locker doors are hanging open, blasted full of holes by QC fire.
"You didn't mess around, did you?" Ray asks. So laughs.
"The engine won't kick, I think it's clogged. All I can see out the periscope is black, swirling and turning. We're not in any Molten Core I've ever seen before."
"We're not in any Molten Core at all," says Ti. "The screw would work, if we were. There's nothing to clog in liquid rock, it's what it's designed for."
"So where are we?" So asks.
"Somewhere else," Ti says. She points up at the exit hatch. "Open that and find out."
They all look up. Ray remembers what happened when last they came this way. Ti was already lost. La was soon to go. Me smashed through the bricks, and the chord made for the Solid Core on grapnels of elasteel, leaving one dead tone behind.
All the gear is there. Ray doesn't know what they'll need, so he points to it all.
"Gear up."
They take QC parabolics, elasteel and grapnels, candlebomb wax and more fuse than before from the webbing affixed around the conning tower walls. Doe winks as Ray takes an extra reel of fuse.
"I need all my fingers," he says.
They harness up, HUDs on, and Doe mounts her shoulder cannon, two outsized parabolics at her waist, and slots a sawn-off musket and bayonet blade into a sheath down her thigh. Ray bundles a pop-tent, oxygen and other gas canisters, provision packs, Durance kits and flashlights, while So lumbers on the comm. gear, and La and Ti hastily slick muck off the ruckbags holding all their scientific equipment.
"Hear me, one two, one two," Ray says over blood-mic, into
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