Chapter 7 – Pickled Demon
"I don't understand what the point of the Barracks track to Delta is" said Swann. "It's roughly the same length as the direct route…"
"Security" replied Spencer simply. "If someone tries to get into Delta that doesn't have access, they get shunted to the Barracks instead. Means we get to find out who it is, what their motives are, and whether they actually pose a threat. Or it's just another person who pushed the wrong button…"
"I told them last time I was here to wall off Delta Labs access behind a hand-print instead of asking afterward!" fumed Swann. "You know, so there are no more accidental unverifieds. Looks like they followed my suggestion as well as I could expect."
"It's Mars" said Spencer. "They think because the Board and shareholders are hundreds of millions of miles away, they can be sloppy."
"I'm here to bring accountability" snarled Swann, suddenly angry. "The Board's fed up with Betruger's ever-increasing budget with no results and all sorts of strange, unexplained happenings. We aren't going to wait around forever—the clock's run out and someone either shows me something today or there will be hell to pay!"
And those creatures crossing over from wherever he's actually doing his work are dangerous. Either we find a way to contain them or the whole place gets shut down!
The pair zoomed through the Barracks without stopping—Swann's authentication didn't need to be checked again. One uneventful trip later, the lawyer and the soldier arrived at Delta Labs.
"Handprint, retinal, you know the drill" droned a bored checkpoint operator.
"Back to the pickled brain room, huh?" said Spencer.
Moving forward, there were indeed various samples preserved in fluid, everything from imp claws to entire "hell knights"—massive beasts towering at ten feet or more in height with enough musculature to brutally crush prey or those who were foolish enough to attack it.
Swann's impatience showed through. "I've seen all this before. Take me back to the teleporter rooms!"
"At least I got off the sample teams. I'd almost rather go back to showing students Secondary Artifact Storage than that…"
"Where's your sense of adventure?" asked Swann jovially. "Join the Marines, see Mars!"
"And get plasma thrown at you" replied Spencer, unimpressed. "Not anywhere on the recruiting poster!"
"You and me both" replied the lawyer. "You don't like getting jumped by imps, and I don't like paying out hazard claims or, heaven forbid, death settlements. Look at all this!"
He gestured to the dozens upon dozens of tanks holding various demons in whole or in part.
"Doesn't Betruger have enough pieces by now?"
"That's the point, kid" growled Swann. "He has more than enough pieces. He could probably stitch half of these back together and have himself a nice little army!"
"I assume the Board knows about this?"
"For your own sake, I can't tell you." Swann looked like he did want to say more but was restrained, somehow. "Suffice it to say that the Board is not happy with the pricetag of what was supposed to be a slam-dunk profit after we dug up the first useful artifacts."
Further identification was required in order to access the Teleportation Wing.
"This would have been the salvation of mankind" sighed Swann, almost sounding nostalgic. "But then we find out the dimension we're teleporting through takes the worst parts of most religions and makes them real—hell itself! And…things…live there."
"I don't know why people bother trying to keep this a secret" said Spencer. "I mean, someone sent out a base-wide email detailing findings about imp arms and how better defenses were being created. If you're going to try to pretend there aren't any monsters here, that's not the way to do it."
"Ah, here we are."
A small ring sat on a similarly-sized table. Several yards away, an identical ring—vertical, mounted in a half-circle frame attached to a base. Both had thick cables protruding, connected to multi-cell plasma-based power units brought straight from EnPro to meet their voracious energy needs.
Swann casually tossed a small foam ball left near the experiment through the first ring—it appeared instantly from the second, retaining velocity and vector. Notably, white foam now looked red, and it became wet to the touch.
"Still haven't figure that out yet, huh? Nobody likes blood on their deliveries!"
The inspector took note of several large crates he'd seen on his last tour being absent. Pointing this out, he said to Sergeant Spencer "I hope that means he's actually making real progress this time!"
"The last time there was progress, I got sent through a portal to hell!"
