Log 6: N. Gage

32 feet from Point 18 to Point 19

Nathan added that data into the calculator for his total. Because the moat wasn't a perfect circle, and because Cortex didn't know its dimensions, Nathan's task for the day was to measure its volume and calculate how much of his acid he'd need to get synthesized. To Nathan's immense luck, Gin lent out his measuring calculator, which had a laser that could quickly measure the distance between two points to 98% accuracy. While Nathan would have much preferred more certainty in the data, it was the easiest way for him to measure in a timely manner, and he couldn't have cared less if the acid's depth was 3 inches shallower than what Cortex wanted.

He walked over to Point 19, looking for a suitable spot to measure for Point 20. From his perspective, Nathan thought that he'd need about eight more points before he got a satisfactory estimate of the drained moat's volume. He'd started by gauging the depth from the castle grounds above the moat, before descending into the channel to measure from within. While not exactly a chasm, he was still ten feet into the ground, with the walls up around him, pinning him in. He had been walking around the circular crevice, stopping every few feet or so, for the last forty minutes and was nearly three quarters of the way around the castle by this point. For once, he actually felt like he was ahead of schedule.

That feeling was quickly going to go away once he figured out how much acid he'd need to create, of course, but he was going to savor this while he could.

"Oi! How's it going down there, ah?"

Nathan looked up, adjusted his goggles over his eyes, and sighed. Dingodile was leaning over the moat, grinning from ear to ear, clearly having been watching Nathan for at least a few minutes.

He shrugged. "It's going. Trying to get this thing measured for Cortex."

"Why's that?"

"We're going to fill it with acid."

Dingodile's jaw dropped, and he started chuckling. "Really? Now that's bonzer! Cook yourselves up a couple of creatures that stick their nose in the wrong place, I like it. Brio's going to slap that up?"

"No, that would be me."

Dingodile narrowed his eyes. "What-? I thought you was some sort of secretary for Cortex…wait what do you do?"

Nathan frowned. He didn't exactly need to ask why Dingodile thought that. Earlier that day, during the gathering of the Earthbound mutants, Cortex had kept the other scientists out of the discussions, and out of the room. He had claimed that it was for efficiency. Brio theorized that it was because Cortex never let any one person know the entirety of the plan, for fear of betrayal or sabotage. Gin thought that it was because Cortex might mistakenly think that the scientists would be capable of keeping up with all the moving parts. Tropy claimed it was because Cortex was a prick.

Whatever his reason was, Cortex must've gotten parched at some point, because he made a call to Nathan's communicator about halfway through the meeting.

"N. Dustrielle, go bring me some lemon-lime, won't you? Over."

"That's not my job. Over."

"Your job is what I say it is. Bring some up. Now. Over."

While Nathan was by no means unaware of the mutants' existence, it still was a bit unnerving to open the door to the atrium and see a variety of large and deadly creatures staring at him. He'd nearly dropped the cans with the initial shock of it. Some of these had been apex predators before their mutations, and even those that had started off relatively tame were equipped with immense strength and substantial enough intelligence to systematically pick apart most foes.

Of course, technically, these mutants would defer to Nathan on most general matters, but all roads led back to Cortex, of course. And Cortex had sounded angry when Nathan had initially refused, so he had figured that he'd be on his best behavior during this initial encounter. He'd walked past the group, aware of their eyes following him, and tried to control his breathing as he handed Cortex his drink.

"I…will that be all, Doctor Cortex?" He intentionally kept his tone polite and deferential.

Cortex smirked, and Nathan supposed he must've liked the tone of the question.

"Yes, of course. But be a good minion and keep your comms on high alert, just in case."

Nathan scowled as he thought about that, but figured that he'd have plenty of time to show the mutant Commandos that he was as important a member as any of the other scientists. And he could start with Dingodile…

"Well, I'm their new chemist. Cortex wanted Brio to concentrate on the mutagenic and other biochemical efforts, so he brought me on to handle some of the other chemical efforts. Fuels, propellants, other industrial type stuff. I'm kind of the go-between for Gin and Brio, if you will. Chemistry, central science, you know?"

Dingodile shook his head. "Mate, you lost me at 'chemist.'"

Nathan smirked. "No worries. Put it this way. I'm making the acid for this moat as well. I might be coming up with some fuel for the toxin spreader as well. Hell, if I have extra time, I'll see if I can come up with a better propellant for your flamethrower. Make it burn hotter and longer."

Dingodile grinned and cackled. "Now you're speaking my language, that's what I'm talking about! Don't suppose I can place an order right now, can I?"

Nathan took a deep breath. "As much as I'd love to, this acid stuff is going to take a while. I'll reach out if I can fit it in. And I'll let you know if I can't, let's say, three weeks from now. Sound okay?"

Dingodile shrugged. "Sure you're not a secretary? Seem real organized to me. But yeah, sure - wait!"

He pointed to Nathan's back. "What's that?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow and then figured out what Dingodile meant. He tugged on the strap that was draped over his shoulder and gestured behind him

"It's my hammer. Uh, Gin and I put this initial model together, though we might tweak it soon. I'm just carrying it around to get used to the weight of it. It's got some of the acid prototype in it too-"

Dingodile pumped his fist and chuckled heartily. "Okay mate, that's a hell of an idea! When this world is good and conquered, we're getting a drink, you and me, let's come up with more of them!"

"Well Gin actually came up with the…nevermind. Anyway, I don't think Cortex would object to you joining our happy hour-"

"Nah, less time I spend in that place, the better. No good for my lungs. Someone needs to take a feather duster to those halls. I've got dinner to get back to, anyway. But I'll be keeping an eye out for that message from you. Don't be forgetting that, got it?"

Nathan nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it."

It was the truth. Dingodile did have access to a flamethrower and could toss Nathan around like a ragdoll if he wanted, after all.

Dingodile waved and stalked off, and Nathan sighed, going back to his measurements. The other mutants had left a little while earlier. Most hadn't seen Nathan, or had ignored him, although Tiny had referred to him as "soda man" when he was leaving the castle. He prayed that the nickname wouldn't stick, and considered coming up with a simple, one syllable name for Tiny to remember instead.

He felt his pocket buzz, and sighed as he reached for his communicator. He prayed someone was just trying to ask a quick question or something. If he stopped his measurements now, it would take a while for him to recalibrate his current position and finish them up.

He cleared his throat and put the device to his ear. "Dustrielle speaking, over."

"Dustrielle, I thought I told you to keep your comms on high alert. Over."

"My apologies Dr. Cortex. I had gone back to measuring. Over."

"I need you here. Now. We're going to come up with the timeline for that acid moat. Over"

Nathan grimaced, mouthing "Shit" and rubbing his temples. .

"Alright, I'll be there in ten, max. Over."

"That had better be the max. Over."

Nathan rolled his eyes, saved the measurements he had taken so far, and quickly plotted a set of coordinates for him to easily come back to later. He started to walk again, knowing that it would be quicker for him to just finish the circle of the moat and climb out where he'd climbed in, rather than backtrack the entire length.

As he strode along, his brain began buzzing, accompanied by the percussion of his trudging footsteps. While making enough of the catalyst to fill the moat would be extremely challenging to pull off in a timely manner, it wasn't impossible. Nothing was impossible.

And though he still couldn't call himself a fan of Tropy, he didn't doubt Tropy's words: You'll either make the impossible possible, or Cortex will learn to live with reality.

Okay…think…Brio's toxin is a nonfactor…proportional to the moat, we'll need maybe ten gallons of it, if that…we could probably get at least two thousand gallons of the acid produced per day, if we can get enough materials for it…I could have a Lab Assistant build out another couple of machines to up that production too…if we have a year and a half to pull the whole plan off…well…I think…

He stopped as he looked ahead, squinting, trying to figure out what was blocking most of his view. As he approached the mass in the moat closer, his eyes went wide as he swore loudly.

It was a pile of various items, soaked from where they'd initially been floating, or sunk, in the water, before Cortex drained the moat. At least now he knew, for a fact, that the Lab Assistants had, indeed, actually thrown all the detritus from his room out the window.

And all of it was here.

He eyed up the pile, groaning. There was no way around it, and it was taller than he was, although not by much. It would take him probably ten minutes to retrace his steps completely around the moat again. And the ladder to get out had to be no more than fifty feet past the pile.

Nathan briefly weighed his options and sighed, swallowing his pride. He gently grabbed the hem of his lab coat, and lifted it, hoping that it wouldn't drag along any detritus, as he started to clamber onto the soaked trash. He shuddered as the mildewy smell invaded his nostrils. As his feet managed to find solid, steady footholds, he thanked his lucky stars that he probably wouldn't fall over if he kept finding books and furniture to balance on.

He released his briefly caught breath as he scaled to the top of the pile, finding a solid position at the peak. As he looked to the other side, he could see the ladder, about thirty feet away. His eyes darted around the slope of the pile, analyzing for every good foothold and plotting a path along them to keep himself from tumbling off the pile. He really didn't want to twist an ankle or something. That would be a real pain in the ass to recover from, and wouldn't exactly help out his timeline.

Let's see…book…book…chair…drawers…that clothes pile might do in a pinch…package…box…

"Whoa!"

Nathan's eyes went wide, and he felt every bone in his body go stiff. He didn't recognize that voice, and it was coming from maybe twenty feet behind him.

He spun around and felt every drop of blood drain from his face, as his breath grew cold and choppy.

"...bandicoot…?"