Song: Sound of Silence, written by Paul Simon, sung by Simon & Garfunkel, although the version I favor is Disturbed's cover.
Stargate SG-1 Episode referred to: The Torment Of Tantalus.
Chapter 11: Skytemple-One
He had his exploratory team. J'zargo and, mind-blowingly, Master Baladas, who demanded to come along since it was his money they were using that was funding the team and support crew. Plus, if they did find something dangerous, he could teleport them out to the location beacon he'd set up in the college courtyard.
The fourth member was going to be…
"Master Curtis. Master Colette told me I'd find you here. I'm Ilya. I'll be joining your group into the Skytemple ruins."
Curtis put down the basting brush and cocked his head as he looked the Nord woman up and down. She was of average height, had a powerlifter's build, and was dressed in a restoration novice's robe. She looked to be in her 40s and held herself like ex-military. Her tone was crisp and no-nonsense.
"You will, will you? Who says?" he challenged.
The woman smiled humorlessly. "It was an option? I had a long review of my past with Masters Tolfdir and Urag, and then they gave me this as my first assignment in the College to help pay for my lessons the rest of the year. I was not aware that I had to seek your permission."
"Oh. Okay," said Curtis, backing down immediately. The college, or, Tolfdir, had strict conditions on this project. First, they wanted someone "sensible" on the team. Evidently, Ilya was their choice. Curtis had never heard of her nor seen her around town before today.
"You're new here, aren't you, though?"
"I arrived a month ago. I'd just mustered out of my post in The Reach. The Reach, if you haven't heard, has left both the Empire and Skyrim."
"Damn, the rumors are true then. The civil war is over."
"More or less." The woman shrugged. "Unless the Stormcloak and the Emperor can't come to an agreement or someone succeeds in killing either of them. Howsoever it goes, I'm out of it now. My last big battle was against the Volkihar vampires. After going through their dungeons and mercy killing the poor souls there, I decided to come home and learn something else beyond the sword. I was tired of being a soldier. I'd already been practicing as a field medic for my camp. Thought I'd learn more at this college. The dying is mostly over. Healing…" she shrugged.
"A month you say? In restorations? I can't claim to know everybody at the college, but I don't recall seeing you around and though Colette's students are a minority bunch they've all been working as medics for the Shoreline Reclamation Project."
"I was accepted into the college this past week. I applied a month ago but couldn't pass the entrance challenge. Used most of my muster-out pay to buy the challenge spell, buy the magic boosting potions to be able to power the spell, and pay an apprentice to tutor me on basic power sensing, collecting, and focusing. Earned extra coin while I was doing that doing field patrol work for the Winterhold guards."
"Going at it the hard way. The Argonians would have hired you as a medic even if you weren't yet a college student. Basic first aid, triage, monitoring supplies — that kind of stuff."
She sighed, giving him a glimpse of how tired she was. "I had thought of that and, yes, it would have been a good way to prove my intentions and maybe get free tutoring from the healer students there. But… I may be retired from active service in the Stormcloaks, I still have obligations that have required me to travel between here and Windhelm.
"But this job, if I survive, pays off in a year of free tuition and supplies to learn. It's not my goal to make a master healer. I just need to know enough."
Curtis went back to basting the ribs, sliced off a piece of warmed fatty meat, and walked over to the turnspit wheel. The short-legged little dog briskly trotting therein yipped happily as Curtis put a hand on the wheel to slow it to a halt. "Good boy. That's enough." He scratched it behind the ears and fed it the meat. Ilya helped him unload the ribs spit then load a new spit with flat cages holding various vegetables. Another treat to the dog, and it went back to work turning the vegetables over the fire.
"How'd you get involved with this project?" he asked Ilya.
"Master Colette. She wanted to know my past experiences. Must have found something because she made the Master of Wizards and the Librarian come talk with me."
"You have experience exploring Dwemer ruins?"
"Not specifically, no. I've been inside them but wasn't required to explore them thoroughly. Hunting bandits, deserters, temporary storage — those were usually confined to the upper levels. Rarely deep enough to encounter the big metal monsters or Falmer."
"But chasing Forsworn and other desperadoes through dark tunnels is just as dangerous," said Curtis, grinning.
"And the occasional vampire, yes, sera, I think so."
"So what have you been told about his project? Can't be too much, and I have to say I'm a bit peeved you got shoved in at the last minute. I've had to refuse some good people because Tolfdir told me I had to reserve a spot for someone they chose."
"I've been told very little, sera, but there's plenty of talk to be heard in town. A hidden Dwemer place. A possible connection to ancient Saarthal and an ancient power that I'm told nearly destroyed what's left of Winterhold.
"I was told that my job is to be the professional sentry to two machine-mad scholars and a cat that's too fond of setting things on fire. My instruction was to make sure everyone remembered that this was exploration scouting first, research and study later. Burning the place down, much later and only after much consideration."
Curtis chuckled. "Oohhhh, yeeeaaaahhh. Tolfdir knows us so well.
"Well, the team is meeting for final review before tomorrow. You're staying for dinner, of course. Beef ribs with chicken or salmon soups on the side. Oh, that pot over there is ashhopper curry. Well, I call it 'curry' but the spices are from Morrowind and not quite the same. Ashhopper's like a giant locust. Baladas's request; he's not fond of most of Skyrim's cattle or game meats. Ashhopper's gamier and a bit stringier than mudcrab."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
Whoa. She said she was just a "soldier" and then shows up in an officer's full spiky leather and bear skull helm and cloak. Her rank? Stormblade.
The other surprise was her chosen equipment, a Dwemer shield, and two tools. Familiar tools made of non-conductive Dwemer metal. The first was a construction digging bar, a long, spear-like creation with a flat pry-bar piece on one end and the other end was a two-tine fork, one tine straight and sharp for digging and gouging and breaking into cracks while the other tine dog-legged to be another point for digging and gouging and leveraging large pieces of wood, rock, or pipes. Her second tool was what he'd known as an emergency gas and water shut-off and pry bar tool.
Dwemer. Of course. Duh. Highly industrial, underground. More, better tools than just game-standard hammers, saws, hooks, and weapons.
"Best thing when fighting Forsworn," she said. "They use lightning spells. The Dwemer stuff just shrugs it right off. Same with fire and ice and chaurus spit. I'd have had the full armor but I couldn't find anybody who could fix and refit it for me. Maybe the Orc smiths in Markarth, but they're ex-Legion and probably wouldn't have been interested in taking the job from me even if I could afford them."
"Try Riften. Balimund at the Scorched Hammer. He's the only one besides Gray-Mane in Whiterun who can get his forge hot enough to handle Dwemer metal," Curtis said without thinking.
"Oh? The Skyforge's power is legendary."
"Yeah, but Balimund found —" Curtis bit his tongue in time. That wasn't his secret to give away. "Well, the guy knows his metals."
"Still probably beyond my purse," she sighed dejectedly. "And I'm retired, so I really don't need a suit of armor anymore. I'll just polish up what I have and keep it as a souvenir of my fighting days."
"Where'd you serve?"
"I reported to Commander Kottir in the Reach. My primary duty was to work with the team from the Haafingar camp to keep watch on the elves at Northwatch and the High Rock border."
"Must have been tough watching those elves drag in people accused of Talos-worshiping and not being able to interfere."
"Mm."
OK, she didn't want to talk about it.
"So did you get your diving gear?"
"This little thing?" She held up a simple gold band ring. "I was told this is all I need to keep from drowning and freezing in the water. Does it also keep your clothes dry when you get out, or do you come out wet and only to freeze in the cold air?"
"Unfortunately, the reality is you still get wet, and the heating only works when you're underwater, so we gotta pack an extra set of dry clothes in dive bags." She nodded resignedly.
"I suppose it was too good a thing to expect it would somehow keep one's clothes dry."
"Only in game theory," he replied, chuckling. "Here's a heat ring you can have. Standard issue to all the dive teams since most of us don't have Nord resistance to cold temperatures. But even Nords find sub-zero temps deadly. First one's free; any replacements come out of your pocket."
"Of course. Thank you."
Last night, during dinner, Ilya had to repeat her history and abrupt assignment to the mission to Baladas and J'zargo. J'zargo was doubtful that a mere soldier and barely novice-level restorations student would be of much use. Baladas was more practical in his view of the usefulness of juggernauts. His questions also revealed this hero of the Stormcloaks had both a surprisingly open-minded view of other races and a sensible appreciation of magic.
The prep team had been working since dawn to clear the last of the rubble from the door. That part had been obscured by the thickest part of the glowing barnacle bed and then a thick wall of rock and sediment from the Great Collapse and years of later earth tremors. Digging had been slow, tedious, and starved of money until Baladas had provided the funds to pay for dedicated teams to work the dig.
Curtis had already been inside the room the door had opened into. As he'd expected, it was an airlock. It was damaged, allowing the sea to flood the rest of the level, which appeared, to the limited reach of their lights at the time, to be all pipes and shelves of tools and machine parts. He expected any other rooms on that level to be the same. Maintenance stuff. If they were lucky, maybe they'd find a pump system that was still worked that could clear out the water. The tough part would be recognizing such a system. That was all on him unless Baladas had come across such in his long-ago studies. Oh, well. If he couldn't find it on this first go-around, he already had a couple of Dunmer engineers eager to explore and who might recognize magic-powered pumping systems from their work on Vivec's city.
Now they were in. Ilya, weighted down by a weight belt, walked the floor. They floated behind her. She provided the muscle to shove or move obstructions with her digging bar. Curtis and J'zargo rough-mapped with oil sticks onto wax-coated parchments. Precise measurements would be done by a later team.
The next level up was also flooded, and the machines were different here. The area was thick with wiring and panels that glowed and winked. To Curtis, it was like swimming through a server farm. The water tingled unpleasantly. Here Curtis was reminded of that TV show Stargate SG-1. Funny how so many futuristic shows used crystals in their computer and power systems. Except here. Here, these were tiny soulgems. Small ones. A lot of mice, he hoped they were mice, were sacrificed to fill 'em.
It scared and saddened him to think how easy it had been for the Dwemer to move onto their fellow mer when the opportunity came. Welcome to the Dark, Falmer. Bigger gems, bigger works, enough to dream of making a brass god.
The Sound of Silence. That song haunted him as they swam after Ilya who was visible by the enchanted light bauble attached to the shield she wore on her back. "And the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made. And the sign lashed out its warning, and the words that it was forming, and the sign said…"
The third level was only half-filled, being at sea level. Conference rooms and work areas, judging by all the tables and chairs and efforts at decoration. Forges here were smaller, and the tools were designed for more delicate works. The forges were offline, so they weren't at risk of being steam poached. However, there was heat coming from somewhere, making the entire level pretty tropical.
Curtis saw the etched plaques on the wall. Recognition sparked, and everything faded as he rushed between pictures, touching them, and unconsciously muttering, "Shit, shit, really? Aw, shit, unbelievable…" and so on, until Baladas, tired of the meaningless babble, gave him a painful zap.
"Explain," he commanded.
"Fuckin' meeting place of the Ancients," said Curtis, thinking again of another Stargate SG-1 episode. "This bunch of gold pictures is your world's screwy periodic table of elements. This silver bunch, if I'm not crazy, are illustrations of string theory. Multiplanes. Alternate dimensions. Honest to god, I really can't explain any better. This is tech magic on a level way above mine. No hadron collider. How did they come up with these without computers? How could they possibly envision all this?"
Baladas frowned and studied the pictures more intently, moving onto the copper plates. Those images Curtis had nothing to reference. "Energy patterns," Baladas pronounced. "Aedric, Daedric, patterns in Mundus, patterns of Aetherius and Oblivion." His head swiveled between the images of elements to the patterns. His eyes seemed to glow as he made matches in his own comprehension. "You will have to explain to me what you comprehend of… What did you call it, 'String theory'? You are not just speaking of the different planes of Oblivion, are you?"
"No. Your world of Mundus, Oblivion, Aetherius are all still of the same enclosed plane of existence. Same house, same bubble of reality. Me, I'm from a different bubble. In the unifying magical-mystical-mathematical M-theory, there's the idea that where planes touch, there's a weakness where creatures can actually transfer or slide between planes. Guess that makes me a shadow person. I'm here, but I wasn't even born into this reality."
"You suggest that you're similar to a vestige as created by Molag Bal."
"Wrong god. Unlike a vestige, if I die, I don't come back. And I'm not a soulless shell. I'm a soul that got possession of a body that lost its soul."
"Serjo, sera," said Ilya firmly, "this would be fascinating if my ass weren't freezing in the water. I respectfully suggest you pack it, and we get back to the business of exploring and mapping this level and then finding if there's anything still alive in this tomb."