"Before we start," I said. "I'm hoping you can help me find some people."
"Of course," Captain Smith said. "Give their names to Pat here once we're done, she'll be happy to check them against our records and put out the word. See if anyone has heard anything. Won't you Pat?"
"Of course, Sir," She said. "Not an issue."
"First thing most folks want to know," the captain continued. "We even started up a bit of a census, tried to get a count and the names of everyone in the camp. Tiller here is working on a program, trying to catalogue skill and feats. It's very promising."
Sergeant Tiller nodded his head but didn't say anymore.
"Now, back to why you're here," the captain said.
The captain's chair groaned as he sat back. He looked over at Catayla and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "You were sent here, yes?"
Catayla stepped forward, clasping her hands in front of her before giving a small bow.
"My mission was to escort Finn as far the bridge. Enroute I was given additional orders to contact the residents of Charleston, and to assess the situation here."
"Assess?" Pat raised an eyebrow. Sher raised her shoulders and placed a hand on one of her knives.
"Let's not jump to conclusions, now Pat," said Captain Smith. "To what end were you tasked with making contact?"
"I am part of a force of Peacekeepers assigned the duty of containing and destroying eldritch lifeforms, and to enforce the quarantine zone. The Peacekeepers wish to discuss the requirements of that quarantine, and to offer some assistance in return."
"Eldritch Lifeforms?" The captain asked. "You mean all these monsters running around?"
Catayla nodded. "Yes, we can provide some assistance against them."
"That's it?" Said the captain. "What kind of assistance are we talking about?"
"I'm not qualified to negotiate or to make any promises. Material aid, mostly. Equipment, maybe even some training. My only role, however, is only to make initial contact, and to facilitate the invitation of a representative."
"All right," the captain said. "We'll discuss the timing and size of such an envoy. Not right now though. I need to discuss this with my advisors. Pat?"
"If you'll come with me," Pat said. "Rooms have already been prepared for you."
After we left the dining room Pat gave me a pen and a sheet of paper and asked me to write down the names of the people I was looking for. I quickly jotted down a note and passed it back. She took the paper and glanced at it before handing it off to one of her men.
Without another word to me the blonde woman looked over at Catayla and extended her arm, pointing forward.
"If you'll come with me," she said.
Catayla and I followed, but we were split up at the stairs. I considered insisting I stay with Catayla, but after hesitating for a moment I realized that I didn't have a good reason to object. Did I expect we would share a room? Since the scout went along with it I decided not to protest.
Pat escorted Catayla to a room on a higher floor, while a guard led me down an access hatch and through a dark narrow hallway. After less than a minute of walking we reached a door and the guard grunted as he pushed it open. I walked in, closing the door behind me, and taking note of the fact that the guard was still outside.
The room was small, no more than two meters wide and three long. It had low slanted ceilings that tilted downward toward the back of the room. The walls were smoke gray, and a small cot was unfolded against the far wall taking up half the space of the room. With the cot unfolded the door to the small cabin couldn't open all the way.
A sliding door led to a bathroom with almost enough room for me to sit down without my knees touching the sink. Not the Ritz, but it would do I thought. For now.
My mind was restless, so I decided to amuse myself by levitating objects with my mage hand skill. I feared what sleep might bring, so I resisted it. With my increased physical stats, I could probably pull an all-nighter – I'd done it plenty of times before the system.
I found a towel and began practicing folding and unfolding it using only the mage hand spell. The difficulty gradually lessened and after an hour I had leveled the skill to its third level. The single FP I gained reminding me of the need to learn new skills. I was so close to completing inspiration, and I found myself anxious to see the results.
I had a gut feeling that inspiration could help me with whatever was corrupting my mind. It could just be wishful thinking, but I didn't have anything else to go on.
What I needed was a place where I could witness others practicing skills – even better if I could convince them to use those skills against me. The apocalypse may have been turning me into a masochist.
I continued to practice mage hand, the rhythmic sound of cotton folding and unfolding was calming and the repetitive actions had a meditative quality to them. I let my mind drift off and the process became automatic. I soon lost track of how many times I folded the towel but sometime during the night I was rewarding with a status message.
Congratulations! The skill Mage Hand © has increased in level (4/10).
The message startled me. Why was I doing this? I was blindly chasing inspiration, hoping for a deus ex machina, but while doing so I was allowing my mind to be corrupted. I had to continue to find ways not only to stop the damage but to identify the memories already corrupted.
I was being stupid, it had to stop.
It was possible that small changes had been made that I was completely unaware of.
I sat down on my small cot, my legs resting on the floor and my back resting against the bulkhead.
I focused on my memories and closed my eyes. Time to begin.
***
A light rap on the door woke me.
At some point I had fallen asleep, still sitting on the bed with my back against the wall.
"Who is it?" I protested.
"It's Tiller," A voice said from outside my door. "We met last night, may I come in?"
I made him wait for me as I splashed some water on my face and struggled back into my jumpsuit. The floor was cold, and the water never got above room temperature. Not ideal, but it woke me up.
I opened the door and walked out of the cramped room. I wasn't surprised to find a guard, dressed in camo pants, and reeking of body odor, standing outside my door.
"Maybe we could do this out somewhere else?" I said. "Not a lot of room in there, or out here," I looked toward the guard with a slight frown. He didn't seem to notice.
"Besides, my legs could use a stretch."
"Actually, that's perfect" Tiller said. "Would you mind going to my office? I was hoping we could speak about something."
"Sure, I don't mind. Think you could answer a few questions as well?"
"Of course," he said. "What did you want to know?"
"Last night, Smith said you've been recording skills? Would it be possible to take a look?"
"It might be possible," his smile was a shade of white generally only seen in Hollywood or toothpaste commercials. "It's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Anything in particular you're looking for?"
"Lucid dreaming," I said. "Hypnotism, meditation or anything to do with attacking or defending the mind."
"I'll tell you what, if you're willing to give me a breakdown of your skills and feats, how you got them, what they do, general thoughts based on your experience with them... I could let you take a look at what I've collected already."
"Deal." I said. "Have you collected any info on classes?"
"Not a bit," Tiller's shoulders sagged slightly. "I don't suppose you've got any ideas?"
"I've learned a few things, but nothing useful in the short term."
Before we left I asked the guard to let Pat know that I would be with Tiller, in case she had any success tracking down any of the people on my list. He didn't seem pleased, but he accepted with a curt nod.
Tiller led me through the passageways of the ship. We chatted as we walked. Mostly about skills and Tiller's theories on how they functioned. I found myself liking Tiller. His casual enthusiasm about everything seemed in stark contrast to reality, but I found it a welcome reprieve from all the doom and gloom. The constant seriousness of everyone around me had started to wear on me.
Tiller's 'office' was located on shore at the old Port Authority building. I noticed that none of the guards gave me any trouble as we left the ship, something I was sure wouldn't have happened if I was alone. Tiller seemed to hold a high position with the survivors, I just wasn't sure what it was yet.
The office itself had a single long table stacked with books and various materials. Tiller had collected a wide range of weapons and armor, all stacked neatly on the table. Bookshelves were built into the walls, but the shelves now mostly held vials of brightly colored liquids. One disturbing shelf seemed to hold pieces of monsters, or at least I hoped they were monsters. Eyes floated in a jar, teeth and scales were laid out neatly in a row next to a massive horn heavy enough that it would have snapped the neck of a bull.
"This is it," Taylor said, pulling a large leather-bound book from one of the shelves. "The result of my research since the system took over. It has every skill we've learned about, and notes about how they work and interact with other skills. I've also included observations about the new fauna and flora and some of the gear we've collected."
"You some kind of military scientist, Tiller?" I asked.
"What no, yeah, I was military," Tiller said. "I'm an Air Force imaging tech. I take x-rays. Or at least I did, most of that equipment doesn't work anymore."
"This," Tiller waved his hand around indicating his collection. "This is more like a hobby, just one the boss has taken an interest in, is all."
"Mind if I take a look?" I asked while picking up the book.
"No, go ahead."
As I read through the book I told tiller what I knew about skills and classes. He was fascinated by Talith's theories on specialization and how they related to skills and classes. I briefly went over my own skills with him, as well. I held back on some of the details, my own paranoia creeping up on me again. Tiller spent the whole time rotating between asking me quesions and furiously writing in a spiral notebook.
"This," I suddenly said, interrupting Tiller in the middle of one of his questions. "Who has this?"
Tiller took the book from me and looked at the description before frowning.
"That might be a little tricky," he said. "She values her privacy, and I doubt she'd want visitors demanding she show off her skills."
"This is important, Tiller. Life or death, literally."
"Look," he said. "I can talk to her, but you're going to have to give me a day or two."
I reluctantly agreed, before starting to look through the book again. Tiller asked me a few more questions, but his inquiries seemed to be slowing down.
"How about this one?" I said.
Tiller leaned in and read the description, smiling. "That one I can do. Come on, I'll take you over to meet my uncle. We've been at this for a while and he'll be looking for me around lunch time, anyway."
"Sounds perfect," I said with a grin.