Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
The man had an uncanny situational awareness. He was slightly precognizant, anticipating the enemy’s actions as well as his team’s. He could predict how and where an opponent would attack and how his people were likely to respond to it. He sensed when someone would need assistance, and he was always where he was needed the most.
His only flaw as a team leader was that occasionally he made impulsive decisions. Nine times out of ten, he reacted as expected but once in a while he would roll the dice. To his credit, he was good enough to compensate when his gamble didn’t pay off, but he’d come close to disaster a couple of times.
Malcolm was experienced and smart, and he knew the procedure. And yet he left the tunnels as they were.
Elias moved on. “Next question: why only one mining site? The protocol suggests at least three. Why this one?”
Leo frowned. “You think he found something in that cave? Something he had to have?”
“That’s the only thing that would make sense.”
Leo’s eyes flashed white. The moment he was left to his own devices, he would take a deep dive into Malcolm's life. Leo took mysteries as a personal challenge.
As the assault team leader, Malcolm had absolute authority over the gate dive. Neither the mining foreman nor the DeBRA would question his decisions. If he said something had to be done, only London could push back, and according to the records of the meeting, the escort captain had mentioned the potential vulnerability of the mining site just once and then dropped it.
In Malcolm’s place, Elias would have spent another three days on a survey and then doubled back and collapsed those tunnels. Then and only then would it have been safe to bring in the miners. Instead, Malcolm charged in, pushing the mining crew to the site as soon as the guild regulations allowed.
Elias leaned back. “Let’s say Malcolm glitched out for some reason. He gets impulsive once in a while, but London doesn’t.”
Leo nodded. “London is careful and risk averse.”
Risk averse. Interesting way to put it. Elias would have to remember that.
The XO frowned. “When the team came out with the survey, London would’ve had to sign off on it. He is the escort captain.”
“Exactly. The record says he mentioned the tunnels once and never spoke about them again. Did you ask him about it?”
“No. It didn’t occur to me.” A hint of frustration showed on Leo’s face. He was his own worst critic. “I should have. It seems obvious in hindsight.”
The intercom came to life. “We’re beginning our descent into Dallas.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Elias said. “London isn’t going anywhere. In a few hours we will ask him about that. And a lot more.”
Leo nodded and buckled his seat belt.
There was no way down.
I had scanned the darkness three times. It was a bottomless pit. No route below, no ledges we could drop down to, no escape. The only path out was the same way we came. Through the passage and back into the lake dragon’s cavern.
I gave it about five minutes after the last of the noises faded, and then Bear and I snuck forward to the mouth of the tunnel. We made it just in time to see the lake dragon pull the bug’s corpse under the water. It would be busy for a while. As long as we avoided the shore, we should be safe.
I searched the perimeter of the cave, staying as far from the lake as I could. There were no other tunnels, but there was a path up, along a ledge that climbed fifty feet above the cavern floor. We took it and picked our way onto a natural stone bridge. It brought us across the cavern to a dark fissure in the opposite wall, barely three feet wide. We squeezed through it, and it spat us out into a wide tunnel.
Ahead the passageway gave way to a large natural arch, and beyond it I could see more ledges and passages, a warren of tunnels, some dark, some marked by bioluminescence. Unlike the banks of the river, studded with jagged rocks, the floor of the tunnel was relatively flat, with ridges of hard stone breaking through here and there like the ribs of a buried giant skeleton. Fossilized roots braided through solid rock between the stone ribs. The air smelled sour and acrid.
Next to me, Bear took a few steps to the side and sniffed something. I focused on it. Stalker poop.
“No,” I whispered and tugged the leash.
She came back and looked at me with slight disapproval. Sniffing strange poop was what dogs did, and I was clearly preventing her from fulfilling her duty.
I could see the other signs now: the faint trail leading to the fissure, more feces, stains from urine on the rocks. These tunnels were stalker hunting grounds. They came through here and took the bridge down to the water below, and because the bank of the river was hard to get to, some of them made their way to the lake to drink. The lake dragon nabbed them like a crocodile ambushing wildebeests.