They lost several of their people before they admitted I was being completely straight with them. One was crushed to paste under a lift. Another one was squeezed nearly in two by a door slamming shut on him, his power armor slowly ground down into him and forcing his insides out his mouth. The last was a crew of techs who made it to one of the secondary bridges in the Cursed zones. They thought they were hot stuff, and then the bridge defenses activated, cooking them all inside their power armor and reducing them to exploded blood and meat burned off their bones.

I watched their progress like ants on the vibration sensors, making their way down to the Core.

--------

Mountain King Rargyle Rittercrun was the first to walk into the Dark Matter Reaction Chamber. The Kings of the Ruk led by example, and if there were traps or a disaster in waiting here, it would be the best place to put it. The aliens who had doubtless studied this Citadel from top to bottom would be best served by blowing it all apart, and here, the most advanced and thus delicate chamber in the Citadel, would be the best place to wreak treachery.

She had been identified as a human, a primitive people from a yellow star who had come to the stars less than ten thousand years ago, beneath the eyes of his people then. There were rumors that the humans had spread across the galaxy like a virus, driven on by fell urges fomented by the same beings that had wrought the downfall of the Ruk, which would make them unworthy of trust...

He strode in and stopped.

The view matched exactly what had been shown on the holo the skinny, stretched stalk of a female had spoken of. There were obvious drones, circling around, venting constant heavy streams of unwhite fire over the surfaces of the chamber, said flames turning into heavy mists which pooled over the extremely involved Rune Matrix present here, and gradually dissipated behind them.

A High Generation Matrix. To even attempt to make something like this anymore would drive the makers mad, and likely send everyone into the Warp. Whether or not it could be restarted was a great risk.

There were the small pedestals with ornate crystalline orbs on top of them, which the female had purported would be able to return the crew to life if the Core could be restarted...

The crew.

He stared at them, gathered here in tight ranks and order. He was able to identify who worked where at a glance, follow the pattern of organization, and turn his eye to where the King of Citadel Grimshield had kneeled to await his rescuing kin, or his doom, along with all the other Ruk here.

King Engrad Rittercrun, his great-greats-uncle, lost nearly fourteen thousand years ago to the degradation and corruption of magic. Citadel Grimshield’s distress call ringing out had been a true call from the ancient past, a thing of disbelief... but the call of one’s forefathers, ancestors, and kin meant that even with the risk, they had to respond.

For the first time in millennia, a Citadel had left the borders they had made for themselves in the Core systems, and defended ferociously for all that time from the many enemies that wanted to take them away. They had come here and found... that the signal was both exactly as they dreamed, and not what they had expected.

“Stone and dark matter combined. The female was correct,” Elder Gult, the head tech-priest murmured, looking at the sharp, angular displays of his crystalline tablet. “This is... even if we return this Citadel to our people, we will not be able to free them, without damning them at the same time. The corruption of magic has gone too far, my king. There are none powerful enough to break this effect.”

“Then tell me how they planned to do what we could not?”

Elder Gult waved over a floating Disk nearby, which came to his feet smoothly. He stepped onto it, despite it not being of Ruk tech, and smoothly glided over to the nearest short pedestal.

“It is psionic in nature. The principles and style are not in our files. It is definitely not of the style of the Fallen. We have not had sufficient contact with humans to analyze their technology in this regard, but it is currently advanced far beyond the intermittent debris we have analyzed. The latticework alone... this was spun up at least at QL 40. In its own way, it is as advanced as some of our technology...”

That was brutal truth from the Elder, who didn’t care about Ruk pride, being here to do his job and speak utter real truth. That was why King Rargryle kept him around. Pride was fine for warriors, but a king who couldn’t see the truth was a king leading his people down a black tunnel and thinking it was well-lit, right up until the lurkers in the depths came up and bit them hard.

“Do the numbers of the crew match?” he asked, watching one of the drones pass overhead, spraying the ceiling with the heavy mistflame. He held out his gauntleted hand as it spilled down, and was surprised to feel it was cool right through his armor. His sensors could barely register it was there, save for the temperature differential.

“Yes. Given the last status recorded in the archives, they seem to have lost eight hundred and fourteen crewmen, but the formations here are complete. Not a single statue has been removed, or even moved.” This arrangement had been devised to convey that very fact to any Ruk who saw it. Anyone missing would have been easy to pick out, and even shifting the petrified crew would have registered.

“Greater forbearance than I would have expected, Elder,” he said calmly, eying the second holoprojector in front of him. “Are you done with your preliminary scans?”

“I am.” He gestured, and his junior priests began to bust out their more specialized equipment, designed specifically to look for corruption and alterations at very subtle levels. If there was any sabotage here, it would be found. “We can always replay it, my king.”

King Rargyle considered that, and marched up to press the rather obviously big button there.

The hologram of the almost obscenely thin, pointy-eared, soft-skinned, jelly-eyed female popped up. At least her hair was magnificent, although her utter lack of chin-hair was definitely even more detrimental to her looks...

“You’re here to free the crew and start the Dark Matter Core,” the holo said, jumping right to business with a crisp bluntness he didn’t know whether to admire or think presumptuous. “The latter is required to do the former, there’s no way to de-attune the Dark Matter without the means to draw it out of the stone where it is Sealing their souls.

“If you have solved this problem, please press the green button to proceed. If you have not, you may consider pressing the red button. This will bring up a live communication stream, and we may or may not be able to help you.”

The hologram froze and collapsed, and King Rargyle blinked. He looked at Elder Gult, whose long white whiskers rippled in intrigued interest.

“They believe they might be able to help us start the Dark Matter Core?” he had to huff. “Do they think they are skilled enough in the ancient magic to do something like that? Let alone our greatest secrets?”

Elder Gult just twitched a finger, but it drew his king’s attention to the drones skimming along silently on their circuits, bathing everything in the vivic flame. “Those matters are not the same, my king,” he noted.

King Rargyle considered that point. It was true that the humans had managed to corral and contain the Curse. He had seen the black worms of it squirming out of power conduits and equipment on vids before the white flame caught and ate it, and pointedly he had heard the screams of his people dying as the Curse turned the ship against them.

It was the corrupted magic of his own people, and it was everywhere in this ship. This was not a minor matter, and yet they had still managed to drive it back and keep it out... albeit with continued ministrations.

It was his willingness to take risks that had driven his decision to come out here... that, and the call of his ancient kin, thought lost forever. He hit the red button thoughtfully, much to the surprise of some of his bodyguards and the lower tech-priests.

The holo spun up, cycled, pulsed a couple of times with a signal that it was establishing a connection...

------

I looked down at the dwarven-analogs from my Chair on the Dojo calmly. I was fairly aware of how I looked to dwarves from a squirt of memories from Mom’s Markspace from outside the Warp, and it didn’t bother me. Indeed, Ruk beard-signaling was a fascinating linguist line of study, and despite themselves, they were going to be influenced by my hair fluctuating about me.

“Elders,” I greeted both of them, in the inclusive form that basically included their race. “I am Sama Rantha. How may I be of aid to you?”

The guy in the veeeeery dangerous power armor and gemlike beard was naturally the one to speak. “I am Rargyle Rittercrun, the King Under the Mountain Unforgotten.” Well, he definitely lived up to the name of his Citadel, coming this far for his kin. “You stated you might be able to help us control the detrimental magic effects in the Dark Matter Chamber, Sama Rantha.”

He was holding my lack of a Title against me, ah, very hierarchical. The concept of a free and independent soul was the very opposite of an admirable thing in their book.

“Let me be precise, King Rittercrun. I am also the Duchess Ascendant Corunsun, Countess, Contessa, Marquise, Colonel, Admiral, Commander-in-Chief, Chief Executive Officer, Captain, General, Grand Director, Coronal Guard, and in your parlance, I would be registered as a High Mastersmith, Engineer Apexal, Theoretician Eclectic, Alchemist Evolvos, and Archrunesmith. I do not know if you have the Mindsmith or the Artificer Mentat certifications, but I also qualify as those,” I went on, while their beards failed to hide their amazement that I could claim so many qualifications.

“Be that as it may, Your Majesty, I do not know your technology as I do mine. I am willing to help you deal with your problem to free the trapped crew you have there. I will have some questions pursuant to helping you solve that problem.”

My tone and wording were in the cadence of military engineers, no-nonsense and knowing what I was talking about. Despite themselves, being addressed in their own tongue that way, they couldn’t help but start taking me seriously.

“Please proceed, Engineer Rantha,” the king said warily. Not Apexal, but that would require proof.

“My first question is: You came here on a ship with an active Dark Matter Core, which presupposes that you have the magic corruption problem at least partially contained. Why do you need my help for a problem you clearly have under control?”

My first question revealing that they shouldn’t need my help gave them a beardy wince. They looked at one another, and then the older dwarf with the sharper eyes took a non-step forward. “We filter out the incoming corruption. The filtration system was put in place after the Grimshield’s disappearance.”

“Continue.” I didn’t point out that they could just install a filtration system, since they had known that detail before coming here, and simply could have devised one on the way that would last long enough to do the job.

They hadn’t expected to be caught so easily. “The filtration system won’t work during the ignition sequence of the Core...”

“Continue.” That was irrelevant. The ignition sequence required the anti-matter cores.

His crystalline eyes flickered, his beard definitely, acknowledging the steady and knowing pulse of my hair. “We believe the filtration systems we have will not suffice for the Grimshield.”

“In filtration rate or accrual?” I asked pointedly, in no-nonsense engineering don’t-make-shit-up tones.

He hesitated. I went on. “What is the purity of filtration for the Unforgotten’s Dark Matter Core?” I asked specifically.

He gave me less a number than a concept, and I closed my eyes. Carry the one... I opened them back up, and fixed on that Elder like a steel rod ramming into his eyes. He stiffened. “Your Dark Matter Core is going to create a major Warp Event in approximately 6.85 days of operation, modified by the difference in mass draw between your ship and the Citadel you stand in. What is the accrual ratio?”

They both looked like I’d caught them with a hand in the cookie jar, if their beards were any indication. The older one muttered another figure.

“4.68 days. How long have you been running your Core?” Their filter was eroding at a continuous rate, and the massive amount of power flowing through it didn’t help at all.

“63.2 hours,” the elder sighed.

I steepled my fingers. “You need to shut that down immediately. 4.68 is an estimate based on no events needed that require you to draw additional power. If you do not do so, my help is immaterial... both ships are going into the Warp, and I don’t think you have any chance of doing what the Grimshield’s crew did to save yourselves.”

“That would cripple our active defenses, Engineer Sama Rantha!” the king protested immediately.