It's been almost two weeks since the Amphiteres showed up and we're seeing them roaming around the mountain quite a bit more.
They were given free access to everything and have been seen in the air a lot. They tend to hang out more with the Aguivas than the Wyverns, and although I find that curious, it's probably nothing more than their body configuration. Like kinds, and all that.
I was contacted last night by the Wizard Clan/Thaumaturgists and they're now requesting that I bring Matthew and Gregory to the head offices in Phoenix. Both of the men/boys have been studying the rather massive manuals for their Advanced Encounter Suits. It won't be long until they're finished, and I'll be forced to take them in for their first briefing. The powers that be are inordinately careful about security concerning the Suits and those who drive them. They'll be tested both on the manual and the knowledge thereof, plus a suited gauntlet of sorts to make sure they don't make mistakes in the field. They'll be full-fledged Machinists if they live through the interviews; if not, then I'll be coming back without them. They were told of the hardships in becoming A.E.S. Drivers, so this trip should come as no surprise. My fear for them is that they didn't believe what they were told.
The Wizards selected Matthew and Greg because of their latent abilities and their penchant for dealing with crisis. Their reflexes are as fast as I've ever seen, and if they are having second thoughts, they haven't shown them yet. If they have a weakness, it's their inability to see life as something other than a contest or a game. The way they react to the up-and-coming interviews will show whether the two of them are destined for greatness, or just a shortened life in the hands of wizards. They have only a small amount of real experience, but I thought they performed well during their earlier outing. The Wizards studied their logs and recordings after as well. They seemed pleased, which is probably the reason why they stepped up the program. Field operatives are highly prized.
I have admitted this before, so what I'm about to say should come as no surprise. I don't much like the Wizards. Never have. They're a bunch of pompous jerks that think only of themselves and how they can benefit from whatever situation presents itself. What I do like is their technology. Most of what I'm capable of is a result of their science. I’d be the first one to admit it, but having said that, I'm not totally sure it's wise to keep the technology from the masses. They claim the world isn't ready for their level of science and would blow itself to smithereens. They might be right, but I'm not convinced it's their responsibility to dictate to the rest of the world.
I've got mixed emotions about the Wizards. At one point, not long ago, they saved us all with a piece of tech called the Spiral. Not too many people are aware of what actually went down, but suffice it to say, it has messed me up. A small price to pay I know; I'll eventually get over myself. Technology when used properly is a boon to mankind and I wouldn't change a thing; I certainly wouldn't stop being a Machinist. There are limits though. We should all know our own and trust me; Machinists are on the top of that list.
After assessing the progress of the two guys, I decided to contact the Wizards and inform them of our readiness. Their call back was almost immediate, and they set the date for three days later. Pretty short notice really, but Matthew and Gregory, both said it was okay. The trip to the Wizards’ headquarters was then set for the approaching weekend, and I informed Queen Mother, Demi, and Bubo. The entirety of my trip should be no more than a couple of days. That would put me back at the mountain by the following Monday. No problem.
I made arrangements with Sean, the head of the Dragos, to be driven to the offices on Camelback, and then went to talk with Betty just to make sure everything was dotted and crossed. She was meticulous in her care for the Emerald Grotto, and I had no wish to get her upset with sloppy planning. She fussed around making sure I had clean clothes, all the way down to underwear and socks. It was like being instructed by your mom, and that doesn't fit me really well. Like socks on a rooster or lips on a chicken, and when I told her that, it made her significantly worse and a whole lot more administrative. One day I'll learn to keep my mouth shut, but I doubt it will be today.
The three days passed quietly, and Matthew, Gregory and I were waiting for the Escalade to show up in front of the Emerald Grotto. Sean doesn't like to spend too much time driving in the mountain because it tends to pollute the air. We had been waiting for a few minutes, anticipating his rush to leave as soon as he pulled up. Sure enough he stopped directly in front, left the engine running, and pointed at his watch. We threw our overnight bags in the back and climbed into the truck. I waved to Demi and Bubo and then closed the truck's passenger side front door. Sean pulled away, and immediately swung around and headed for the ramp that led to the South Entrance.
I knew Sean didn't want to stop at the Blast Doors, so I radioed ahead and gave them our estimated arrival time. Sure enough, when we got to the main corridor, the Blast Doors were open, and the security guards were watching our progress down to the exit. They nodded to us as we pulled out, and although I couldn't see them, the doors would be closing even before we got to the dirt road that eventually led out to the freeway. I glanced back to the rear, and noticed Gregory was staring out the left rear window and Matthew was already asleep on the right.
Sean made good time and we finally saw the freeway in the distance. Once we reached it he turned south, and before we knew it we were blasting down the Interstate at seventy miles per hour heading for the Camelback exit.
It had been quite awhile since I had done anything that should have felt normal, but it ended up feeling even more foreign than the mountain. On either side of the road were companies of all sorts, restaurants, and shopping malls. All of which should have said, "normal", but for some reason just gave me an odd sensation like I was someplace I shouldn't be.
Sean had the stereo on and was humming to a song I'd never heard before. That constituted the main source of audible ambience for the entire trip, each of us in our own private world.
Sean activated the turn indicator and exited the freeway; the music was in perfect cadence with the indicator’s clicking sound. It's funny what you notice when you're nervous.
Just a few minutes down Camelback Road, and we pulled into the parking lot at the high rise building where the Wizards built their headquarters. Matthew and Gregory climbed out of the truck and stared at the building like it needed to be quarantined. I remembered my first visit to this place; it wasn't all that pleasant. I doubted theirs would be either.
Sean told me he was going to stay at a hotel down the street. He would pick us up when I called to let him know we were finished. The leader of the Dragos was going to treat this outing as a mini vacation. I don't feel sorry for him . . . at all. His room would then be where we could take showers and hopefully bunk each night if the Wizards hadn't made arrangements for us.
After verifying that Matthew and Gregory were wearing the harnesses under their sweatshirts, we entered the building. I had told them before we left to wear them, but to hide the harnesses. It was as much for their safety as it was for security in a public venue. I don't trust the Wizards. Yes, I am one, but that's one of the reasons I don't extend a lot of faith in the mighty Wizards’ direction. They're a tad too mighty for their own good and lack any trace of humility.
The bottom floor of the building was brightly lit and fairly heavily populated. Matthew started to say something, and I cleared my throat just in time for him to re-think the endeavor. Gregory chuckled and got a dirty look from his companion. We continued walking until we got to the elevators and waited with several other people for the doors to open.
Everyone piled in, and one of the men closest to the door asked me which floor I wanted. When I replied, "four", he did a double take but pressed the appropriate button. That told me he'd been in the building before and had gone to the fourth floor. Most people only do that once unless they have to.
We exited the elevator and stepped into the main hallway. The same darker, subdued tones greeted me as on my last visit. This floor has about half the number of wall lights and gives the impression of a dungeon. Matthew and Gregory spotted the two massive doors at the end of the hall and looked over at me hoping I'd change my mind about approaching them. I sincerely wished I could.
As we approached the gigantic double doors, the plaque to the right of them glinted in the lowered light. It said, Thaumaturgy, Inc., and was, at best, tongue in cheek humor. Thaumaturgy is the study of Wizardry, and here was a thinly veiled attempt at hiding in plain sight. They were depending on the average public not knowing what the word meant and had been very successful in their apparent ignorance.
The foyer on the inside was huge and fairly overloaded with chrome and glass. It's almost a day trip to walk over to the receptionist. We look out of place. All of us are wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and sweatshirts. I decided on this mode of dress out of respect for the two boys I'm subjecting to this madness. You know if you have to die, at least go out feeling you were true to yourself. Matthew and Gregory are certainly not the suit and tie kind of guys, and I have always felt more comfortable dressed casually.
I ordinarily dress a bit more like the upwardly mobile when visiting the Wizards, but today the better part of me just didn't care. It would only take a second or two for the sweatshirts to come off and the Encounter Suits to reticulate into place. I believe the three of us could fight our way out if need be. Nothing like blowing your cover in public, but we could make it back to Drago before they could stop us. A small war would ensue, but quite frankly, I'm tired of the Thaumaturgists ruling my life, or in this case, ending the lives of two of my charges.
I pointed to a row of sofas on the far wall, and the two under dressed and very nervous guys went to sit down. I'll give them credit; they never said a word. Bear in mind, everything in this suite of offices was being recorded and would be held against us at a later time. I didn't want to hand over anything that could be used in such a way, especially when it's born from nerves. Way too much ammunition, and it would never go away.
Alone, I approached the main reception desk and stood there for a moment. The same girl has been here every single time and in anticipation, I spoke to her by name.
"Good afternoon, Jean. My name is Tanis, and we'd like to speak to your superiors. They're expecting us."
She managed an even deeper confused demeanor than usual and ultimately smiled as she looked away. Understand, Jean has worked here since there was a building to work in, and I truly believe the construction crew might have created the building around her. To the best of my knowledge, she has never taken a day off, and probably doesn't know what that means. That's the upside, and even I had to hand it to her for sheer dedication to a singular cause, but I also believe that a human being can actually have only two live brain cells. I came to this conclusion shortly after I had spoken with Jean so long ago. Eventually the two above mentioned brain cells managed to collide, and she turned back toward me.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Tanis. Who's expecting you?How did you know my name was Jean?"
I have this conversation with her every time. It never varies, and only one of us remembers.
"It says Jean on your name tag, and if you'll tell whoever is here besides us that we're waiting, that would be good."
Her hand poised over the telephone for a moment as she mulled over the instructions given. Then she pressed one of the buttons and announced.
"Mr. Tanis is here to see you, sir."
There was a garbled sound that emitted from the device and Jean's eyes looked up at mine.
"It might be a while; would you like to sit down?"
It wasn't a bad thing to say, but the look on her face was different than I'd ever seen before as she said it. There was clarity to her eyes for a moment and then it was gone.
I did an about face and walked over to the sofa set where the two apprentices were already sitting. The look on their faces was priceless; they didn't know whether to laugh or butt pinch the chairs. I sniggered. This place didn't scare me, been here done that. Worst case scenario, we'd shoot our way out, go back to the mountain, and forget about these guys forever.
Honestly, the office suite was daunting, with so much distance between pieces of furniture that you could have played rugby in the foyer. Being a man of action, I don't like waiting, and that's what the Wizards make you do every time you come here. Like some sort of unwritten law that says there's no way they can come out and greet you without making you wait for effect. Doctors do that too, and I've never been okay with that. My mood was going downhill in a hurry and sadly, my companions were the recipients of that bad energy on top of everything else they were being forced to endure.
Incidentally, I found a magazine under one of the sofa pillows that was dated ten years prior to the present date. It didn't instill confidence in me, and it didn't make me laugh.
Sitting there, my brain played mental hopscotch and eventually centered on the day that never happened. The Wizards sent the Spiral to Demi and me to save the day by having us travel back in time to reset the entire set of events, including everyone dying. No one at the mountain was aware of any of it except Demi, me, and the two dragons we saved in Apollyon, Teranus and Annanara. The mountain had been told after the fact; how much they actually believed was anyone's guess. In my musings it occurred to me that the Wizards shouldn't remember either; I mean they weren't there on the Spiral, so, how could they? Admittedly, I hadn't wanted to talk with them since that day, as it was kind of a sore spot for me watching all my friends die. I know they didn't, but which memory do you think would stay with me, the one where they didn't or the one where they did? My point exactly.
Even I was kept out of the loop until the eleventh hour on the day that never happened. Since that event, the Wizards haven't said a word to me until a few days ago. You'd think they would want the Crystal Key for themselves. When they did finally contact me, it was in regard to Matthew and Gregory. Not one mention about the first Key or the second one for that matter. Perhaps they'll say nothing until the third one is procured; they're simply lying low to keep the level of potential argument down to a dull roar. I'm pretty sure they know it'll take an act of God to break them loose from the clutches of Queen Mother. But therein lies yet another problem. How do we know Queen Mother won't try to use them? Do we really understand her agenda, and would we approve of it if we knew?
It never occurred to me to question her until recently. I have always felt safe around her and knew, or thought I knew, she wouldn't do anything that wasn't in the best interests of her people. Yet, from looking at the past, it seems abundantly clear that others who held power thought they had good intentions as well. Those good intentions had paved a rather large and straight road to Hell. I believe she thinks the actions taken so far in her fight against the Dark Lord have been the right ones, and as a result, I do too. I also think its right to dig into everything because the day you stop asking the hard questions, is the day you'll find yourself on a large straight road and we've already determined where that leads.
Right now, I'm questioning whether or not to allow the Wizards to potentially do something awful to Matthew and Greg. Who or what gives them the right to say these two boys/men get to live or die? The more I think about it the angrier I have become. Years ago, I too had to go through these interviews, and at the time my thought train had been radically different. It never occurred to me that the outcome could include my death. I knew the resulting end before I ever stepped in for the interviews. Like a foregone conclusion, Tanis Theatra would ace the process and then go on to become the greatest Wizard ever. Nothing exceeded my own arrogance and conceit. Now, years later, I find it remarkable that I managed to pass the interviews at all. I began to suspect the interview system at its core level. Maybe the whole "you've got to pass, or you'll die" thing was just part of the test and a way to weed out any who weren't truly serious. But did I want to risk Matthew and Gregory to a theory? What if I was wrong?
I was drawn out of me reverie by Jean.
"Mr. Tanis they will see you now."
It had been almost forty-five minutes since we walked in, and I was still just as uncertain as I was an hour ago.
Both the guys looked at me as I got up and faced the doors opening at the far end of the room. Nothing to it but to do it. Neither one of them had spoken a word, and I was grateful. I'm sure the waiting room had been monitored the entire time we sat there, and every word and gesture held against them. So far, they had nothing. A good start, so long as once they got into the next area they didn’t break down and lose it. From that point on I was not able to help them much. At least not with what they said or did. The Wizards were in control and would be until we left. There was, however, a slight degree of latitude if Matthew and Gregory could use the Suits when it got bad. I mean if it got bad.
We took our first steps into the inner sanctum of the Thaumaturgists. I don't know if the two guys heard it, but I did, and the song playing over the intercom was, "Don't Fear the Reaper." That song had been playing the last time I was here. If the Wizards were trying to creep me out . . . it was working.
I stepped through the double doors first, and immediately saw that they had changed the decor. There had only been a small table and chairs in the room on my previous visit, now removed, and a large conference type table with eight chairs was in its place. The wood seemed to be a dark cherry, but with Wizards looks can often be deceiving. There were three standup folded pieces of cardboard on the tabletop, each having a named emblazoned on it. The one with my name was at one end of the table, while the other two were adjacent to it, one to either side. Our names, facing the outside of the table were written ornately, and in Matthew's case, misspelled. So much for attention to detail.
On the center of the table was a small crystal, teardrop shaped vase that had three small yellow flowers emerging from the top. The little yellow flower is symbolic of anything or anyone who has to accomplish a feat so great that in the end, they are the only one who could have managed it. One flower that grows up through rocks, or a person who excels through personal hardship, then becomes the little yellow flower. There had been a single flower on my last trip here; I took this symbol as a good sign.
The room was an enormous rectangle with a bay window on one of the two shorter walls. It overlooked Earth, and if you watched long enough, the planet was turning, or the building was moving in orbit. Neither one was possible, of course, but I saw what I saw. Gregory and Matthew were both staring slack jawed and immobilized. I glanced back at the doors only to realize they were gone, and for all practical purposes, we were trapped in the room.
With the exception of the bay window and the table and chairs, the room was featureless. It was difficult to determine what the walls were made of, but it didn't look like wood or sheet rock. There was a glistening to them that almost made them appear to be moving. It was strangely disturbing. The predominant color was an off white but taking your eyesight away and then looking back caused the color to change. It was only a slight change, but there was definitely a difference. I began to think we weren't actually in a room at all but had no way to prove it.
A background humming noise had been building at the edge of our senses, slowly and inexorably rising in volume while we stood gaping at the view from the window. Imagine a musical note, a "Middle C" in this case, with corresponding octaves above and below resonating through the room, suddenly performing a glissando to the next octave down. Toward the end of the musical crash imagine it being so loud that you can barely think, and you'll be close to understanding how it felt in the room at that precise moment. Then, without warning, the musical note simply stopped, and accompanying the cessation a huge gust of wind passed across the room with near cyclonic force. Ironically, the vase of flowers and the place markers were left untouched by the blast of air.
The gust came from a gate opening on the far wall, not unlike the gates at Mt. Drago. The main difference between the two, being the one we were looking at had no visible hardware. That would imply a true Ley Gate rather than a mechanized stable wormhole with an Event Horizon. Very impressive, and in my opinion, very dangerous. Don't get me wrong, we've learned how to move Ley Gates too, but in this case, they were opening it through a solid object if I was to believe my eyes. Bear in mind, these are Wizards and the saying, "Seeing is Believing", may or may not be accurate. We were assuming the walls were solid but I'm a little iffy on that.
Once the wind had died down, three men walked through as if they hadn't a care in the world. Probably didn't. No one knows the names of these guys, but the first one through is the same man I talked to the last time I was here. At that point I named him Curly, so Curly it will be today as well. The next two I dubbed as Larry and Mo, completing the Three Stooges as they made their way to where we stood.
They wore the standard dark green robes, complete with hoods which they wore up over their heads. We could see their faces though, and I don't know about Matthew and Gregory, but I wasn't impressed.
Curly indicated for us to sit as he approached, and my two guys actually looked to me before they sat down. You gotta love them for that. I nodded my consent and we all sat down. The Wizards sat in the same configuration on the opposite end of the table with Curly at the head.
The place markers in front of each of us began melting, complete with watery melting noises, causing Gregory and Matthew to push their chairs back to get away. Replacing the markers were small stacks of paper, stapled at the top left corner. It was like the cardboard melted into the paper stacks, which sounds ridiculous I know, but there was no other way to describe it. When the transformation was complete, Curly cleared his throat and said,
"Right."
I chuckled out loud; I couldn't help it. When Curly looked up at me I laughed again and was rewarded with a scowl. In the past, I had been to a lot of meetings that were headed up by Brits, and they always started by saying "Right". What made it even funnier was that Curly wasn't British, and for some reason the whole concept made me laugh. My timing couldn't have been worse, but these guys have always looked upon me as a renegade anyway so what did it matter.
Curly examined each of us as if trying to determine what we were, cracked his knuckles and spoke.
"We'll start the proceedings with . . .”
He blinked and looked down at his paperwork with an oddly dissatisfied swallowing maneuver.
"Uh, Matthew MacDonald."
My apprentice's head snapped around and his disappointment was almost tangible.
"Dude! Really? My name's difficult, but you're supposed to be like the most powerful dude in the world, certainly in Phoenix, and you get my name wrong? My name is Matthew Magonnell, and I was like, you know, totally nervous to work with you dudes, but this . . . this is just not right. Master Tanis got it right after like the first time, and he didn't have it in front of him on paper."
Curly just stared at Matthew as if he was the wrong species. Matthew glanced over at the Wizard and then put his eyes on the paper in front of him. I think he was afraid to look at me.
Gregory cleared his throat and fidgeted in his chair but put a hand up as if to say he had something to add.
"I think that mistakes are unfortunate, but in most cases not unrecoverable. Perhaps a small, but not totally genuine apology might be in order. Your choice really. Just saying."
Curly leaned toward Gregory keeping constant eye contact. The boy began fidgeting again but didn't give it up entirely.
"Or not."
That was about the time that Curly visually dismissed going down the road leading to speaking with either one of them and centered on me. I folded my arms and angled back in the chair so I could see where the door had been.
"I'd like to point out that you picked them. In part because of their ability to cope with whatever was thrown in their direction. You might consider what they have to say before just dismissing them as a bad investment. I was no better when I first joined this chicken outfit."
That was the turning point, that one moment in time where everything hinged on the unknowable. Curly laughed and the door reappeared. The other two Wizards also reappeared, but the weird thing about that was I hadn't seen them disappear to begin with. I really needed to step it up a notch with my level of observation. As much as I wanted these Wizards to not be all that and a box of rocks, the fact was . . . they were.
Curly nodded to the other two Wizards and all three of them began to flatten from front to back. They got thinner and thinner until they were no thicker than a sheet of paper. Their shapes still held the configuration of the chairs but were undulating as if being affected by a light breeze. Little by little the three pieces of paper wiggled to the beat of an unheard song until they fluttered over the chairs. Moving closer together the strips suddenly shot forward toward the window overlooking the Earth. Curly's voice echoed around the room as the strands approached the aperture.
"When you have it, you'll want to share it. But if you share, it will cease to exist."
The three lengths of paper went through the window as if it wasn't even there and receded toward the planet, getting smaller as they moved away from my vision. I had no idea how they did that. I mean really. I've been in this Clan for most of my adult life and no mentions of this ability have ever been revealed. It could have been an illusion, but if it was, then it was the best I've ever seen.
The door leading out was still visible and it didn't take rocket science to know we were being tested, leaving being one option available to us. Matthew chuckled and held up the stack of paper in front of him.
"This is an application form for citizenship to Uzbekistan. Are we moving or is this a joke? Oh, and I'm having a problem wrapping my head around them turning into paper and then flying through a sealed window into outer space. I kind of think they were never actually here at all. Would explain most of it anyway."
Gregory nodded agreement and held his paperwork out for us to see.
"Mine is an application for citizenship to Kazakhstan. I guess we're not going to be bunking together much longer."
Glancing down at the paperwork in front of me told me that mine had changed as well. It was now a folded piece of cardboard that had ornate lettering on the side facing me. It said, "When is a door not a door"?
"You're not going to either of those countries, guys, however, go ahead and fill out the forms. All part of the test, the master plan, so let's dot the "I's" and cross the "T's" before they come back."
Gregory's puzzled look was almost comical.
"You knew this was going to happen?"
They were both waiting for something profound, and I had nothing to give them, at least not yet. Matthew was beginning to show signs of fracture, although only in a subtle way. His last soliloquy had a sad lack of the word, "dude,” and that was a sure-fire sign of nerves and stress.
"I knew something was going to happen, I just didn't know it would be this. Our job is to figure out what they want and deliver. Expose the mystery, reveal the riddle, or fly through an airlock into outer space. Keep your eyes open guys; let's give them something to remember."
They regarded me in a rather dubious way but set to work completing the forms for citizenship to countries they would probably never visit, let alone live there. I got up and made my way over to the disappearing and reappearing door.
When is a door not a door? I'd heard that riddle years ago. The answer was, when it's ajar, and the door in question was indeed not entirely closed.
I almost understood the histrionics unfolding for the two apprentices . . . almost. Somehow the Wizards had roped me into the proceedings, and I was certainly not okay with that. I was to bring Matthew and Gregory for an interview, not become part of it.
In retrospect, I shouldn't have assumed I understood the context for the interview in the first place. My bad. I should have known they would extend the criteria to encompass us all. Okay, first things first. They gave us two riddles and I believed they were interlinked, giving clues to what would happen next. I remembered the voiced riddle but couldn't place the answer. I went over it again trying to regain the memory or a clue.
"Curly said, when you have it, you'll want to share it. But if you share it, it will cease to exist."
Matthew let out a big sigh and placed his pencil behind one ear.
"These forms are dumb, dude. They ask whether or not we're holding secrets and if we're criminals in another country. Like we'd tell them if we were, right? Stupid."
It all caught up with me in a flash.
"What did you just say about keeping secrets?"
He repeated his statement and knew as soon as he'd opened his mouth. A secret. In this case, a secret door, but none the less a major problem. We were also wearing the harnesses, yet another secret to add to the fracas. Not much of a secret though, the suits are what define us and for a Machinist, more like the first line of defense. No, there was still something missing, and if taken separately, reduced the meaning. I kind of expected the Wizards to force us to remove the harnesses and discs when we arrived, but they never said a word.
So, I walked over to the door, which wasn't a door, and peaked through the partially ajar opening. I half expected to see Jean, and if not her then nothing at all. What I saw through the oversized slit redefined existence, not to mention Curly's clues. Back over my shoulder I could feel my two guys waiting for me to give them the all clear, or tell them we're all about to die.
Beyond the door was an identical room to the one we were standing in. It was the same size, shape, and configuration, but most of all, the same occupants. Now admittedly, the people in the other room weren't in the same places or doing the same things, but they were us. Let there be no doubt.
The Wizards had given us every ingredient we needed to blow ourselves to kingdom come. No wonder they wanted to leave and get as far away as they could. In their defense, they left the door open, which was the saving grace to the cessation of existence. You can't have matter and anti-matter in the same location at the same time. It goes boom on a level that defies reality. Curly had told us that to share would cause the cessation of existence and I don't think he meant the secret exclusively. I hate tests, especially those that don't give you the option of "Best out of three" or worse, the inability to walk out with your skin intact.
I closed the door and desperately hoped it was self locking. I also hoped I closed it quietly enough not to disturb the occupants in the next room. I wouldn't want them opening the door and trying to explore our side.
I hadn't had time to say a word or turn around when the floor suddenly dropped about six inches. It was abrupt and absolutely silent.
"Suits on guys!"
The sweatshirts were off in a flash and all three of us hit the switches mounted on our breastplates. Seconds later we stood fully armored and then realized we were sinking down a about one foot per second. It too was silent. The walls stood motionless as the floor kept dropping into God knows where.