Cave Fever - RimWorld (oneshot)

[Hykal94]

Cave Fever​

"Achoo!"

Rebecca sneezed for what had to be the umpnteeth time that day as she shoved her gloved hands deeper into her jacket. She was shoving them so hard, she was liable to make a hole in the pockets. "Can we please turn the heater up?"

"You've asked me that half a dozen times already. Just go take a walk outside."

"If you haven't noticed, the sky is green and I don't want to die of radiation."

"Well I guess you have to just rub your hands harder." The old man laughed as he continued to craft an advanced component. How Gizmo was able to do that while blind in one eye, is something only an ascended being could answer.

"C'mon just a lil bit …"

"Nope."

"Can I borrow a lighter at least?"

Gizmo prodded at the component with a soldering iron. "Not since that pyro incident a few years ago you can't."

She felt another sneeze coming but held it in. "Whatever. I'm taking my break."

"Do what you want girl, but you can't escape the cold!" The ancient creature laughed like a broken piece of machinery as Rebecca placed the broom and dustpan against the wall. She didn't even get why she was doing this, the entire place was spotless.

Rebecca exited the cold of the components workshop into the similarly coldness of the hallway and nearly tripped over one of the cave's many cats. The calico meowed annoyedly at her before trotting away.

The entire undermountain base was spotless, as always. When your colony was filled with a bunch of disciplined, austere, book-minded scholars with a serious obsession with cleanliness, things tended to be cleaned to a mirror shine.

She found herself in a large chamber with numerous tables where people talked and chatted, the walls filled with shelves upon shelves of books. Even the dining hall had more books than most settlements did. People lounging about on sofas, chatting and drinking coffee; a most cozy place.

Rebecca approached the counter where an old woman in a headveil and a cook's apron was reading a book. Her other hand was absently petting a fluffy white cat. "Hey, Ramlah, whatcha reading?" he asked.

"Why do you care? You can't read."

"Untrue! I know my numbers and can read all those picture books. Comics, I think they're called."

"But can you understand what you're reading?"

"I don't need to be literate when I can make up my own stories in my head."

The old lady flipped a page. "You know, we do offer reading lessons to anyone who wants it."

"I'm hired because I'm handy with a gun, not for my ability to read. Anyway, what's for lunch?"

Ramlah gestured to the double autodoors of the freezer. "We've got muffaloaf and mashed mushrooms.

"Are they frozen?"

"What do you think?"

A few minutes of munching on cold beef, Rebecca gave up eating her meal halfway through and concentrated on 'reading' her book. The muscle bound barbarian was fighting off the wizard turned snake when someone sat across him. "Hello Hark, how was your day?"

"Adequate," said her giant roommate. Icicles had formed in his bushy black beard and the ex-raider crunched on his muffaloaf with nary a complaint. Like Rebecca, Hark had raided the cave with his own warband only to meet the same fate. After some convincing, the former enemy was allowed to live in exchange for working for the colony.

You couldn't tell it from looking at the big man with the equally big bear paws, but he was handy with hammer and chisel; a good chunk of the wall's carvings were done by him. He was proud of it, though he'd never admit it.

"Don't you wish we could, like, turn up the heat a little?"

"In my clan, newborn babes are left out in the woods for a day. If it survives, then it has proven itself worthy to be a warrior. If it dies, then there is no great loss. It is this reason my people are strong against Goregarang's chill claws."

"I never asked you about your weird religion."

He raised a bushy brow. "Your beliefs involve eating dogs."

"Waste not, want not." She sighed again. "I wished there was something to shoot, but you know these people, they don't believe in violence without good reason."

"That is one thing I agree with. Are you going to finish that?"

Rebecca sighed as she pushed his tray to the big man, her attention half on the comic, the other half musing.

Then she sneezed, once again, into the comic.

---

It had only been a few months since she had been 'recruited' into the Cave of Wisdom. Her old gang, the Sharp Pointy Bits (a fearsome name that struck terror into the hearts of peasants and tribals) had spoken of a bunch of 'primitive cave people' out in the desert. A simple folk who farmed rice and tended goats, like so many desert tribes. They weren't even mobile or nomadic, making them a far easier target compared to bedouins.

Rebecca used to be a normal farm girl until she ran away from home in search of adventure. Armed with nothing but her grandpa's shotgun, she found herself stalking the roads to stick up some poor unarmed traveler. Usually, one would not be intimidated by a five foot tall mousey girl with green hair, but it didn't matter if it was a Rebecca or a Hark holding it, guns don't discriminate who wielded them after all.

She did well for a solo bandit, but after pissing off too many people and almost getting hanged by a small village, she found herself in the employ of a bandit chief and his merry band gang of thieves, killers, drug abusers and other sorts of undesirables.

But the gang treated her well, and the chief was fair but firm. She ran with them for a few years, until the chief suggested a particularly daring expedition.

"Let's go. In and out. Twenty minute adventure," said Warchief Blackheart at the campfire. "Plenty of loot and beds to destroy."

"What's with your obsession with destroying beds, Warchief? You do sleep in one," she had asked.

"Something about seeing beds that don't belong to us drives me into a rage, kid. I can't explain it myself. That and AC units. I want to destroy every single one of those things like you wouldn't believe."

Seeing as they had nothing better to do aside from fighting each other and drinking themselves drunk, they considered the plan good exercise.

It took a week of traveling from their forest hideout to the hot desert for their warband of thirty plus a few helots to arrive at the settlement. It was a hole in the side of a mountain in the desert, completely nondescript and identical to hundreds of other caves on the Spine of the World. What tipped their hand was they tended to linger at the mouth of the cave, and bedouin tribes were often wary of such things.

They attacked at night, hopped on Go-juice and Flake. There was only a single guard that stood outside the cave with a funny looking staff. Not a rifle amongst them, compared to their warband with a mix of melee and firearms.

As always, the Warchief was the first into the tray. He sprinted further than the rest of the troops, a show of his manliness and vigour. A brave man, with a bandolier of grenades - he was poised to chuck a frag at the sorry bastard until the guard pointed his staff at him.

His chest exploded, sundering the flak vest like tissue paper; Warchief Blackheart became Warchief Noheart.

Enraged by their death and beloved leader, the rest of the warband charged to the mouth of the cave. The Sharp Pointy Bits avenged their own.

And it was at that point a few robed men stepped out of behind some rocks and lit them up with automatic fire. Sharpshooters popped heads, a rocket launcher slew half a dozen men in a single shot. After half of them died and wisely chose to flee, it was too late - a group of other robed men waited in their flanks and rushed them down with swords and maces. Rebecca's shotgun did absolutely nothing against their shield belts.

All in all, it was a twenty minute adventure - just not for the Sharp Pointy Bits.

Rebecca was lucky. She didn't lose any body parts when she, unwisely, charged a grandma with a shotgun (Ramlah kept making jokes about it). Took five rounds of buckshot to take her down, tearing her shitty flak vest. Go-juice was a hell of a drug that way.

They tended to her wounds and tossed her in a cell. She expected to be enslaved or sold off or had her organs harvested, but no. In exchange for saving her, they offered her to join the Cave. At first, she refused because she had her honour and that's all that really mattered to a warrior. But Rebecca never claimed she was a good warrior.

Twice a day, a big man entered his cell and brought him food. He was dark as the earth and old as the mountain, but Rebecca could see the thick arms and bull neck the old man possessed. His voice was deep, his bald head a crisscross of scars, and his beard neatly trimmed. Rebecca knew immediately this was their Warchief.

"Peace, I am Sheikh Umar. I will be brief: you are a strong and able bodied young woman. It is frowned upon in our religion to keep a prisoner of war for so long, so I have an offer for you."

It was, by all accounts, a good offer: a free room, new equipment, and the luxuries of the cave, as long as she was able to perform all her duties. Not bad, aside from the temperature.

"What makes you think I want to join you? Why has my gang not ransomed me?"

"We did contact your gang. They um, don't recognise you and then said very foul mouthed things when we suggested the ransom."

Rebecca nearly threw her food against the wall at that. Those sons of bitches. After three years with them, the Big Cheese, head of the gang, didn't even recognise the sacrifice of Warchief Blackheart and the warband. So much for honour amongst thieves.

"We are low in number but as you can see, quite advanced. We will look over the fact you tried to kill us, as long as you contribute. We do not ask you to believe what we believe, but no man or woman here is idle. What do you say?"

It took Rebecca another three days to answer that. "Fine. I accept."

"Excellent! But first, some questions: Tell me, are you good at farming? We could use some hands in hydroponics."

Rebecca scoffed at that. "Farming is for mill-slaves and the weak. I am of the strong and I do not sow." Sure she couldn't walk, had a broken rib and peed in a pan but it was the thought that counted.

"Ah, so you're one of those raiders. Alright, perhaps you know how to tend wounds; an important skill for any warband, yes? "

"My hands are made for the kill, not to heal."

"Then perhaps you're an animal person. You like dogs? Or maybe you like muffalos? How about boomalopes?"

"I like eating dogs and muffalos." After all, hot dogs were one her favourite meals.

"Ah, so you know how to cook? Ramlah could always use another hand."

"I can boil water, that's it." Why cook when helots could do that for you?

The sheikh gestured to his hands. "You've rough hands. Mayhaps you know your way around a hammer?"

"I know how to break down walls, if that's what you're asking." She packed her breach hammer for the raid, it was probably gone now.

"If you can break walls, you know how to break stone, maybe. There's no shortage of tunnels that the colony needs here."

"Well it once took me five hours to break down a bit of rock, if that's what you need it."

Umar thought for a moment. "You seem like a charming woman, Miss Rebecca. Perhaps you've got a silver tongue under that tough exterior. How do you feel about trading?"

"Well, I once bought a bridge from an Imperial trader. Haven't found it where it was, but it has my name on it." If there was thing thing she would leave this world, it would be that bridge at least.

The sheikh seemed to be exasperated by this line of questioning. "Do you like art? Of course you do, everyone does. Why not turn those killing hands of yours into hands that make beautiful paintings? We can have you paint the walls."

"Painting is kinda lame, now if it was weapons ..."

The old man perked up at that. "Ah, a crafter! What do you specialise in? Tailoring? Gunsmithing? Medicine? We are always in need of them."

"Not really. Well, I can make a very nasty shiv if you give me some metal."

The sheikh slumped his shoulders and exhaled through his nose; it was clear even to Rebecca that the old man was regretting his offer of pardon.

"Can you at least haul or clean?"

"Oh yeah, I can do those."

"Praise Allah for small mercies."

---

Thus, Rebecca, former raider of the Sharp Pointy Bits, became Rebecca of the Cave, Janitor and Gunman. It was by all accounts, an upgrade to her old lifestye. The lack of alcohol was annoying, but she made it up with copious amounts of hot chocolate.

The Cave was a complete misnomer. She knew that when they hauled her into her cell, delirious from all the blood loss, but she didn't expect a fully functioning undermountain settlement. The floors were polished to a mirror sheen. Almost every room was carpeted. The walls were decorated with beautiful calligraphy and geometric patterns. When she was a child, she had a toy kaleidoscope. It was kind of like living in one, in a way.

She was given some new clothes and a jacket when she left her cell, but not her weapon. "Hey, where's my gun?"

The master smith, Gizmo, merely waved the worries away. "Oh that? We smelted that. The only thing it was good for was to be scrapped."

"Listen asshole, that was a state of the art weapon you destroyed."

"It was a rusty busted ass shotgun that could barely shoot ten feet in front of it. But don't worry, we got you covered."

Rebecca's new chain shotgun was bigger, bulkier, and heavier, and was a complete pain in the ass to carry. What with her being petite and all. But everyone she knew slept with their weapon, regardless of their creed. The Big Cheese himself slept in bed with a full suit of power armor on. You can never be too careful on the Rim, especially when helots had an annoying tendency to murder their masters in their sleep.

When she wasn't busy sweeping floors or hauling stuff from the outside, Rebecca would be hunting the few animals in the desert; not that there were many aside from the odd herd of camels. Not even any wild mutts to make hot dogs.

When he suggested eating one of the dozen cats in the Cave to the Sheikh, he coughed and warned him to never bring that up ever again. "Not even my influence will stop you from being beaten in your sleep."

Still, no matter how many times she went in and out of the cave, she never got used to the drastic temperature changes. One moment, she was in the cold depths of the stone, and the next, she was under the open sky and the burning sun. It was a hassle, switching from her cold gear to hed desert gear she just went out there dressed in thick clothes, hassle be damned.

There was but one place in the entire cave that wasn't balls freezing cold, which was hydroponics. After leaving the dining room and Hark's company, she marched down there and plunged herself into the warmth of the room.

"Aaaah. Finally, some warmth." If she had to sneeze another time, she'd -

"Oh hey Rebecca, how are you?"

"Who's that?"

"It's Faizah."

"Sorry, it's dark in here. Why is it dark in hydroponics?"

"Can't grow nutrifungus in the light. Also, someone out there has set up a smoke spewer. Until we get a squad to destroy that, we'll have to conserve power."

Rebecca inwardly cursed. She had yet to earn the right to join the cave's own raid squads, which denied her the action she so desperately needed.

"I still don't understand why hydroponics gets the heat but not the rest of the base."

"Just look up."

She did. "I can't see shit."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, the roof's made of normal materials. It's the overhead mountain that we have to worry about."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Because of the bugs."

"Yep."

"I still think you guys are overreacting. I've killed these so-called bugs before. They're tiny! "

Rebecca couldn't see Faizah but she could tell she was glaring. "Rebecca, they're bad news. What you fought were probably what we call megascarabs. A single infestation could end the cave. It's why everyone here carries a shotgun or a sword. It's why we line the walls with spears and shields. It's why we've got redundant turrets everywhere. Bugs don't come out into the cold, that's why the base is cooled down at -17 celsius."

"Why not build your settlement outside?"

Amira said nothing and Rebecca got the message. "Ah, right. Toxic fallout."

"Don't forget mortar attacks and cold snaps. Climate control is a lot easier if localised entirely within a mountain."

Damn, the other pirate gangs have mortars? Maybe the Sharp Pointy Bits wasn't as fearsome as the Big Cheese had left her to believe.

"Just wished there was some action, you know? Damn toxic fallout doesn't even allow me to hunt!" Well, if you consider pumping a poor camel with a shower of 12 gauge at point blank as 'hunting', which it was as far as she was concerned (though Ramlah had told her off for peppering the good meat with two much lead).

"Well …"

"Well what?"

"Nah, it's nothing."

"Come on, Faizah. Tell me!"

"I don't have clearance for that."

She thought of something on the spot. "If you do, I promise not to clean your room while you're sleeping." Hey, it wasn't her fault that she had the night shift and Faizah worked the day. What was she gonna do, wait for her to wake up just so she could vacuum?

It took the farmer a grand total of two seconds to consider. "Okay, so. The Sheikh plans to …"

Rebecca listened intently and formed a new plan. "That's some very good info. Thanks, Faizah."

"You didn't hear it from me! Anyway, while you're here, you could lend me a hand. Why don't you pick up some gloves and help me plant these mushrooms -"

The autodoors slid open, momentarily letting in the cold air, before shutting close.

---

The Cave of Wisdom wasn't called that at first.

It was a normal farming village, no different from the thousands that dotted the planet, at the base of a mountain. They produced a little of this and a little of that. Good soil was barren in the desert so hydroponics were the solution. What little soil available to them was used to grow hay for their cattle. It was a simple but unremarkable life.

That was until a wise man came and taught them how advanced technology, the kind that outlander unions and Imperials keep to themselves.

The wise man taught the villagers how to upgrade their jezails to proper rifles, how to harness power from the sun and the wind and how to create stronger medicine. The village became prosperous and soon became a town, which in turn attracted danger.

But pirate and raider attacks had forced them to dig into the mountain. First, it was for storage. Then, one day, a raid of mechanoids had destroyed their clinic, so they turned their storage into a proper medical facility. This went on and on for a generation, until the townspeople unanimously decided to seal themselves within the earth.

So they dismantled their wind turbines and solar panels, dug massive chambers and relied entirely on chemfuel production. It was the only type of power generation that didn't require them to be outdoors. Safe within the stone, the people were happier and safer than their grandparents ever were.

At some point, some villager learned the secret of paper making, and within another generation, they were hunting for books as if it was the greatest treasure of all. Rebecca even learned that some communities took payment in textbooks over silver.

Crazy people, these cave dwellers.

Rebecca arrived at the immaculately carved wooden doors of the library. Above it was a plaque, written in a script she didn't recognise, save for the numbers: 96: 1-5.

Rebecca, already missing the heat of the hydroponics farm, retreated further into her oversized jacket. The autodoors of the library opened:

It was the single largest chamber in the entire cave. Shelves as far as the eye can see, books upon books on every subject available. In the middle of the library, scribes copied books bought from other settlements or found within ruins. Some were writing their own books, something every member of the Cave was expected to do by the age of twenty-five. A quarter of hydroponics was set up entirely to grow fibercorn for the sole purpose of turning into paper.

The sheikh had suggested that Rebecca himself write a book on something, perhaps raiding tactics. But that would involve Rebecca learning letters, something she had no patience for. Maybe she could bully one of the art-minded scribes to draw a comic instead. Why use words when you can use words and pictures?

The Cave was a serious place. Gambling was forbidden, as were all the fun drugs And there were only so many old reruns of TV she could watch, so books were the primary form of entertainment.

She passed the many scribes, scribbling away at their work, copying books by hand. One scribe had six books open and was using a bookwheel, rotating it like a water wheel, the nerds. She headed to the circular table in the middle of the library, sniffing all the way.

The Head Librarian was at his station, a young man, just out of his teens. The little wisp of a beard he was trying to grow had only made him look immature, but Rebecca was well aware he was one of the smartest people around despite his youth (because he never shuts up about it). He had written a dozen books by the age of nineteen, and Rebecca had heard that even those Genie nerds came to him for help.

The kid didn't even bother to look up from his research station. "Ah, the ex-raider returns. Looking for more trashy pulp to read? Or another book to use as a handkerchief?" he asked in a squeaky whiny voice.

"I'm now reminded why we aren't friends, Salman."

Salman pushed his glasses up. "I've work to do, important work. For the cave, you see. Researching for a tool to more effectively write more books. There is this thing, created on Old Earth called a 'printer'. If I can understand how this works, our book production could be increased tenfold."

"I'm not interested in that. I need to learn something about -"

She was cut off. "Of course all you do is clean and haul, the latter something you can even train a dog to train. I expect nothing more from a woman whose sole purpose is to attack innocent farmers."

Rebecca was going to vandalise his room later. "Whatever. I need a book on bugs. Preferably with a lot of pictures."

Salman steepled his fingers as he leaned back in his chair, probably in an attempt to look intelligent. "Ah yes, the insectoid menace. You know, one of our scouts found an encyclopedia in a ruin far from here. Never fought one myself, but our scout squads have tales to tell. Let's see if I can find it."

They found the book in the corner of the library. It was a hefty tome, one that Salman struggled to even lift. "Here: The Supreme Encyclopedia of the Insectoids of Sorne - Volume I of VII. It was written by a group of scientists at Sophiamunda before it was destroyed. This is the book on insectoids. It is required reading material for many universities across the galaxy."

To Rebecca's displeasure, it was mostly text with few pictures. What there was confirmed what Amira said: they were real and they were big. "Um, do you have something simpler?"

Salman rolled his eyes and said something about primitives under his breath. They went to another shelf and produced a slimmer, but still hefty, book. "Here: Kitab Al-Hashara - Memoirs and Lessons on the Bug War, written by a Mamluk veteran who served in the Klendathu Jihad a few hundred years ago. It is the doctrine on waging war against the bugs studied by militaries everywhere. A bit outdated perhaps, but for your purposes, it will suffice."

Rebecca flipped through that, and instead of big pictures, they were diagrams with lines, technical pictures of tanks and warwalkers, and diagrams of firing lines. "Uh, do you have something even simpler? Like real simple shit."

Salman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They went to another bookshelf, this one quite bare, filled with books that were bright and colourful. He squatted down to the very bottom shelf and produced the smallest book so far, notebook size.

"This is Bad Bugs Go Away! written by a kindergarten teacher from some urbworld."

Rebecca found the pages were thick, made of cardboard, the letters bright and the pictures very colourful. There was a picture on every page! "Yes, thank you! This is just what I was looking for."

"We have reading classes, you dolt. You could just attend those!"

"I don't need to read to be a good fighter, kiddo."

Salman shook his head. "A wise man once said, 'The society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools.' At least learn your letters, for crying out loud."

He turned to look at Rebecca and found that the janitor was gone.

---

"Peace to you, Rebecca. What brings you to my humble office? Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Wonderful. I've just received a shipment of cinnamon. You'll love it."

The sheikh's office wasn't as humble as he claimed but nor was it decadently luxurious. Its floor was filled with beautiful carpet. The desk was marble and the chair made of a pristine white leather he didn't recognise but it was most fluffy. On said desk was his stationery, pens, ink jars and paper. She had been told by Hark that the sheikh's most prized possession was a persona fountain pen. She couldn't tell which one it was, they all looked similar.

The walls were decorated with the same blue and white geometrical designs. In one corner was a table in which the Sheikh was preparing the drinks. Behind his desk, was a plasteel autodoor, locked, and no one but a few had access to it. It was filled with silver and some of the Cave's most precious artefacts, the likes of which she could never understand.

In another time, Rebecca would have considered trying to steal some of it for herself, but the folks had been kind to her, and as much as she missed raiding, she wasn't going to do that. She may be a bad guy, but that doesn't make her a bad guy.

In another corner was a magnificent set of marine power armour, painted in exquisite green and inlaid with gold. The helm was that of a snarling lion. It matched the piston-spear that hung on the wall behind the desk, alongside a massive pistol. The old man was tight lipped about his past, despite Rebecca's best attempts at prying information from him. She did know that the old man was no native of the village.

The office was still freezing cold at - 17 celcius. How the old man wore nothing but a thin muffalo wool robe and tolerated it was probably some bullshit fakir technique.

He sipped the coffee and made a face, the sheikh laughed. "Not to your tastes?"

"If you've got any beer, that'd be great." She had been sober for the last few months and hated every moment of it, but the warmth of the drink was appreciated.

The sheikh laughed even harder. "You may want to visit the nearest bar for that." The nearest bar was a five day trip and not even Rebecca was so alcohol starved to do that, toxic fallout or no. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a proposition!"

Rebecca explained and he listened. "So, what do you think?"

The old man gave a sympathetic smile. "I know, the toxic fallout is bad but a little radiation doesn't hurt. It's the cancer that'll hurt."

"Sheikh, please. All I'm asking is you let me turn up the heat. For one day!"

"And risk harming the colony and destroying our precious books? Unacceptable."

"You're fine with the hydroponics!"

"A small price to pay, and besides, it's well guarded with turrets just in case."

"Fine. Then let me lead the next tunnel breach!"

Being under a mountain meant that space was a premium. Indeed, mining was one of the most dangerous jobs around in general, it's even more dangerous when you have to do it with a lack of light and tons of stone and earth above your head.

The sheikh settled his cup on a saucer. "So let me get this straight: you want to join Sergeant Aquila's security team while the miners carve out another chamber."

"Yes."

"And you're doing this, completely out of your love for your fellow colonists, and not because the new upcoming chamber is warmer than the rest of the cave."

"Nothing wrong with that."

The old man raised a brow. "And also because you're bored. Well, if it's one thing I can't fault you for, Rebecca, is that you are honest."

Her chest swelled. "I've also been studying up on my bugs!" Rebecca chose not to mention she got most of her info from a child's book.

Umar made a face. "I don't know. Insectoids are not mere animals. They are apex predators, created solely to kill. They have more similarities with the dreaded mechanoids. There's a reason why I haven't told you this, or why we are very careful when it comes to carving out a new chamber for the cave."

"But what's one more gun for the job? Think about it: Sergeant Ahmed is off colony, helping our tribal friends dealing with an enemy camp. We're missing half our soldiers. I know how to fight, I've got more combat experience than most. We gonna wait two weeks till he gets back? It makes sense."

The Sheikh furrowed his brow and finished his coffee, thinking deeply. Damn, Rebecca was gonna lose him.

"I'll even promise to clean up any mess that'll come out of the mining process. Rocks, dust, dead bugs, you name it!"

Umar let out a breath. "Very well. I'll approve your application to Sergeant Aquila's bug squad. But! You will learn to follow her orders."

Rebecca stood from his seat and shook the Sheikh's hand. "Thank you! You won't regret it, chief!"

"Yes, well, time will tell. Is there anything else?"

She pointed behind Umar. "Can I borrow your power armor?"

"Absolutely not."

---

Sergeant Aquila was a mysterious woman. She was clearly not part of the original settlement like Rebecca or Hark were. Rebecca had assumed she was a raider that attacked the cave and was recruited into the fold, but according to Ramlah, she had just appeared one day and any questions directed at her were either deflected or met with a glare.

She was a serious woman, olive skinned, her blonde hair tucked neatly into her mail coif. She wore a set of plasteel plate armour, its worth ten times its weight in silver. Her shield belt was decorated with gold plates and she brandished an exquisite plasteel longsword. Her right arm was bionic and like her sword, intricately decorated the few times Rebecca saw her out of her armour. There was a story behind her, one that Rebecca had tried (and failed) at uncovering.

"I hear that Aquila is a common nom de guerre amongst Imperial deserters," Hark had told her once.

Rebecca didn't know what a Nom Da Gary was but she wasn't going to take her chances asking the moody swordswoman.

Aquila was eying her up and down, like someone trying to buy a new helot. "I don't know why the sheikh let you be on my team but I expect you to follow my orders to the letter."

Rebecca saluted her. "Aye, aye, sir."

"I am not a sir, I work for a living, you moron. Just go stand in the corner and keep your eyes open."

Back when Rebecca ran with the Sharp Pointy Bits, most of her work involved standing at a spot and glaring, something she quite excelled at. If she glared at the ceiling hard enough, those damn bugs won't be pouring in anytime soon.

But it was warm. A heater sat in the middle of the chamber, something that Rebecca had not felt in forever. The logic was sound: it was easier to do physical work when you're not freezing to death. Why, she was even sweating! No sneezes in hours! She could just stay there forever.

The new chamber was deep within the mountain. Bright work lights hung from the ceiling as miners worked hard with pickaxe and drill arms. They hauled stone chunks out of the cavern with wheelbarrows. Mining meant a lot of stone went mostly unused, so the cave's sculptures had used them to make tiles and pillars, the excess were made into bricks, sold to the many bedouin tribes in the desert, and even a faraway tribe living in a swamp.

There were five in total working as security: the sergeant, Rebecca herself, Hark, and the twins, Faizal and Faizah. They stood guard as they watched the miners work.

Rebecca had found herself next to Hark, who wore a hauberk sewn plates of flak, his oversized longaxe planted on the ground. "Bored, huh?"

"Hush. I am working."

"You ain't doing anything, big man."

"In my clan, there is an honorable role called Ironbreakers. They stand guard as our miners tunnel into the Father Mountain, guarding them against the demons that sleep within. Atop the mountain is where we believe our gods reside. Goregarang honours Ironbreakers as one of His bravest."

"You telling me that axe can slay demons?"

"I can slay anything," said Hark, with something resembling arrogance.

As they spoke, there came the sound of falling rock. Picks stopped picking and drill arms stopped drilling as eyes went up to the ceiling. A trail of dust fell right in the middle of the chamber. Sergeant Aquila's whistling filled the chamber.

"Security team, on me! Everyone else, get out! "

Everyone exited the chamber in a calm but quick manner. Some of the miners were even chatting and said something about taking a break. The security team stood at the entrance of the chamber, brandishing their weapons.

The plan was quite simple: a group of melee fighters stood behind the arc of the door while gunners stood behind them and shoot. No retreat - do or die. If that failed, others would literally brick them in. A bit too morbid for Rebecca but she understood the logic.

The first thing that dropped from the ceiling was no creature at all, not the tiny bugs that Rebecca had faced: it was a cocoon, a slimy and disgusting thing roughly the size of a man. What followed next was the little bugs, the thing that the book called a megasacrab; the size of cats.

Then came bigger bugs, a few the size of sheep, and one the size a bear. They look like creatures from his nightmares - claw and chitin molded by immoral scientists to be the ultimate weapon against the mechanoid menace.

Aquila gave the order. "Gun them down!"

A hail of 12 gauge slugs and .45 ACP from Rebecca and the twins slew the small ones first, splattering flesh and green blood onto the rough floor. The bugs didn't take this lying down and rushed the door. Both Aquila and Hark readied their weapons, poised for the strike.

The first to come to the door was the spelopede, baring its fangs, spit dripping. Hark's longaxe split its skull in twain with a satisfying crunch, splattering green blood everywhere. The next was the massive megaspider, its sword sized claws bearing down on the two with the quickness of a cougar.

But Aquila was faster. Her plasteel blade shone in the light; Rebecca could see words inscribed onto it in a language she didn't recognise.

She amputated both claws with a single swing of her blade. The beast staggered back in pain, and Rebecca took the opportunity to blow its head off with a triple burst shot. It crumpled to the floor in a heap. Before she could let out a shout of victory, more came crawling towards them.

The fight dragged on for what felt like forever. By the time her ears stopped ringing, the entire hall fell to a dead silence.

"Holy shit," said Faizal, hands trembling, gun smoking. "Could never get used to that."

Aquila turned around, green blood splattered on her armour. She slapped the young man on the shoulder, drenching his jacket with the blood. "Good work, there. Good work, everyone. Now let's get in there and destroy those hives."

Their boots squelched on the corpses of the bugs. Faizah let out a shriek as she stepped on something she thought was alive and shot at it, only to get scolded by Aquila. The chamber was an abattoir without any delicious muffalo or doggos in sight.

The hives were sturdy things as he bashed the butt of her shotgun into it. It felt like trying to chop down a tree with a club. "Ugh, this is harder than I thought."

Hark was having an easier time with it with his axe. "Look at this."

"I'd rather not look at this room at all," she said, as the miners returned to the chamber, and started to haul the corpses away, likely to be converted into chemfuel. It was easily fifty in total. "What is that?"

It was a big thing, fitting the size of Hark's large palm. The bottom part was made of the same material as the cocoon, but the top part was a gooey green translucent substance. "Insect jelly! You can eat this, you know."

Rebecca pushed the offending piece of food away. "Ugh, no thanks. You go on and eat your bug puke."

Hark stared at him. "You. Eat. Dogs."

"And they taste delicious!" Damn, it had been a long time since she had dog flesh. "Maybe if you tried eating some …"

"Pretty sure the Sheikh would have you exiled at best or executed at worse," said Hark, as he shoved the disgusting thing down his mouth.

It was then Aquila slapped the jelly out of his hands. "Finish off the hives first, eat later."

"Yes, sir."

When that was done, Rebecca dusted her hands off. "Well, that was quite the workout. Time for lunch then?"

Aquila caught him by the back of the collar. "Aa-aa, did you forget the condition of you joining my team?"

Rebecca cursed. Well, at least she had the heat.

---

The process continued. The miners would mine, the guards would guard, and the bugs would launch their attacks. With mop and bucket, Rebecca spent most of her time cleaning more than he did fighting, which was completely fine by her. The entire process of excavating the chamber, hauling away rocks and dead bugs, took a week in total. She even started sleeping in the chamber instead of her bedroom, rubble and hard floor be damned.

It was at that point she had found a flaw in her plan - the chamber was finally completed. There was nothing else to do. The heater did not stay there for long, as the cave's builders started to assemble furniture and supporting pillars. The floor was being carpeted, as the new masjid was being built - a temple of some kind, where the cave's inhabitants would pray in.

On Friday, they had their first community prayer, freezing cold and all.

It didn't take long for Rebecca to make another plea to the Sheikh. "I think you should carve out another chamber!"

"No need. The newest chamber is sufficient for our purposes."

"Aha, but what if it was bigger? You could fit more people during prayers." They were standing so close, shoulder to shoulder even. Maybe to conserve heat, if she had to guess.

"Rebecca, I know what you want. But we're not turning up the temperature."

The toxic fallout had ended but now it was winter. The desert was still colder than a snowman's asshole. Try as she might, her words were not enough to sway the sheikh. The others were quite happy with their new masjid and they prefer not to have bugs invade their peaceful home. So the fallout continued to fall and the snow continued to pile up.

The cave had returned to its routine and Rebecca had almost given up. Until one day, a visitor arrived.

---

The stranger before her looked like a target. The kind of well off rich asshole that Rebecca and her buddies would rob and think nothing of it. He was ostentatiously dressed, in a fancy eltex robe lined with what could only possibly be thrumbo fur. He wore red boots like a lot of his kind. The amount of jewellery on him could set Rebecca up for life. Her raider instincts told her to shove a gun in his face and demand him to cough up the jewels so thankfully for everyone that Gizmo was currently tinkering with Rebecca's shotty.

"Peace, stranger. Welcome to our home. I give you my word, may Allah be my witness, that no harm shall come to you when you are under our protection."

In a display of humility that Rebecca would not expect of the noble, he bowed down. "Of course, sheikh. Very happy to be in this fantastic little setup you have. I hear you've got quite the library."

"I'm sorry that we can't fit your pet elephant in the cave. Not enough space, you see."

The Imperial waved the worries away. "Bah! Little Barca will be fine. She's a spoiled little thing."

Umar gestured to Rebecca. "Praetor Demetrius, this is Rebecca, she'll be your bodyguard for the remainder of your stay."

The Imperial shook hands with her. "Well met, Rebecca! Hope you don't have anything too nasty around here."

The ex-raider suppressed the urge to slide the rings off the noble's finger. "Pleasure to meet you, mark."

Umar sighed. "Rebecca …"

The noble seemed not to mind and laughed. "It's Demetrius. Now, good fellow, point me to my room. I need to unpack."

It was only then that Rebecca noticed the small hill of trunks the noble brought with him.

---

It took a good chunk of the Cave's workforce to help settle the praetor's accommodations.

The western wing of the Cave was often used to house guests, whether they be pilgrims, scientists, merchants, or refugees. Rebecca didn't recall the existence of the room she was currently in, and it only occurred to her that it used the pilgrim dormitory, but the walls were knocked down, beautiful new tiles and carpet were installed, and a host of gold-trimmed furniture. There were even fancy drapes. It must have been recently built.

As fancy as the furnishings were, the amount of stuff Demetrius bought was insane: a panther fur couch, a marble sculpted pool table, the biggest damn TV Rebecca had ever seen, four massive statues, six braziers, a throne that must have weighed a ton, and his own bed.

Rebecca, being the assigned bodyguard, did not partake in any of the work, much to the annoyance of the others.

Demetrius dusted his hands off, as he had done the hauling himself. "Ah, cozy little place, isn't it? Not as nice as my own mansion-ship, but it will do."

"Uhuh." There was more concentrated wealth in here than the entirety of her old family farm.

"Anyway, let us be off to your library!"

"Wouldn't you prefer to stay here instead? In your nice fancy room?" she asked, warming her hands over one of the braziers; it was not sufficient to overcome the Cave's air-conditioning system but it was a reprieve nonetheless. She would have stayed in hydroponics, but she was banned from it ever since she was found to be sleeping on a pile of almost grown devilstrand.

"Nonsense, Friend Rebecca. To stay cooped up in a room where there's much more to explore? Lead the way."

So Rebecca followed the noble as he parked his royal ass on one of the many armchairs in the library and stood guard. It was mind numbingly boring work, and aside from asking for the odd cup of coffee, there wasn't much else to do but wait. Demetrius stayed there until the afternoon, until he went to the dining room for lunch which the noble asked to join.

When picking up lunch, she had to complain. "Wait a second, why do I gotta eat shitty frozen food while Mister Thrumbo Robes over there gets a steak?"

Ramlah shrugged. "Umar's rules. Lavish meals everyday. You got a problem with that, you take it up with him."

Rebecca grumbled, but swiped some of the fries on the noble's plate before returning.

Midway through their meal, she asked, "So what brings someone like you to our cozy tomb?"

"My love of books, of course."

Rebecca didn't buy the excuse for a second. "Right. And the Cave let you come here just like that?"

"Weeell, not exactly," said Demetrius, eating his yogurt. "Your Cave and my family had a little deal. There's some courtly … disagreements going on about, and they tend to get violent."

Ah, that Rebecca understood. "You fucked someone's wife or something?"

Demetrius laughed. "Oh no, nothing so crass. Let's just say a close family friend got into trouble with another family, and my lord father asked me to stay quiet. Instead of being obedient, I hired some village on the other side of the planet to portray the rival family's patriarch in a rather unflattering image, an ancient insult where he was the Soy Wojak and I the Chad, and here I am."

Rebecca allowed him a modicum of respect "Huh, not bad."

"Oh, it is quite bad. My old friend had to go into hiding for even longer, in some godforsaken swamp village somewhere. Even his household guard had to go into hiding, that's how bad it is."

"I see. And I assume your family paid the Cave a fair amount of things to keep you here?"

At that, Demetrius only winked.

So the day ended, with more reading, before the noble excused himself to his chambers for meditation and sleep.

Later that night, Rebecca had barged into the Sheikh's office and demanded answers. "Why do I gotta guard this pompous ass anyway? Can't you get anyone else?"

The old man shrugged. "The twins are down with illness, Sergeant Aquila and Hark are on a caravan trip, and I don't have the men to spare to guard him."

"Okay, but what's with that room of his? He's got more treasure in his bed trunk than we have in our silver vault! And his room is the fanciest in the whole damn Cave!"

"You know how these nobles are, they could be running away for their life but still demand luxurious accommodations. So is there anything else, or would you like some coffee? I see you've stopped sneezing."

At that, she smiled. "I know. Looks like I've gotten over this cold after all."

As Umar brought the tray, Rebecca sneezed a gob of snot right into his cup.

---

The days went on, with Rebecca shadowing Demetrius as he read up on his books, chatted with some of the scribes of the most boring of topics, like poetry or history or philosophy, not the cool shit like war and comics. What's the point of books without pictures in it?

One day, the noble had decided to lounge in his room, which Rebecca was thankful for to be in. Demetrius was unfazed by the cold on the account of his fancy robes, which he changed every day. How many thrumbos were killed thanks to this man's fashion choice?

"I'm most bored, Friend Rebecca. A game of chess perhaps?"

She sniffed. "Sorry, don't know the rules." Too many pieces for her liking. Like, why do the horsies go straight and take a turn? That's not how horsies moved.

"Very well, how about pool?"

"Ah, don't know, man. I'd rather stay cozy by this brazier of yours."

Demetrius looked disappointed until there was a twinkle in the praetor's eye. "Tell you what, if you win, I'll give you a prize."

That got his attention. "Okay, what's the prize?"

The noble looked left and right, as if he was being watched, and produced something from the sleeve of his robes: it was a green doohickey, with some buttons here and there. It looked nothing special.

"Wazzat?"

"This, my illiterate friend, is a psylink neuroformer. It'll give you the ability to cast spells. Like so!"

One moment, Rebecca was at the end of the room and the next he was standing next to Demetrius by the pool. "Whoa!"

"Hahah! Whoa indeed! I'm not supposed to have this, but when you have friends here and there, you get neat toys."

Rebecca eyed the doohickey carefully. "So I can teleport stuff here and there?"

"Well, the powers you get are randomised, some sort of Bestower secret protocol or some such. Maybe you can summon water from nothing, or make someone's steps heavy. I only know a spell or five myself."

Her fingers reached for the neuroformer but Demetrius stowed it away in his sleeve. "Ah, ah! If you defeat me, I'll let you have it."

"You're on!" She may have not been the best pool player back with the Sharp Pointy Bits, but she was pretty good. Top three even. Okay, maybe top five. Okay, okay, top ten? Top twenty … five. Sure, let's go with that.

An hour later, and Rebecca had lost four rounds. She didn't make a single shot. Demetrius looked almost upset at his opponent's lack of skill, but his noble bearing kept him from saying anything mean.

"Aah, tell you what, Friend Rebecca. As you have been so patient with me, if you can hit one ball into a pocket, I'll let you have it."

Rebecca stood straight and took a deep breath. There were three balls left which she could hit to win. She just needed one.

She chalked her tip, leaned over the table and chose the red ball. Aiming at the cue ball, and taking his time, she struck.

The tip of her cue struck the white ball, which spun towards the red ball, and missed. Her heart broke.

Only to hit the edge of the table, did a right angle and striking the cue ball and hitting the blue ball, right into the pocket.

Demetrius whooped. "Good show!"

Rebecca leaned back cooly and cracked her knuckles. "Yeah, you could say I'm a pro. So, about that neurothingy."

He snatched the thing midair. "Well, you deserve it. Demetrius of House Vernadsky keeps his word."

Rebecca examined the neuro former. It was heavier than she expected. "So how do I get these powers?"

Demetrius pushed a button on the side of the neuroformer and he heard a whirring sound as one end popped open revealing an inch long needle. "Jab this in your eye."

"In my eye?"

"In your eye."

"Which one?"

"Whichever. Then press the button again."

The ex-raider closed her left, looked up to the ceiling and jammed the thing inside his right eyeball as if he had been doing it all his life.

The neuroformer pulsed and the needle retracted, the thing heavy before now as light as a feather, as if all the life it had in it had simply died.

Rebecca blinked. "Whoa."

"What have you learned?"

Rebecca raised her hand and aimed it towards the middle of the room and focused.

A flash appeared in the middle of the room, almost blinding the both of them. Then just as quickly, it dimmed to the level of a lamp. The ball of light floated in the air, not moving much but bobbing up and down, like a rubber ducky in a bathtub.

Demetrius clapped. "Amazing! My friend, you've just generated a solar pinhole!"

"Wow, cool! I did a what now?"

The noble twirled his mustache in thought. "Well, if I remember my schola lessons right, what you've done is created a skipgate linked to the core of a nearby star. The star's power leaks through a hole in the space time continuum, giving light and warmth in equal measure."

"I'm illiterate, remember. Dumb it down."

"You've uh, created a light and warmth source via the power of teleportation and a star."

"I understand." Rebecca absolutely did not. Almost instantaneously, she could feel the rising temperature of the room, the power of a star no match for the old air conditioning system. It was like security detail all over again.

"Good show, Rebecca! But uh, you might want to extinguish it. Your lord did say you keep the place cool for a reason."

"Hold on, just give me a moment." She brought up her hands towards it as if it was one of the praetor's braziers, but even those paled in comparison.

The both of them stood there, appreciating the warmth of the pinhole for a few more minutes. "Alright, fine. I'm done. How do I extinguish it?"

"Well, I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You gave me the neurodoohickey!"

"I know a few spells, yes, but not all of them! Buuut, I suppose a little heat lasting a while wouldn't hurt."

"How long does this thing last?"

Demetrius counted the fingers on his hand, doing the math in his head. "Five days."

"Five days?!" Sweat began trickling down her back. The old man was going to kill her if he found out.

But she calmed himself. After all, what was the chance that the bugs are going to start burrowing down the mountain? Last time they did, it took them a long ass time! She would have to have the shittiest luck for it to happen right now.

Rebecca slapped Demetrius on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I think we can keep this little thing hidden for a few days."

"Of course, it's not like the sheikh is going to enter the room at this moment," said the noble. "What are the odds of those damnable insect coming at us right now, eh?"

"Right!"

"Right."

"Yep."

"Indeed."

"So … back to the library?"

Then, a loose pebble dropped from the ceiling.

"Actually, anywhere but here would be good. I am now going to run away like a little gir," said Demetrius with a seriousness she had not heard from the man before.

"Go to the old man, I'll handle this."

As Demetrius picked up the hem of his robes, running away and shrieking in terror, Rebecca took the time to drag the sofa to the doorway to use as a blockade. She did a last minute check on her chain shotty as dust and debris began falling from the ceiling, ruining the little slice of heaven the noble had set up so far.

The disgusting hives came first and immediately followed by the meanest looking megaspider he had ever seen. One of the smaller bugs knocked over a brazier, spilling the wood onto the expensive carpet, and spreading throughout the room.

The megaspider shrieked at her, baring its fangs and claws. A maniacal laugh escaped from Rebecca as she aimed her weapon at the incoming horde, backlit by the incoming inferno. The raider had never felt so alive at this very moment.

"Bad bugs, go away!" Then she squeezed the trigger and never stopped squeezing.

---

Umar looked very different, clad in his fancy power armour. He was caked in grime and gunk and the piston spear in hand, formerly a dull grey, had become coated in the blood. There were scratches denting the golden mane of his helm. The holy man looked less like a fakir and more like those traveling warrior-ghazis in the desert, looking for any excuse to burn down a slaver camp.

Rebecca nodded approvingly. "You know old man, this is a way better look than your robes. You should wear it more often."

The Sheikh sighed as he sat down on a nearby chair, the mechanical servos whirring as it bore the weight. "Do you realise how much money you've cost us?"

"What are you talking about, they didn't even reach the library?"

Umar produced a notepad and a pair of reading glasses from a belt pouch, adjusting the rim before reading out:

"Deluxe King Sized Bed, 5,600 silver; marble dresser and armoire, 3,500 silver; the clothes within said furniture, 12,500 silver; flatscreen television, 4,700 silver, six custom-made braziers, 650 silver a pop; carpet and rugs, 3,900 silver - do I need to go on? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Before Rebecca could answer, she coughed up some blood, and wiped her mouth with the back of a hand. "You got any Go-juice?"

"In Rebecca's defense, Sheikh, it was I who gave her the neuroformer. Don't be too hard on the lass, she's missing both her legs!"

"Well, be glad I've got a raw shipment of plasteel coming soon," said Gizmo, who was being treated for the bruise on his chest. "Though, for reasons obvious, you ain't gonna get those legs anytime soon."

Rebecca wave him away. "Nah, it's fine. Peg legs will do in the meantime." If helots can do work with peg legs, then she should be just fine.

Umar turned to the praetor. "I take it you'll be pursuing compensation for the damages caused by one of my own?"

"We can discuss that later, I think. You're the heroine of the hour, taking on an entire horde by yourself like that."

"One that she caused," said Gizmo.

"Cave Fever," said Demetrius.

"Excuse me?" said Umar.

"Cave Fever. She was suffering from Cave Fever. Being entombed underground for long periods of time, it makes the mind go haywire. It's not claustrophobia per se, but similar. Not to be confused with the disease of the same name. It's a relatively new phenomenon, not very well research, but apparently abundant amongst some planets."

"I know what Cave Fever is, praetor. What of it?"

"I'm just saying you shouldn't be too hard on the lass. She's not only suffering from some mental anguish, but also from a nasty cold! Can't blame her for doing what she did."

Umar sighed again, rubbing his bald head. "Very well. I shall overlook this, once. But you're on thin ice, missy."

"Maybe I should cause more infestations then," said Rebecca, the sheikh glared at her.

"You recruited her, Umar. You're part to blame too," said Gizmo.

He sighed. "I know. At least you're safe. Rest up, I'll be assigning Hark for guard duty when he gets back tomorrow."

Everyone left her to rest. Sure, she was suffering from third degree burns, was on all sorts of drugs, but at least she had the heat.

Waiting for a while for the coast to clear, Rebecca brought up her hand. She produced another pinhole, but much smaller, just about the size of a coin, and using her newfound psychic powers, shoved it down her shirt. It heated her up amazingly well, and unlike the pinhole from before, was mobile and didn't heat up the room nowhere near as drastically.

Sleep finally took her and this time, without any sniffles.

 

[Hykal94]

Previous one-shot: Bestowing Ceremony - RimWorld (oneshot)

 

[MilitantBird]

The constantly switching pronouns is confusing and annoying, but on the whole a very enjoyable snippet.

 

[Winged One]

"Can you at least haul or clean?"

"Oh yeah, I can do those."

"Praise Allah for small mercies."

Click to shrink...

She was one wrong answer from being a hat at that point.

 

[Krazyfan1]

genderfluid protagonist, neat.

i half expected her to get Icy pinhole.
Shame the monks don't have any Biotech stuff for cold immunity...

 

[Hykal94]

A'ight, that should be most of the typos fixed. Sorry everyone, maybe a gender fluid protag another time. You could tell the gender change was recent in the development of the story.

Shame the monks don't have any Biotech stuff for cold immunity...

Click to shrink...

Most of the story was written like a couple weeks before Biotech was announced, thus the lack of any Biotech content. Only actually finished the last bits like a week ago.

Also wanna point out, we have a story about someone fighting the cold and no one's using the Winter rating? Come on now.

 

[HeroCooky]

an ancient insult where he was the Soy Wojak and I the Chad

Click to shrink...

Goddamit, that actually broke me. Well done, well done.

 

[Hykal94]

We literally have Quests in game where we glorify/insult someone's pubes, the Soy Wojak meme is the least hurtful insult someone could throw at another.