Lisa adjusted the setting on her flashlight for wide dispersion and swept the beam along the rear of the cave, which narrowed to a smooth tunnel tilting downward. The slumbering forms of a few orcs littered the entrance but none moved when the three adventurers approached them.
It was time to finish this. Between the light and the gas bombs, she felt reasonably confident they could overcome the mind flayer, assuming it was alone and didn't have any resources or abilities they weren't expecting. The trouble was that she could not assume much of anything. All she knew about the thing was what Brax recalled from his games, which she did not consider reliable information despite Doc's hypothesis and the bizarre similarities. That was simply not how reality worked.
With the dark recesses of the tunnel looming ahead and the prospect of meeting a fantasy monster at the end, she thought it probably would have been a better idea to send one of the maintenance drones in first, at least for reconnaissance. But that would have taken more time, and it was too late, anyway. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, she realized she was not the least afraid. What she felt, more than anything, was annoyed. None of this was real. It was a game she was being forced to play, and she didn't like it. It was contrived, illogical, frustrating, and incredibly annoying. And it had dragged on far too long. She wanted it to be over, but she couldn't just quit and go home. She had to play it out, which meant she had to take it seriously enough to win. If she didn't, going home might not be an option.
"Remember, single file behind me, and try to be quiet," she whispered to Doc and Sandra. They weren't going to surprise anyone. The light precluded that, but she hoped she could conceal how many they were from the enemy she suspected lurked in darkness ahead.
The tunnel wound downward with irregular turns and side branches, but one way was always a little taller, a bit wider. Brax advised her that the main passage should lead to the boss, which is how it worked in games. She hated relying on that for tactical advice, but it was all she had, and it made a certain amount of sense. It was an ego thing. The boss always had the biggest office.
She had never had an issue with claustrophobia. Space is big and open, but the ships and stations people use to explore it are seldom larger than they need to be, with living space restricted to leave room for other more important things like fuel and cargo. No one sensitive to confined spaces worked in space. She felt no anxiety about the tunnel or being underground. However, she did recognize that she and her companions were vulnerable here. Her familiarity with weapons began and ended with those shown in popular entertainment, but she suspected that something like a rocket-propelled grenade shot from below would cause them no end of grief. She counted on the thing they were after having nothing like that.
She almost stumbled over an unconscious orc lying on the floor. A few more lay beyond it.
"They're out cold," Doc said, after a brief examination.
The three crew members stopped to bind the recumbent orcs' hands and legs as quickly as possible and continued their decent.
Before long, the tunnel widened, gradually opening into a chamber. Lisa paused and aimed the beam of her flashlight into a space no larger than the dorm room she had in college. A shadow moved in the darkness at the edge of her light and she felt…something…a sensation like what wind might be if there were no air.
She grabbed one of the gas bombs from her belt, pulled the ring, and tossed it in the direction of the movement. It had barely landed when she brought her light to bear, expecting to see something collapsing to the floor.
As with so many hopeful expectations, hers was only half met. She did see something, but it was not gasping for breath or crumpling to the ground. It was standing and staring at her with large, widely spaced black eyes.
The creature looked, more than anything else she could think of, like an average size man with his head jammed up a squid's butt. From its unseen neck downward, it looked like a man, with limbs in the correct quantity and locations. The head, however, was like something from an aquarium or an exotic seafood restaurant. It glistened wetly in a color like a bad bruise. Darker tentacles waved where a normal man might have a moustache—if the man had braided it into long dreadlocks to hide a weak chin.
The tentacles quivered as the creature spoke in a deep, aristocratic, almost mocking voice. "You have withstood my magical attack and I have withstood yours. What do you plan to do now, sorceress?"
Obviously it had not succumbed to the gas. Not knowing the physiology of the creature, they could not be sure that it would, and they had a backup plan. As an engineer, she appreciated the concept of redundancy. Plan 'A' did not work. It was time for plan 'B'. She sincerely hoped this one worked because there was no plan 'C'. She did not intend to share the details with squid face, though, and as her only reply to his question, she narrowed the beam of her light to a tighter focus and aimed it at his eyes.
The mind flayer's face tightened in what she thought might be a grimace of pain, but it did not blink. It might not be able to. She got the impression it had no eyelids. She kept the beam and her attention on its large black eyes, especially when she caught the faint sound of movement behind her.
"Unpleasant, but not especially dangerous," it said. "Is that all you have? I expected more of you." It took a step toward her. "We may need to conclude our encounter in a more mundane manner."
Self-preservation instincts developed and honed over millions of years told her that running away was a good idea and urged her to do so. She overruled them and forced herself to stand her ground with as much confidence as she could fake. In fiction, the villain liked to gloat before its victims, and in some ways, this was fiction. Maybe she could get it to expound on its greatness for a minute or two.
"Why didn't the gas affect you?" she asked.
The monster cocked its hideous head. "The magic you used on the orcs will not work against me. I am different from food animals like the orcs and you. I am superior. I am a creature of the depths and the darkness. Come to me now and submit. I shall not be merciful, but I may be quick."
She kept the intense beam of light on its face, hoping that it would keep it off balance.
"You seem quite sure of yourself," she said with bravado she did not feel. "A creature of the darkness, are you? I'm sure you were hoping to sound melodramatic, but all that it tells me is that you're vermin, like a rat or a cockroach."
"Hah, you try to insult me even now. No, the rat is more like you, and the cockroach, while tasty, is like neither of us. You put up a brave pretense, sorceress, but you do not fool me. You may be impervious to my magic, as I am to yours, but I am still stronger and smarter than you."
Its response supported her conjecture that it was not a mammal. With a head like that, it might be something more like a cephalopod.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," she said. "You certainly are uglier. I'm no great beauty, but at least I don't look like something that washed up on the beach after an oil spill."
It cocked its head again, and she noticed the half-meter long tentacles on its face did not dangle. They writhed like snakes.
"You intrigue me, sorceress. Even now that you are so close, I can barely sense your mind. Never have I tasted one as bland as yours. It is like clean water, clear and fresh and entirely without all the imperfections that provide flavor. I know that I am strange and hideous to you, so where is your fear of the unknown? Where is your loathing for what is different? I sense only curiosity and controlled apprehension from you. Your lusts and your biases are surely there, but it is as if you hold them at bay, like a human who restrains his hunting dogs."
"That's because I am not a creature of darkness. I try to see things as they really are."
"What is seen depends on who is looking. That is the essence of magic."
"It's different where I come from."
"Perhaps it is. I have speculated about you—about your people."
"You know about us?"
"Yes, I am a genius. Did you not find this in your…reference books? I feel
that your knowledge of me derives from reference manuals. It lingers in the mind of your fighter outside. His is one I could savor. He knows about magic. His kind gives it substance. He believes. You were wise to leave him outside. I do not know much of your people, sorceress, but they are the source of magic, are they not? Their fears and beliefs shape it. They give it form and power. But as the source of all magic, they are also its greatest rivals. Your own counter-magic is extremely powerful. It is a shame I will not have time…." It paused, apparently reflecting on a new idea. "Ah, but perhaps I do. It is not my nature to hold one captive, but it is my nature to extract what they know. It would be interesting to conduct a prolonged inquest to discover what I can extract from you. I might enjoy that, although you certainly will not."
The problem with keeping it blinded by the bright beam of her flashlight and focusing her attention on its face was that she also could not see much of anything else around her. She thought she may have caught a glimpse of Sandra a moment ago, but she did not allow her eyes to dart in that direction. She reminded herself that the backup plan was working as long as she could keep the creature's attention on her. The fact that that attention was uncomfortable did not matter.
She might be able to turn some of that around.
"I can tell you more than you might like to know," she said. "For one thing, you only exist because of people like me…well, people in my universe, anyway. You're derivative—a construct of imagination."
The mind flayer shrugged. "I am what I am, but assuming what you say is true, I owe your people nothing. I doubt they created me or this world intentionally or with any regard for it."
"I'm not saying you should bow down and worship us. I'm telling you that you exist for entertainment. You are the bad guy in a bad story. You’re here to give the heroes someone to fight."
"And you, I presume, are the hero?"
Was she? If so, it was only by accident.
"To be honest, I'm not sure. I think I may be outside the story, but I don't see why the story has to happen the same way all the time."
"So the bad guy, as you have labeled me, can win?"
"That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is that you may not have to be the bad guy. You seem to have free will. You may be able to choose a different role for yourself. At best, what you are now is a metaphor for some perceived evil, like a personification of cruelty or greed or something. Is that what you want to be—just a stereotypical character in a fantasy? I don't think you have to be. I think you can make a rational choice and be something better."
"Nice try, sorceress. You try to appeal to my humanity, to my rationality, and I assure you I have none. I am a creature of hate and magic. I am not rational."
"But you can be. What is it you truly want? Why do you do the terrible things you do?"
"Did I not say? I am evil. That is why. Oh, and brains, of course. Very tasty, brains."
Sandra's report did mention that the orcs called it the brain eater.
"I can’t say that sounds very appetizing to me, but I’d think, well, maybe something like raising sheep would be easier than dominating orcs and assaulting humans."
"Sheep brains? Such dull, flavorless creatures. No, I think not. Humans are best. Their capacity for belief provides a unique texture spiced with foolish fears and creative misunderstandings. But as fascinating as this is, it grows tiresome. You may be able to resist my magic, but I'm sure my physical prowess will suffice. Your brain may be magically tasteless, but I'm sure it is nourishing."
It lunged forward, arms outstretched and tentacles waving. Lisa jerked back to avoid the attack, surprised to see the creature stumble when Sandra emerged from the shadows, hitting it with some kind of martial arts kick.
It regained its balance quickly, pivoted on one leg, and shoved her aside. Lisa heard the communications officer gasp and fall, but she could not tell if she was injured.
Divided between two opponents, the mind flayer hesitated a moment and then turned again to Lisa.
"An invisible thief in the darkness, sorceress? Clever but insufficient. I shall have her for dessert."
Lisa backed away. The mind flayer waited, perhaps savoring its victory.
'Any time, Doc,' she said silently to herself.
A shadow moved quickly in the darkness. She didn't see the staff strike, but the mind flayer fell. Doc, behind it, seemed ready to strike again when the creature, with surprising speed and strength, whipped its head around and lashed at Doc with its tentacles, forcing him back.
"Three of you? Oh, how devious," it said with apparent approval as it got back on its feet. "And their minds are almost as invisible to me as your own. This shall be a unique experience. But, first things first."
It stepped toward her, its tentacles menacing, waving, reaching toward her with brain-sucking intent.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mind Flayer," Doc said from the shadows.
The creature did not pause in its slow approach. "The silent cleric speaks. He will have to wait his turn. The sorceress is the main course."
"If you don't stop, I will have to shoot you with a…a fireball."
"I shall not be distracted by your pretense. Clerics cannot cast fire—"
Lisa recognized the sound of a flare gun firing a moment before the creature's face exploded in a shower of red sparks. In the enclosed space, the intense light of the signal flare blinded her. When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, her vision remained impaired because of the powerful flash, but she could see well enough to tell that the mind flayer was lying motionless on the floor of the cave, its tentacles limp and smoldering.
"Thanks, Doc," she mumbled, adjusting the flashlight to a wider beam.
"I regret that I saw no other option," Doc said with obvious remorse. "It was not a rational creature. I knew I could not reason with it, but I thought it might alter its behavior under a physical threat."
"Apparently not," she said, scanning the room to find their other crew member.
She quickly spotted Sandra crouching in a far corner of the small cavern with her own flashlight illuminating something on the ground.
"Are you all right, Sandra?" Lisa asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. Maybe a bruise or two, but nothing's broken."
"What are you doing?"
"Brax told me there's always treasure after the heroes defeat the boss, and he was right."
"You found treasure?"
"I don't see anything that would make us ridiculously rich, but there's a sword, a couple rings, and some chests and bags of gold and silver coins."
Back home, gold and silver no longer held the value they once enjoyed because miners had found so much on asteroids, but the coins were still reasonably valuable. Gold and silver remained far from common, and many people retained a nostalgic fondness for the metals once used as money. In this archaic place, they probably still did.
"I suppose they're ours by whatever customs apply here, so we may as well take them. We also need to haul back the mind flayer's body to prove we've accomplished our mission."
Sandra glanced at the smoldering carcass.
"Yuck. I'll grab some of the treasure and meet you outside."