Pensieve Overseer 2
You descend in a pillar of white smoke that slaps into the ground, transforming into a faded-out version of yourselves, present inside one of the common rooms of the Vault, although half the lights are off. The corners of the vision bleed away details into smoke, and the sharp scent of freshly-welded metal overwhelms any other scent.
In the center, the default spot of the one whose memory you now view, walks an untransformed changeling, his milky white skin puckered with the lines of the middle-aged and stressed. “…you can see,” he states in a nasally voice used often to giving disdainful sniffs, “we have more than enough room for thousands upon thousands.”
“Swell,” drawls the burly woman in a business suit, long straw-like hair swaying out from underneath an incongruously battered wide-brimmed herder’s hat. One calloused, toned hand reflexively clutches her pregnant belly and the other hangs on to the sleeve of a nicely-dressed but slightly mussed brown-haired elven man standing next to her. “How long ‘til this place is fixed up an’ ready ta seal up?”
“Not long,” the changeling waves a hand at the back. “The work crews should finish making last-minute installations for the recycler and hydroponics systems in the next week. After that and some vital goods from Kundarak-Tec, we should be ready to accept hotel load.”
“Here’s hoping we never have to use it,” the elven man chuckles weakly.
The blonde glances his way, her weak smile almost immediately disappearing, taking his with it.
“It’s…” the changeling swallows, “It’s that bad?”
“That’s… kinda the problem,” the businesswoman’s deep Eldeen hick accent says quietly. “It’s goin’ TOO well. We made it all th’ way ta Argonessen, an’ th’ M.A.S. has been talkin’ how they’re ready to end th’ war once they finish a new project.”
“I… well… I don’t understand. Surely that’s a good thing.”
“Ain’t when Queen Aurala seems bound an’ determined to finish what the Rajahs tried in the Age o’ Demons. Wipe out th’ dragons. They ain’t gonna stand fer that, not one bit, an’ Kaius seems to think they’d perfer goin’ out with a bang an’ taking us with.”
The elven man speaks up, “Kaius, Gadget, and Ilshana are trying to talk Aurala into suing for peace, but… well…” he shrugs helplessly. “She doesn’t understand hunting, how a cornered beast acts.”
The changeling sniffed, glancing betwixt the two. “Madam Audra, Master Moen, what really brings you to 36? The Minister for Wartime Technology and her world-famous League of Ancients champion of a husband don’t just drop in to see an unfinished Vault. We’re not even the third closest vault to Wroat, never mind Sharn.”
“Happens ta be, that’s ezzactly why we need you,” Audra replies, pulling out a chair and sitting down gingerly, clutching her swollen belly. “If th’ megaspells drop an’ ya get ta be Overseer, ya gotcher self a VIP t’ take care of. “
“Yeeees, I’ve been made aware of our two long-lived… erm… ‘celebrities’. The dark elf and the… for lack of a better term… undead.”
“Yeh, well, ya know th’ Orien teleport circle we got stamped onna floor to bring in yer… honey, what’s tha term agin?”
The brown-haired elf, Moen, smiles wryly. “Differently Vitality-Enabled.”
“Right. That awful mouthful. Anyway, that teleport circle needs some changes so it can work twice, not jes’ once.”
The changeling glances significantly down at Audra’s gravid stomach.
“Ah… no, heh, we got other plans fer this lil’ critter,” she pats the bulge. “No, it’s someone else. Someone very, very high up.” She takes out a slip of paper. “Details’re on here. Burn it later. There’s a decent chance a very important thang called EC-1101 is gonna end up here, an’ someone’s gotta use it.”
The memory fades away to the first Overseer’s shocked expression as he peeks into the paper.