With all the, shall we say, trials that Pandora regularly throws up, I stood on my rock ledge for a while, expecting to see a "King Kong Live"-like bullywang climbing the walls. No sounds or light appeared, however, and eventually I turned on my flashlight.

  By the way, strangely enough, flashlights are a problem on Pandora; there are practically none on sale, so I had to make one myself. Probably the problem here was homo recens' improved vision, which, however, was still limited in pitch darkness without light sources.

  In any case, I had a homemade flashlight, and I wasn't afraid to use it.

  The walls went upwards for about ten meters. That said, the landing wasn't even particularly painful; not only my eyesight, but all other bodily functions are improved. Including stronger bones.

  After paying homage to biology, I began to evaluate speleology and mountaineering. These walls... The only thing in their favor was that they weren't wet. Otherwise - even with the ability to digitally build climbing gear, that method doesn't work here. I'm not Mordecai, after all, so we'll go another way.

  Actually, I had several ways to get out. For example, I could contact someone who could bring a rope through the ECHO, with a vacuum cleaner for example. Or, better yet, digitally build a modular ladder, as I had more than enough metal to spare. I could even digitize the passageway leading up through the rock. But before I started building the staircase, I lowered the flashlight down and then added brightness.

  ...О.

  The beam of light highlighted a pair of metal rails running along the wall, ending at the top at a hole in the wall - one of the tunnels penetrating the mountain. And below... First I noticed a platform of a hoist standing on the floor, with a couple of containers beside it; then I saw racks of lamps, now obviously turned off, with cables running from them. And then, a little farther away... Walls. Plain walls covered in strange lines of unknown material.

  Eridian structures.

  It wasn't hard to get down, especially since I'd made a ladder. After a quick look around, I managed to not only find but also start the generator, so I had light.

  In which the bloodstains on the floor became visible. Infernal bullywang had survived the fall after all, and even the blood loss here wasn't to say much - though I don't know how it interacted with his fire, perhaps caked on.

  Grinning, I set up a couple more turrets. There were already two left upstairs, and I had a limited number of guns for them.

  To my deep satisfaction, searching the neighborhood without climbing into an Eridian relic yielded some very pleasant results - though they also yielded some unpleasant thoughts.

  I was apparently in an advance camp, probably archaeological, not officially mapped. The nice thing was that I found a fair amount of loot; containers contained various supplies, from food and clothing to ammunition, and I even found a nearly unprotected weapons container with a couple of pistols and an assault rifle, Dahl obviously.

  The downside was that it was all abandoned here. Abandoned stuff, nearby ancient ruins... no need to explain.

  Actually, no, I do need to explain something: Why did I come here?

  On the other hand, the loot.

  While thinking about it, I didn't forget to install new turrets using the looted guns. Even if some crap comes out, with all this dears it won't have an easy time... hopefully. The guns are so-so, actually.

  Suddenly, I almost jumped as I heard a loud roar and the sound of blows coming from the direction of the Eridian ruins. I thought of where to run and what shelter to hide behind, but then the roaring stopped.

  And then there was a reason for it.

  I saw some movement in the darkness of the passage into the Eridian structure, and I darted behind a wall ledge; just in time.

  The Eridian guardian I'd met at the last archaeological site had given me trouble despite being damaged. Now I had a solid, undamaged one in front of me, and correspondingly more dangerous. The ECHO agreed, marking it with an icon in the shape of a shimmering skull. "Threat Level: 20" Even without understanding how all these "TL's" work and how they relate to my own "level", it was obvious that I shouldn't mess with it. The Balrog, by the way, had a 14. Mine, by comparison, was 13.

  I signaled the turrets not to attack first, and lay low. The Guardian seemed to look around, lingering a little longer on the turrets and the lights on, but did not approach, instead disappearing into the Eridian structure. I breathed a sigh of relief: although I had some advantages here, in the form of already prepared turrets and limited flight space, I didn't need this fight, even if there was only one Guardian.

  I'll make a note of this place, but for now it's time to head upstairs.

  I didn't investigate the passage that led to the elevator, I just built a ladder against the wall and climbed up into the hole I'd fallen into. I could explore dangerous places later, because I had some ideas about how to deal with the guards. For now, I already have some good loot, and most importantly, I have a fabricator waiting for me.

  ...Though I'm afraid of what I might see in its condition.

  To my undisguised relief, the machine was almost undamaged. Well, scratches, minor dents, dust and debris - obviously; after removing the "decorations" piled on it that turned the machine into a "throne", it was noticeable that it had been tried to be smashed. But army equipment is tough, and minor damage to the outer hull had no effect on the fabricator's performance.

  Internal power source - functioning. Activation key... accepted. In angular, really reminiscent of a primitive throne, machine, the panel opened - it was not clear that it was there - and I inserted the processor unit.

  Well, let's see in detail what we can do with it.

  Half an hour later, I was frowning tensely and looking around. Something was obviously wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The thing was, the fabricator was working. The internal power source was functioning without problems, diagnostics of all systems found no faults. There was a small but more than adequate supply of resources for the near future, and i even found a mobility system that explained how it had been shoved in here, and how I was going to get it out. The only noticeable problem was damage to the CPU unit, which I knew about beforehand. More to the point, when I started up the fabricator, I also got a level up message.

  Everything was going too well, and it was highly suspicious.

  Someone might say "well, I've already had two, even three bosses, and a stampede, plus I could barely avoid a run-in with an Eridian guardian, why bother for nothing?".

  "Naive!" - I would reply. - "It's Pandora! She's just waiting for you to relax so she can pull another mutant skag out of her hat! And if you can't see the gopher, it just means it has a stealth system!"

  "Paranoid..." - the hypothetical interlocutor would say, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which I would chuckle from the height of my experience. Paranoia is not a sickness, it's a survival pledge...

  - Boss, is this faithlessness...? - said Claptrap sadly. - Okay me, but think about your turret! You've been together for so many years!

  I glanced at the fabricator following me and cracked Claptrap with a shovel. It felt like the Dahl unit made a sound of approval...

  I originally wanted to send a message to the ECHONET about the Eridian ruins found in the bowels of Dead Mountain, containing alien treasures. Bandits and adventurers will surely react to this message, and with luck eliminate the guards - or at least damage them.

  However, there was a small unforeseen complication: the fabricator. I couldn't take it away in a buggy; the shape and size didn't allow it. It wouldn't go far on its own, it was too slow, so I'd either have to find transportation or set it up right here on Dead Mountain, as there were still some remnants of minerals to be found.

  Hmm. Well, it's not like there weren't options.

  - Scooter, great. Hey, you got some kind of truck for this size load?

  Scooter, a young, slightly autistic-looking guy, was obviously happy to get my call.

  - That's a great question, man. You're just in time, I was just thinking about expanding my product line. Tell you what: I'll make you the car you need if you bring me some stuff. All right?

  Oh, quest!

  ...I feel like I'm mutating into a MC.

  Scooter's assignment was completely expected. He didn't want to build a new car from scratch, so he asked me to get him a sample, based on which he would create his own model. And he promised to give him a bonus for additional equipment/accessories that he could get. He pointed out a couple of places where I could find what I needed, although no one stopped me from looking for it myself.

  What turned out to be the first place he pointed out was not surprising at all. A madhouse on wheels...

  I mean, it's not my assessment, it's the name. The motor gang, "Madhouse on Wheels." There's a reward for them, but there's a couple dozen of them in cars; it's not going to be easy to kill them alone. You could, of course, try to just steal a wheelbarrow, but that's not only lost money, but just plain rude, after all.

  You could also look at junkyards, and poke around in the ECHOnet. Richness of choice, freedom of self-expression... Pandora is a planet of possibilities.

  But first, we need to replenish our ammunition.

  Unfortunately, the fabricator didn't make both types of grenades. More precisely, it required an external energy source to make them; a task for the future. For now, I fed him some of my raw materials from the ECHO and received in exchange the filling of ammunition stores.

  Also...

  - I am the path to truth; the shepherd to lost souls, - said the vacuum cleaner. - Agreed, boss.

  It was about me offering PASTOR a job. A supervisor over future convict miners; one cordon turret would not be enough. One vacuum cleaner probably isn't either, but it's a start....

  - I'm sorry, Mr. Dethlove, but I can't, - Roland shook his head negatively. - I'm busy right now. Perhaps some other time.

  - I see, - I said. - It happens.

  - If you want, contact me again in a couple of days, - the black man offered. I nodded.

  - If I can't finish it by then, I'll do it. And, by the way, I can already sell some ammunition if you need it.

  Having completed the transaction, which provided - hopefully - a small boost to my personal reputation, I dialed another number.

  - Hey, Brick. You want to stretch your fists? I got some guys asking to get their asses kicked. It's a paying job, and I provide coffee and ammo.

  - A mug of Los Plaines, and you got a deal, - the big guy said.

  I didn't expect him to be a gourmet.

  I might have thought Brick was a vampire, but he ate the garlic clove in his sandwich and asked for more. Why am I even thinking about vampires? Well... I'd seen the way his wounds healed when his skin absorbed someone else's blood.

  He didn't drink it, though. But he did drink a large mug of expensive elite coffee with obvious pleasure... Bloodsucker.

  I must admit, though, it was worth the expense. While I was planning how best to attack the bandits, this juggernaut just ran up to the gate, kicked it, unloaded his shotgun, and started smashing enemies with his fists, almost ignoring shots even when his shield was down; that's when I got a chance to see his regeneration.

  Obviously, I was trying to cover for my temporary partner, but this melee monster did most of the work himself. He wasn't a berserker, though; when four vehicles with weapons on them rolled out of the garages, he retreated under the cover of the turrets I'd prepared just in case.

  ...Well, not "under cover." He just picked up a couple of boulders and threw them at the cars.

  - Good fight, - said Brick, glancing sadly at his empty mug. - You're welcome if you need anything.

  I nodded and looked at the bloody teddy bear on the table.

  - And what is this? - I asked.

  - Well, it squeaks funny - answered the big guy and in demonstration of his words kicked the body lying on the ground. The bandit squeaked.

  - It's really funny, - I agreed.