12 Miles Below

Book 6. Chapter 32: Jackpot

Drakonis flexed his armor’s hands open and close. Each repetition came with a very faint mechanical whining from deep within the finger joints. Black smoke danced and twisted through his fingers, sinking through the small open seams, fading away.

He flexed one more time, and there was no sound at all that came from any of it. His eye glanced down at his cradled helmet, looking at the interior visor panels. “Armor shows all green. I’m set to go.”

“Good.” I reached out, slapped his shoulder once or twice, and stood back up. “Now, do you need me to give you a pep talk or something? I charge extra for that.”

“Har har, the funny surface savage.” He rolled his eyes, lifting the helmet and clicking it shut over his head. “How much time do we have in total?”

“Splitting up the cells evenly, we’ve got just about a day and some change of power.” I said, tapping the bag, the power cells inside clinking against one another. “At that point, we’d better either have found a mite fountain, or some local machine donors.”

The airspeeder didn't just have full cells, it also had the husks of spent ones too, but there were too many of them to fit in my small bag. I'd taken what I could and if we found the means to refill cells, we could come back here later and grab the rest.

“Can you fight without armor?” He asked.

“Eh.” I said with a shrug, getting up and walking over to the sealed doorway. “I’m still dangerous without armor, but Journey’s spoiled me and I rather like being nice and toasty inside here. Plus it smells like beetle and weasel out there right now.”

He nodded. “The bit that got in earlier reeks like rotting crab and fish fucking together. We agree on that at least. We need weapons now.” He stood back up, headlights on his helmet lighting brightly and adding onto Journey’s own illumination.

“Just about to ask." I said, giving him a mild elbow. "When you brough this ride, you splurged on having an armory setup next to the coffee machine, right?”

He nodded. “Better coffee than the piss you drink for sure, savage.”

I could almost feel some Logi standing ramrod straight, eyes narrowing as their sixth sense of being insulted lit up, but Drakonis kept talking before I could defend my clan’s culture.

“We did bring rifles, explosives and ordnance with us, the works. I’m not stupid. It’s on the other side of engineering, small sealed closet.” His headlights turned around and he walked to the sealed doorway behind us, hands reaching out and manually opening the unpowered door. “If we’re hunting animals, any bullet size should do.”

“Lead the way.” I said, following behind.

Smell was cleared by Journey’s filters, or whatever the armor used to supply air, but I could swear I saw the inside of the airspeeder here look slightly brown, like there was some organic particles hovering in the air, lit up by our headlights.

We shuffled up the small steps, back into the ransacked and trashed airspeeder. “Three gods above, they really did a number on this ship in just the hour it landed.” I muttered, my headlights looking over the damage. Most sections inside the airspeeder are all metal plates, but there were a lot of thinner panels that had been blown off their bolts during the landing, exposing wire behind. And that was either snapped off by bites, or filled with puke, bile, blood, fur or other organic waste. “I always heard the term ‘like a pigstie in here’ but thought the golden age humans were being metaphorical. That, or the agrifarmers have a way harder job than they tell us.”

“Agrifarmers?” Drakonis asked, headlights sweeping over the ship and finding just about the same thing I was. “Gonna guess it’s some surface dweller jargon for farmers? Why complicate the word?”

“It’s a caste, not an occupation.” I said. “A social rank.”

“A rank for farmers? They do more than farm or something?”

Had to stop and think about that for a moment. “Technically no? They farm a lot of different things, and use a lot of different systems to farm with.”

“So why not just call them farmers and be done with it?”

“Noise outside.” Cathida said while I was mulling over some kind of analogy I could use to explain something this basic to the lost uncultured rube who might have a point and I didn’t want to admit that. “I think your pest problem is coming back, deary. Not the mite seeker though, it’s still being dragged further away as we speak.”

“Think it might be something different than wild animals again?” I asked. “With some luck, might be a patrol of machines we can terrorize for more power cells.”

“Nope. Unless you can link snarling feral growls and baying to some other kind of creature?” She paused. “On second thought, some machines might sound exactly like that. They don’t call Screamers Screamers for nothing.”

“I take it from your silence you agree it’s a little much to give an entire rank to farmers.” Drakonis added in between my chat with Cathida.

“Quiet.” I hissed, “Armor’s telling me there’s noise out there and I want to figure out if it’s more wildlife or machines checking in on this.”

“Let’s get the weapons first, and then we can handle anything else that comes sniffing.” Drakonis said.

Frigates like these were huge, but besides the cargo sections, the actual insides were surprisingly cramped. Right by the cockpit was a ladderway leading to the upper turret, but next to it was a small walled closet door where different kinds of stations could be installed. A few lever yanks from Drakonis, and the whole thing unfolded open, revealing a small walk in closet sized armory. About twenty three rifles were holstered, a few missing from empty hooks, and plenty of magazines in large boxes under all of it. Grenades, and other gear also filled up a few boxes, clearly banking on the thick walls around the whole section here to keep it from exploding.

“Not too shabby.” I said, grabbing one of the rifles.

“Surface dwellers and gun nuts. Tell me a better pairing.” Drakonis huffed, sounding mildly proud. He also yanked one of his rifles off the wall and began to stock up on whatever he could fit on his belt and bags, hands going over practiced motions.

They weren’t taken care of to the standard Kidra would have demanded, she was an actual gun nut and had shown me time and time again exactly how to keep a rifle in working order against just about anything short of it being thrown down a chasm.

“We've got weapons.” Drakonis said. “Are you sure you still need to find your own gear? We could skip a few hours of work instead of spending time tracking down replaceable junk.”

“No way, not leaving my gear behind.” I said. “It’s special. You can do what you want, but I’m going after it first.”

He scoffed. “A rifle’s a rifle, Winterscar. There are many like it, and we all use whatever’s available.”

“Mine has cute little doodles and I can’t sleep without cuddling it.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He hissed. “Are you actually being serious? Or is your gear mite-made treasure? You could have just said that from the start.”

“I’m lying about it having doodles.” I said. “It’s not mite made, but it is important to my clan and mission, and that’s all you’ll need to know about it. Happy?”

He nodded, then left the rifle to fall limp on the strap while he took care of other pieces of gear. “All right, fine, I’ll follow and help you get your stuff back.”

He pulled out a sidearm next, checked the chamber was loaded and that the weapon was ready to use. Then walked off and joined me at the steps leading to the hangar itself. Whatever was making noises was outside, and out of sight from here.

Just two old pals, out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by possibly murderous machines or insane wildlife. Got the feeling that once we stepped out of this airspeeder, the punches would start rolling and they wouldn’t stop until we were all done.

“Noticed you didn’t clarify if you sleep with your gear or not.” He said in the pause.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

He exhaled loudly, shook his head and jumped down to the hangar bay. “Everan would have become absolutely insufferable if you met him. The two of you would have been a fucking menace to society. Goddess protect me. If I didn’t already know you were the most deadly motherfucker I’ve met in my life, I would have thought you’d be someone to worry over.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“All right Drakonis, I know you’re a little bit of a chatter mouth but this is a serious operation.” I said. “Time to pay up for the power cells I’ve graciously donated, go in front and introduce ourselves to the guests with our new guns.”

“You mean my power cells. In my ship. With my rifles.”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

He didn’t say a word, instead looked at me oddly.

“What?” I asked, then took my hand off the rifle trigger and shooed him away. “Less staring, more investigating what’s sniffing outside the airspeeder for me, thank you.”

“Starting to think your story's actually real.” He muttered, rifle headlight turning on as he turned back to the steps and aimed the weapon downsights. “Someone trying to lie and con me about fucking robot cultists being good people wouldn’t be an insufferable twat at the same time.”

“Hey, that hurts my feelings.”

He huffed and took a step through the ruined doorway. I followed behind, keeping a bead at the ready.

Drakonis didn’t even bother saying hi to whatever was out there, instead I heard the electronically dulled cracks of gunshots so he started off strong right out the door. By the time I could see what was outside our little kingdom, I could see three bodies on the ground.

Good news - not machines. Instead, they were some kind of large scale-like creature with huge jaws, low to the ground. Another was midlunge at him, which he stepped out of the way and then stomped his boot down onto the jaw, pinning the creature in place while he aimed his sidearm down and fired a killing shot, probably wanting to save rifle ammo for more distant targets.

And talking about those, there were more animals of different species outside, but the main attraction was what I recognized as a bear from the golden era human films and stories. Giant thing, taller than I was, running on all fours directly at me.

I’d never seen animals that big, and it took a half second to process through that thought. My rifle aimed, then shot three times. All three bullets hit dead on the head, but the thing kept on running as if I had just annoyed it.

“Cathida, what the fuck?” I asked, more in awe that an animal could take bullets to the head and survive.

“I don’t know, the old bat’s never encountered a bear. Wildlife usually runs away from knights in armor. Maybe it’s got a very thick skull, or a much smaller target inside the skull?”

Didn’t have much time as the bear came up right at my face, lifting up and swiping down with one giant paw.

Unfortunately for the bear, I was a relic knight.

I moved under the paw strike, knife blade lighting up in my hand and slicing right through the chest. Blood began to spill all over, but a knife wasn’t a deep enough blade to really do all that much damage. It reared up, then jerked to the side as Drakonis unloaded another five bullets into its side and flank.

It still didn’t die. The Deathless gave me a quick shoulder shrug, then turned to continue mowing down other wildlife that was clearly a lot more susceptible to bullets.

"Any bullet size should do, he says." I muttered as the bear opened its mouth and lunged at me. I gave it exactly what it wanted, punching forward into the jaw and down the gullet. Teeth wrapped around my shoulder, biting down hard and ripping apart the fabric rags, before coming to a dead stop against Journey’s plate.

I let the occult pulse around me and my hand. The fractal of heat lit up at my buried palm, and I commanded it to full power. If bullets weren't doing the trick, this would.

The beast ripped itself free, fire and smoke trailing out of its mouth. And in doing so, presented its throat. My occult knife was short, but I still raked it right through in one neat slice, then twisted on myself and delivered a roundhouse kick into the exposed chest.

It was way heavier than a human. My boot landed hard, then crushed inwards as bone and ribcage broke. The bear staggered backwards, falling over itself, paws swiping blindly around until I pinned the beast’s head with a heavy knee and rammed my blade deep into the skull.

This time it froze up and then began to slump.

It was quiet in the clearing as I stood up, and not because the animals had run off. Instead they had gone still, watching as I wiped some blood off my legplates. Drakonis was busy loading his next magazine, but the more relaxed speed he moved at along with the ring of dead animal bodies around him told me he hadn’t encountered any difficulties himself.

A few whines came from the feral creatures as they took hesitant steps backwards, then turned tail and all ran off in the same direction. Pretty soon we were completely alone.

“This strata is getting weirder and weirder. What was all that about?” I asked.

“Think the bear was their best.” Drakonis said with a shrug. “You killing it without damage must have finally sunk in a lesson we’re not to be fucked with.”

“Minor news, but the ones running away with the mite seeker, they picked up the pace.” Cathida added. “Whatever these creatures are, they can communicate defeat from a distance I think? Or is it just a coincidence they picked up the pace? Not sure, never seen this before.”

“Armor’s saying they’re trying to run faster with my gear.” I said to Drakonis, then followed the direction on my HUD, pointing it out. “This way. We better pick up the pace to catch up.”

Drakonis nodded, hooking the rifle to his chestplate and joining formation behind me.

The thing about relic armor is that it’s fast. I’ve said this before, but a running knight on the battlefield heading on an intercept course was the scariest thing to anyone out of armor.

And that included animals now.

The ones that tried an ambush on us earlier, then decided to run for it after I eliminated their bear? They should have just stayed and battled to the end, or not run after the group moving with my gear.

We jogged faster than they could sprint. And we had ranged weapons. And we also didn’t miss with said weapons.

With each minute, we were leaving behind a small trail of dead animals that had run slower than the main pack, until they finally got wise.

“They’re really something.” I muttered. “The group changed courses, they’re no longer trying to rejoin whatever’s got my gear.”

“Noticed the lack of targets too.” Drakonis said.

“What’s your theory on why these animals are even semi-clever like this?”

He considered the question. “Mites. It’s usually them when it comes to anything that’s not human or machine. Smart animals? Probably something intentional to this strata. They plant trees and make them grow in… well, shit like that.” He pointed up at the ceiling, where the branches of the giant tree could be spotted. “If they could do that, what’s stopping them from making smarter animals? And if we’re deep enough like I think we are, there’s no humans here at all. We could be the first humans to ever walk on these lands in centuries.”

He had a point. Until I knew more, I was going to put all this down as mite ratshit.

“What I’m more worried about are the machines we’ll run into.” Drakonis said as we both jumped over a still smoldering tree trunk in the way. Large enough I had to take a second jump over the counterpart, while he happened to land on a section that wasn’t sturdy enough to hold his weight.

“Ah, fuck.” The Deathless crushed right through the crumbling ash and bark, sinking down to his waist and left with nothing but curses and smoke. He waded out, cursing a few more times for good measure, then jumped and made it out of the husk with a shower of displaced embers chasing behind him. Small singes on the cloth he wore over the armor, but nothing worse.

I stopped and let him brush off bark and ash before we resumed the sprint. “You were saying?”

“What I’m saying is that deep down there’s a reason humans don’t build cities or explore down here. Machines get stronger and stronger and dying is more just an expectation down here. We’re not going to fight the rank and file replaceable chum. Some machines down here are old, like the violet goddess is keeping them in reserve to ward off deeper exploration.”

“You’ve seen these things before?”

He shook his head. “Not personally. Just stories from Lionheart. I didn’t have time to travel deeper than the third strata looking for pillar hearts to earn spells.”

“We’re going to need to find a place to restore our power cells one way or another.” I said. “If I can get my gear, we’ll be fine against most threats.”

“I can see where that confidence comes from. What is your current kit?”

I considered the question. “Not sure I want to give a possible enemy the full loadout of what I can or can’t do. I think you understand that while I’m hoping for some kind of peace, I’m also not an idiot.”

He scoffed. “Fair. But if we’re going to be fighting down here together, it’s important we know what each of us can do and handle. Lionheart’s made that clear to me and my men again and again - working as a team means each of us having priority targets and roles.”

It was interesting to see the difference here between how clan knights battled and how Deathless did. The surface clans were far more individual, but I expected everyone on my fireteam to be experts at all three schools of combat, and specifically for the Winterscars to know our secret fourth school of combat in case we ran against slavers or other enemy knights. But beyond that, all of us were interchangeable to some degree. Same gear, same techniques, different levels of skills. The only tactical decisions would be who to send up against who, and against regular enemy knights the answer would usually be ‘Kill whatever’s closest to you.’

Made it real easy to coordinate with just regular common sense.

But Deathless? They all could have different powers and gear. That really would make them far more specialized in different roles.

“All right then, how about you go first then?” I asked, handing the hangerball to him.

He stayed quiet for a bit, both of us jogging side by side as we followed Journey’s green line over the HUD. “I’ve got the occult grapple spell from the second strata’s Nemera city pillar. Lionheart claimed having a mobility spell of some kind was critical to anyone’s kit. Some Deathless empower their leaps, others use portals or charging abilities. The lash is far more practical, tons of utility use outside of combat. ‘Simple travel is ninety nine percent of any expedition, young Deathless’ as he says. Made us waste an entire week on the way back just to get it.”

“Waste? Seemed pretty handy to me when I’ve seen it used.”

“I suppose he had a point. It worked until we ran into you lot.”

“Got a picture of the pillar you picked it up from?” I asked, innocently. Cathida snickered in the helmet, but the little rat didn’t out me.

“It’s a pillar heart, nothing special about it.” Drakonis said.

“And I'm from the surface.” I insisted, “We don’t get to see pillar hearts. Most cities don’t let us in, we’re dangerous emotionless killers for hire remember? Anything to make our clan a little bit richer.”

“Right. Forgot. Dirty surface savages.” He shook his head, then sighed. “I didn’t take pictures specifically, but I can send you my video footage, armor passively stores that. I had my helmet on my side when I walked through. Just ask your armor to flip the vision right side up or something. Nemera had their pillar heart on the top of a hill, park surrounded it, along with a few food stalls. Used it as some kind of festival ground on the regular.”

Journey got a data transmission, and played it on a small screen off my side. Exactly as he said, it was some kind of large green park, filled with concrete terraces and steps leading up. At the top was the pillar heart itself, sitting on top a cloud of mite made cubes in wild random directions and sizes.

Lionheart and the other Deathless Drakonis had come with were all there, walking along to his side, chatting on the video feed. But Journey knew what I was after.

Right on the center of that pillar, slightly above all the cubes, inscribe in large, was the unmistakable blue glow of a fractal. Journey zoomed right up, traced it out and stored it in a data file before I even had to ask.

“Got more video footage of the different cities and their pillar hearts?” I asked. “We got some time to kill before we catch up to my gear. Always fascinated with how different cities decorate their pillar hearts.”

Drakonis shrugged. “If it’ll get you to shut up, have at it.”

It was very, very hard to stifle any kind of maniacal cackling.

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