12 Miles Below

We spent some time going over the distant figure we'd spotted for only a few seconds. Hecate's eyesight was really something else, she's able to remember all the small details she saw within that single glimpse.

“It was wearing decorations, and carried a staff of some kind with a glass box hooked at the end. A smaller light, or painting of some kind was within that box. It vanished from all visible spectrums after wrapping something around itself.”

“A blanket to hide the light?”

She drew out her pole, lowering it while keeping it not deep enough to touch anything solid. The flowers that zipped past under us swallowed the wood from view. “I was unable to tell. There were many other additional silhouettes of equipment that could throw off my conclusion.”

“Machines don’t wear trophies or trinkets, at least, none of the ones I’ve run into... Though I suspect a few wanted my head for a trophy." One in particular had chased me halfway across the world all because I had the audacity to smack talk it through a sealed door. Well, after cutting off it's leg with said door. Good times.

"I have not met any machines that did either. Wearing items and clothing is a new concept to machines.” Hecate said softly, frowning. “And nothing I know of has invisibility. None of the more powerful lower strata machines are capable of that either.”

"Are we sure this is a machine and not someone dressing up with machine parts?” I asked.

“No. The size and expected center of gravity do not match any possible way that fits a human under the plates."

I tutted, thinking. “You’re sure it didn’t just hide the lights with a cloak and walk out of line of sight?”

This had occult ratshit written all over it. “Wait, I’ve got a theory. About the sled and the new machine.” I said, connecting a few odd dots together. “Let's say this figure you saw was our mysterious benefactor, the owner of this sled. You said it’s likely a machine that took care of this, right? If this machine has been sneaking around using an invisibility cloak of some kind, then the only thing that could give it away would be footsteps left behind. So, the best way to avoid leaving footprints behind, is to float over the air.” I patted the side of our sled.

This machine would be like the boatman of death, stalking across the lands unseen by any. Erie.

“That theory could fit.” Hecate said. “I did not detect any footprints by the base of the trees we were following, however there were broken branches above the treeline. A machine could have been jumping from branch to branch.”

This hoversled might not be a cargo hauler at all. Maybe it worked more like someone's home? “Saved by a strange machine that’s gone rogue and learned how to hide huh? Odd turn of events, but I can roll with this.” I shrugged. Better than being murdered by Fido at least. If I died somewhere here, I didn’t want to give that bastard the satisfaction. And it seemed our benefactor had the same motivations, or at least didn't want to even chance a fight.

Hecate gave a quick nod, her eyes never leaving the ridge where the light had vanished. “This machine must be older. Except I am unsure how much older.” There was a trailing tone in her voice that made me think she did have an idea of the machine’s age, only that the answer seemed too unbelievable to her senses.

"Why would a machine decide to stick it's neck out for us?"

Hecate frowned. "I suspect I may have something to do with this."

"What, did you accidentally sweet talk a machine at some point in your past?"

Her frown turned deeper. "No. However, I have been part of events that may have caused a commotion."

“All right, if that's the case, I think we should turn this sled in that direction.” I said, snapping her out of her thoughts, pointing at where the figure had vanished from. “If had gods damned invisibility as a power, then allowing you to spot it was deliberate.”

“I agree with your idea." Hecate said, after considering. "It likely wants us to approach in that direction. I am unsure how safe this path will be however.”

“Fido’s still out there and we are already committed to this plan anyhow. Besides, weren’t you the one advocating for machines in the first place? Well, there’s your rogue machine defector.”

Honestly, I hadn’t thought it could be possible, but without knowing more information, it really seemed like there were at least some machines that had gone their own way. It was… fascinating. While I hated machines like any clansman would hate slavers, there was something about machines that drove me to curiosity. If I had a chance, I’d have spent time breaking down a few to see what sort of things made them tick. Or at least have a nice conversation, preferably with someone more civil than Fido.

The mountain grew wider as we came closer, until we spotted a small opening by the base, right under where the blue light had been twinkling from. A perfectly cut block of stone leading down into darkness, nestled in the shadow of a larger rock. Had we not been approaching dead on in that direction, it would have been easy to miss. Really, if we had picked any other direction to go from our initial starting point, we’d have missed this entirely.

“Think that leads to the underground fountain?” I asked, helping the sled come to a full stop.

Hecate nodded, taking a step off the sled and onto solid ground. “My map shows that there is a deeper tunnel that should be going under this section of rock. It’s highly possible that this new path has been cut to connect to that section.”

The clean cut cube path went straight down at an incline, where it reached the walls of the actual tunnel. Couldn’t quite see what was at the other end, given how dark it was. Hecate drew out her swords and walked right in without a second thought. To be expected, really, there weren’t a lot of things out here that were scarier than she was.

It didn’t take long for the path to connect with the more organic tunnels of the mites. The further we went, the safer we felt. Fido was already too fat to fit inside the current tunnels, and they continued to narrow down until it was too much for even the hoversled to fit through.

We had to abandon it. I patted the floating chunk of metal fondly. “Going to miss you my pretty, don’t tell the over hoversleds, but you were my favorite all along.”

Hecate seemed confused for a moment, then lit up with a smile. “Do you tell all your hoversleds this?”

“Only gullible innocent hoversleds.” I shrugged, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell your mother about me. I think I’m not popular with parents.”

“A little too late. She’s already ordered your execution.” She said with a nervous chuckle, equipping her helmet in order to trigger the headlights.

“Outright death just for being around you, eh?” I said, following behind. “Harsh parents. Do they keep you on a leash too, or let you go outside for a few hours on the weekend?”

“It's complicated.” Hecate answered, “My immediate family has… issues, as I’ve come to learn.”

"Is that why you're miles out in the wilderness looking for mite speakers? Understandable really. Have I told you some stories of my old family? They were a very colorful bunch."

The mite fountain room itself was grand, with structures that made the entire thing look like a sunken cathedral, trapped inside rock. At the center was the source itself. And more importantly, it was working with no holes punched into it.

Hecate went first, sliding a power cell into the socket, watching the cell start to refill. “It will take some time to power all our cells.” She said. “This terminal’s throughput has been throttled from nearby power sources, however the ones leading from the underground remain functional.”

Wow, Fido was a piece of work. “He wasn’t happy enough breaking all the entryways? No, he had to make sure to ruin our day even if we did make it to the fountain. Persistent bastard.”

Hecate nodded. “It will not stop until it has completed its mission.”

“You know, the offer to split ways still stands.” I said. “You can continue looking for a mite speaker without having to worry about the Drake. With my armor back online, I’m pretty confident in my chances against one.”

She shook her head. “At this point, it has already painted me a target due to my interference. And death is not a concern for me, I am Deathless.”

I shrugged, looking around the room for a spot to sit down and relax. “What’s it like, being a Deathless anyhow? The only other Deathless I know, they say he woke up with a note in his hand from his past self, asking for help.” My eyes scanned around the broken walls until I found a few stone benches that looked comfortable enough. It would take some time to refill all the cells we had, after all. Might as well pass the time talking. “Do you remember what kick-started the process for you?”

“I’m faster, stronger and more capable than I used to be. But to become who I am, I died.” She said, walking over and taking a seat next to me, watching the mite fountain, wings folding back to hug her waist.

“No grand mission to carry out? No voices from the gods telling you where to be or some such?”

She paused, thinking. “There was a mission. That is why I need to find a mite-speaker. I was given… a prophecy of sorts to complete, from the mites.”

Now things were making more sense, and less sense. “So your Deathless transformation had something to do with mites?”

She nodded.

I could have sworn Deathless were closely allied with Tsuya. Could there be more kinds of Deathless? “So that’s why you need to find a mite speaker." I hummed, letting another piece of info click into place. "Quick question, do mites work with machines too?”

"They have communicated and worked with the machines in the past, yes." Hecate said. "They have worked with Tsuya and Relinquished in equal amounts as far as I know. They seem to work with anyone who offers them the right incentives."

"How about our rogue defector out there? Think the mites might have put it up to the task of getting us out of the ice? Sounds like you're working with the mites, and you being stuck in this predicament might have had them calling in some favors."

“That is... possible. I need further clarification, however I am afraid that I might be caught if I attempt to speak to them directly again.” Hecate said. “The way I spoke to them before could be traced and easily spotted. It was something I did in desperation. If I do so again, Relinquished might catch me.”

“Details?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that’s something I need more time before I can explain.”

I shrugged, taking the hint and switching the topic. “I’ve always been interested in the mites, never had the time to really sit down and try to find out more about them yet. Life’s been hectic back home. What are they like?”

“They are… a collective of smaller intelligences, each following one designated task. However, as a collective, they become more. In times past, the mites were a neutral party that was only interested in construction and destruction.”

Tsyua had mentioned nobody controlled the mites. Guess the little buggers got bored just making theater props.

“I have very little evidence related to the mites." She continued. "I know they are unreceptive to machines in general as of the current era, however that may have not always been the case. One thing is clear: they are a powerful faction and seem under constraints of some kind by their nature.”

I looked around the room, with all the beautiful statues crafted into the walls and broken fountains that still somehow functioned. Everything looked shaken down, walls collapsed and bricks strewn around from whatever impact broke them off. As if an earthquake had destroyed the sanctity of this location, and sank the whole area into the ground.

Mites had the power to make all this, but their colonies were completely passive to anything moving around.

”I do not believe they can directly affect events in the world.” Hecate continued. “They work through intermediaries instead, in the rare cases they take interest to the world at large.”

“How did they sound like? Were you able to talk back to them?”

She hummed, looking up, thinking. The small pieces of her wings tapped lightly together, as she thought. “It was as if a million voices all said the same message in a thousand different languages, except each language is one you do not know, yet understand anyhow.”

“That’s rather poetic. How do the mite speakers keep their heads together if they’re talking to something like that?”

”It was overwhelming, even with my mental abilities. Normal humans are likely unable to... keep their heads together, as you put it. Mite speakers, as far as the Undersiders have reported to me, are castaways with mental illness. It isn’t known if they truly speak to the mites at all or are simply deluded. After my experiences, I believe there might be a truth behind the mite speakers. They must have found some method to speak to the mites.”

“What was the prophecy they spoke to you about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Hecate took a breath, and looked to her side, gazing off again while she considered her answer. Finally, she nodded. “I don’t believe there is any harm in telling you. It makes very little sense to myself. The prophecy was about four individuals, I think, who are expected to help break the current stalemate. It went like this:” She lifted a hand, and counted off each of the four. “Mankind’s emperor, to draw out the final enemy. The vow, to hold the vessel in place. A god’s wrath, to break the cycle. And the heir apparent, to take the throne left behind.”

I whistled. “The mites told you that? You’re right that it makes no sense.” That was some heavy stuff on her shoulders. Deathless really deal with higher stakes than any of us lowly mortals work with.

“I was told I was one of the four, however I’m not sure which. Or at the very least, a contender to be one of the four.”

“Mankind’s emperor?” I threw out, “You’re Deathless and clearly strong enough to hold a crown.”

Hecate shook her head. “No, I have… reasons to believe that isn’t likely. I believe I am the god’s wrath, sent to break the cycle.”

“Does make sense with how much you want to get both machines and humans to work together. Sounds like a way to break the cycle. Though that part sounds more violent, wrath would point to a fight of some kind and you’ve tried everything you can to avoid that.”

Hecate shrugged. “Peace has historically always required a war to establish or protect it. This may be no different.”

“Well, if I can help you out in any way with that, let me know. I’m just a simple surface knight in the scale of all this, but friends help each other out.”

“We are friends now?” She asked.

I gave her a deadpan glance and raised an eyebrow. “Well, there is that whole ‘You saved my life’ bit, that went a long way.”

She smiled then, a small thing that slowly widened.

“Don’t expect a paycheck though. I never signed any papers.”

Hecate quirked her head, not understanding for a moment, before lightening up once again. “Oh, I understand! You are referencing what you said before about paying for frien--”

I shushed her, one finger scolding her. If I had a spray bottle, I’d be using that, but sometimes you need to work with what you have. “Never explain jokes.” I said. “The moment you explain why something is funny, it ceases to be funny. Cardinal rule.”

She nodded attentively. “Then, humor is similar to quantum mechanics? Where observing the waveform causes the form to collapse?”

…

What?

“... The who-what now? What’s a quantum mechanic do?”

More undersider jargon?

“Quantum mechanics is a fundamental theory in physics that provides a description of the physical properties of nature at the scale of atoms and subatomic particles.” She said, with perfect conviction, like she was reading from memory.

Hold on.

“You’re saying,” I said, slowly. “There’s an entire field of mechanical engineering that I don’t know about, all dedicated to when things get really really small?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No excited head bob. Just a standard factual answer.

Small things began to click in my head once again. Clues I’d failed to notice piling up on one another.

How Hecate had known everything about trap making right down to the optimal positions, as if she’d read and memorized an entire book on the subject. Her odd mannerisms, reminiscent of some of the Reachers I’d worked with who were obsessive about certain topics and usually ended up being experts at their passion. Some could outright remember everything they’d ever read, and how she remembered every detail she saw or heard without issue.

And Deathless had access to all the books and knowledge they could find. Lord Atius himself had been well known to have been a scholar. Only made sense other Deathless were like that too.

She’s pulling the suit over me, this has to be bait. This couldn’t possibly be more bait even if it had my favorite numbers scribbled over it. But when has ‘this has to be a trap’ ever stopped me from sticking my foot where it doesn’t belong?

“All right, tell me more.” I asked, pulling the proverbial lever.

Hecate, as always, gave a straight answer. I’d considered her a by-the-books type of person, but I’d been wrong. I’d been terribly, horribly, wrong.

Hecate wasn’t by-the-book. She was the entire book. And the cover, library slate, ladders, chairs, desk, bathrooms and the overworked receptionist all put together. Either her imagination was vivid beyond my wildest dreams - in which case I didn’t want to wake up because I’d officially gotten to the good parts - or the girl had edict memory and spent years in a library sucking up every bit of knowledge that could be found. No wonder she’s so strange in every other regard. All her mental space was dedicated to hoarding knowledge.

While the power cells slowly recharged one by one, I talked shop with Hecate and time flew by.

As I discovered, it was even better than edict memory. Hecate didn’t just remember every book she’d read, she understood it all perfectly as well, making her an expert.

It didn’t end at quantum mechanics either. Any topic I could think of she seemed to know about. Anything.

Hydroponics. Areogel engineering. Mathematics. Literature. History. Even the gods damned internet of old. And a dozen other topics. I could ask for the most random items possible, and she’d know something about it. The only limits were around the surface clan and culture. She didn’t know how environmental suits functioned, for example, or best methods of maintaining machinery against the sub-zero temperature outside. It was like a glaring hole in her stupidly huge knowledge.

She did take a few excellent guesses, and outright reverse engineered how a basic evo-suit would work with minimum assumptions. Ridiculous.

…

I’d kidnap her to the surface if I wasn’t so convinced she’d beat me to a pulp and leave me tied up to a tree with my own ropes.

Calm down Keith. I mentally warned myself, slapping some sense into myself. She’s an immortal demi-god on the level of clan lords. You're a random surface barbarian she happened to cross paths with and decided to save on account of old pay-it-forward debts.

Not to mention she was on a mission set by gods more powerful than Tsuya. Technically, I was also on a mission set by a god, but it was a far more mundane one.

That said, there was a similarity. Hecate had to speak with mites, and I had something that Tsuya had called a mite-seeker, hidden away back home. She said in the audio recording that the mites played both sides, and at some point likely hid a weapon of some kind from her sight. The mite-seeker might be a way to communicate with them? Tsuya had stressed to me that the mites were the key. Was she talking about this prophecy?

I could tell Hecate about this, maybe she'd have use of that seeker?

Or was I just telling myself that in order to find a reason to stick around?

After the first cell was charged, I took a moment and started on the process to repair Journey. I’d seen Father do it before, sacrificing material and power in order to fuel the process. Mite made material couldn’t be used, but organic material was perfectly edible, and there were a lot of roots, mushrooms and foliage all snaking around the tunnels. I just had to take a break from all the math talk to hunt down enough material.

Walking back into the destroyed church, I found the immortal demi-god, instrument of the mites with a holy mission to change the world itself, still sitting politely on the bench, waiting for me. Large diagrams and numbers scribbled out in the dirt in front of her from the last topic we’d debated about.

A little surreal to think about.

Time flew by as the two of us talked a little about everything. Up until a beep filled the room, and the last of the power cells had been fully charged. By that point, Journey had repaired itself completely, and a new helmet sat on the bench, being polished up by a small river of black mist, happily eating away at drops of power cell liquid and cut up roots.

Hecate turned her gaze to the fountain, pausing her current lecture. “The rest can be explained at another time. I worry the drake has summoned additional reinforcements in the intermittent. We should attempt to pacify the drake and escape this section quickly.”

“Right. Priorities.” I said, putting in false cheer to mask the hollow feeling of realizing all of this has to end eventually. “Time to deal with the lizard, and then we’re home free and can go about our business again. Great.”

I grabbed my helmet, lifted it up and let it drop down into place. Cathida's voice came online the moment everything booted up. First thing she did was scream at me, of course. I expected that part, but what I hadn't expected was that her screaming was an actual serious warning.

Turns out, relic armors talk and communicate with each other constantly. It's expected and part of how they function.

And as Journey had found out, Hecate's armor was not relic armor.

Next chapter - Blinded

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