12 Miles Below

“You’re fifty years too young to be questioning me of all people, you faithless brat! I’m based on a crusader of the fifth oath. Got me a lifetime of intuition, and it’s all screaming at me that something’s completely wrong about all of this.”

Cathida being dramatic. “This isn't you being upset that I'm having a nice day with someone?” I asked, keeping the comms channel to myself. Hecate remained to the side, hands folded while she sat. I’d asked for a moment of time while I spoke with my armor.

Cathida’s arguments quickly devolved into a string of curses, most of which I didn’t understand, and half of them involved gold in some way.

I sighed, wondering what sort of insanity I’d need to deal with this time. “Need to step out for a bit,” I said, waving to Hecate and tapping my helmet with a finger. “Got to get some more material to work with the armor. Some things are still loose up in here and need their screws tightened.”

She nodded, her smile fading off slightly, but she let me know she’d be here in the meantime. With that settled, I turned and took a stroll to clear my head and talk sense to the paranoid grandma stuck in my head, who currently had every gray hair on her non-existent head sticking up. “What sort of evidence do you have, besides intuition?” I asked, taking steps outside the ruined church.

“Goddess's golden tits you're dense. Did you not hear a single word I've been yelling at you since you put on your bucket? We listened to intuition like scripture - or we died.” She said, putting a heavy emphasis on the last word. “And I’m smelling a wet rat lurking around. This all reeks like danger.”

“You can’t smell anything. You’re a simulacrum living digitally inside the armor.”

“This is the hill you're going to die on? Fine. Let’s start with that armor of hers. Whatever that Deathless is wearing - if she even is a Deathless at all - it’s not armor. It looks like armor, glimmers like armor, shines like armor and it’s not armor.”

“I’m hearing a lot of accusations here and still not a lot of evidence. You got something better or are you going to teach me some more creative swear words?” Around me, remains of hacked up roots littered the walls where I’d gone and pilfered previously. I took a few steps past those to find somewhere more quiet.

“You want a list? Fine, I'll guild it for you. Beyond the very basic minimum of her armor being dead quiet with no response to any of Journey’s handshake requests - which should already be evidence enough that something’s off, the physical structural setup is also incorrect. Joints don’t connect correctly, plate density around vital areas isn’t increased, there’s no room for artificial fibers or propulsion abilities in a dozen places where there should be. Everything that lets an armor resist environmental pressure isn't there. Twelve stratas, there isn't even room for a power cell in her legs, unless they fit inside her actual legs. You didn't notice this at all you daft fool? It looks more like she made up an idea of what armor looks like and had a craftsman rush order it.”

"Where are you going with this?”

”By all rights, that armor shouldn’t be able to move. It’s all decoration - a fake. Pyrite lit up under a spotlight to fool the faithless.”

I paused in my steps, not quite sure I was following on her logic. “You do realize that Hecate is paralyzed under her armor, right? She needs it to move.”

“And where’s your ‘evidence’ on that? You like to toss that word around all the time like it owes you money, so back it up. Have you seen her outside her armor yet? Or are you only taking her word for it and nothing else?”

“And how exactly am I going to ask her for proof of that?”

“Take her armor off!”

I stopped to process what I’d heard for a moment.

“I’m not going to ask her to strip, Cathida. Did snow fill up your head or something?” Another few paces down the tunnel and another idea popped into my head.

"Oh, suddenly all shy are we? You seemed real chummy with her just a few minutes ago."

“Look, there’s plenty of people out there who forge fake armors either for ceremonies or as a bluff." I said, trying not to let the old bat get in my head. "It’s possible she’s doing something like that. What Deathless is unable to afford an armor? It could be a status symbol, she’s freshly minted out. Maybe this is the best she could do.”

“Regrettably, I wasn’t in a good position to have clean footage when Hecate took out the drake’s throat, on account of missing my head. But you were there. How fast did she move? Go on, tell me.”

“... very fast.”

“Exactly. Can someone move that fast without armor?”

I waved a hand in dismissal. “She’s Deathless. It’s possible this is a spell of hers. Some kind of passive, like her eyesight. Can’t rule that out.”

I heard snarling and it wasn't from me. “Which is it then? Is she paralyzed or using powers? She could have simply said it’s an ability of hers, but she didn’t. Why? How are you going to explain that she lied to you about the paralysis if she's got a Deathless spell letting her move like that? ”

“I am shocked and saddened to find out someone has secrets they want to keep secret. Little bit on brush up on humanity, Cathida: Everyone’s got secrets, and whatever her secrets are, they aren’t deadly to me. Besides, it’s possible this is a different make of armor.”

Cathida outright groaned. If she could run her nails down her cheek, I'd imagine she’d be doing that right about now. “All armor follows the same protocols, the original schematics were dabbled with by the same forgemaster, and he clearly had a policy to not fix things that didn't need fixing as far as Journey's guessing. There are no models that wouldn’t use the base template and handshakes, there's no reason to muck that up!”

“What if that armor’s made from a different direction by a different forgemaster, maybe halfway around the world? Could explain why you can’t talk to her armor and the wings she’s got. And talking about that, why haven’t we got wings either? Seems a little unfair. The armor competition here has an entire leg over us.”

“You're weaseling away from the point! From everything I’ve heard, her profile makes no sense to any undersider or imperial order I can track. You made up your mind to trust her, and now you’re finding all kinds of ad-hoc reasoning instead of remaining skeptical, it's clear as daylight! Is it because she's got a pretty face and a rack? It is, isn't it? Journey can monitor your heartbeat.”

“No, that's got nothing to do with it!" I said, hottly. "She saved my life and she's a Deathless. Nothing more than that. She could be part of some Undersider separatist tribe or something. People forging off the land and living outside cities. It’d be a brutal way of life that would fit. The lack of outgoing signals could be that the armor’s trying to be stealthy, could be their default way of life.”

“Then how in the goddess’s name does she know so much about everything? Which is it, is she a feral savage or a book cultured sheltered princess?"

That got an unintentional gulp from me, I had no answer to that one. Cathida pounced on the opening. "You think I didn’t overhear while the two of you were chatting away the time? Your heartbeat's gone up again. What's this, feeling... guilty?”

“Look.” I said, finding a place to sit down and clear the air. “She saved my life. I was at my weakest for hours, and outright knocked out at the start. Couldn't protect myself from a baby with a sharp tooth even if I wanted to. If she wanted me dead, she had hundreds of chances. Instead, I’m back to full strength. Even if she’s got some oddities, she’s not my enemy. I'm alone down here, and here you are telling me to distrust the only friendly person I've met? You can be skeptical of her if you want, but I choose to trust her. The one thing I can think of that she might be using me for is to piss off To’Aacar. Which I’m fully behind.”

Cathida stopped, likely about to go right back into another tangent before abruptly halting mid-word. “I can see there’s no point trying to convince you. Fine. I’ll keep my guard up for the moment instead and yell at you when the betrayal happens.”

“Agreed. Are we done?”

A pause. “We’re done. I said my peace. If youth wants to act all reckless just because there's some bouncing rack strutting around, then be it on your own head.”

"Do you really need to be this crass about everything?"

"I'm being remarkably polite all said and done." She said, indigent. "The imperial training grounds were a hundred times worse. Squires are a different breed and I had to train those louts."

She did have a point about the girl in the end. No matter what kind of background I could think of for Hecate, there was always one piece that didn’t fit. Whoever Hecate was, she didn’t want to tell me the full truth for her own personal reasons. And that wasn't my business.

But there was something that I needed to prepare for so that I wouldn’t get caught by surprise again. “That fight against To’Aacar. How did he take control of Journey?” I asked.

Cathida gave a sheepish tut. “Remember that string of verbal reminders all armors do? ‘Releasing security locks’ is a part of that, and it means something you dolt. What prevents cyber attacks is stupid simple. If Journey itself can’t move your arm, same goes for anything that’s attacking through Journey. With everything locked down, the worse thing Journey can do to you is say nasty things about your face and give bogus reports to you and your little friends. That is, until you gave the master keys to Journey. Now, the enemy only needs to have a stronger cyber suite than this bucket of metal and they've got their hands on the keys you tossed over."

“And To’Aacar can do that?”

“Oh, what, him? A Feather? One of the most powerful enemies among the machine arsenal, constantly maintained and improved on each generation? Against an three hundred year old armor with a cyber suite made right back in the fourth era and never updated since? The same era that didn't win against machines even at their peak?” She scoffed, “Peh, kust a complete fluke of nature that he overrode Journey in mere seconds and tried to strangle you with it. Couldn’t possibly happen a second time, deary. You can go right ahead and bet your life on that without worry.”

“All right, point taken already. But what do we do for the future? Just completely give up on one of the best offensive and defensive weapons in my arsenal?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you. Journey’s turned off the override with the reboot, and it really doesn't want to turn those back on. Once we’re back to the surface, your future is going to be drills, training, and pain.”

I swore under my breath. “Was afraid you’d say that.”

“Bet you were.” She cackled.

On the return back to the campsite inside the ruined cathedral, we got another surprise.

Hecate was gone.

No message left behind, nothing. My head raced, thinking through the past few moments for any reason she'd run. “Did she… overhear us?”

“Comms channel was set to private.” Cathida said. “Maybe this is her polite way of bowing out before it gets awkward.”

“That metal scrapshit that put a hole in my gut could overhear us under the helmet. Feathers were supposed to be mirrors to the Deathless if I remember, right?”

Cathida scoffed. “A mirror is one to one. Feathers are on a different league. If they can hear three miles away, the best a Deathless could do is hear half of a mile.”

"I wasn't half a mile away from her, I was a few feet."

Cathida stayed silent for a moment, before giving her typical verbal shrug. "Eh. Guess she did overhear us and decided to scamper away. Win win."

If she’d heard us talking about doubting her story and digging into her past, maybe she really did decide now was the best time to split up. Was she that skittish about her past? “She’s gone after the drake." I said, trying to convince myself. "She knows it’s out there looking to pick a fight, and she’s never seen me in a fight before. So she’ll think to do me one last favor and make sure Fido isn’t there to bog me down.”

Despite my words, I had that sinking feeling in my gut that she’d left for good. We both had our goals completed. There’s no reason to keep going together after all.

I turned and sprinted for the exit.

“Where in the goddess’s name are you even going?” Cathida yelled over my footsteps.

“We might be able to catch her, it’s only been a few minutes! Fido probably took his sweet time making sure every exit he knew about was broken down and sealed, so the only way out of here back into the plains is the same way we came in.”

Ground blurred under me as I raced through the caverns, jumping over obstacles and rocks, free again to expand as much energy as I needed.

“What would you even say to her anyhow, chasing after her like some lost puppy? Better to let her go on her own way and keep to ourselves.”

“I get you’re a suspicious paranoid old bat who thinks the world’s after me - and usually you’re right, but in this one case I’ve got my set of intuition, and it’s screaming at me to make things right. So shut it, and pull up the map.”

Cathida made Cathida noises at that, mostly snarling and some hissing, but the map popped up in more detail on my heads up display, along with arrow directions to backtrack my steps and highlighted footprints showing what path she took. In minutes we’d passed by the abandoned sled, still hovering where we left it. Another quarter hour and I was sprinting down the perfectly cut cube corridor to the outside plains.

Empty in every direction.

“Fuck, where’s the footprints?” They had just vanished after taking a few steps into the outdoors. I spun my view around, but all around me was the empty plains of flowers and the occasional black glass pillar in the distance. I started shouting out her name, wildly.

“She has wings, remember? I assume they aren’t for show.”

My yells turned to curses and that empty feeling crept into me deeper. There was something about that meeting with Hecate that felt like fate, and I’d let it slip right through my hands.

Sound caught my attention above me. I twisted my head, hoping I’d been wrong, that I’d find her standing at the top of the mountainside, doing something pensive. Or sulking with a pout.

Instead, I found a heavily camouflage Fido, leaping straight down at me, violet eyes filled with glee.

The stupid stubborn machine must have been waiting at the entrance here for hours, and let Hecate pass by, probably snickering to itself the whole time. Vines and leaves he had wrapped around his body snapped away effortlessly against his weight, as his clawed hands expanded out to snatch me.

The surprise at a several ton machine falling on top of my head was just enough for the scrapshit to lash out with both its massive paws, catching my fumbling attempt to jump out of the way. Two massive claws wrapped around the armor and clenched tightly.

Shit. Shit. Rat fucking shit. I started to struggle, but each of the thing’s paws was as large as my torso. Its forearms were already my full size.

“Ssssss…. I knew you’d come out, like vermin seeking heat.” Fido hissed with content. “Hiding, creeping, crawling through the mud and your tunnels. Ssssssuch filth.”

“Fido, my good old buddy, am I happy to see you.” I growled back, struggling to get out of his grip and failing completely. I stopped and went limp, glaring right back at the creature’s skeletal fangs. “You know, you came at the perfect fucking time. I could use a little stress toy.”

The machine laughed, violet eyes glowing with malice. “Such a temper, little child. I’ll bring you temperance sssssoon.” There was a groaning sound around the armor. "Such weakness of flesh and bone. Let me... crush it from you. ” I couldn’t feel Fido actually squeezing down on me with Journey counteracting the force, but I could certainly feel my hands and arms held firmly together. It stared down into me, fascinated with the same gaze that all machines had when strangling their prey.

I could see parts of the tubes under Fido’s throat still dangling from where Hecate had sliced it, leaving the drake only his claws and mouth to do any damage with. I should have guessed he’d do something like this with what he had to work with.

“Journey’s giving me all kinds of numbers on hull integrity here,” Cathida said. “Your heart rate is steady though, no adrenaline spikes either. You've got a plan in that crooked head of yours I take it? Got about five minutes to figure something out before your friend here actually squishes us.”

“I don’t need five minutes,” I said, diving into the soul fractal and feeling the full suite of the occult at my palms again. “You think he’s got me pinned? It’s the other way around. He’s done me a favor, saving me from having to track him down all over again.”

Clan lord Atius had shown me the true power of the mirror fractal. He’d used it as a Deathless would, at first. Spinning out ghosts of himself, each wielding a lit blade. Likely had done so for centuries. But once he knew the source behind the Occult, his style had changed.

Everything about the ghost image was transient, immaterial. Everything except for the occult edges.

The true strength behind that spell was that it also duplicated fractals. Any fractal. Like the ones inside the occult blades and the knightbreakers.

Cathida had said it before: A mirror is one to one. The universe recognized fractals wherever they appeared as patterns. Microscopic or macroscopic. On metal or dust. Surrounded by air or solid. Immaterial or material. Didn’t matter to reality. Ghost images were still part of existence, all the fractals mirrored in those were just as real as reality.

The occult pulsed around me, and even Fido paused for a moment, those violet eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Sss…. what are—”

Fractals inscribed on the surface of Journey all lit up, being powered again. Not a moment later, two pale blue occult arms lifted from my trapped position and dove right into the creature’s wrists, passing through as if there was nothing but air. Those ghostly arms, covered in fractals, all still powered up.

“To'Aacar should have warned you, Fido. I never play fair.”

The shield fractal on my arm flared. Two nearly invisible domes ripped into existence. They manifested exactly where I’d predicted - right on my trapped wrists -- and right inside Fido’s wrists, where my ghost images were. There was a momentary tug of willpower as the dome shields cut through everything that had been in the way.

Fido’s clawed arms grew instantly slack, all the power and direction severed. I’d made the domes large enough to cut through the creature’s thick wrists completely.

I wasn’t finished yet. The fractal of heat flared to life in both my palms. Six mirror arms stretched out, superimposed until they split.

And all six arms lunged directly at Fido’s head.

Next chapter - The teacher's legacy

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