12 Miles Below

“Uh, Wrath…” I asked with a nervous chuckle, watching as Wrath scooted up closer and closer. “What are you doing?”

Father stood up, took his lunch with him and walked away without a word. As if he already had a sixth sense of what was going to happen, and found the idea of going out to watch the lake more important.

The rest of the knights took the opportunity to look in every direction except to the rocks we were sitting on. All except for Captain Sagrius who seemed immune to all the events happening and just watched dead on without comment.

“As you have seen in the recording, in order to blend in with the current deception, I will need to seduce you in a suitably dramatic manner.” To’Wrathh said, deciding scooting closer was too slow, so she stood up and quickly closed the gap between us, one hand reaching out for my cheek. “Do not resist.”

This is a bit right? Wrath just having a laugh at my expense, some light ribbing. She certainly looked completely serious about this. “And uhh, what exactly do you mean by seduce?”

She frowned, her own hand going to her hip in contemplation. “Is my shell insufficient for the task of general seduction?”

“No? I mean, absolutely no, uhh, I definitely wouldn’t put it like that. You look pretty girl - pretty good - good, I mean you look pretty good.” My voice was getting higher pitched with each word, hand smoothing my hair back in a nervous tick.

Look, Wrath was literally built by a narcissistic machine goddess who was in turn running on sheer megalo-drama as her core operating system. Partly the reason humanity hasn’t been ruthless stamped out despite the ridiculous advantage Relinquished had over the world.

So a Feather looked exactly how a demi-god machine built to mock mankind should look like. Which was beyond reason stunning.

I’d gotten used to being around Wrath simply because some lizard part of my head just couldn’t put me in the picture as anything but a background minion helping her scheme new ways to blow things up. I was really good at that part, I was not good at holding hands or pretending I was being swooped off my feet.

“Then what is the error?” She asked, eyes narrowing with frustration. A moment later they widened in shock at some unworded revelation. She turned on her heels and scanned through the knights. “Does he already have a designated mate? Or a pre-arranged marriage proposal with a complex secretive background that I am unaware of?” She bit her thumb then, eyes staring down at the ground to think, wings starting to rustle around in agitation. “I did read of this as a potential event, I should have done more research earlier.”

One of the knights outright coughed his dinner out while the rest equally seemed to croak. “Uh, no, the young master does not have any pre-arranged agreements, Lady To’Wrathh. Nor any secret betrothals. As far as we know.” The other knights also gave hand signs in agreement.

That’s all correct, but there’s still the entire airspeeder to address here. “Hold on, wind it back a bit. Research material?” I pressed. “Who’s giving you research on how to seduce a human?”

Kidra or Ellie get to her somehow? Or Teed?

“You did.” She said, as if it was obvious.

“I did?”

“Why are you repeating my statements?”

“I am? Oh. I am. Scrap.”

Why is she saying I was the one who told her how to sedu- Oh.

Oh no.

The romance books from way back.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I hissed under my breath. “Romantic novels are… usually exaggerations of normal life. I thought the Logi would give you non-fiction accounts or actual books with more realistic stories.”

She nodded, “They did offer historical data from House linages in order to demonstrate more mundane clan life. However Relinquished is specifically tuned for dramatic flair. Taking cues from romance novels instead of non-fictional accounts would be optimal.”

I could hear a small voice leaking out of my helmet, but even with it pretty close by, it was still too far away for me to make any sense of what the old bat was up to. Wrath seemed to narrow her eyes at it. “This is a perfectly logical path to victory. I am not abusing the situation for my own advantages. Mostly.”

More tinny yelling from the helmet. Wrath huffed. “Keith has not displayed those traits. And if he had, would that not make this task far easier? I fail to see why this is an argument against the plan.”

I don’t want to know what Cathida was telling her about me. I could guess, but I really didn’t want to.

“What did the Logi send you that you’re basing all this on? Exactly?”

Said Feather stopped, spending a moment to consider how to answer. Then she seemed to hatch some new idea that excited her far more, “Discussion will have diminishing returns, practice will be more efficient.” Nodding her head as if this was the perfect conclusion, she then took a step even closer to me. I tried to equally shift backwards in my seat, and bumped against the back of the wall. Uh oh.

“Practice?” I asked, voice now a full on squeak. There was just rock behind me and I couldn’t physically squeeze myself more than I was already.

“The continued repetition of my statements worries me greatly.” Wrath said, frowning as her hand reached to my forehead before I could duck. “Your heart rate is elevated, and blood flow to your head and cheeks has increased by twenty-two percent. Are you sick or otherwise encountering difficulties?”

I shook my head then shook it harder to snap out of this, with a few breaths. This wasn’t real real, Wrath was just trying to throw Relinquished off. A few more breaths got it all out of my system and I was mostly ready to go. Get it together, this is just Wrath being Wrath. “Okay, practice. Right. Sorry. Relinquished is just a chatbot, romance books would probably be the right play forward. Murderous mechanical monsters that took over the entire world secretly like romance and drama. Makes sense. So, show me what’s your plan here. How are we going to get Relinquished off our contrails?”

Wrath broke into a wide smile, like she’d won some competition she’d been holding her breath about. "I will take recordings from my past encounter with you, edit the date and times so that they fit a better timeline, and we will fill in missing elements as needed. Once we have a timeline establishing contact, we can begin adding onto it in order to advance the narrative. Or do you believe we should fabricate a new manner of meeting? I am open to suggestions.”

“No, no, I think what you have in your memory should be enough… What additions are we talking about? That’s what’s got me more worried.”

“A mix of actions and speeches that will advance the tension in a natural manner forward.”

“So… We’ll act out scenes and you’ll send them back to Relinquished?”

She nodded.

“Do you already have a script written out or what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She nodded again, “In order to successfully deceive the pale lady, you must embody the essence of the romantic hero paradigm.”

“Okay, I’m following so far. Just one quick question - what exactly is the ‘essence of a romantic hero’?”

“There are many variations to that answer.” Wrath said. “Since you are considered a Deathless to Relinquished, we will take examples from general Deathless protagonists as our source. Your demeanor should be brooding yet passionately devoted. A war-weary veteran with a hidden heart of gold, who fights aimlessly until meeting the romantic interest. This is the general skeletal structure of approximately ninety three percent of all novels I have read."

One of the knights snorted, and covered the sound up by sliding his boot against gravel under him. Everyone else was completely quiet. So quiet I could only hear the sound of the campfire, and a very tinny noise of absolute fury coming from my helmet speakers by my side.

Wrath was getting more animated about this, chattier, and there was a glint in her eyes that I hadn’t seen unless she was near something that excited her. Mostly new foods, but I’d occasionally seen her like this when we talked shop about engineering problems and new weapons.

So, apparently she also likes human romance and drama. Like her mom.

Then I blinked, remembering what she said. "Hold the hanger, brooding and... passionately devoted?"

"It is absolutely critical for these two traits to be replicated." She affirmed, finger going up, then tapping her chin. Then she realized I’d been asking a question.

The tinny voice came back from my helmet, and Wrath turned her attention to it. “That would only assist my end goal, yes?”

The speaker went silent for a beat, as if Cathida realized she’d mucked up her insults. Then blasted out with more angry yelling. I think I could overhear a few snippets of words, like ‘hidden agenda’ and ‘claws off’.

“Wrath,” I said, trying to get everything back on track. “I think I could pull off the brooding part, but I have no idea what you mean by 'passionately devoted'. If you’re asking me to write poetry, I’m going to complain about it.”

“Perhaps we can follow an existing example then until you have a more intuitive sense? A scene from ‘The Immortal Heart 2: Swords and Shields’ might help illustrate your role.”

That was a question. I think. “Sure?” I answered.

“I will send your armor the full copy of the novel. The outline of this scene is this: You must rescue me from danger, profess undying love, and then, in a grand gesture, sweep me off my feet. I will reduce my internal gravity so that you can accomplish this feat without armor assistance."

She didn’t say I was spared from writing poetry, I noticed.

I glanced at the knights, hoping for some rational bastion of sanctuary, but they all seemed to have found the nearest rocks fascinating. Worse, I think they were trying their absolute best not to laugh.

“I don’t think taking off my armor is a good idea? I mean, when would I have my armor off down here in the first place?”

She pouted. Actually pouted and seemed upset, like I ruined her grand plan. “In the scene, the Deathless Galavan wasn’t wearing armor, however…” She took a step back, finger tapping rapidly on her chin as if she was trying hard to think it through. “Very well... You make a point.” There was a tone of disappointment at this, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine it. “You will keep your armor on and we will need to skip the scene of ripping your shirt.”

…

Excuse me, what the gods?

She continued before I had a chance to ask what the shirt business was about. “We will begin by having you rescue me from impending peril. This is a staple among the materials, and I believe it will be a good point to begin at.”

I slowly turned my head, looking at the knights with a ‘save me’ look. The bastards all continued staring at their scrapshit rocks like they were having a deep philosophical debate. Absolute cowards.

Fine. I’ll drag them into this scrapshow.

"Well, I suppose I’ll need to find a good excuse for possible danger. How about a band of knights trying to kidnap you or something?" The helmets all snapped up to stare at me. “Like, say, those knights over there.”

Wrath nodded faster than I’d seen her eat. "That would be adequate. Once you have rescued me from peril, you will then declare your feelings with all your heart. This is crucial for authenticity. Shall we begin?"

I don’t think I got a chance to say yes or no, because Wrath bolted straight up, and stalked forward to the knights, visibly excited to get started with her plan. No blades draw or anything, so it seemed like she aimed for some hand to hand scuffle.

The closest knight coughed into his gauntlet, “Lady To’Wrathh?”

“Stand up and begin a mock spar with me, three of you would do for this demonstration.” Wrath said.

The Winterscars were some of the greatest knights in the world right now - and all of them knew better than to fight Wrath. They saw the writing in the snow, stood up, and tried to not so subtly get out of her way.

Seeing no one volunteering, she pointed at three one after the other. Now officially volunteered, they gave each other silent looks, then hesitantly brought up hands in a lose close-quarter combat position. A lot of movements and techniques could be done without a blade, or relied on an open palm, kick or twist. Even with just hands, they were still excellent fighters.

With nothing better to do, I decided to play along and see where this goes.

Did I have any idea what she meant by ‘declare my feelings’? Not a single clue. It seemed more like Wrath was having her version of fun right now, and I could play along with that.

She often humored me when I started bits, or at least tried to learn how to. Only fair I do the same back. So I took some ridiculous heroic stance, drew out a blade and pointed it at the scoundrels that Wrath was currently beating up.

She had one knight pinned on the floor under her fake relic armor boot, another held by the throat in her hand, and a third was trying to crawl away from where he’d been tossed. The rest had managed to take wide steps from Wrath’s direction and hadn’t been caught in the mock crossfire. “While putting me in actual peril is not strictly required for a practice session, it would help set the stage better if there was a slightly more sincere attempt at it.” She said to her victim.

The knight held by the throat tapped her hand a few times as if calling for a truce. “Lady To’Wrathh, we did try.”

“Oh.” She said. “My apologies, I was caught up in the moment.”

"Ahem, dear To’Wrathh,” I said, blade pointing straight at… all that. “Fear not, for I shall protect thee from the clutches of… um, those sorry bastards."

I was starting to feel sorry for them, really. I’d basically thrown a manic Wrath who had a single-minded idea in her head she wanted to try out, right into their faces. They didn’t know if they should play along and get bodied by Wrath, or just stay safely at a distance and see what else goes wrong.

Wrath, however, looked critically at me after my impromptu speech. "More intensity, Keith. Galavan tears his shirt in anguish in that scene."

"Oh, that’s what you meant by the shirt thing." I said with a bit of relief.

“Of course I did. Ripping off his insignia is a symbol of choosing Bella over his duty. Is there a different interpreta-” She paused, then turned to my helmet and frowned.

Deep from the recesses of the helmet, I heard a low evil laugh.

Okay, faster I wrap this up, faster Wrath gets what she wants and I can move on.

"Stand back… uhh, fair maiden!” I said, taking a few dramatic steps forward. “No raider shall harm thee while I yet draw breath!"

Yeah that sounded heroic-ish. Works.

Wrath nodded, taking the lifeline for what it was. "You will need to update your vocabulary to more modern inflections. Deathless do adapt to language drift. I will be editing prior video recordings I have of our original encounter, we should keep your natural language consistent.” She let go of the knight, and he hit the ground with a thud. He promptly scurried away like an awkward crab, out of her reach. “We can discuss that section later, now follow up with the embrace and the sweeping off the feet."

I paused, glancing around at the audience we had gathered. They all watched on. "Uh, right. The sweeping."

I got one step in before Father returned, jumping over the rock surroundings and landing on the ground near the campfire. “Something’s coming.” He said with his usual no-nonsense voice. “Draw blades.”

The knights all took that as an escape, bolting up. Wrath looked a mix of disappointed, upset and frustrated. She gave an annoyed tut, then went and equipped her helmet.

I also grabbed my own helmet and slapped it on, turning back into an unknown knight to anyone passing by. “Having fun deary?” Cathida asked sweetly. “Going to play house with the… what was your word for her? The pretty girl, hmm?”

“You’re a dead ghost.” I hissed. “Quit bugging the living. What’s on the way here?”

“Machine signal.” Cathida answered with a verbal eye roll. “Tenisent sent the ping details, just one. Not big enough to be a drake, so I’m curious myself at what other machine travels alone in these sections. We’re not that deep yet.”

“A Runner.” Wrath said over the comms.

“A single one?” If it’s just a single machine, with the model of a Screamer, then it had to be Abraxas. Showing himself in person. Which was odd, I thought he was terrified of appearing in any recording.

A runner did come out of the shadows, slowly coming to a stop from its earlier sprint. It rose up on both feet, taking longer strides now with those two giant arms assisting.

Abraxas had looked like a homeless drifter, rags all across his frame, and sported blue lights with one long staff and lantern set, at least from the distant profile we got a view on. This one had a massive familiar scar across the half-skull faceplate, and he sported a few dozen painting designs across the usually bone white armor plates. In places his arms couldn’t reach, so someone must have painted it on him.

And to round out the whole set, he had one large knapsack, strapped to his back, filled with what looked like… cooking pots?

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