12 Miles Below

"I may have made a horrible mistake." I hissed, getting a hand under me as I forced my body back up in the dim cave light. "On the same level as licking ice."

"Winterscar?" Drakonis asked, turning to me, looking a mix between startled and relieved. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Good news: Given I could open my eyes in the physical world, that meant Drakonis hadn't sliced my throat while I'd been fighting for my life against Relinquished.

Bad news: The machine goddess is scheming something. And she knows my name. And she knows which rock I'm hiding under right now. And that rock happens to be in the middle of nowhere, without Wrath, Father, Cathida, Sagrius or any of the House knights. The only one I had nearby that could 'help' was a Deathless who'd been a recent enemy as of a day ago.

But again, he hadn't sliced my throat or stabbed me through my heart and spine, which I consider a very good step forward knowing someone. No, I don't have a problem, of course my standards for friendship aren't anywhere near the bottom of a crevasse right now, thanks for asking.

"Stuff happened." I said. "Anything strange on this side? Machines moving around, or Kres anywhere near us yet?"

He looked out. "Armor hasn't pinged him or anything. No sign of machines either. " He looked back at the campfire embers. It was all setup, even had a flat enough rock to the side for whatever cooking was in the plans. All empty. "You went catatonic for half an hour, the only reason I didn't think you'd died was the biometrics from your armor telling me otherwise. That and you hadn't turned to dust yet. What were you doing next to that terminal?"

I gave a few coughs to get any drops of leftover bile out of my mouth, then clawed my way back on my knees and up, hand finding purchase on my discarded helmet. "I've got a spell that lets me interface directly with terminals and machines."

"You were talking to the terminal itself? Same way a machine would?"

"The terminal's not sentient if that's what you're asking. It's like… like an entire separate world."

He hummed. "All right. So what did you see on the other side of this world that has you in such a panic for?"

"Nothing big to worry about." I wheezed one more time, then slapped the helmet back on. The familiar hiss was welcoming to my senses. "Just ended up chatting with the goddess of all evil."

Journey's systems came online a moment later, HUD flaring back to life, showing full vision all around me. Orange lines pointed to different items of interest, biometrics from myself and my companion, along with other junk reports for the moment.

Drakonis had a full bill of health, while my pulse and adrenaline response was showing a spike.

"Can you be less dramatic and more specific about the purple hell you brought down on us? Is it a Feather of some kind or just a stronger machine?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I shook my head. "Not a Feather, wish it were."

His helmet stared me down. "So by a goddess, you literally mean…"

"I pissed off Relinquished, yes."

"The machine goddess herself?"

"One and only. Also, we need to pack our stuff and run."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." He let his rifle drop back on its strap, and seemed to try to scratch his head with two hands while looking up at the cave ceiling. Didn't work of course, he had a helmet on. "She's after us, here?"

"Not us specifically, but she knows the coordinates of a terminal near here so basically she’s onto us." I said, jabbing my thumb backwards at the sliced terminal. "Time to pack our bags and start running in any direction. If Kres isn't here yet, we'll have to find him again elsewhere."

"Shit." He muttered. "I really did get stuck in something big." He quickly folded up his rifle, affixing it to his armor's side, then gathered the supplies back into his bag, attaching them to hardpoints on his armor one click at a time. "You got a recording or something to get me up to speed on this? Can't say I'm not curious to hear what the goddess of machines is like."

"She's dramatic. That's the single best word I can tell you. I'll fill you in on the way." I said, matching his pace, hand grabbing up whatever I could get my hands on.

We continued that for a frantic few moments before Drakonis turned his helmet my way. "Hang the airspeeder for a moment.” He said, “Why is she interested in two Deathless in the middle of nowhere?" His hand waved outside to the purple jungle beyond our little cave. "There's no objectives down here that could help the cause, no fight, no war, nothing but trees. Is it because we killed that machine earlier? Or because she doesn’t want us speaking to a civilization of birds?"

I shook my head again. "Probably not about Murdershrimp. He's a minion in the end, she's got an army of them. I don’t think the Odin have anything to do with it either. She’s powered by spite, and knows my name."

"How long will it take her to travel here?" He asked, turning back to face me.

Had to stop and think about that question. "She… doesn't have a physical body. At least that I know of. This is the first time I met her face to face, and all my talks with Wrath up to now about the machine side of things, she's always been talked about within the digital sea, never once in the physical world."

"Then, she's not coming here herself?"

"...No, I don't think she will. It'll probably be her minions she sends out." It dawned on me that I made a leap of logic in thinking she was after me herself. It might be she couldn't resist putting a hand in here, because her chances of having a human in the audience was rare. She's programmed to be dramatic. And caught a challenge note in a space she's capable of putting on a show.

Maybe it really wasn't as bad as I thought.

"So the threat isn't her, it's more units like the giant we fought."

"Murdershrimp. His name is Murdershrimp."

"I'm never calling it a stupid name like that Winterscar. Stay with the main question. Are there more titans like him out there?" He snapped his fingers, as if trying to snap me out of a trance of some kind. Rude.

I gave my gear one last quick check, noting it all together and functional. Power supply was still good for an entire day and some change. A few tugs on the straps showed them equally secured and ready for a climb down the rocky slope. "All right, we'll table the naming conventions for now. As for if we'll find more of them...Maybe. But that wouldn't be the most difficult possibility. An army would be a lot easier to deal with than a lot of other things she could send."

Like more Feathers.

"A lot easier to dodge and hide from." Drakonis nodded. “There’s only two of us. If a fireteam of five can easily go to ground, we should be able to. And if she's delegating, the machine reaction might end up being similar to what Deathless see when a fireteam gets too close to a major objective."

“That’s a lot of if’s.” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “Working on guesses is part of the risks we take. Machines are predictable most times, even Feathers all have the same pattern when it comes to appearing before combat.”

Well, he had worked hand in hand with a Deathless who’s known for taking the fight to Relinquished. "What does Relinquished do when she’s noticed something getting too close to home?"

"Sends an army first, grinds down the team, and then a Feather appears at some point." He shrugged. "But right now, you're thinking ten miles a minute. Take a few deep breaths, settle yourself first. Unless she's about to appear any minute now, we should instead consider what she's capable of sending, how fast they're capable of deploying, and what they can actually do with the information her forces have on hand. If she hasn't appeared already to smite us down, she can't or wasn't intending to. We're still alive right now, that says something."

He's right, I think. “Right. Options wise, she can’t come herself, but she could send either Feathers, minions, both or neither.”

“And how fast?”

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“Minions would be the fastest. They might be charging here right now.” I remembered To’Avalis and his last ditch attempt to defend the mite forge. He hadn’t been able to bring together an army until later, once they arrived. Which had been about half a day’s worth of time. “If it’s an army, half a day at most. Individual units might filter in faster.”

He nodded. “Feathers always show up last. They’re too proud to be first, all fireteams have to ‘earn’ the privilege first. If we pack up and leave now, we should be fine.”

Journey beeped. A shared ping between Drakonis and myself, since we both turned our heads out the cave entrance. Out in the distance, an orange HUD square narrowed down over a black dot in the distance.

Vision zoomed in automatically, showing a bird struggling to fly around.

"He's really dead set on that bag." Drakonis muttered. “He’s got golden luck he made it just in time with that thing though. I’ll give him respect where it’s earned on that front.”

"I can respect his dedication to loot."

"Of course you can." He shook his head with a cough that sounded like a mild chuckle.

Silverfur padded, following the Odin’s direction. Every so often, the bird would fly off, verify their trajectory and return.

Following an Odin was a leap of faith. He didn’t know where he was going, there were no scent marks, no marked trees, and no way for the Odin to explain where the end point was. Only how long until they reached it, and at best some description of the world from the air.

Which, as Silverfur had learned, could be more or less ignored. The world was so different looking down on it rather than from the ground, it often felt like the bird spoke of a completely different world.

He never pointed it out, there were more important things to focus on, and they still got to where they needed to be. All they had to do was trust the process.

In this case however, air or land, the place Kres spoke of was easy to spot. A mountain, filled with winding trails upwards, and at the centermost section was a large hole leading into a cave.

He went through his usual check, noting that the cave was wide enough for a good den. Higher elevation meant rain wouldn’t be a problem, though the rock soil would make for puddles. And at the very base of the mountain, there was a very shallow river passing through. It looked clean and crisp, flowing over soft rocks.

A good spot for a burrow all in all, but hard to get and drag prey that far up without putting it on an Odin wheeled sled of some kind.

“We are here.” Kres said from the perch. “And they are coming.”

The humans. The war golems he’d seen fighting off the infection with little difficulty. Who’d stared down the god of the mite fountain and fought.

His pack went silent, as all ears, noses and eyes turned to look up the rocky mountain. There, he spotted them.

They looked like machines. Climbing down from the mountain, legs gripping against the rock face with little difficulty. The bottom two were different from the top two. Likely evolved specifically to carry their full weight at all times. Like flattened hooves. Those dug into the rock, and acted like a small platform for the beings.

The front legs were different. Ending in five movable claws. More like extended talons, similar to the Odin. And just as dexterous.

The two humans would jump small gaps downwards, using the front talons to steady themselves after each leap. When they were within the treeline height, both humans turned and jumped directly off the mountain.

They fell. The pack drew breathes, watching as the two golems dropped like rocks. If the humans could fly, they chose not to.

They both landed within a beat of each other, deep into the river. Water splashed up around them, and he could hear the rocks under break away from the fall. The humans showed no reaction to that, landing perfectly balanced on both legs.

From that low crouch they stood back up, and strode out of the river.

The wind drew their scent his way, or rather the lack of a scent. “Metal.” His fellows muttered.

They smelled like metal, like machines. If Kres hadn’t sworn they were humans, he would have assumed they were simply a new kind of machine. One that traveled in pairs.

They were carrying the same that they had when he’d met them at the fountain. Two bags filled with power cells, metal rods and contraptions on their sides, straps all across their exposed bellies and chests. And he saw blade handles, along with smaller ones by their boots.

Unmodified, the hilts still pristine without any bite marks or mouthguard modifications. He’d seen them use those to their fullest. The talons expertly turning them into an extension of their being, and the rest of their bodies moved to maximize the reach and position.

He’d seen them before at the fountain, but the rest of his pack hadn't seen them up close. They had distinct differences across their armor in both gear, straps and colors. One had blacked plates with an even darker line that made up a pattern on his shoulder pad. Muted yellow trim and some white cloth left unfurled on his back. The other had a far more exposed uncolored metal armor, with clear blue lines of patterns intermixed with faded yellow.

“Look closely.” Silverfur growled at his pack. “These are the humans. And if they were a threat, they would have already attacked.”

The pack responded affirmative. They already surrounded the two figures at the center, which would have prompted an attack back if it had been any other greyroamer pack. Instead, the two humans moved at a steady calm pace, directly at Silverfur.

The two beings were either supremely confident, or friendly. And as far as Silverfur could guess at, he believed it was both.

He felt his tail wag to the rhythm of hope. They seemed as powerful as he’d seen them last. No wounds, no blood, it was as if their battle with the machine god had been a simple afternoon hunt.

If there were any being out there that could eradicate the infestation, it had to be these two.

Sound came from where their heads should be if metal hadn’t been covered it all. The same kind of monosyllables he’d heard from Kres. The Odin answered back without missing a beat, equally giving out the strange warped sounds. Then the bird leapt off his perch and landed with a few hops on the ground between human and greyroamer.

One of the humans raised a talon up, and moved it right to left a few times.

“What was said?” Silverfur asked.

The bird turned one beady eye back, then wagged his tail to the rhythm of contentment. “They introduce themselves as Keith and Drakonis.”

“They both smell the same. Which is which?” Silverfur asked.

“The one with red, black and gold is Keith. The one with orange and blue is Drakonis.”

Ah. They were like Odin where colors would separate them. He could adjust slightly. They both looked mostly identical to him, but one had blue and the other didn’t. So that made it simple enough. He committed the names to memory.

Kres traded words with them, Silverfur and his pack watched on.

After more sounds between Kres and the two humans, the bird finally turned back to him. “The humans are ready to speak, I will interpret for them. But there is an issue they are agitated over.”

“And that issue is?” Silverfur asked, curious. The two humans didn’t seem agitated in the slightest to him.

“They’ve drawn the attention of machines.”

“That would be worrying. Are they planning on fighting the machines, hiding, or running from them?”

Kres turned and asked the humans. The one named Keith answered back. He’d talked with Kres before about humans in idle downtime, and found that their language was highly convoluted. Often, passing information took minutes, instead of seconds.

But far worse than the time it took to speak, it was simply… eerie to see them speak. They had no emotions, no scent, and their helmets covered their faces completely including their mouth and teeth.

The Odin were similar, but they could learn how to display emotions, although it had to be a deliberate choice to do so. Kres was among the few Odin who’d taken the time to learn how to properly express himself, but the humans didn’t have tails of any kind so even if they wished to, they wouldn’t be able to.

“They are looking to run and hide from them. But they still require access to a terminal or mite fountain, in case a contact of theirs reaches out to them over long-distance communication. And their armors run on power cells, they need to have a supply of them. Do you know of anything within your territory that could fit this?”

They were waiting for a howl of some kind then. And like most of the Odin technology, they required those cells with the glowing liquid inside.

“There is one place that I can think of where all of these issues are handled.” Silverfur said. It seemed obvious to him. A place that was safe from machines, was already connected to terminals, and had all the power they could need.

Kres turned, giving him a side eye that the wolf had seen a few times before. The Odin version of surprise and suspicion. “And that is?”

“The Icon of Stars. Your home. Machines attack anything that is human, and your home is of human origin, led by a human voice, is it not? She must have learned how to hide from machines long ago. Have her teach the humans here.”

Kres gave an angry squawk of protest. “I will not lead the machines into raiding the Icon! And besides, it would not work. We found dead humans within the Icon, the past settlers who’d woken her up long ago. The machine guardian found them even hiding inside her belly.”

Silverfur leaned backwards on his two paws, giving a mild stretch. “You worry too much.” He growled out. “They only need to be in howling distance of the Icon to learn from her. They can do that from many places. Any trading place between Odin and greyroamer would do. Have them use that to speak to the Icon.”

Kres didn’t answer for a moment, likely contemplating the idea. “The Resura trading post? That’s the only one I know of by your territory.”

“That one.” Silverfur said, mostly guessing. The bark Kres said could apply to multiple different posts in that area. But the Odin was smart and if there was a miscommunication it could be resolved later as they raced closer to it. “The one that smells of pine, softened rock, bled bark and old feathers.” He added, just to help out.

Kres gave him another beady eye stare. “And to feed their armors?”

That was important. Completely encased in those armors powered by technology Silverfur could only dream of, he was certain the humans could fend off the infestation. Keeping them powered would be the wolfling to watch out for. But that was equally easy to solve. “We could transport new cells to them. So long as they fight the infestation, no greyroamer would turn away the work. Machines do not care or stop the Odin from finding and using cells and their fountains. Your only difficulty is flying them back.”

Running back into safe territory, in order to refill a cell, and then running back to the humans? Easy. And safe.

Kres argued further about the possibility of losing such an old trading post if it were attacked. But in the end, it wasn’t an Odin outpost. Just one of nomadic trade that any pack used, and it happened to be able to howl far enough to connect with the Icon of Stars, through Odin technology. That should do.

He had to earn their favor. These two would be key in chasing off the infestation. If all they needed was to howl to the Icon a few times and get her guidance from afar, Silverfur could easily spare any outpost. Even if machines swarmed it, they’d just leave.

It was a simple solution, and only took a few more minutes of arguing with the Odin before Kres finally gave in, and allowed it.

The outpost would be a few days of travel. In that time, Silverfur was certain he'd be able to talk to the humans through Kres, and reach a full plan of action against the infestation.

There was so much to learn from the ancient humans, from how they survived to how they truly fought with their blades. And he had all the time he needed to do so.

His tail wagged with anticipation, as much as he tried to tamper down on it.

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