The black dust cloud pooled on top of the spilled fuel. The liquid shimred, light coming from within it. It was that golden light that the armors spirit absorbed.
The tallic swirl whisked away the glow from existence. One small droplet's worth, one after another.
Condensation ford under the dust, the smallest droplets already freezing from the ambient temperature. Typical of a power cell, water was the waste material once it extracted the energy portion.
Father held out bits of cut alloy scraps from his pack in offering to the cloud. The armor accepted and surrounded it, nibbling away until nothing remained in his hands except for the ceramic white shards that had been originally on the scrap.
The dust would swirl around the matter it consud, then stream back down to fuss over the damaged sections. Frayed parts grew back as it consud the scrap. In a few minutes, the armor had repaired its leg back to working condition. It had left only frozen condensation and rejected material behind.
There were many nas for this spirit. But no argunt that this wasnt the very soul of the armor.
Each relic armor had its own. So long as parts of the soul were still active, it could rebuild an armor from even a fragnt, though Ive never heard of anyone insane enough to put that to the test. These were too rare to experint on. The chance to lose an armor would be terrifying.
Father withdrew the moderately spent power cell, tucking it back into the suits leg holder as reserve. It clicked shut, pulling the room back into darkness. Our headlights were the only source left. In the new obscurity, the teal lit mites seed to spring up everywhere. On the ceilings, walls and ground, now noticeable again.
Do they attack people? Id always heard that the machines from the underground attacked humans. Id just had my first encounter with one a few minutes ago, and so far it hadnt even acknowledged my presence. Cant be sure if its intelligent or not.
Father stood back up, tossing aside the waste material and wiping off the accumulated sleet. So long as the superstructure isnt changed from whatever design is in their head, they ignore everything and everyone.
Can I touch one? And it wont bite back?
He seed taken aback by that question, I... suppose you could. Why would you want to?
Curiosity propelled , taking off the environntal suits gloves, skin exposed in the open air. Chill instantly siphoned the warmth in my hand, but I could bear with it for a mont. There was no way I could pick up sothing that small with these thick gloves.
Father looked on with what I think was puzzlent.
The mite did not try to escape when my hand lood over it. Neither did it deviate its course when I picked it up. Its legs continued to twitch and flail around, searching for the ground but otherwise not any more bothered by the lack of it. The body was still tiny, almost hard to grab. Closer inspection showed that the light theyd carried was at the front, almost where the eyes would be if this were an animal.
I sat the mite down on the palm of my hand and watched. It really looked like a tiny fat hybrid of a triangle and rectangle. A tallic ant. The legs quickly gripped to my palm, and the machine crawled around, its tiny forelimbs probing my skin almost in annoyance. Maybe because of the ice cold air that was already numbing my hand, there wasnt any bit of a sensation.
Or more likely, it truly was too small and light. Soon it had reached the edge and made no move to slow down. I had to rotate my hand to prevent it from falling, but even so the mite continued to single-mindedly seek the edge no matter how I turned.
What I cant understand is why you wouldnt want to see these things in more detail, Father. Theyre fascinating.
He said nothing to that. Instead, he shook his head and continued down the empty streets, still searching for sothing, knocking on walls occasionally.
You said they break down other mites works. What happens when two living colonies are in the sa area?
Father grunted, They dont fight. They deconstruct the others buildings while building their own, from what Ive heard. They dont care where the damage cos from, even if its from other mites. Theyll simply try to fix it. Whatever form that looks like.
I could see what he ant, my mite hadnt stopped trying to throw itself off my hand from the very mont Id picked it up. They truly had one-track minds. Is it even possible to walk through a section thats trapped between two colonies?
Mites build randomly, but theres always a path forward thats accessible by foot. They seem to follow that rule above all others. When two colonies fight for ground, they seem to agree on a mutual main path.
I let the mite walk off my hand. It tumbled down onto the ground, coming to a stop on its back. Its legs continued to seek the ground without success. Other mites stopped and made their way to their fallen brother. In monts, their forelimbs helped lift and rotate the distressed mite back onto the ground proper. So, they could at least speak to one another and had so sense of teamwork.
If I brought back a mite to the surface, what would happen?"
It would return to its colony?
You dont know?
I dont see any reason to study these. They cant be tad. A mite speaker might know better.
Father stopped in his tracks, then groaned deeply, his right hand palming his head as if hed made a mistake. ...Theyre undersiders who claim to communicate with the mites. Mite speaker. Its in the na.
Claim to?
Nobody knows anything about the mites or what built them. All Im certain of, is that the underground looks the way it does because of them. Anyone who tells you they know more is double-dealing and trying to fleece you of sothing. Youre a Winterscar, spotting this should be intuitive.
Now that their fellow mite brother had been rescued from its orientation issues, the mites left with disinterest, searching for anything that did not fit the blueprint theyd designed. My gloves neatly slipped back on my hands as I followed behind.
This place felt like a city, but only in how a painter would draw a city from mory. There were missing structures and city planning that just werent present. More like a lucid dream, a simulation of a city. Will the colony always make this exact city?
I could tell I was treading so dangerous ground here with Father. All these questions werent sothing he enjoyed hearing from . To him it was all scholar scrapshit, and I was sounding more and more like a Reacher caste by the minute.
But this wasnt information Id be able to guess on my own, and as far as I understood his thods and rules, hed only get angry at things I could have figured out
I dont know if they create the sa city over and over. Again, those are questions for the undersiders who live down here.
And youve never asked them?
Most of the undersiders all stay within the safety of the cities, they could go their entire life without seeing a mite. Chances are, they wouldnt know. And as surface dwellers, we're unwelco in their cities. Were seen as surface scum, desperate thieves at best. A deserved reputation at worst. Now end it with all these questions. Were not safe or out of the snow yet.
We continued exploring blindly for the next hour while I processed all Id learned so far. Occasionally wed take breaks to eat rations and drink. We never stopped for long, and he always remained tense. As if expecting the worst to happen.
In the clan, everyone loved to gossip about how danger filled the underground was, making it seem inhospitable to anyone who didnt have relic armor. The first ti any of this beca reality to was when Father stopped in his tracks and forced us to hide inside a room several streets away from where hed noticed the danger. There, we stood in the dark, headlights turned off.
Comms off. Quiet. He signaled with his hand.
Acknowledged. I signaled back. Status?
Enemy. Possible. Nearby. He moved his hand quietly, shaping each so that they were clear in the gloom. I heard nothing nearby, the city was as quiet as it had always been for the past few hours. Sothing had seriously spooked Father, however.
Machine?
Yes. He answered. Draw weapons.
I nodded and slowly took out my scavenger pistol, safety clicking off, muffled under my thick gloves. He brought out his own rifle and aid with one hand out through the doorway. For twenty minutes we stood still, ready for action.
It was the longest twenty minutes of my life.
Fathers weapon dropped back down from its ready position and he stood up, breaking the silence. Theyve moved past us.
How did you spot them? I had seen nothing nor heard anything. It seed like hed just randomly decided to hunker down.
Father stood back up, grabbing my own outstretched arm and pulling to my feet. I didnt spot them, but the signs were there. Machines are predictable. I had a suspicion wed walked into a patrol path of theirs.
Had we?
Outside, the world looked the sa as wed left it, but Father still nodded. I had the armor amplify sound. Heard them pass by a few streets away from here. Were behind their patrol right now. Need to make ourselves scarce, and soon.
Thats exactly what we did, picking a path completely perpendicular to where wed had our close call. I hadnt heard or seen anything, but this pattern of stopping to hide repeated three tis over. Each ti, Father would notice so evidence of machine patrol and have us hide in a room or building, waiting until they passed by. Hed point out how certain sections of the city had more debris than others, signs of machines lumbering by and damaging the roads. The mites would fix the holes, but the bits that were kicked off would remain, cluttering the place slightly more.
The longest it took was a half hour.
Each ti, I never saw a hint of the enemy. That didnt make any of it any less tense. Here was sothing that genuinely worried Father of all people.
Whenever the underground felt out of reach, the clan would complain about how it wasnt worth the price to live down there. How dangers like this were too much to pay for the benefits of living free from the climate. But anyti a glimr of hope ca up, like a house announcing theyd recovered a new relic armor, everyone would be suddenly filled with stories of how wonderful it would be to finally travel back down to where we all deserved to live. Finding so adow, forest, or even a tal fortress. Anything was better than the cold.
There was so much more to the underground than I had ever known. And Father clearly knew about it the whole ti.
Why didnt you tell of this? I asked him, while we hiked through this stillborn city.
You never asked.
Oh great, semantics. Dont you think its important?
Why would it be important?
Its the underground! Of course itll be important, I said. All of civilization lives down here, and eventually the clan will migrate here too.
Father stopped and turned, faceless helt holding my gaze. When?
This felt like a trap. Like another one of his lessons. But it was the ultimate goal of all the surface clans - to gather enough relic armors such that we could claim and hold land against the machines on a lower level. Compared to the other surface clans, were well on our way so far. I diplomatically answered.
He shook his head slowly. No. Not in our lifeti, or your childrens lifeti. Lord Atius will see that day, but none of us will.
What? Why?
Numbers. Even the smallest city has at least a hundred armors. Weve barely collected over fifty, and they say the clan is a little over three hundred years old. Even the poorest undersider lives like a king compared to us. He continued down, periodically knocking on the walls as he went.
A hundred relic armors? For a small city?
Sothing was off about this, but I couldnt quite put my finger on it. It felt like he wasnt telling the full truth, but the right questions slipped through my mind like sand.
We turned the corner and ran into another dead end. Instead of backtracking, Father tapped on the wall here as well. It sounded hollow. If I had told you about the underground, youd eventually wind up finding a way in through so chasm while seeking it out.
He took a few steps back in my direction. Im not blind to your curiosity, boy. There are pathways and tunnels everywhere leading down into the underground, all of them miles away from safety. Youd die within the hour from the first encounter with the automaton.
Before I could press him for more answers, he crouched into a runners stance and then exploded into a dead sprint forward.
The wall ahead stood absolutely no chance. It crumbled into pieces as he tackled through it.
What are you doing?! I shouted. Where the mites had been wandering mindlessly, now they moved to the wall with purpose, swarming towards it. Already the nearest had begun the tiny repairs.
Fathers voice echoed past the ruined walls. Im searching for a way out. Get in before the mites seal the way. They work quicker than you might suspect.
I wasnt sure if this was such a great idea, but it was clear the mites would not attack us as hed said before. They'd already grouped on the edge of the broken wall, their numbers making it look like a glowing teal line. If I hadnt seen them up close, I could have easily confused it with the occult. They seed to have a monopoly on glowing lines.
Peering past the wall all I saw was just another empty building interior.. A countertop lined the side of the room. It vaguely resembled a barkeepers shop. I turned on my own headlights for additional illumination. Fathers form stood back up in the pulverized concrete dust, figure obscured by the light beams lighting the particles.
I sulked in my head and considered what he'd said before, that withholding information from was for my safety. It didnt escape notice that Id done the sa to Kidra for similar reasons. Choosing not to tell her what the House had been doing to encourage Father's addiction.
Turning his words around in my head, I hunted for a counterpoint. And failed to find any. Fathers reasoning was sound. Id just assud it wasnt from the start, searching instead for a way to validate my initial feelings. Which hadnt been based on any logic now that I examined that thought in isolation. Ahhh ratshit.
That was a textbook sign of self-deception.
Ta that insufferable pride, boy. It will only get you killed down here.
I'd beco more impulsive on this expedition. Too single-minded on my goal for that missing tech, looking for it in places I should have known had little to no chance for a discovery. Taking risks that even my status as part of the nobility wouldn't protect from - if they'd ever found out about it.
It burned to admit, but Father was correct on this point. If he'd told more about the underground, I would have almost certainly found myself slipping through those cracks, thinking I could survive down here. Convincing myself into a stupid death. A perfect darwin award.
Keith, the three gods left the world to protect us. They struggle and suffer each day against the oblivion beyond earth. What do you think would happen if the gods left their post in the heavens? If they rested instead of upholding their duty?
It was just like him to pull up faith when he wanted to explain sothing more complicated. All right, Ill play his ga.
The three gods, circling the world. Urs, Tsuya and Talen. Floating in orbit around the world, deep in the heart of their flying fortresses. Each protecting the world with one hand to the darkness of space, and the other stretched out to their people. To recharge our power cells when they flew above.
Those power cells fueled our heaters, ships, environntal suits - everything really. I thought about the gods simply not being up there. No more celestial flyovers. No way to recharge power cells.
Wed all be dead within the week.
The gods did not choose lightly, Keith. They are not returning, not now, not ever. They knew the cost of leaving and they paid that price. A hundred fold. The surface is not where they belong anymore - and the underground is not where you belong either.
I got the ssage. This place wants us dead.
Father took my silence for what it was and continued further into the gloomy room. Co. This should hold our target.
Inside, the walls once more beca less concrete and more tal and electronics. At the center of this room wasnt a fountain, but a pillar of tal with a screen and keyboard oddly held by tal arms at the side.
Whats that? I asked, pointing.
Father walked up to it, hand reaching out. With any luck, our guide.
Next chapter - A Test of Might and Mite
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