He examined the mite creation, tapping the sides and buttons experintally with his hand. Activate.
Nothing happened.
Start. Wake up. Download. On he went, going through a generic list of trigger words, frustration leaking out with each failed attempt. The keyboard did nothing, and the screen had no buttons to press. The terminal remained unconvinced throughout the interrogation. No signs of power.
Father didn't seem to mind as I sat down and inspected the weird object myself. Maybe it had an on-off switch sowhere on a panel? This was assuming the mites had even built one. I saw nothing that looked like switches or buttons, besides that keyboard. Instead, only wires and geotric statues that looked like decorations at the base. They led out of the terminal, moving off further into the city.
Is this terminal junk? I asked.
That's uncertain. I wont be able to tell if this is functional, or junk, until Ive exhausted all the possible ways to turn it on.
I saw the conundrum. Its not always obvious when sothing couldnt work. These mites, what strange little buggers they were. They seed to build in all kinds of quality, from artistic to functional.
And I think Id seen this kind of behavior before. A theory bubbled up in my mind. Sothing that I fortunately could test. If I was right about this, it could at least let us know if this terminal was worth spending ti on or not.
Is it safe to explore around?
Father grunted in reply. Were far from the last patrol path, but stay nearby. Close enough that you can get to in a few seconds. What are you planning?
Im getting myself a pet mite.
That left him quite confused.
Once I was outside the room, I made my way across the alleyway to another building. Here, there were just concrete walls and an empty windowsill. The room was desolate except for one thing: teal lights all over the walls. Taking off my gloves for dexterity, I snatched one of those mites up. It reacted like the previous mites had - trying to walk off my hand. Each ti I turned direction, the mite would also unerringly change its own, almost like a hand-held compass.
I headed back to the dead terminal with my captive in tow, watching how it reacted the whole way. My conclusion on this micro-test: The mite had a location in mind where it belonged, and it would keep trying to get there.
What are you planning, boy? Father didnt seem amused by my antics as he watched toy around with the mite in hand.
Science! Mind if I use your knife real quick? No guarantees, but there might be a way to figure out if the terminals functional or not without spending too much ti. I want to gather proof to confirm it for myself first.
He stared for a mont, then kneeled down to bring out the knife with his usual flourish. He presented it hilt first to .
Youre oddly cooperative, I noted.
So long as your experint is quick, He replied. On the off chance your hunch is correct, Id be a fool to have blocked your path. His helt took a quick scan around the room, contemplating. Mites often like to hide things, or play tricks of that nature. These terminals aren't easy to find, I need to be absolutely sure it's unworkable rather than a power source being hidden here. You have until I'm finished. Talen be with us, boy.
I grabbed the knife from his extended hand. Father nodded and turned back to the terminal, searching for hidden compartnts, occasionally muttering things into his helt.
Occult weapons are oddly light, even though density-wise they really had no business being this weight. Not quite light as a feather, but light enough. A small switch at the side of the hilt let turn the weapon on. It flared to life in hand.
Now, for my next hat trick
I kneeled down to test my next theory, excitent burning about the possibilities. I let go of the mite in hand at the terminals base panel, right by what looked like an abstract statue. I savagely stabbed that decoration imdiately after.
Okay, maybe not savagely-savagely. But enough that soones granddad would have yelled at for it.
Mite-built tal or not, the occult weapon carved into it without issue. The damage this thing could do was several leagues above vandalism. And the mites reacted accordingly.
Instantly, every single teal light in the room marched as one to go handle the damage.
All except for a single rebel teal light: The mite Id pilfered.
Despite the proximity, it simply ignored the problem and walked back to the empty room Id spirited him away from.
I followed the little rebel, then stabbed the concrete ground lightly right in front of it. This ti, the lazy mite went to help fix the city substructure with its fellows. Once done, it promptly continued on its single-minded war path ho.
There had indeed been sothing I'd recognized in the mites, more of a behavior really. If I considered the mites more like human tinkerers... I could map a sort of culture in my mind.
The mites are craftsn, I said.
Theyre what? Father asked, not quite understanding what I ant.
The mites might not be one super hive mind. They look more divided into sub-groups, and each of those groups has land staked out to do what they want in it.
So mites might have been more motivated to create, and others might just be doing the bare minimum to get by. And so others, like the mite Id pilfered from the empty room, hadnt worked on anything at all.
They all pitched in to fix the superstructure - the city itself - but individual creations were up to the sub-groups that squatted in those parts.
Bizarre theory. And you learned that from playing around with a mite? Whats your proof?
I pointed at the renegade, whod been happily walking against the flow of traffic. That one. I swiped it from another room. A room where nothing was built inside besides the city superstructure. See how its not helping? This isnt the room its assigned to.
Father nodded, shrugged, then turned his attention back to the terminal. The mites are not human. Dont forget to factor that in as well.
Was I personifying these machines too much? They might think and feel in ways humans absolutely couldnt and I was only seeing the surface of it all.
There were bigger things to care about down here. The mites might have ranked too low for the relic knights traversing down here. Those mite-speakers might have already discovered all this, but Father clearly hadnt talked to one, since this was all news to him.
Theres one more test I need to do. How much ti do we have?
"Half an hour, not a mont more."
"That's all the ti we can spare?
Thats all the ti I gave myself to find the power source. Each hour increases the chance machines find us. Their patrols can change, or I could miss the signs. Its only a matter of ti until that happens.
Can you carry to speed up then?
Environntal suits were absolutely not designed for running around or sprinting in mind. Itll be a bit hard to work around his arm problem, but the family armor should be able to carry easily with one hand.
Hed done it before - and hed caught up to a moving airspeeder while ferrying both and my sister. I was smaller back then, but my sister hadnt grown that much taller since.
No, He said flatly. If the armor runs out of energy, were dead. We need to ration what we have. Martial your strength. Half an hour, then we continue forward and you wont slow us down for experints next ti. Do we have a deal, boy?
Fine. And if it does work, youll trust for that next ti then. Fair?
Dont make terms with . Im already giving you the benefit of the doubt.
But he didnt make a move to stop ; instead he turned back to the terminal to continue ssing with the controls.
It was going to be a struggle to run, but I had food and drink to recoup that energy. Power cells were the bottleneck resources right now. Couldnt be helped.
I grit my teeth and bolted out into the alleyway now that I was on the clock, looking for rooms with structures inside them. It didnt take long to find what Id been looking for, thankfully: the last piece of the puzzle for my tests.
Its screen was halfway completed. tal plating was missing, or forgotten about. Its circuit boards didnt have correct endings, nor were they even connected to the whole. I had no idea what this structure was supposed to mimic, but it was clearly defective. Into the room I went.
Fathers knife humd again in my hands as I sliced off a piece of the mite tech, specifically a circuit board from the wall. And then I watched as this rooms mites went to fix the board.
It took them three minutes. During that ti, the resulting board looked similar to the one I had cut.
Similar, but not exact. There were additions in odd places and outright missing parts.
There were far fewer ways to create sothing that works compared to a near infinite amount of ways to make sothing that doesnt. No need to guess this wasnt a working piece.
I raced back to the terminal. The mites were already finishing up their touches to the sliced statue.
Hilt first, I returned Fathers knife to his hand. Look at how the sliced off piece is an exact replica of the piece theyre re-building. I picked up the sliced off identical decoration, but quickly dropped it right back. tal is cold. I got busy putting my gloves back on. Im almost positive itll work - its simply not powered on. What are the chances that the power source is inside the room?
Moderate." He said. "But I suspect the wires are where the power would co from. Its only unknown how far away the source is. We could travel a half an hour or more before reaching it. Father stared at the terminal with contemplation. They could also simply end nowhere at any ti.
In my mind, I said, Any engineer proud of his work wouldnt leave it with no way to turn on. I dont know if the mites would think like that, but my hunch says they wouldnt have made sothing like this in a spot of land where power wasnt accessible. The wires are for sothing. We should track them.
Father nodded at that, and shrugged. That seems in character with the citys possible rules. You're on a ti limit, are you sure you want to follow these wires?
I thought for a mont, then nodded. I was sure. Father stood without another word, and began a quick march outside. I trailed behind, both nervous and hopeful.
We passed by plenty of mite structures along the path. So of it was just blocks with flashing lights. Others were multiple screens, all rotated at different angles and all of them black and unpowered. But the wires were all there, they just werent always connected - except for ours, which was systematically unbroken. Each minute, my confidence grew. It had to lead sowhere.
We left the building entirely, following the wires across the alleyway in a quick jog. They looped and traveled wildly around the path, grouping together and splitting apart at different tis.
Eventually, over the course of ten minutes, it led us to a massive building. This had been filled with hundreds of wires, entering the site from all directions. All of it converged indoors on a massive switchboard filled with lights. A podium near the center had all sorts of buttons, levers and valves that surrounded the small space. It was quite obvious that the switchboard was connected in so way to all those controls.
Have you seen this before? I asked Father, hesitantly.
He nodded. Mites leave puzzles like this occasionally. A team I was on a few years ago ran into a building like this one. Those switches control the lights. He pointed, then casually flipped a switch by the podium controls. A few lights blinked on while others turned off. Our theory was that this controlled power in a block of the city, but the mites had built it in such a way to be difficult - if not impossible - to turn sothing on intentionally. It ended up being a waste of ti, unfortunately.
I quickly saw what he ant. Each press of a button and pull of a lever showed predictable pattern changes in lights, just like a puzzle. So switches would only change a few lights, and other switches would change dozens at the sa ti. Thats all well and good, but this had at least thirty possible controls.
Do you know what Im supposed to do with all this? I waved at the switchboard.
Father shook his head. We spent only a few minutes before deciding it wasnt worth investigating further.
How much ti do I have?
Twelve minutes remaining.
No surprise, the relic armor probably had a tir counting down on the heads up display inside his helt. I decided I was going to make all the lights turn on to start with.
The patterns lded into my thoughts, and with each button press I could see how the whole would work. It took a few minutes to categorize all the commands possible, but there was a pattern to this as well. And a few tricks. A good number of these controls had duplicate effects once you lined it up in your head, even if the controls looked physically different.
I felt at ho with this little brain teaser; Id always been good with numbers. My mind flicked through the permutations until Id found a path to light them all up.
After a minute of rapid switch turning, a wrench in the works hit. Turning on too many lights would cause the entire board to switch off. That lasted a few seconds before the switchboard would turn on again, and reset back to its original configuration.
The mites showed no change in their behavior - they really didnt care about anything besides fixing what was broken.
Father, on the other hand, looked almost nervous, as if hed seen sothing he hadnt expected. Were you clicking things at random?
No, there's a pattern to it, like you said. I can see how I can get the results I want.
Theres no way you could have learned how to do that this fast. He shot back. But there was uncertainty in his voice.
Fine then, pause the tir and pick out any light. Ill have it turned on in thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds only, and this one. He rose to my challenge, pointing out a small light in a line near the end of the switchboard. I calculated in my head, saw the path forward and pressed five switches rapidly one after the other. On the final switch flick, the light hed pointed at lit up brightly. I felt a surge of pride at that.
That had to be luck.
Want to try another? I could do this all day.
The helt obviously obscured any expression from him, but his silence told everything. No, I stand by my word. Continue.
I played with the puzzle again, this ti looking beyond the switchboard to see the actions each flip and twist would cause. It was all well and good to turn on lights, but I had to know what those lights ant.
The obvious conclusion made almost groan at the wasted ti. Wires leading off also had lights built in. When the switches were pulled, so of these wires would have their lights also turned on. And one of these wires would lead back to the terminal, which I was willing to bet, had no light switched on. The problem with all this: there were hundreds of wires. Id forgotten which one was my terminal wire.
Ratshit. Were going to need to go back to the terminal. I sighed, pointing out what I'd found out about the wires to him. It had taken us ten minutes to get here in the first place. By the ti we arrived back at the terminal, that half hour of experintation ti would be gone.
Father reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I thought Id done sothing off, until he patted my shoulder, awkwardly. Ill end the tir.
I nodded back, unsure how to answer. Was he saying... that he believed I had a working solution?
Father turned and continued to walk, and I followed behind. We didnt say anything to each other, but a warm feeling was left in my stomach.
Halfway through our return, he ca to an abrupt stop. Danger was signaled out, along with a stop all motion order. His helt scanned around, looking in different directions, as if trying to hear or spot sothing through the alleyways.
There was only silence as far as I could tell.
He burst into action a second later, picking straight up without a word of warning and bolting away.
A wailing scream sounded in the city, shrill and chilling. It was joined by others, almost like wolves whod found prey. Feelings of panic deep inside started stirring. Wait - whats that? Slavers? I half-whispered, trying to keep as quiet as I could over the comms.
Does that sound anything like a human to you? Father hissed back.
Machines.
Id always thought they would be silent killers, chanical and precise. Without emotion. In my imagination, theyd swarm without a sound, only grim intent following a program of so sort.
Reality was clearly different. The machines sounded outright primal, more feral than even animals could be. They howled and scread, the voices coming closer despite Fathers speed. We couldnt see them yet, but it was clear they were closing in.
In minutes, we had made our way through the alleyways. He let go of , shouting to keep running on my own into the clearing up ahead. Father reached into his belt with his free hand and dropped one of his two grenades on the floor mid-run. He didnt bother to align it more in the center of the pathway. It bounced after him, rolling to a stop as we sprinted far past it.
It hadnt been prid, instead left alone and inert in the hallway.
Father spoke out over the screeches, easily catching up behind . Theyre called screars. Close range rank and file that bank on shock and awe. Theyll cut you to pieces if they get in range.
Can we outrun them? My short breath was already an answer to that. Even sprinting for a few monts had already winded . The environntal suit and gear I carried was too heavy for this kind of effort.
Theyve already pinged us. Running was never an option. Well need to fight, win quickly, and run before more co.
We stopped at the center of the clearing. This was where Father decided wed make our stand. The corridor wed just co from would funnel the enemy, and the plaza would give him room to fight. As good as it gets to tilt the odds.
Make sure your gun is loaded," He said, speaking fast. "Find a building to hide in and let handle this. My armor can take hits, your environntal suit cant.
He turned to stare at and grasped my shoulder with his hand again. Keith, listen to closely. They will kill you if they get the chance. Dont expose yourself. Dont be stupid. And dont try any heroics. Are we clear?
I nodded, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He made his way to the best position he could find in the clearing. The wall sides of the alleyway. There, he drew out his rifle, and held it as steady as he could with a single working arm, using the edge of the wall as a makeshift grip. If there was any ti to use his other hand, even if he aggravated the wound, it would be now.
Still, that arm remained limp at his side.
I could hear more screeching down the alley as I made my own way to cover. They overlapped one another, bloodthirst filled each terrifying howl.
Fear gnawed at my stomach. I tried to stamp it out with logic. Father had his relic armor; machines were no match for him from what Id heard. It took many working together to take down a relic wearer.
That sounded too good to be true all of a sudden. The clan gossip could have easily embellished the truth to make us all feel better.
No. Well be fine. Everything will work out. I desperately wanted to believe that.
The mass of screams closing in promised a different faith.
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