Apparently airspeeder pilots traditionally had to fight with their co-pilots for who gets to shoot the ice-clearing firepower, but since it usually took a few charges, mostly everyone got a chance to press the big buttons.
It certainly cleared off the ice, but we only had about ten minutes to get back in before everything froze over again so there was a short scramble.
Problem is that his warfrigate could only do so much to clear off the snow by the top layer. There was plenty more waiting for us under. And mitemade ground was resilient to anything Teed did to blow a path down, so anything that wasn't ice or snow was still mostly unmoveable.
At the bottom, we found the tunnel network was still backed up with snow, which was expected for this particular breach given its orientation with the surface wind. Normally, we’d need to waste a few explosive charges down here to clear off the snow.
Occult arcs worked just as well at pulverizing the way forward, even did some damage to the mite walls around us.
It’s a good thing relic armor could absorb heavy impacts, and warn me of when said impacts would be too tough for my body to take because with the way cleared, we found ourselves before the first real drop into the first strata.
Half sheer wall, half slope, wide open cavern with half-built concrete buildings half consumed by the walls around us. As if they’d all sunk into the ground and walls, then stopped and froze over. Some the of the staircases seemed outright horizontal instead of vertical, but they made for great stopping points.
Rope was lowered back down, affixed on the edges, and knights went forward, leap after leap until we found a large enough platform to redo the whole process.
Everyone else got warning chimes asking them to slow their fall using the attached rappel ropes if they ever started getting anywhere close to mild discomfort. I got Cathida, who was screaming at me to go faster instead.
All because Wrath simply jumped in and floated down, leisurely passing by the rest of the knights and Cathida didn’t like to lose to anything or anyone.
“We’ll get there when we get there.” I hissed, focusing on making sure I wasn’t going to turn into a pancake. “I’ve got a history with cliffs you old bat, let me take my time and enjoy not falling to my death for once.”
My boots landed on hard ice that caked over a half-formed concrete dome. There was a square hole by my side for a window, and under it I could see more concrete furniture including a complete rock solid toilet from early human eras. Not only was it non-functional, it also would have been spilling water off the side even if it had been built right.
Mites.
“Think about the dramatic landing at the bottom, not the gear.” Cathida said, trying a new way to appeal to me as I scanned down the abyss some more.
“I’m thinking more about flattening my gear. This stuff’s expensive.” I said. Lack of ammunition needs due to the two walking factories with us let the expedition bring tents, spices, and other luxury items for each of us. And weapons. Lots of weapons. As a scavenger, every extra item brought would mean more work to carry it. Armors basically negated all that, so we could overpack - on top of underpack ammo. This was going to be one of the most comfortable expeditions ever.
But that stuff was still a lot more fragile than a human completely encased in expanded form fitting impact foam, armored plates and occult. Technically some of these weapons could be reprinted out, but it had taken Wrath and Father some time to build to the right tolerances, piece by piece, tested and calibrated.
My headlights illuminated Wrath, silently following some unseen air current as she scanned around our destination point.
Cathida got an idea. “You’d get to pass right by miss silver bimbo on the way down. Give her an eyewink or whatever you kids do these days. I recommend a finger personally. Two for fun. Go on, jump.”
“How did Journey even agree to that plan in the first place? Seems the complete opposite of what an armor is supposed to do.” I hissed back, as a Winterscar knight handed over the next section of rope with a nod. Two others were already scaling down ahead of me, small headlights growing dim in the darkness below.
“Oh deary, believe me Journey is grinding its teeth at the thought. But that’s what the old bat would have asked for, so that’s what I’m asking for now.”
“She wants her recruits to die?” I tugged the rope, verifying it was secure, turned to the wall and began the decent down with small hops against the wall.
A tut on the speakers. “Cliffsides here would easily break any fall. You’re not in any real danger, maybe a muscle contusion or two. Unacceptable to armors of course, prissy lot, that’s why they keep sounding off warnings for too big a drop. But me? Peh, some good sore muscles build character. And I really don’t like watching that flying toaster do all the scanning for us.”
“I do not need to perform active scanning for the expedition.” Wrath said over the comms, “There is nearly no machine presence within the first ten thousand feet downwards.”
Father landed right next to me with a giant crack, feet bending down at the impact. “Nearly no machines does not mean no machines.” He said.
“Bah,” Cathida hissed back. “You telling me you didn’t already scan all the gold out of this cavern the first second you landed down here Tenisent? If there was even so much as a mechanical ant, you’d have already spotted it and stomped it down, you old dog.”
Father didn’t answer, just taking another leap down and vanishing into the darkness. No bones to break, no muscles to tear, he could land from just about any height and only need to worry about getting his armor dusty.
“See?” Cathida said. “It’s completely safe. Now go on, live a little.”
I decided discretion was the better part of valor and had a nice and cozy repel downwards.
We didn’t find any mite treasures down this direction. Nor anything having changed since the last time it was mapped out. Once we hit the bottom floor where the concrete city really started to take over instead of caverns and tunnels. The last time I’d been here, there’d at least been lights and power running through the city.
Here?
Everything was completely dead. The only signs of light was from the knights ahead of me, headlights sweeping across the landscape, weapons aiming from building to building, checking for any ambushes. I landed at the ground floor with a dull thud and clacking of my strapped on gear. Then sent an all clear signal up, and turned to get a good look at the mite city before me.
The main road down this branch had one direction, and while the cavern was wide enough to fit a few buildings, there really was only one way forward. Further down that direction was where the options began to open up.
Which is where Abraxas must have known we’d start looking for him, because he did leave behind something.
“That wasn’t there before according to your clan’s logs.” Cathida said as I scanned the building directly ahead of us.
Tall circular tower, gray and lifeless as the rest of everything around this cavern, and the roof just barely brushing the top of the cavern. What set it apart was a slight flicker of light up there.
We entered subtlety, and by that I mean we kicked down the door and greeted everything with rifle barrels. Nobody home, dust everywhere, and nothing made sense building wise like expected. There was a receptionist’s desk half complete, with a possibly working antique light. What looked like a framed painting with no painting on the wall, and a set of stairs that were built in zig zags instead of spiraling around the tower like a normal architect would have made it.
It’s like the mites made this, gave up a few times along the way, and then decided to drink on the job before getting the rest done, mix of coffee and booze. Sturdy enough for full armored relic knights to walk up the stairs, so I can’t fault the safety inspection for the final product.
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On the top floor, just absolutely nothing except a metal grating catwalk that surrounded the tower, and a little bulb-like room at the center with concave windows on all sides. Center of the room was an old oil lantern, the kind I’d seen in ancient photography, and a book. Lantern was still lit, and the oil looked just about full. And likely not the actual fuel source of the light.
“This is your guide, m’lord?” One of the Winterscar knights said, passing over the book to me.
Inside the book was neatly written out wording: Find terminal. Your Name - password. You know who you are.
“Just about as cryptic as expected from him.” I said, closing the book and setting it down.
“The terminal mentioned, is he referring to a mite terminal?”
I gave the knight a nod. “Yep, just as Ironreach described on his adventuring guide. They contain local maps of the area that’s updated to whatever the mites made. Not sure if our guide means any mite terminal, or a specific one though. Only ever seen one so far.”
Mite terminals weren’t as needed since things didn’t change up over decades so far, but finding a new undiscovered location made them useful. At least from what I’d read on that same guide.
“Coffin dodger can’t just leave us an easy map can it? Or even show its face.” Cathida grumbled.
“It is likely a security precaution.” Wrath said, landing with a light step on the railing. She hadn’t bothered to walk up the stairs, preferring to zip around the air more than needed. I think she got a little caged up on the surface with such little airspace to fly around.
Plus, she’d mentioned if she had to fight, she’d remain on the ground and keep her wings out of notice. At least until our cover is fully blown. So it might be a few months before she could openly fly around again. “Our guide is old, and highly cautious.” She said, flicking her wings back under the cloak over her armor. “A mite terminal would be a far more secure location to leave a map.”
“The girl is correct. We will be hunted. Caution is needed.” Father said, taking a step out to the railings. They groaned under his weight, a Feather’s body covered by a relic armor. He must have weighed possibly into the thousands. Though he seemed unphased by the noise of the grating, either because his sensors already told him it would hold, or that if it did all snap under him, he’d just land on his feet.
Great view of the small cramped cavern in the meantime, I could see maybe a dozen buildings all around us.
“Little overkill to make a tower just for this view.” I said, taking in the sight. Just a few feet above me was the ceiling of the cavern, still wet with condensation. Ambient temperature was near freezing, but just slightly off that range. Wouldn’t feel great to breath down here, but wouldn’t kill either.
“There could have been a far wider city once.” Wrath said, “Mites change things often.”
“You say that, but most of our maps of the surface change every decade or so.” I said, taking a step next to her and leaning out to watch the small space. It was large to be fair, compared to a surface colony. But compared to the Undersider city, or even just the regular abandoned mite made cities, this was a tiny little village surrounded by rock with only a few ways to go. “How many years did you live as a spider to think a few decades is a short timespan?”
She hummed. “Spiders last far longer than Runners or other more active machines. We remain dormant in between hunts and thus preserve our functions far better. As a spider, I had fifty seven years in operation in total, before I met you. They were not years filled with critical thought or thinking. I was more intelligent than an animal, but far less curious and only moved by basic emotions. Those years account for some portions of my lifespan, however I would consider the last few months far more important. Mite colonies forced my nest to change locations fourteen times in total that I can remember during those past years.”
“What was the process like?” I asked, a little curious to how the base machine life dealt with mites.
“Aggravating.” Wrath said with a smile. “At first, we would awaken to mites attempting to remove us from the location by their usual methods - eating anything in the way. Imagine waking up with a few hundred flees all taking small bites at your skin. That was how it felt. We would shake them off, attempt to squash and crush them, and continue for a while.”
“I’m guessing you had to give up first?”
“Yes. Mites do not wage war, they simply continue. For each one we destroyed, ten more would take their place. We never knew where they were being built, or considered attempting to find their root spawn, but eventually even in our more simpleminded thoughts led us to consider moving. The older spiders in our nest already knew what to do, so they taught us by example. A migration would happen, similar to your own surface culture, where we would have scouts find new areas to nest at. We chose mostly by random, there was no vote nor any governing system. If it felt right and other spiders were settling in, we would congregate to it on instinct.”
“What is the strategy when we encounter machines?” Sagrius asked from behind. “Are you able to talk them out of attacking us?”
Wrath turned to the half-man half-machine. “I have considered this for some time. Until we know if Avalis is aware of our location or not, I will remain in my relic armor and act as a human knight would.”
“Even against your own kind?”
She nodded. “Even in the case of a sister nest. Compromise is necessary in all forms of life, I’ve learned. This expedition will need to recharge power cells often, and mite sources for such a thing are limited. Once I have removed myself from the pale lady’s grasp, and no longer need to hide, I will be make more attempts to negotiate ceasefire or convince the machines to see an alternative viewpoint. Though I suspect those attempts will be futile.”
She wouldn’t use that word lightly. “Futile? You managed before with an entire city. Why can’t you do that again in the future?”
“Relinquished will have surely placed me on the machine kill-on-sight list. It will be softcoded within the machine empire to ignore my communications and attack me on sight. It isn’t impossible to break past that conditioning, but I would expect it to take a few hours at best.”
“Most fights with clunkers don’t last a few minutes.” Cathida scoffed. “Best not to think too much on it.”
“That is exactly the kind of logic machines will be operating under. They will not think too much on fighting against me, unless I force them to.”
I think Cathida’s wiring got fried with that answer. On one hand, Cathida’s warmonger ways were exactly the same logic a machine would go through. On the other hand, to not be like a machine would be to search for peace with machines. Which was anathema to the imperial way.
Old bat eventually just gave an angry tut, then didn’t talk.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her shut up in any kind of argument before.” I mentioned, a little awed.
Wrath smiled. “I learned.”
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We traveled a little aimlessly next. If Abraxas hadn’t pointed us to any specific terminal, it was a good bet that meant any terminal would work. We weren’t sure which of our names was the password, so we’d be trying all of them when we did find our target.
Cavern by cavern, the mite city began to take life again as we got deeper. Sometimes, we’d search through a building to find a stairwell leading under the current city to a brand new one. Other times, we’d run into the Underpassage and follow the hints of lights pointing downwards.
No machines were noticed at all, until five hours into the expedition.
“Drake.” Father said, eyes fixed out to the horizon. “It hasn’t spotted us yet.”
We’d just climbed out of the underpassage, our little expedition of Winterscars knights armed to the teeth with all kinds of weapons that hadn’t ever seen the light of day down here.
One of which wasn’t actually my invention at all, but rather something taken from Wrath’s database of old human era tech that had been re-used by Relinquished to make machine standard weapons.
“Four overguard, rest of us aim at it?” I asked.
Father nodded. “Agreed.”
The Winterscar knights organized themselves instantly, everyone hooking off their loaded backpacks for better mobility, four knights taking cardinal positions around our little cliffedge, rifles at the ready to defend the rest of the group.
Of which, we were all busy unwrapping rifles with far longer square barrels. Snipers weren’t unheard of on the surface, but they were a highly situational weapon. Inside the confines of any clan colony or othersider homebase, useless. Outside on the mountaintops?
Still a little useless given the giant amount of space to cover and how fast airspeeders could fly. By the time the speeder entered range, it would also be quickly getting too close for comfort. But trap setting and other conditional elements still had these weapons hold some stock.
These were a different kind of sniper, built with far higher tech than we had access to. They linked up with the armor when powered up, feeding targeting data to get the aim perfect.
I settled down on the ground, putting the tripod down to stabilize the barrel end. Relic armor could do that for me, but at the distance this weapon fired, even the slightest tremor would have the bullet end up elsewhere. More importantly - I'd be very embarrassed if I missed.
My HUD had a zoomed in mini-screen pop up, showing where my aim was hoving over. And Father’s silent communication had sent the exact coordinates of the drake, which displayed as a red arrow pointing to the target.
In seconds, I had the barrel hover right over my target. A drake, seemingly sleeping on the top of a roof.
Other red markers appeared superimposed by my HUD over the machine’s chassis. Those were where the rest of the team’s firepower was expected to land. We each wordlessly aimed our shots at different critical locations, and then stayed still.
When the last red dot found a home, Father’s voice crackled over comms. “Eliminate target.”
Just a cough came out as our team opened up fire. Walking around had made more noise. We couldn’t hide the blue streak marks that our occult tipped bullets left behind, but that was the price of admission. Drakes had armor that could resist conventional bullets, and we didn’t want to take any chances with having it survive a volley of explosive or armor piercing bullets.
Occult bullets didn’t have any chance involved. They would puncture straight through each time, without error.
The bullets struck home, impacts so light they didn’t so much as rock the machine backwards. Occult edges just vaporized matter on contact, so each bullet slashed through, the drill like rotation letting them almost glide into our target.
One moment, the drake had been peacefully resting, glowing lightly violet. Then the lights winked out, with a few extra tiny holes punctured through. It stayed in the exact same relaxed pose, head still resting on it’s two massive front paws, but it wasn’t ever going to move again.
Shotguns, snipers, knighbreakers, explosives, occult blades and the occult itself - we had so much gear, weapons and knights to wield it all for every occasion, the first strata was basically a playground. Sitting down and setting up the snipers had been more effort than the actual fight. Our attack was so fast, machines would have had to be looking right at the trajectory to see the lines of blue between us and our target.
These enemies had given such a difficult time in the past. Now, they were eradicated on sight.