Bitlin felt himself wake up. He didn’t move at first, trying to grasp on that last bit of rest before he opened his eyes. The metal floor reverberated as a freighter hovered past, its’ lift plates humming a deep tune. Wakal grit his teeth with a groan as his metal limbs resonated with the floor.
Bitlin quickly adjusted the cloth mats in the floor to dampen the vibrations. Wakal was fighting his usual fever, a side effect of his body being cooled by metal. Bitlin draped his blanket over whatever flesh was left on the old man and planted a kiss on his forehead.
“See you when I get back gramps.” Bitlin said as he climbed up he wall and out through the hatch. He would have to leave a little earlier than normal to have the time to explore that wreckage he had found yesterday. A Paladin wreckage was a literal treasure trove for a scrapper, especially if he was the first to find it. The credits he could get from this find could mean the end of his reliance on oil harvesting.
Right as his feet hit the ground he was greeted by a blast of steam from the last barge in the freighter train. Bitlin’s teeth rattled as the air shook and the cloud rose high into the air. He watched the cloud dissipate revealing blinking rows of lights and filaments resembled a starry night sky.
The Undercity was never truly dark. Uncovered filaments ran across walls shedding the soft red glow into small pockets of steam. Beams of the sharp white shine from lights of the Uppercity pierced deep as well like pinpricks of cold sunlight. Bitlin’s eyes throbbed from the sharp contrast and he put on the goggles from his suit. Polarized lenses were worth their weight in gold. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dark he set out in the alleys.
Bitlin was careful as he traversed the wet streets slick with waste water and god knew what else. The light from the Uppercity penetrated far, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t places to avoid. The last thing he needed was to be shaken up before he even got in to work. He had no money to take, but working all day after being beaten was difficult.
A whiff of a sickly sweet aroma tugged at Bitlins’ nostrils and he made a sharp left and pressed himself against the wall. He squinted into the darkness and picked out a small orange light. A vaporizer. Gut Rats were squatting in a dark pocket waiting to nab someone who came a little too close. Bitlin chewed on his lip. That was the alley by Nuli’s shop he used to get to the Station. Bitlin took a few moments to reroute himself and took off in the opposite direction. If he couldn’t pass by Nuli’s with them there, he’d have to go through the main road.
The main road was better lit, but with more light came more people and with more people came Enforcers. Wakal had warned Bitlin to stay away from Enforcers. To them, he was no different than the Gut Rats. No papers, no credits, no freedom. The last thing he needed right now was to get shaken down, legally or illegally.
Bitlin had hoped that the early hour would thin the crowd, but he wasn’t so lucky. The street was packed with empty eyed people shuffling from place to place. Enforcers perched on high ground, armed and ready for trouble. Ether rifles and prods powered by large batteries on their backs made them easy to pick out, being that they glowed and all. The people mulled around them, careful not to get too close as not to get whacked. Not a word was spoken, but there was so much ambient noise it was almost deafening.
Soulless shuffling of people who labor for a living was a familiar gait because he did it too. They were why he didn’t need a mirror. He knew that his eyes looked just like theirs. Empty and dead. The thick air down at the bottom sucked the life out all that breathed it in. Thus, he was caught off guard when people began rushing past him.
Bitlin was quite scrawny for a teenager, so he was battered around like a rag doll and fell. He curled into a ball on the ground as people trampled over him in droves. His suit wasn’t meant to dampen blows, just prevent punctures. The only things that went through his mind were, ‘cover your head’, and ‘I hope my suit doesn’t get a hole in it.’
Finally the silent stampede stopped and Bitlin lifted his head to see a now deserted main street. He was all ruffled up, but he had avoided taking too bad of a beating. The air seemed to clear as a slightly warm breeze washed over him. Bitlin narrowed his eyes. He immediately heard a gruff roaring in the distance followed by a thud that reverberated along the walls.
Nope.
Bitlin beat feet into a narrow alley. The breath of fresh air was nice, but today was not the day for that level of excitement. The contrast between the light from the main road to the darkness of the alley was sharp, blinding him temporarily. He stuck out his hand for the wall and used it to guide him through the dark with his eyes closed.
Cries of the giant faded away the deeper he got. Alleys were far too narrow for the large beings to enter, but the giant wasn’t the main problem. The sound of ripping air echoed through the alleys. The Armored Preservation Corps were already here to deal with the giant. Heavy armor and weapons, along with a HUD capable of automatic facial recognition. Definitely not a place for him to be.
When Bitlin felt that he had put enough distance between him and the excitement he paused to catch his breath. He wondered how people could travel like that everyday. Giants making it through the Dregs weren’t common, but they certainly appeared in the streets often enough to give Bitlin second thoughts. Any Giant that was enraged enough to bring its’ rampage through the hazards of the Dregs and into the city was not something Bitlin wanted to be near.
Bitlin counted his blessings that he had left early when he finally made it to the Station when the second sun was beginning to peak out. The first wave of the scrappers had already left by the time he had prepared his gear. The best gathering spots for oil would have already been taken, but that wasn’t the problem.
With the largest groups already in the Dregs he would have trouble blending in. Most scrappers moved in teams for safety and he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he was alone. He slid in the back of next group as they entered the Dregs to avoid suspicion. He gave them the slip as soon as they all had their backs to him and made a beeline for the section that he had been in the day before.
While most Scrappers had locators to guide them back to the Station, Bitlin went unassisted most of the time. Even with no signs or accurate maps of the Dregs he rarely got lost in the massive expanse of scrapped machines. The landscape changed when something large fell, or a Giant crashed through, but that was rare. He could almost always figure out where he was at all times by looking up at the lights of the upper city.
To make the most of his time, Bitlin collected oil on his way to the sword. He couldn’t help himself getting sidetracked by large pools of the liquid, but otherwise stayed true to his path. It took a little longer than he had intended, but he arrived at the base of the sword with a fair amount of time and oil in his tank. Bitlin looked around quickly to make sure he was alone. Confident in his solitude he hunched over and entered the wreckage.
Small rays of direct sunlight penetrated the thick layer of rusty material and reflected off of the sword, illuminating the small space. He paused briefly to soak in the sight. Few things could hold a candle to natural light.
He shook himself and began searching around the blade for anything not rusty.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A faint clank came from above, like a falling bolt. Bitlin flinched and froze, listening. Falling debris was usually preceded by smaller pieces. He didn’t hear anything else and tentatively took a step so as not to cover up any noise.
Something blasted through the ceiling with a crash followed by a keening sound. Bitlin peeled himself off the wall he had found himself pressed against and held his ringing head. Whatever fallen uppercity junk that had been had hit the sword and been smashed. The Blade resonated slightly from the impact, but gave no sign of damage. Bitlin shook his hands and squeaked with delight. He had been meaning to test the edge, but that had been a better test than anything he could have done. He was still marveling at the edge of the sword when he realized that the thing that had fallen had lights.
Bitlin dragged his eyes away and looked down at the hunk of mystery material. A large panel of something glowed back at him with white lights like fleas. Whatever it had been was beyond him, something from the upper city he had never seen before. He peeked over the other side to see smashed heat vanes with the final drips of coolant falling to the ground.
The novelty of the experience was lost in the whirling of his head when he realized his predicament. A damaged circuit with ether flowing from somewhere and nowhere to go. Bad. Very bad. Already, it was feeling a little hotter in the small space as the ether tried to escape the fibrous prison.
The urge to run was intense, making Bitlin waver back and forth. If the ether heated up too much then the oil around it would ignite and set the Dregs ablaze. Bitlin knelt and dug away the rusty dirt that the filaments were embedded in. The point of burnout was beyond where his legs could carry him anyway.
Ether was like water, flowing and gathering in the lowest points of circuits. However, when it accumulated with pressure, instead of gaining weight, ether gained heat. Ether would overheat infinitely until the filament combusted. Violently. Hence the need for a drain, or outlet, sometimes both. A small light to use any leftover power and thin plates of light metal like aluminum to shed heat.
Among the many smaller filaments one large cord was ripped in half in a jagged fashion. Without the pathway out the ether was sitting in the filament itself. Building. Brewing.
That was by far the biggest filament Bitlin had even seen, even heard of! Filaments were usually thin like wires, less area, less buildup, less boom. For some unconceivable reason, the main filament wasn’t a bundle, but a solid filament several inches thick! The build up in that thing would be insane! This was the equivalent of- of… … didn’t matter! A lot! He quickly created a list of tasks as he examined the massive hunk of filament.
1. Make extension
a. Tools
b. Filaments
c. Splicing
d. Oil
2. Diffuse power
a. Find heatsink
b. Connect heatsink
c. Find an apparatus
d. Connect apparatus
e. Pray
3. Disconnect power
a. Find power source
b. Remove it
4. Survive.
a. Burns to a minimum
Bitlin blinked and swept his surroundings with a glance. Things popped out to him as he scanned around, almost highlighted against their surroundings. His hands moving as if on their own accord gathering shards of metal. Junk of various sizes, long, narrow, wide, heavy, gathered themselves next to him. One hand grabbed the instruments to be and ran them down the exposed edge of sword to sharpen them as the other dug deeper into the dirt.
The first tool dug itself into the side of the panel, prying the large filament away from the housing. The metal clicked as it snapped off in his hand, but a gap had been made. Another piece wedged itself in the gap, widening it.
Already, the heat from the filament scalded his fingers through his gloves. He flicked his hand to cool it off and propped up the panel with a few large pieces it away from the ground. He felt his other hand pierce the crust and hit powdered dirt untouched by oil.
He glanced over at the small hole. The absorbent qualities of dirt weren’t that great, but he didn’t have a choice. The less ignitable material in this process the better. He stabbed a sharp tool in the soft dirt to coat it and then used the tool to rip out one of the smaller filaments, and then another, and another.
Tossing the now dull tool aside he twisted the three filaments together and grabbed another sharpened shard. Pinching the twist in his armpit he took a sharpened tool and cut and shred the ends of the bundle and twist them together. The three filaments roughly joined to make one larger unit. Less ether meant less heat, but the smaller filaments were still starting to get hot under his arm. He had to move faster.
The twisted filament was small enough for him to carry around. He struggled to his feet carrying the bundle as it started to sting in his hands. He had yet to find something suitable for heat absorption. The surrounding metal was not conductive to ether and too dense to absorb heat fast enough. The broken heatsink was the right material, but the mechanism was ruin and ineffective. The shards were too small and wouldn’t be able to absorb and expel heat properly. The only thing that was big enough was…
Bitlin paused briefly looking at the massive sword before smacking the filaments in his hand against the pale metal. Immediately the white ether burst across the blade as if it was splashed with water. The ether in the filaments disappeared as if wrung out of a clothe.
Bitlin paused and stepped back staring at the white light trickling up the blade in disbelief. He had just meant to test the heat absorption. Was it receiving the power? If so, how and for what? What was this thing even made of?
The time for marveling was brief. Heatwaves were wiggling the air by the large filament now, far too hot to touch. He cut the loose ends of the bundle and readied them between his fingers. Being very conscious of the heat and his fingers, Bitlin slid the smaller ends of filament into the gap around the larger one.
He pried out the metal wedge and waited with his eyes wide and his hands poised. The heat made the oil slick, but the bonding worked as white ether trickled down the smaller filaments and into the twisted cord. Bitlin angled the bundle down so the ether would flow better. Fluid dynamics and whatever. He watched the ether trickle into the filament, gathering at the bottom, then glanced up at the sword from where he kelt on the ground waiting for the filaments to fill.
Ether flowed like water, which meant down. It would fill up whatever it was directed into until it found an outlet, be it copper, silver, steel, or another filament. Making the circuit flow up was not effective as the entire length of filament cable would have to be filled before power flowed and would bleed heat the entire time. However, in this particular instance, it could work.
The original idea was to use the sword and its’ massive size to diffuse the heat, but it was taking in ether as well somehow. Bitlin didn’t have the time to question it as his suit began to sear his skin. The sword sucked ether like it was a siphon. If he could get the filament full and connect them, the sword should pull ether faster than the power source pushed it causing a short-circuit due to a lack of power. Exactly what he wanted
As soon as the bundle of filaments filled to the last drop with ether, Bitlin held it up against the flat of the blade. Instantly white light burst overhead as the ether spread across the blade in a silent explosion. That was some high pressure. Bitlin watched through his dirty goggles as the ether washed over the flat plane of mystery metal and finally allowed himself to marvel as the ether spread across the sword.
The sword sucked the filaments dry almost as quickly as before leaving only a small wisp of white ether drawn up from within the apparatus like a dying well. Bitlin relaxed, letting the filaments fall from his hands. He looked the panel up and down as the trickle slowly fed into the filaments again, albeit much slower. He would have a little while before the filament became dangerous again. Now the fun part.
The panel was sleek and well put together, if the fastenings hadn’t been damaged from falling so far he probably couldn’t have wedged it open so easily. He grabbed a heavy piece of metal and bashed off the remaining clamps. He tossed the heavy piece aside and peeled off the bent cover panel. Like a surgeon.
The inside gave him more questions than answers as he blinked at the simplicity of the circuits. There was no splicing, no connections, no safety, just a few bracket clamps and that massive filament connected to what looked like a small black device that looked like a hat. Bitlin could see that the ether was coming from the black device and ripped out the end of the filament.
He could feel the filament cracking as it bent and he quickly twisted the device off the end. A small pop and the little thing sat in his hand innocently. It wasn’t very heavy, but it felt like there was a liquid in it. He looked inside and saw nothing of note. Curious. This was definitely the power supply, but just what was it exactly? It didn’t behave like a battery or anything else for that matter. How could something so small cause such a big problem?
Bitlin glanced at the ether gathering in the filament on the ground. He placed the whole thing on top of the sword so that it drained and pocketed the black object. The filaments would be hard to sneak out and were already showing signs of degrading from heat anyway, but the power supply… He’d have to ask someone more knowledgable about it before deciding what to do with it.