Mark left the mud hut in a crouch, partially to clear the low door, but he also wanted to provide the smallest target possible. Coming out into the open, he scanned the immediate surroundings. Finding Terra and the Tinker less than twenty yards away he searched around them for the threat. It took longer for his weary mind to discern that there wasn’t one than he would have liked to admit. The pair had been standing face to face, or face to chest anyway, the Tinker didn’t stand very tall. It was clear that they were having an argument, it only took a second look to determine the cause.
The Tinker held a weapon in his small hands. It looked different than the last time Mark had seen it, it had been coated in blood then, but he recognized the broken naginata that had taken his arm. Even without the blood, the weapon looked very different than it had before. As both parties had stopped their argument when he exited anyway, he decided to simply ask.
“What’s going on guys?” he asked as he approached, trying to keep it simple.
“I chucked that P.O.S. into the shaft after the battle,” Terra said heatedly. “The damn Tinker recovered it and is trying to give it back to you. I told him you didn’t need that…thing…but he won’t take no for an answer.”
“This is an important item. It took your hand and nearly your life surface dweller Mark, then it offered you life again when there were no other weapons to hand. Without it, you would not be here as you are. I took the liberty to restore it as best I could and was trying to bring it to you when surface dweller Terra interfered.”
“He…” Terra started again heatedly when Mark held up a hand…stump.
“Thank you, both of you for your concern for me. It means a lot…can I see that please?” he asked holding out his hand.
“Of course.” Tinker replied handing the weapon over.
Mark looked it over before pulling up the item in his interface.
Name = Broken blade, restored
Type = melee bladed. Piercing/slashing
Description = this weapon was made from a broken naginata with personal significance by a Scree Tinker. The blade is approx. 12” long and the handle is approx. 22” long. The blade and handle have been rebalanced for its shorter length and wrapped in the elite frog kin hide of its old owner. The albino hide is water proof and has a pebbled texture to provides grip even when wet. (Similar to shark skin on earth) A blunted spike serves as a pommel on the end.
Requirements
Open tab to see requirements?
The weapon brought back snippets of the battle to his mind. It had been chaotic and bloody, and he had wielded this blade as an extension of himself. As he looked it over, he could clearly see how much labor had gone into its refurbishment. The blade had been ground to better reflect its new length, and the pebbled texture of the elite frog kin really did feel secure under his hand.
The Scree held a sheath and harness, also made of albino elite frog kin leather. It too looked well crafted. Mark was at a loss for words, the sight of the weapon turned his stomach, but the Scree’s gesture couldn’t be discarded so easily.
“When did you have the time to make this?” he asked to buy time while his mind raced, trying to decide how he felt.
“We have been here for an entire day now,” the Scree answered. “I was tasked with clearing the shaft ahead, a simple task I programmed my combat drones to perform. Cycling them out to recharge their power cells, was the only input needed from me. I found the blade and used my repair drone to assist me in its refurbishment.”
“But…Why?” Mark didn’t really know what he was asking, but he wanted to know anyway.
“Why?” the Scree shrugged, “Because you overcame a great obstacle and used the source of your pain to your benefit. Determination such as that is rare and should be remembered.” The words rang into Mark’s mind, he didn’t know if he agreed with everything the Tinker said. However, he didn’t want to forget that battle; or the decisions, right or wrong, he had made that led to it.
“Thank you, Tinker” he said at last. Motioning for the Scree to help him get the harness on.
“Really?” Terra said, before snatching the sheath from the Scree and the broken blade from Mark. Sheathing it she helped him into it, before cuffing him affectionately on the head. “Don’t see the point myself, but if you like it…” Mark smiled at her rubbing the back of his head. he then looked down at his bare chest that was now adorned by the harness.
“Perhaps I should have gotten dressed first…”
A few hours later, after getting his clothes back on and eating his fill of frog legs, Mark felt more or less like himself again. Only having one arm was something he fervently hoped he didn’t have to get used to, but thanks to the regeneration booster at least there was no pain.
“You sure you got em all?” he asked again, looking at the shaft. The three of them stood at it’s edge getting buckled into their harnesses. They had decided by mutual consent to drop all the gear they didn’t need so that they didn’t have to try and make multiple trips.
Mark had been surprised the Tinker had been so willing to leave so much of his gear behind. He had asked Terra about it in private. She’d told him the Scree, even those independent of thought, were used to going along with the collective. That made him feel conflicted, but he resolved to just make it up to him at as soon as he could.
“Of course,” Tinker said puffing out his chest. “The swarm on this side was considerably smaller than in the last tunnel. I even took the extra step of killing the larva, to ensure that none of the scary bugs got near the fearless berserker surface dweller.” Mark was suddenly feeling less guilty about the Tinker’s supplies.
“Thanks…” he managed to choke out the words while Terra snickered behind them. “Alright then, let’s get going.”
* * *
The following days passed in a haze. The whooshing noise the drone’s propellers made was their consent companion. The tunnel was littered with smaller caves, and a few not so small caves. Some were filled with the bioluminescent moss; others were black as pitch. They passed more frog kin villages, rat folk nests, and the odd underground monstrosity.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
No matter what the journey entailed however one thing remained the same, they were still going deeper. Whenever the tunnel forked, they would follow Terra’s interface map, the map she refused to share. This didn’t bother the Tinker; he was exploring new roads with companions. Mark on the other hand, was less tolerant. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Terra, he just didn’t understand why she kept so many secrets.
Eventually, they entered a corridor. This wasn’t part of the tunnel, it was a purposefully constructed path. The floor was level and the walls were rounded but smooth.
“We’re here.” Terra said as they reached a bend in the corridor. “Around that bend is the reason we came all the way down here.” She said, bringing her folding crossbow out of its holder and loading an exploding bolt.
“You finally ready to tell me what this is about?” Mark asked. Seeing her pull out the most lethal of her weapons Mark followed suit, drawing the IT3 from his waist. He’d been forced to fire the weapon twice during the descent, leaving him with three shots left. He didn’t like admitting it, but without his left hand the Mark III was almost impossible for him to use effectively.
“Yes and no,” she said moving forward and peeking around the corner before pulling her head back quickly. “You have to understand Mark that I would have explained if I could.” she turned to the Tinker, who tell this point had been waiting patiently. “Can I ask a favor of you Tinker?” she asked him.
“Of course.” He said with his customary assurance. “We are hive…ah…traveling companions.” He corrected.
“Thank you.” she said with a grateful smile, “I just need you to record everything that happens after we go around this corner and when we get to Landing send me a copy.” Getting an affirmative nod from the Scree she turned back to Mark. “Just trust me ok Mark, I promise it will make sense to you eventually.”
He had been following her since his first day in the tutorial on nothing but trust, so he didn’t have as big a problem nodding his agreement as she seemed to expect.
“Thank you.” she repeated to him, “Now, around the corner. There’s a guardian, it should be the only one so don’t hold back. Once you get it in the crosshairs, unload on it. Understand?” Getting two nods she moved around the corner, crossbow raised.
Following after her, Mark didn’t know what to expect…a twelve-foot tall mech with sword, shield and shoulder mounted laser gun wasn’t even on the list. Yet that’s what awaited them, as they rounded the corner. The three unloaded their most powerful shots into the construct before it had the chance to react.
Terra’s first shot took out the shoulder mounted laser. That was good, because nothing the Scree did was having an effect at all. Mark fired his remaining three shots center mass, opening a rent in the steel plates there. When Terra followed up with her second shot to that same location, the explosive dart detonated inside the cavity causing widespread damage. The mech shuddered to a halt, foot only beginning to raise, before toppling over. Mark stared at the hulking monster in stunned silence. Before he finally asked
“Is that it? I mean I didn’t exactly want to die but… by the look of that thing… I don’t know it just seems kind of anticlimactic.” He looked to Terra, who had already put her handheld crossbow away.
“That wasn’t the final boss Mark,” she said with a smirk. “That was just the gate guard, if all goes how I hope we shouldn’t have to do anymore fighting. But we should get moving. The repair drones will be here soon, and we want to be gone before they get this guy put back together.” Even as she spoke, drones of varying size scuttled or buzzed into the corridor.
“Right,” Mark answered as he followed her passed the spot the sentry had been disabled. He tossed the IT3 aside as they moved, its last shot had been fired and the gun wasn’t designed to be reloaded. He thought about pulling his mark III from his back, or his Broken blade. In the end he followed Tera’s lead, she hadn’t drawn another weapon so neither did he.
Without any warning they exited the corridor and entered a lite cave so massive it felt like they were back outside. The light was equal brightness to a full moon, but after so long in the darkness it felt blinding. The humans had to shield their eyes until they readjusted to the light, but the Scree had never been to the surface world and had a much harder time until he put on a tinted set of goggles.
“Why do you have those?” Mark asked the eternally prepared Scree.
“I left on an exploratory mission,” the Tinker answered. “I planned to one day visit the surface so I came prepared.” He finished proudly, pointing to the goggles with smug self-satisfaction. It was hard to believe the Tinker had been forced to leave behind half his possessions, when he continued to pull these random objects out of seemingly nowhere.
Turning his attention back to the cave, Mark was astounded. It was a tomb. The entire cave, so big he couldn’t see the far wall despite the lighting, was one filled with graves. Row upon row upon row of tombstones. Each holding a few lines of text, most in languages Mark didn’t understand. He looked back at his companions, only to see that Terra was already long gone. Moving away down the rows of graves, reading each as she passed.
The two men shared a look, before following after her. Tinker recorded everything he could see, while Mark fingered the textured grip of the Broken blade. He was uneasy about this place, but unable to pinpoint the reason why. Perhaps it was how unnaturally clean everything was, or how the light shown down uniform and unwavering, yet he couldn’t find the source it shown from.
He looked at the graves as they walked, most held alien script that was hopelessly indecipherable to him. A few however, held names in his native language, along with dates that he couldn’t place. He could tell they weren’t BC, AD or AA. However, he didn’t know if that meant they preceded those dates he was familiar with, or if they were from an alien chronology.
The walked for hours, following behind the silent Terra. They had tried talking to her at first, asking questions that she ignored, offering her food that she refused. Eventually the pair just followed, taking in everything they could and waiting for her to explain. Eventually, they stopped at one grave stone that looked exactly like the thousands that came before.
“This one,” Terra said pointing. “This one right here is why we came all this way, Tinker if you would be so kind as to record it from all angles?” she asked the bewildered Scree, who nevertheless complied with her request.
“Who is it?” Mark asked, trying to make out the script on the stone but failing. It almost seemed to be in a language he had seen before, he just couldn’t make out what it said. It was frustrating, he knew this was important somehow, but he didn’t understand why.
“Now isn’t the time, just remember this place, ok?” she asked, her eyes big and pleading.
“…Ok Terra.” Mark said at last, willing to trust her once more, if for no other reason than it was important to her.
“Of course.” The Scree echoed along, not knowing or caring that Terra had eyes only for Mark at that moment.
“Thank you.” she said, before touching the top of the tombstone with the tips of her fingers and leading them away.
They walked for several hours more, until at last they reached the far wall. There was a section of the wall that seemed to be made of glass. On the other side of it was a platform that held a clear sphere mounted to the top of a silvery pedestal, which seemed to drink in the light. The platform was empty, but the area surrounding it was a buzz of activity.
Scree. Hundreds or thousands of Scree. Scurried around in controlled chaos. Mark took them in, most were far larger than Tinker, and where his exoskeleton was a coal grey mark hadn’t noticed under the bioluminescent moss. These had a blood red on black stripped pattern.
“This is very bad.” Tinker said, looking at the red and black Scree. “We need to run before they notice us or we are doomed.” He was beyond agitated, almost vibrating with how upset he was. It surprised Mark because the Scree was always calm or excited but never scared.
“It’s ok Tinker,” Terra reassured him. “They can’t see through the wall, to them it is an impenetrable rock wall.” she soothed, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t understand,” Mark said at last. “So much about this I don’t understand.”
“There’s honestly too much to unpack right now old man.” Terra said then relented a little, “ok look, the technology in this place is beyond advanced. The Scree can’t get in, that’s all that matters. As for the Scree themselves, this isn’t the hive our Tinker comes from. This is the Bloody hive, or that’s what people call them anyway. They are aggressive to a fault and attack anything not of their hive. None of that matters to us though, we just need to rush out of the wall and touch that sphere there.” She said pointing.
“Why is that?” Mark asked after she stopped speaking.
“Because, that’s a teleportation sphere. We just have to touch it and it will take us straight to Landing.”