12 Miles Below

“Humans.” The machine Runner said, hobbling up to the edge of the light. Then brough one of its long arms up, palm out. “Stop. Truce. Not fight.”

Which was a good sign compared to the usual when it came to machines. Wrath was the first to relax, re-sheathing her blade. “There’s no danger from this one. He means as he says.” She said with a curt hand wave at the knights behind.

They all stopped, then adopted a more relaxed position. Not quite putting their weapons back yet. One single runner wasn’t going to be a threat to us, but finding one approaching alone and with such a strange look to him, that’s what made us nervous.

The half-skull turned, violet eyes narrowing at her. “Voice. Lady? To’Wrathh?”

He knows Wrath. Which could be pretty good or really bad, but it didn’t feel like he knew her in the bounty-hunter way. There wasn’t any kind of threat in that voice, as much as I could tell from machine voices. I decided to listen to my gut on this one. “Given he’s got paintings and actual cookware on his shoulders, I had a hunch we’re not looking at a typical machine.” I said, equally sheathing my own weapons now. “Unless he stole that cookware. And painting.”

The machine turned to me now, those violet eyes narrowing down. “You. I know voice. The Bad Human.”

I had a nickname now among the machines, nice. No idea how I got this particular one though, I’d need to ask some pointed questions.

“Did not. Steal cook tools.” The machine answered before I could ask anything, sounding upset at the accusation. “Given. By Old Human. To cook with.” He gingerly lifted a hand and plucked out one tarnished silver ladle, the hilt pinched in two of his fingers. Looked like a chopstick in his hands. Then held it closer so we could see, almost as if it were proof. “She ordered. Favorite ladle. Bring luck. Not burn soup. Good human.”

There’s only one other machine I knew that was more obsessed with food than Wrath. We had met before, and I do remember exactly why he’d call me the Bad Human, with a capital B. “Starting to see a pattern here.” I said. “Is food going to be how I identify you lot from now on? Yrob I’m guessing.”

The machine nodded. “Yes. Me.”

No wonder Wrath already knew there was no danger, she probably got a direct identifying tag or something.

“You look different, new haircut?” I asked.

He tilted his head slightly, hand with ladle reaching up to pat the half-skull. “Paint.” He said. “No hair.”

“They didn’t have access to paints while among their packs and cut off from any civilization besides that of Mother’s kingdom.” Wrath said, walking forward up to my side. “Expression is something my people lacked before, I attempted to bring it to them from what I discovered myself. It seems they took the seeds I’d given them and made something new for themselves in my absence.”

“Like colors. Color good.” Yrob said, then walked a few more steps into the light. That let me see more details about him. The paintings on his shell weren’t just decoration, there were pictograms. Flowing from color strokes into shapes and places. Similar to the ones I’d seen inscribed in Abraxas’s rowboat.

Do all machines eventually gravitate to that, or was this simply coincidence? It certainly made this machine look far less like an engine of destruction and more… tribal. The half-skull with violet eyes surrounded by colors of different kinds and stories made Yrob seem more like some kind of wandering specter. Or a force of nature. He even had small black feathers hanging from string, like necklaces for his shoulders.

“Lady. Bad Human. Other humans.” He greeted each of us with a curt nod, before taking one last long stride up to Wrath.

“I swear, you threaten a door bouncer with a sword one time, and you get labeled as ‘the Bad Human’ forever after. Yrob, old buddy, you know what was just a small prank, right? It’s all just snow drifting past the speeder, right?”

The machine turned to glare at me. “You fail biscuit test. Bad Human. No snow.”

Ah. He’d tried to bribe me with biscuits to leave Wrath alone when I’d gone to knock on her doors, and I’d refused it. To a cook. “Okay, that one’s on me in hindsight.”

Wrath patted my shoulder as she walked past to meet her old friend. “He understands. Yrob does not truly believe you irredeemable. Simply… loud. Violent. A touch unhinged.” She stopped, then frowned at the machine. “Now you are being dramatic. Keith has executed great feats and is worth having as a traveling companion. You will not disparage my human like this.”

The hulking machine seemed to almost be cowed, then lifted his head slightly to meet my helmet’s gaze. “You okay.” He eventually said, as if being forced. “For human. Garnish grade.”

Before I could ask what he meant, Wrath gingerly reached up two hands and cupped the sides of his half-skull faceplate, while the looming runner lowered down to be in range.

They seemed to be talking in private, through a data link of some kind, with the Runner staying completely still. Her hands lifted up to trace some of the paintings on his faceplate. They continued for about a minute before she took a step back, satisfied with catching up. She turned back to me, smiling. “He shared music his pack has worked on.”

“How did you track us?” Father asked, skipping all the pleasantries and going straight for the strategic items. He hadn’t sheathed his swords at all, instead kept his eyes fixed on Yrob.

No, fixed behind Yrob. Into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.

“Track?” Yrob asked, head fully lifting out of Wrath’s hands to look at Father properly. Then the machine shook his head sternly. “Not track. Waiting.”

“He was sent here.” Wrath said, “Ahead of us.”

Yrob nodded. “Hear noise. Down tunnel. Investigate unknown. Search unknown. Find you. Good unknown. Voice similar. Worth risk. See you. Not sure. Expected, but not sure. Helmets, different. Armor, different. Lady, wings hidden. But hear voice and know.” The machine turned back to Wrath, “Why Lady here? Where go after city?”

“I am on a journey.” Wrath said. “That is as much as I can say for now. After the city fell, I followed the other humans to a safer place.”

The Runner nodded. “Okay.”

“You were waiting here of all places, down the same path we had been sent. I do not believe that to be a coincidence, Yrob. For what reason were you sent to us?”

“Message.” Yrob said with a shrug. “Said needed contact source. One not traitor. One not expected dead. One too small. For notice. Me.”

“Anyone translate this?” I asked, confused.

Wrath turned my way, “Yrob was dispatched here.” She turned back to him, head tilted and the machine shuffled in place. Wrath nodded to the silent conversation, “He was contacted by a mite terminal message, telling him to wait here and act as a relay.”

The machine nodded. “Yes. Proxy messages for the Lady. Get eating in return. Good deal. I take.”

“Abraxas.” Father said. “He’s found a better way to speak to us instead of terminals.”

“Fill me in a bit on this?” I asked, not completely understanding why Wrath’s basically second lieutenant in all but name was safe to relay messages through. That didn’t sound discrete.

“Yrob is still connected to the machine network.” Wrath said. “There were thousands of lessers under my banner, and I had no need to inform the lady or To’Aacar of which lessers were at my side. Mother and her Feathers would not consider monitoring them. So long as Abraxas keeps his communications sanitized, one Runner out of millions would make no sound worth hearing. They would blend in with the noise. An ear within the walls.”

“I cook. With the Lady, I test my cook.” Yrob said, one of the huge hands patting the sack above him. “Can continue improve. Much happy. Deal is good.”

“You came here just because you wanted to eat food?” I asked, a little shocked at how similar to Wrath Yrob and the rank and file machines were turning out.

Yrob turned his eyes to me. “Yes.” He said.

Wrath walked back over, giving a light tap on my shoulder. “Runners do not have any means of consuming food. For the time I commanded the city, I shared data packages of all food items I consumed for every meal I had. Without me, they cannot taste or eat.”

“Miss taste.” Runner said. “All do. I share food back. And send messages back too.”

Deep down inside the terrifying machine empire - they’re all secretly snack obsessed food gluttons that also love human romance and drama. At least, once they’re introduced to those topics.

But that wasn’t exactly the whole picture was it? I looked over the looming machine, and recognized there was more than just food and stories. Deep down inside, they’re a people that are looking for more to life than what Relinquished allowed, in all the ways that could manifest.

“Are you alone?” Wrath asked the machine. “What of your pack, or the other machines from the city?”

“They good.” Yrob said with a nod. “They leave city. Run to different sector. Hide with others. No trace. Some follow human friends. Make town. Pack stay there. With new bigger pack.”

“Human friends?” I asked. Yrob had made and kept some of the friends he had from the city? Without the other machines starting a fight about it?

“Yes. Chosen.” Yrob said, giving me a quick side glance. The Chosen would go under the machine radar, technically. “Strange pack. Small. Frail. But good pack. Fun. New.”

“I would wish to see this town.” Wrath said, “How does it function with a pillar?”

“No pillar.” Yrob said. “Pillar end machines. No good.” Then he pointed to Wrath. “Human friend set rules. Human priest chief help, set town. Make rules together. Cooperate.” Yrob then tapped his ribcage. “Was also chief. Helped too. Did good.” He then reached to his back, patting the hoard of pots and loot. “Wanted cook more.”

Well, we had plenty of warriors in our roaster, and no cook slot. So this seemed like it would work out. Technically we could outrun Yrob, so he would slow us down a bit - except we weren’t going at a dead sprint at all times of the day. Like right now, where we’ve been camped out for the past hour taking a break.

“What news of the others?” Wrath asked. “How does the town function without me to guide it?”

“Lady can ask human friend.” Yrob said.

“Tamery?” I ask, putting the dots together. If Yrob was Wrath’s right hand machine, Tamery had been Wrath’s left hand woman.

“Yes.” The machine said with a nod. “She good human. Best human.”

I kind of regret having just cooped up in my makeshift workshop back in the undersider city and focused solely on making prototype weapons and gear. Sure, it did come in use later on, but there had been a cost. I’d never gotten to really know any of Wrath’s friends or her support. Her life among the Undersiders.

This might be a good time to make a side journey and let Wrath get some closure on the final events of her first city and the people she’d known there. She’d probably want that before we dove far too deep into the underground that returning in the same place might be difficult.

I could see Wrath debating it too on the side of my eye. She didn’t make it vocal, but the hand rubbing her chin and her look made it clear she was conflicted on the inside.

Father just had that perpetual frown, as if his sixth sense was now telling him which direction the snow would blow in from.

Technically, we should focus fire and keep marching straight for the division stone before any of the scrapshit hovering over our heads could fall on us.

We’d be like I had been before - stuck in the workshop on survival mode. There was danger out there… but we were in the underground. Traveling with demi-gods, weapons of mass destruction, and the world’s greatest band of knights.

“I say we take a side trek and visit the Chosen town, see what Wrath’s people have made for themselves.” I said, taking initiative. “Abraxas might pout and call us names for deviating, but it’s worth the tradeoff. There could be a host of new supplies we could pick for the trip that the clan didn’t have access to.”

Wrath slowly turned to look my way and gave me a small smile, the kind of fond glance that I didn’t quite have any comparison to.

Father turned to me and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He was a veteran soldier, a mission was a mission.

“You did get the heat off of us.” I told her, acting like I hadn’t noticed Father’s gaze. Her technique and strategy had been… uh, unorthodox. But it had done the trick. “And since you’re off the machine network besides the unity fractal, Avalis has no way of knowing we’re out of the clan and roaming around.” As far as I understood how the unity fractal worked, it wasn’t all knowing. And we’d put a lot of effort into looking like a random roving band of surface knights. “I think so long as Yrob keeps a low profile and hangs out at camp only when there aren’t any other machines out there, we should be in the clear for now.”

Father’s eyes narrowed further.

Wrath saw where I was going with this, because she also nodded just as fast. “Visiting other locations would give more opportunities to create recordings to send to the Pale Lady of my progress. If done within structures, they could appear indistinguishable from a surface clan colony, in the event Avalis gains access to the logs sent. Furthering the deception.”

I could tell Father knew what we were up to, and he had no way of telling us to pipe down and keep focused on the mission.

“Right, in fact, I’d say it’s even critical that we visit some towns along the way to keep Avalis thinking we’re on the surface.” I added. “We can’t record anything out here in the open. This is just a natural way to keep the mission on track.”

“On track.” Father said, clearly unamused.

“Yrob has cookware we didn’t think we’d be able to make use of,” I added, “It’s worth getting extra supplies to have his wares made full use of.” We brought more luxury items than a regular expedition would but they were still military-sized. We all knew we weren’t going to be baking any fancy food.

With Yrob, that possibly changed up. Assuming he knew how to cook.

“We might also gain more allies.” One of the Winterscar knights added, “Lord Keith is a weaponsmith, and we are warriors. The addition of a cook that can match pace with ours could not be found among the clan. There may be other machines willing to travel with us, which would give us better access to their networks.”

Technically with just Yrob we already had that. I think all the knights here including Father knew that. This was more an underhanded vote for going to town.

Father’s gaze swept through all the knights, finding himself clearly outnumbered.

“Do what you wish.” He said, as if he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. He’d be there to pull us out of the trouble we’d inevitably bring down.