12 Miles Below

Book 7. Chapter 11: The Dragon

“It is a human.” Odin’Erill’Skáld said, resolutely. “Triggering the final barrier line will kill our Icon-blessed progenitor, this time without fail. I will not be complicit in this act. The Icon will be my judge.”

Odin’Yill‘Hersir ruffled his feathers in disdain. “It only appears like human armor. Any kind of creature could be piloting that mech. Or it could be a machine infiltrator, built to blend in with humanity and now wandering around without a purpose. Regardless, the Víkingr have sent us direct orders to follow the Septimus protocol to the end. Execute the order or I will see you terminated from your post, Skáld.”

“Terminate me then.” Erill croaked out, feathers puffed out to the fullest.

Yill hissed, then shook a beak with a disdainful wing-slap, the order implicit. Three Thegns hopped to his side, although the Odin followed this order without complaint, jumping off and following the soldiers out of the control center.

Yill turned to the rest in the room. “Anyone else feeling sentimental? Leave now, I’ll allow a standard termination from service. I will not make that same offer a second time.”

Rather generous of Yill, but Rashant could understand. Having anyone in the control center grudgingly following orders meant that there was a sabotage chance. Yill would rather the traitors have a clean exit and remain unpunished rather than deal with treachery at every wingtip.

Three more Odin rose from their post and flew off to the doorway, exiting quickly without a word or even a glance at their commander. Rashant was surprised it was this many. The deadlands outpost was among the more hardcore military outposts, with everyone up here slightly on the zealous side of things given the distance from the Icon and the weight of responsibility with what lay on the other side of the deadlands. But all Odin had grown up with the Icon’s stories of humanity, so there were quite a few admirers. And many would see the target running around out there as human.

Like Erill, Rashant was equally convinced this really was a mythological human. The target had literally dodged every drone sent, and even slapped one out of the air with the flat of its sword. That kind of dexterity was absurd. Not to mention some kind of tech that he’d never seen had been used to both slice through the other drones and equally yank the power cell out of harm’s range. Human armor was a known quantity, the Icon had a few dozen to study from, so it wasn’t any surprise that the turret’s rotary cannon fire failed to even make the target flinch, but the human had taken only a few return shots that punctured through the entire thing and shut it down.

Machines were powerful. They were not this powerful. So either this was some kind of super machine - or it indeed was one of the old humans come back to life. Probably a legendary hero of some kind, kept in stasis. Perhaps even the Icon herself had found this human and reawakened it to save the Odin from the infestation.

Rashant watched on, since nothing he could do in the grand scheme of things would change anything. He wasn’t a soldier of any kind, but instead had been called up here by order of Septimus himself. They apparently needed a level three translator ready for the possibility the full protocols failed. No mention if command knew this was a human, suspected it, or had more info. All they demanded was to adhere to the doctrine, meticulously record the whole thing from multiple angles, and prepare for possible one to one negotiations. He was present when that set of orders had been given to Hersir Yill.

That was what made Rashant truly believe it was a human on the other end here. Machines didn’t negotiate. They couldn’t be spoken to. And the infestation equally didn’t have any kind of intelligence other than beastial colony-like behavior. But the real black feather-tip floating to the surface in all this was one simple fact: Timing.

The original order had been to keep an eye on the potential threat, and prepare for sterilization protocols. Burn the entire area, but make no further moves against the target in addition to bringing him up to the command deck for preparations.

The change of orders afterwards was far different. Execute the full protocol to the letter.

Assuming the human survived the final barrier, then it would be up to him to confront the being directly. By order of Septimus himself.

Rashant didn’t know which he was more hoping for. If the human survived, he’d be face to face and among the first of the Odin to speak to it. But if the human survived, it would surely be extremely pissed off. To the point Rashant might be killed before he uttered a single word.

“Execute final protocol.” Yill ordered the replacement.

That Skáld followed through with the demand with haste. “Scout team reports coordinates seven seven three point seven five nine.” One called out.

“Confirmed railway operational and payload sent.” Another called out.

Up ahead, by the very border of the deadlands defense outpost, lay a buried stone railway. And within that railway, there was a payload currently speeding under the expected coordinate the human would pass.

Within that payload was a cluster of supercritical power cells.

Kept well protected save for one small detonation pack at the center that would set off the entire thing. There would be no warning. One moment the human would be walking on land, and the next moment, a pack of power cells would explode a few feet directly under the being’s path.

Nothing would survive that. It was made to handle machines, with even the rails being made of stone just to fool scanners.

“Sir…” The new ordinance officer said slowly.

“I know. I have eyes, Skáld.” Yill replied with a low hiss.

The target in question had stopped its ridiculous sprint forward, sliding on it's boots. Then took a few steps backwards, retracing the steps it took. And it did so right as the underground payload crossed the map over and settled in the human's expected path.

“Send a report to command. Target has noticed the final barrier. Septimus protocol breached. Deadlands outpost will execute contingency plan as ordered earlier.” Yill paused, letting the comms officer sent the call over. Then the bird turned his old beak directly at Rashant. ?

“It seems you are up now, translator.”

“Uh, but the barrier hasn’t yet been used.” Rashant said.

Yill gave a wingflick. “You think that’ll stop the target from somehow destroying it at a safe range now that it's aware of it? After everything we’ve seen that monster do?”

As if to prove the point, the human drew out the same rifle it used against the turret, aimed right where the payload would be, and fired a single shot. Rashant didn’t actually get to see the blue trace, since the world exploded a moment later. But he could imagine the bullet flashing out of the muzzle, digging into the ground at a light angle, cutting through everything in the path up until it sliced through the payload the same way they had sliced through the turret.

And that would set off the power cells.

“There goes nearly half a year of the Icon’s total defense budget. All for nothing.” Yill muttered. “Icon preserve us if the machines cross through the deadlands in a hoard now.”

He turned his beak back to Rashant. “What are you still doing here? Get to work! The target will be at the gates in less time than it takes for me to insult you further.”

Rashant squawked his acceptance and then hurried outside the post, taking to the air. Two Deadlander Thegns followed behind him, his official escort. For all the good they could do. If the human wanted to take out frustrations on the Odin, Rashant would be the first to get his wings plucked, and nothing the other two Thegns here could do anything about it.

Already the equipment crew had flown ahead of the gates and started setting up a temporary perch. Just a large wooden bar held upwards by four other bars drilled into the earth. It looked sturdy enough for him and his escorts. They landed shortly after, confirming the equipment team had done their task correctly.

Ahead was nothing more than a giant dust cloud, leftover from the explosion. Half the entire deadlands seemed completely covered by it, though he knew better.

Rashant considered the events of his life that led him to this moment. He’d been one of two level three translators stationed at the deadlands, with the second being his replacement in case he was indisposed. Thus far, he hadn’t had to ever perform his job, the communications network had always been fully functioning. Easy pay, easy work.

And now he was waiting on a hastily made perch as the embodiment of death itself walked out of the clearing dust cloud.

Exactly as terrifying as the human had appeared zoomed in on the cameras in the command center. Worse. The armor looked worn down, ornaments and cloth tattered up. The human’s gear however looked perfectly usable. Including that sword on his right and that shield carried on the left. The blood red colors were clear as day, despite being marred by the ash and dust.

At this range, with the speed the human could run at, Rashant was certain he wouldn’t be able to fly away before having his neck caught and squeezed. The human might even leap higher than any of them could fly for all he knew.

The guards started to nervously grip their perch, as the human walked to a standstill. Nothing was said from either side.

Rashant took a deep breath, and began. “I am Odin’Rashant’Skáld of the deadlands outpost. Beyond this outpost is Odin territory. We are here to strongly advise you not cross until full decontamination protocols are followed.”

The message that the human needed permission to cross into Odin territory was an afterthought at this point. Everyone knew there was no stopping the human now.

Exactly as Septimus claimed would happen, the human spoke back in perfectly accented old human, same as the Icon’s lessons. “I am Keith Winterscar, Knight Retainer of House Winterscar, hailing from Clan Altosk of the surface strata. A human. And I am having a very poor day right now, so I suggest I see some hospitality.”

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Having the human himself confirm he was indeed an icon-blessed human in the flesh gave both his escorts a small pause as they took in a breath. Everyone on the outpost already suspected it by now, but the confirmation was damning.

Rashant still wasn’t sure if this was some sleeping human in stasis that had been woken by the Icon somewhere, but the mention of a clan and society on the surface made Rashant suspect there were other humans.

And the mention of the surface alone was another deep shock. The Odin all knew it was technically possible. The world had worlds above them, beyond the ceiling of this strata, so logically it would end somewhere. But nobody knew how far up it went, or how many layers in total. Not even the Icon. If the human said he was from the surface, that meant they finally had an answer to that. And where the mythical humans had resided all this time.

“One moment, sir Winterscar.” Rashant said, swallowing a shudder. He relayed the instructions to his commander over the comms camera, and waited for answers back.

They didn’t come. Rashant tapped his talon on the perch, head going back to the human. The old mythical being crossed his arms, and Rashant had no idea what that could mean but he suspected impatience.

Finally, command answered back, the video feed turning to an Odin Rashant had only seen in pictures or pre-recorded videos, and just a moment ago giving a briefing to Yill about what to do next.

“You will translate for me directly.” The Odin ordered. “Begin with introductions.”

Rashant obeyed without a pause, giving the Víkingr a quick bow, then turned to the human. “This is Odin’Septimus’Víkingr. One of the three Víkingr, leaders of all Odin military. I have been tasked to translate for him.”

The human gave a head movement, “Sounds like you knew I’d be coming and who I was. So what’s with the welcome?”

Septimus gave the human a calculating look. “Given your lack of questions about the Odin, and immediate default to the old norse, I believe you’ve already met one of our kind and discussed terms, or the Icon has already filled you in on who we are and what language to use. Although given the timeline of how quickly the Valorant fell after your communication, and that you started with Old Norse, I do not believe the Icon had time to cover who we are. Which is it?”

“The prior in this case. My chat with the Icon was mostly about humans and my personal situation here. You’re right that we were cut short chatting.”

“And who was it?”

“Kres, a scout of some kind. Good bloke, we helped him out and he helped us out. Much better first impression than the actual official Odin here.”

Rashant dutifully relayed the message to the Víkingr, then gave a quick annotation peck. “I will also add that there are no recognizable wing gestures or any approximations to it, so only the literal translation of the single name can be sent through, apologies Víkingr Septimus.”

“The name alone does not narrow it down.” Septimus said to Rashant, clicking his beak in mild but unsurprised frustration. “We’ll narrow it down using other means, I did get a report that one experienced Vindr had gone rogue in that general direction. I strongly suspect it would be him.”

Rashant gave a short wing flick for acknowledgement, “What do we tell the human?”

“Explain that we know who he’s speaking of, within reason. We have not had contact with Kres for some time and are unaware of what that Vindr has promised or traded. Do explain we cannot be completely certain it is the same Kres we speak of.”

Rashant relayed it to the human in question, and in doing so learned a few things.

First, the human wanted some water. Septimus granted the order without any issue.

Second, more of what the human and the Icon had spoken of, including how the rest of humanity was faring in different stratas. Rashant had zero misconceptions that all of this would utterly change the Odin forever after. There really was a surface, and the human civilization was somewhat thriving far above them.

This one human had eradicated every single defense the Odin had. And he was claiming there were thousands of humans still alive out there. Rashant didn’t know what to make of it, but a peaceful contact with humanity would certainly help.

Septimus took all that without even a hint of surprise, as if the Víkingr had guessed as much. What he did have for a question was something Rashant hadn’t expected. “Did the Icon speak to you with reverence during your discussion, or caution?”

The human paused, did something with those strange prehensile talons of his, and then answered. “It was stuck to a script of some kind. Customer support. And clearly was trying to find ways to speak around those issues.”

Septimus gave a wingflick of understanding, which Rashant translated dutifully in addition to the rest of the answer. “This may be a problem. Before you step into Odin lands, we must discuss your intentions. With both our people, and our home.”

“Given your own intentions here, I don’t know if you’re in any position to ask for things.” Keith answered back. “I’m still waiting for that water.”

At this juncture, Rashant decided to take a quick sidestep to translating. “It’s not delayed, sir Winterscar.” He said, “Only that our standard flasks are… err, small. Compared to your own needs. You are very large and flying that much water down takes some organization.”

He looked behind himself, to the walls ahead where he saw the Odin there dutifully scrambling around to fill up a bathing tub. More were attaching hooks and preparing to carry it down with them. Then another Odin showed up croaking that the supply team had finally untethered a water barrel and rolled it out. The Odin planning to fly over the bathing tub down to the rover looked absurdly relieved at that.

The gates opened slightly, and a rover powered by electric motors quickly rolled across the ground, carrying the supplies on its back.

“We’re slightly caught flat-winged here.” Rashant said, as the human reached a hand out and grabbed the barrel. It looked comically tiny given the size of the human, despite the barrel being larger than Rashant could crane upwards.

Keith seemed to figure out how to open the barrel without difficulty or instructions, those prehensile talons making the entire process look easy. Then he gave the interior a look, and unhooked the helmet that kept him protected.

“Errm…” Rashant said, “Decontamination protocols?”

The human paused halfway with his head. “You mean the infestation? I burned it away earlier. You must have seen that.”

Rashant had seen the human call fire from his hands and spent time grooming himself as he walked through the deadlands. Not in full detail, there was a limit to their camera’s zooms. But Septimus had claimed the human armor would have been able to tell if it was safe or not.

“Order the guard to stand down.” The Víkingr said, snapping Rashant out of his thoughts. “I do not want any Odin thinking they have an easy shot at the human’s head. Looks are deceptive, the human armor is capable of generating an invisible shield that will protect the human’s head.”

It turns out that order hadn’t been for him, but for the other Odin also looking through the feed. All around, he heard weapons clicking off, and being disengaged.

Keith didn’t seem to notice, instead taking his helmet fully off and then a long tilt of the barrel. What would have kept twelve Odin satiated for at least three days was instantly gone. And the human wasn’t done yet.

“Are you satisfied with the water?” Septimus asked the human when the beast finally stopped emptying the barrel.

Keith gave a head movement, drank an absurd amount more, and then gave a deep sigh. “Could be a little colder. But I’m not picky. Hits the spot, and isn’t poisoned. Can’t complain. Now, what’s with the questions about my intentions?”

“Are you aware of what a dragon is, human?” Septimus asked.

“Giant scaled lizards that breathe fire and are usually the size of a mountain? I’ve heard the stories, though they’re just that. Stories. Where’s this going?”

Rashant wanted to know too, but the Víkingr did as the Víkingr does and Rashant had no idea, he just translated. “Many of the Icon’s stories described those old monsters, along with other human mythological species.” Septimus started. “Elves, a more advanced and refined version of humans. Dwarves, a more stout and grounded human. The Icon had stories for it all. But of all beings, there was one that towered far above the humans. Massive, capable of leveling entire armies by themselves, impenetrable armor, limbs that would break the bones of anything they even so much as slapped. Often depicted as sleeping giants, far removed from mortal events until one would reappear and terrorize the world they once owned.”

“Those would be dragons then?”

“They are. Do you know what other beings tower over us, calls down fire, could level entire armies, has impenetrable armor and are all considered extinct until one day reappearing?”

“Ah. I see where you’re going with this analogy.” Keith said. “I’m the dragon in your story.”

“You are.” Septimus said. “And all dragons have hoards and lairs. Which is why we must talk about the Icon and your inventions with our home. I am well aware, as are all Odin, that the Icon was forged by humans, and built to serve your kind above all. Do you believe the Icon to be your birthright? Or do you have any intentions to claim it for humanity once more?”

“Not at all.” Keith answered back with more odd body movements. “I don’t plan to stick around for very long, I have a mission to get back to and it’s nowhere near this strata in the first place. I’m just looking to get back home. The Icon can help me connect to networks that might get me home faster, so I do hope to use its communication abilities. But I don’t plan on trampling around or causing issues.”

Septimus nodded. “That will reassure some of the other Víkingr here. While we cannot be certain you won’t change your mind later, this does help us understand your goals. Although we cannot allow you to step foot on the Icon yet.”

“I take it the Odin have to keep the Icon in mind as potentially defecting to assist me over your people?”

“We suspect the Icon wouldn’t have a choice in the matter if you ordered it.”

“I would also agree on that from the short time I’ve spoken to her.” Keith said. “In the spirit of being honest and transparent.”

“Appreciated. In response, I will also open up another topic to discuss. Behind you is the shadow of your old enemy. Machines. They are awake, and they are aware of your presence. Regardless if you and your companion’s intentions are to be rogues or paladins, the machines will follow behind in their attempt to eradicate you. And they will not stop to avoid targeting the Odin nor the Icon in their path. It is the most contentious topic among us Víkingr.”

“I’m aware of that too, yes.” Keith said in between swallows of water, finally setting down the entire barrel - emptied. “Had a run in with them myself. That said, I’m not here to bring danger to your home, despite the welcome you threw at my feet here. I can be the better man and look the other way.”

“The welcome you received was calculated.” Septimus said. “In the event the machines come behind you and accuse us of harboring you, we can send video footage proving we attempted every recourse we had, and without holding anything back either. You are technically an invader we cannot defeat and must work around instead. It is frail insurance, but any defense we have against the machines is one I will not neglect, and negotiations is a defense.”

“That’s rather… cold of you.” Keith answered back. “Don’t mistake me though, I can understand the pragmatic decision here.”

“I am a Víkingr. It is my duty to protect my people first, and I will always act with their interest above all others. I personally respect what your kind has inadvertently given my people, but I will still follow my duties to the letter.” Rashant translated, then paused, and looked back at Septimus. “Sir, are you certain about the wording of that? It sounds rather hostile.”

Rashant was the one standing in front of the walking weapon of mass destruction that swatted drones out of the sky with a icon-damned sword, and easily outmaneuvered every contingency that had stood unbreached against the infestation and machine alike for decades now. If Keith took offense to Septimus, then it was Rashant who was in feather plucking range here, not the Víkingr.

“I am.” Septimus said. “You will relay that message exactly as said.”

Rashant didn’t know what kind of plots or plans were going on, but he trusted the Víkingr as most Odin had for generations now. They were born and bred to be Víkingr after all, so whatever grand strategy was going on in the backdrop here, Rashant would follow orders and hope for the best.

“Uh-huh.” Keith answered with some more arm and head movements. “I think I’m understanding what you’re putting out here. Not liking it, but can’t say I don’t understand it either. I do want to ask one thing: Are they watching right now?”

Septimus gave a predatory glance, as if pleased with the human. “There is little I could do to prevent them, even if I wished for it.”

Rashant had no idea what the two were talking about now. But he translated as ordered.

“And, what are they demanding from you, if you’re allowed to say?” Keith asked.

The approving glance continued, though Rashant had no idea if he should translate that body language or not. He stuck with only the most direct translation. “Their leader is waiting at the Valorant with your companion as a hostage, they are open about the location and expect you to return for him soon.”

The human answered with a string of cursing. Then calmed himself, and gave a flickering gaze between Rashant and Septimus with those beady predator-facing eyes of his. “Well, I happen to also have a bargaining chip that might be just as heavy as my mechanical friend’s threats. I have a potential solution to stopping a different, existential threat to your people. The infestation - it’s sentient, intelligent, and willing to negotiate a ceasefire. And I have a way to speak with it.”