12 Miles Below

Book 7. Chapter 8: H is for humans

“Aaron, can you take this call? My break’s up in a moment and I want to stretch my wings.”

The light on Grelin’s console was blinking yellow for a comms request. Aaron looked over it and saw the destination address. “A xeno tradepost request?”

“Yep. It’s the Valorant.” Grelin confirmed, giving a light flap on his perch. “That's gonna be a long one so can’t take it without it running into my break. And I’m not missing my break.”

Aaron understood. The Valorant was right in the middle of greyroamer territory and greyroamers weren’t great at long-distance communication. There were good odds it’s an Odin on the other side but it was a gamble and Aaron didn’t know any Odin out in the field around the Valorant right now. Neither military nor for trade. So the odds were further down. And if Grelin gambled wrong, then he’d be stuck for the next hour slowly getting the message through.

Which meant he’d miss his break, and that would quickly become everyone's problem.

“All right, get me some lunch while you’re out. I’m feeling like lintbugs today, the fat squishy ones.” Aaron said, plying the most he could out of the arrangement. Greyroamers weren’t that bad to talk to, he was a level 2 and had all species languages learned to a fluent degree.

The Odin puffed up again, “Oi you brat, trying to weedle things out of me now? Who taught you everything you know? Respect your seniors.”

Aaron gave a mirrored dark chuckle back as his talons slowly pressed down the right buttons to take the call. “Taught me everything including how to haggle. Bugs or I hop off this stool right now and go back to my station.”

The other Odin sighed, flipped his beak high up and dove downwards where he flapped onto the ground with a few hops. Which meant he’d agreed, but would probably eat one or two bugs while he brought the food back.

Aaron couldn’t argue with free food, especially when it was finangled from someone else. But on the other hand, he prepared himself for the long haul of translating greyroamer barks and tail waggles while equally having to do the same back.

The video flickered and before him. Aaron began his usual speech. “This is the Icon… eh?”

What was in the camera’s view was not fuzzy, had no snout, no teeth, not even the cold predator-like eyes staring directly at the camera. But whatever it was, it was silver colored.

Aaron thought for a moment a machine had managed to get into the Valorant all the way to the very top and clicked the right keys to start a call. It was made of metal.

The little level two comms officer went through a few emotions. First was surprise, which made his feathers puff out slightly while he flapped his wings in a nervous tick. Then was realization this was likely a prank being played by some Odin with far too much time on his hands. Probably a Vindr, those bastards had a certain lack of common sense considering they were the ones sent to fight a damn bioweapon built to fight humans.

And talking about the long dead humans, he thought the machine prank in the video feed looked an awful lot like the helmets old human armors had. There were a few dozen inside the Icon, deeper into the bowels where their exploration group had started to settle into the Icon before being hunted down and killed by machines themselves.

Those armors had all long ago fixed themselves up, entombed their dead users, and then ran out of power over the centuries. A historical site that’s often visited by growing Odin who were learning history. The Icon was equally protective of the site, so Odin dared not disturb the graveyard, only learn from it.

And now some hooligans out there must have found a dead human armor and decided it would be funny to jumpscare the comms center here.

“Har har, very funny guys.” He started to croak out before the prank on the other side answered back.

The voice started talking in old human, and an odd inflection to it. Far more like how the Icon would talk, which was an accent that Odin couldn’t easily do. Aaron wasn’t a level three comms officer, learning ancient human wasn’t required for his station, or for most regular assignments. Only the further off stations where no video feeds were working had any reason to use old human.

Which meant the other side’s pranksters were even more likely to be Vindr, who were expected to go the distance.

“That’s very funny, and I’m sure you lot put a lot of time and effort into this prank, but this is an official channel for tr-”

Another voice came through, again with that uncanny perfect inflection.

Other Odin around him started looking over to see what the commotion was about. And that drew more of the bored officers around.

“Something up with the Valorant Aaron?” Alastris asked him from the other side. She had wrapped up her own comms …. And hadn’t had anything to do in the past five minutes other than preening her feathers while waiting for the next call to come in.

So she had all the time to hop over and look at the screen he was looking at. It took her a second to realize what was on the other side.

“That a human?” Another squawked, posted right behind Aaron and so had full view of the screen by just jumping on his perch.

“No way, it’s a prank by some Vindr that found a helmet.” Came the logical conclusion that Aaron had reached himself. Other Odin were filing around his console now, making his perch real crowded. He pecked away at one that got too close, which ended in a small beak fight that quickly spread out until everyone was bickering for a talon-hold on the small perch. The fight resolved almost immediately, with two comms officers on the outskirts exiled from getting a view and forced to fly to another perch.

“They’re sure good at setting it all up. How are they moving the helmets around like that? Sticks?” One in the back asked.

“Shift the camera angles around.” A fourth called out. “Everyone else, we should get back to work. Nothing to see here. Just some Vindr that will be getting a stern talking to later.”

“And probably some good laughs in the cafeteria after.” Another shot out.

Aaron pecked for the camera feed to switch around. Body language from greyroamers was important, and sometimes different angles were needed. The Valorant fortunately had most of its cameras working.

What was on the other side was not a gaggle of Vindr with sticks propped up to make the human helmets move around. No snickering group of veterans trying to pull some prank.

No, in the Valorant were two fully enclosed human armors.

And they were moving.

Aaron gave a croak of genuine surprise. He wasn’t the only one.

“Bugs in the nest, what in the Icon’s grace is that?” Alastris said, eyes widening as her wings flapped slightly out in surprise.

Now everyone in the control room had noticed something was off with the Valorant call, and they equally hopped over to crowd and see what was going on, causing even more fights to break out as his post was not made with more than three Odin in mind.

This repeated a few more times until the entire room was invested.

Alastris even tried pecking at the screen, expecting it to shift video perspective where they’d catch the little bastards in their magic trick, or figure out how they got human armor to be that animated.

Again, more perfect old human came from the two figures, chatting to each other and to the screen itself. Aaron had no idea what was being sent, and neither did anyone else in the comms room.

“What do we do?” Alastris asked.

That’s when Aaron had the realization everyone had turned their beaks to him. Technically, with Grelin out to lunch, he was the one in charge.

Which meant he had to do something about this. “We need a level three in here right now!” He started, jumping off his perch and flying over to an unmanned station. “If it’s a prank, Icon scold them. We’ve been got. But if it’s not a prank…” Oh Icon preserve him, it's not a prank… “We need to handle this right now.”

Utter panic descended down on all of them as the armored humans again tried to talk or say something. Aaron booted up the console, hit the right buttons, and got a line in with the superiors. Not his boss, he went straight for the military.

If they wanted a level three certified Odin to get here immediately, only the military would have that kind of speed and reach.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The video feed opened up. “What’s the situation?” A Hersir crisply asked. The tone and feather movements clearly denoted curiosity and caution. Unlike field calls from outside, the Hersir expected the Icon’s personal comms staff to be professional about everything. The military wasn’t called in unless something was wrong. Like a tech fault that the Icon could not fix.

“We need a level three officer on hand right now for translation.” He spoke out. “Priority one.”

The other end gave an acknowledgment without any questions and sent the orders. Likely the Hersir probably concluded some trade outpost’s video cameras broke down and the field team needed to report things urgently.

Aaron didn’t say anything to the officer to make him think differently. Frankly, he wasn’t sure himself what was going on, but it was way out of his pay grade.

Grelin returned at that moment, the door opening for him. “Ah, Aaron got you those bugs, you fat croak. Might have ea… why is everyone crowding around your station?”

Aaron hopped down at his side. “No time to explain, we had to call in a level three officer up here to handle my station.”

His manager sputtered at that. “First off, why would you need a level three called in for the Valorant? You know how much Gelrian has to pay for them on hand? He’s going to pluck your feathers out for this, and then scream about the budget for the next three weeks.”

Alastris flew over and landed right next to him. She gave them both excited pecks, “If this is actually happening, you don’t wanna miss this. If you had missed this just because you were busy getting bugs, I think you’d kill Aaron a few times over. Maybe choke him with those.”

“What in the Icon is actually going on here? Someone explain it to me or I’m going to get violent.” Grelin said, now holding the food protectively behind him, as if the two junior officers here needed to be fended off.

“Aaron got a call from the Valorant. Except it’s not anyone we know or work with. It’s human armors - moving around. There could actually be living humans inside them. They’re trying to speak through the comms but nobody here is a level three.”

Grelin took a few seconds to process the information before coming to the logical conclusion: “What the fuck?”

Hilarious to use the only well known human swear word for the situation with humans, Aaron thought. The Icon would have approved if she were listening in.

Before he could say more, the doorway behind him opened up once more and Odin’Alres’Völva walked in. The Aleres. Völva of the heart-mother.

That’s when Aaron started to regret having called up the military directly for this. They really did get the closest possible level three, no matter where they plucked the feather from.

Not exactly the great Goði in all his holy glory himself, but Aleres was a very high member of the clergy and easily on eating-breakfast terms with the Goði.

The great priest wasn’t a comms officer, but he did have the training that included level three certification. Of course he needed that, his sermons were all said in old human. The red and white drapes of the stars looked stately on him, and given he was wearing them, he must have been mid-sermon when summoned.

“Gelrian is going to kill you.” Alastris said, “That’s going to be a massive expense.”

Aleres gave the three a nod at that. “Indeed it will be. I certainly hope the fine officers here have called me in for a good reason.”

“Gardenhawl wasn’t available?” Alastris asked. “It’s literally his job to be on call for this.”

“I assume he is available young lady, and likely too far away. The Víkingr claimed it was a priority one importance, so the closest level three certified translator is me. And I will certainly bill appropriately for this service, believe you me. I was midway through today’s gathering. Now, explain the situation.”

“A few minutes ago, we received contact from the Valorant." Aaron mechanically answered. "Except the communicators on the other end are not any race we know of, and they are attempting to communicate using old human.” He was now praying to not lose his job over some dumb prank. As of now, his only hope was that the mythical humans themselves had somehow come back from the dead and actually contacted the Icon, otherwise his career was over.

Another comms officer further inside flipped a few switches with his talons, and on the main display came up the human armors from the Valorant. Both were almost bickering with one another, all in human.

Aleres gave a stately nod. “I see. Machines that appear as humans perhaps? Regardless, I will handle it from here.”

He flapped over to the perch, still spry for his old age. Then began to speak in fluent old human into the speaker. He might not be a comms trained officer, but level three was level three and anyone with that certification could speak old human fluently.

Aaron had no idea what was being said, but whatever it was, the priest understood and clearly could answer back.

He could somewhat guess at what was being said, since the old bird’s body language was still moving around even under the robes. He didn’t need to guess more as Aleres turned and translated for the room. “They do indeed claim to be humans.”

The room went quiet.

“You’re serious?” One voice asked from the distance.

“I am.” Aleres replied. “And I am as shocked as you all are, however their accent is a perfect match to the Icons. The armors look similar enough to what I remember seeing in the videos and in person myself. They claim humanity isn’t extinct. And that they are living… far away from us. These two have been sent here by mite portal. They are seeking ways back home. I will ask followup questions and get to the bottom of this. Standby.”

His talons reached out and tapped a few items, now calling in the Icon herself to verify what was going on.

Aaron would have cringed if it were any other moment. Calling on the Icon wasn’t to be done frivolously. But if this was first contact with the mythological humans, he was here watching history being written down. Of all times to contact the Icon, and have her presence, it would be now.

Her smooth and somber voice came on speakers now, saying something more in old human. Aleres answered back in old human and gave a regal bow to the deity guarding all over them.

The screen before them went black.

Silence resonated in the room, heavier than news of an impending collapse. Until Aleres spoke. “The Icon has confirmed they are humans. She has taken them aside to a private lobby to speak to them one to one.”

The comms room blew up in a flurry of wings and angry questions.

“I fear this matter is beyond even my station. We will need to inform the Víkingr and the council of this as soon as possible.”

Aaron had spent the last three hours answering questions to the Víkingr, the Gungnir, and just about any other military adjacent organization in addition to open testimony before the council of representatives.

He had it the least hard, Aleres was still going through debriefing given he actually could understand what the humans had said. However the final resolution that came from behind the sealed doors: high command gave everyone a gag order. No word of the humans could leave any witnesses, or else they would all collectively be tried and judged for treason.

That had come from the beak of Víkingr Septimus himself. The greatest of the three Víkingr. The very same Odin who’d kept the infestation at bay abusing every strategy possible and leading what should have been a hopeless fight into a standstill.

If Septimus said no talking, there was no talking. In fact, more than just no talking, he had to go on with his life as if nothing had happened.

The next day when Aaron walked into the Icon’s communication deck, everything was far more silent and eerie than it had any right to be. A few calls were happening, but besides the general professional handling, everything felt on edge.

Of course they all would be. There were eight Thegns with them. Standing on all sides of the deck, silently watching over the small crew of comms officers. Any Thegn could easily slap Aaron’s bones into dust with a few wingslaps, so eight of them here was more than just a message.

He took his post and checked over his equipment. Alastris flew next to him, gave a quick attention peck and then gave him the worst report ever: “Good morning officer. Do note that the Valorant went offline about a half hour after the last call it received.”

Aaron hissed back, “Are you mad? Talking about the Valorant here, with eight Icon-damned Thegns breathing down our necks? Are you trying to get killed?”

“Relax, I’ve been here for the past shift. They’re only here to remind us to do our jobs without slipping any details to anyone else. And informing you that we lost contact with the Valorant is part of protocol. Sir.” She turned her beak to the entrance doorway, which was guarded by said Thegns. One was watching directly in their direction, beak completely still.

Well, if he wasn’t dead right now, then she had a point about it being part of her job. High command probably expected the comms crew here to gossip about it in some way, the real danger was any of it getting out to anyone else outside of this room.

Or so Aaron hoped. He turned to his consol, then went through the event logs. Alastris was right, the Valorant went offline shortly after the call with the humans. No scout reports had come back, no notes placed, nothing. It could have lost power, or anything really.

Aaron didn’t know, and he probably would never know given how top secret everything about this was. So all he needed to do was keep his beak down, and focus on following through orders.

Halfway through his uneventful shift, he got a call from the deadlands outpost of all places. This wasn’t the scheduled report time for them, which meant there was trouble with the infestation.

He took the call, “This is the Icon, receiving.”

“This is the Deadlands outpost. Reporting sighting of a machine on the outskirts of the infestation side. Hersir Yill has ordered a flight of Vindr to prepare for intercept in case the machine crosses borders as per Septimus doctrine.”

Aaron dutifully logged this out to be sent to high command for later review. “Noted. Is Hersir Yill seeking further assistance or only reporting status?”

“Reporting status.” The comms officer from the deadlands said. “Situation is under control.”

Machines walking around were normal for the outskirts. Sometimes they even crossed over the infestation territory. As far as Aaron heard, throwing a few firebombs or distractions were the solution to diverting them away. So long as the machine wasn’t some massive monster. And given the comms officer on the other end wasn’t panicking, then it was likely a routine machine stranded from its nest or pack.

“Final note, target seems to be a new form of machine. Wandering aimlessly at the edge of the infestation territory. About seven feet tall, bipedal, two arms, one head, close appearance to human armor. We suspect some kind of infiltrator model. Will proceed down the protocol and adapt as needed.”

That’s when Aaron’s gut dropped. Oh no. Oh Icon damn it. Not again. How did they get to the deadlands that fast? The Valorant was a good two or three days of travel away from the deadlands.

“Understood, passing message up.” He diplomatically stated, and then frantically called up the military contacts to shove the whole thing into their hands.

Predictably, once the Deadlands outpost was connected to the proper military channels, he didn’t hear from them again, as they were now in direct communication with possibly Septimus himself. Thank the Icon it was out of his hands before any more sensitive information was sent. There was only so much his heart could take.

The Thegns around him responded to the call, with two taking up positions right next to him about a minute later. Imperiously looking down at his work. They didn’t say a word, but their message was absolutely clear.

He gulped, nodded his beak at them, and got back to regular work of waiting for a call.

Not even an hour later, his comms blinked for the next message. And the sender made his heart stop. Again.

The Valorant. It was now back online and calling him.

He very hesitantly opened up the channel. “This is the Ic- oh fuck.”

On the other end was a massive human. Too big to fit into any of the human armors he’d seen. And talking about the human armors, the giant titan even had the ripped apart chestplate of one held in one hand.

Instead of a helmet, this giant human had a cloth of some kind covering his features, leaving only his beady little predator oriented eyes staring directly into the camera.

And worse - they glowed violet.