12 Miles Below

“You’re going to have to fix this one all on your own, just like a real grownup.”

“Don’t worry, it’s easy.”

“You just need to wake up.”

“Wake up or die, boy.”

I survived the fall. Don’t ask me how, because I’m not sure myself.

I'd woken up half frozen to a screaming alarm and repair glue administered everywhere on my chest, which made it hard to move around. I had just finished patching up the last tear left in my suit when Father's voice crackled into my speakers.

“You’re awake.” He said from his seat on the concrete block, after confirming I'd been moving around.

He hadn't come out of this ordeal unscathed. That might be an understatement - I'd never seen the family armor this damaged; Deep gashes lined the sides of his chest and leg plates, exposing circuitry. And under that, hints of more sub-metal plates with dozens of glowing blue lines etched into each. They almost looked like patterns, but too much of it was covered by the wiring to make sense.

“You survived the fall,” I croaked out, my voice unexpectedly weak.

Rolling over, I tried to stand back up on my feet. “How long has it been?”

“Three hours since the explosion.”

“Why… why are you here?”

He stopped tinkering with the rifle and glanced up. “What does that mean?”

“I hit a pole and… Why didn’t you leave me to die?”

It could have been a ‘regrettable accident’ that he hadn’t found me. Simple way to finally get rid of the weakling. A textbook Winterscar plan.

“I would be derelict in my duty had I abandoned you. I honor my oath. Something you should learn from.”

Rich, coming from the guy that drank himself near death every day for thirteen years until reality slapped him in the face.

Did a lot of honoring the oath of duty back then, eh old man?

Pain filled my legs, stabbing inside from a hundred different pinpricks, but they lifted me back up onto my feet. “Where are we? Is this the underground?”

“It is.” The way he said that had a tinge of dread to it. “We are somewhere in the lower first level. Deep enough to protect from the climate.”

It was hard to sort truth from fiction with the underground. I’d heard hundreds of stories, how it was completely different layer by layer. But how do you fit a massive forest when thousands of tons of metal and rocks lay on top, for example? Or fit underground mountains? Or have rivers and plains? Or floating rocks and castles? The underground supposedly had everything and more.

No hint of green around here, though. Instead, it’s all industry and blocky concrete rooms, and a low ceiling above us. “Are we in an undersider city?”

He shook his head. “Do you see anyone?”

There wasn’t a single person anywhere nearby. Vermin didn’t populate the area either; No rats, weasels, or insects. Gods, I can’t hear anything besides silence. That put me on edge.

He waved his right hand over to the mess of piping snaking around. “Look around you. Pipes leading nowhere. Doorways that nobody can reach. Staircases that lead to dead ends like this one here.” He pointed to the staircase that led into a wall. Who designed this fever dream?

“No one lives in these parts of the underground.” Father said. “The first layer is always some sort of city like this one. Architecture might change up, but it’s always a city. Linked to other fake cities by tunnels and constantly changing.”

“Changing?”

“Yes, changing. Did you forget what that meant?”

“You just said that nobody lives here.”

“If you don’t interrupt, I will get to that.” He ground out, then shook his head. “Nevermind. Find out for yourself. You claim to be a scholar, right boy? Pride yourself on that intellect of yours? Use it. Look for motion.”

Fine. I ignored the jab and did as asked. The alleyway had looked like it went somewhere, but that dead end staircase was the only way down. I could see dust on the ground, and signs of something being dragged across it… right to where I was. So he’d dragged me here.

The tracks came from a courtyard up ahead, surrounded by uneven platforms, and what looked to be a fountain in the center, hundreds of pipes leading to it. Vast lines of lights attached to the ceiling and random spots flooded the area, showing any detail I cared to look at. Almost hidden by those floodlights were thousands of tiny glimmering teal gems scattered across the ground.

The place was as silent as a grave. I saw nothing move save for the dust slowly drifting in the air. “What am I looking for?”

“You can find out on your own. My priority is to repair my rifle, or the next encounter will be my last.” He said, not bothering to look up from his work.

Sitting down, I started looking for any signs of motion as he’d suggested. It was about half a minute before I recognized what he meant. The teal gem glimmers. They were moving. Slowly, very slowly, but it was clear they weren’t stationary at all.

The better visibility with my head free was worth the discomfort of the current climate. The air was cold, but it wasn’t an immediate danger. Taking off my mask and helmet, I got on my knees to get a closer look.

Tiny, tiny little creatures were walking beneath my gaze. They were machines; I realized. And it wasn’t a gem but a teal light instead. Oddly bulky - like a rectangle shaped with a triangle theme - carried by six miniature mechanical legs. Two limbs remained folded at its front like the pictures of praying mantis, occasionally probing down on the ground. Carapace-like layers of metal plates and spikes decorated the body.

“They’re called mites.” Father said, breaking my focus. “They’re the reason for the unending city.”

Progress on his rifle had been slow considering he stubbornly refused to use his left hand, even as far as twisting his fingers oddly to manipulate two things at a time. Did he hurt his left arm?

He clicked the last piece together, locked the bar into place and rose from his seat. Then he reached down to the boots and drew out his occult knife with his personal flourish. A small click of a switch at the sheath, and the blade’s edge flared glowing blue, heat distorting the cold air around it in a small haze. He strode up and kneeled down next to me.

A light stab chipped the ground, close to the mite. Job finished, he turned off the knife and stowed it back in his boot with another reflexive flourish. Father never played around with his rifle like this, but the knife was something more personal to him. It seemed almost a reflex of his to twirl that blade whenever he drew or sheathed it.

“Watch.” He said, pointing at the chipped ground. “And don’t ask foolish questions.”

The nearby mite quickly drifted towards the damage. Small legs holding its far larger body aloft, moving haphazardly in the general direction. In a few moments, those mechanical forelimbs had gotten close enough to probe the chipped surface. It continued to fuss over the damage for a moment before moving itself into a position it seemed to appreciate better.

Then it lowered its body, almost as if to kiss the damage, the abdomen comically lifted up. Tiny sparks of lightning flashed from where the machine’s mouth would have been, striking the damaged spot. So tiny I wouldn’t have seen it unless I’d been looking for it.

Fortunately, I was doing just that. With each flash of miniature lightning, parts of the ground… appeared from nowhere? Something was filling in the missing parts of the stone floor. In moments, it scuttled off, job finished. Nothing of the knife’s attack remained on the ground, save for the chips it had cut off.

“They don’t care what or who causes damage, they simply live to fix it.” Father said. “They never stop, and they never rest. Mites build without reason. As if they have some grand design in their heads they worship.”

I wasn’t even sure what to ask about next, knowing he’d probably reproach anything obvious.

Burning with curiosity at the whole thing and no outlet for answers. The roof was almost claustrophobically low to the ground and made me feel like we were crawling around a seedier Undercity. The only thing missing were the hawkers, merchants, scoundrels, and children running amok. The silence was downright eerie.

We moved through the alleyway, Father clearly searching for something. He stopped every few doorways, peering inside each for only a few moments before moving on. Some of these buildings had chairs and counters - but all made of gray concrete.

“How are we going to make it back to the surface?” I asked as we explored.

“They will likely leave one airship behind as a search party,” He said. “The rest of the expedition will have to depart six hours from now in order to reach Urs’s orbital path and refuel.”

The next closest of the celestial gods within reach was Tsuya. The search party had its own deadline.

“How long do they have before Tsuya's orbit is out of range?”

“Likely two days.” Father turned to glance at me, pausing his search. “If we don’t reach the surface before then, they will be forced to leave and we will be stranded. Survival will not be easy.”

He let the gravity of the situation sink into me before he continued. “We need to get close enough to contact them. They'll help us coordinate an escape within the time limit.”

“Will it be difficult to make it out?”

He nodded. “Difficult, yes. Impossible, no. I know the way. Follow my orders and we will live.”

Only relic knights could venture down here. It was clear Father had experience from previous expeditions into the underground.

This wasn’t a hard rule - only that anyone who explored the underground without relic armor rarely came back.

Maybe it was my imagination, but there was an undertone to his voice that I hadn’t heard before.

“What are you searching for?”

“I suffered some damage to the armor earlier. My reserve power cell has been drained. I need to finish repairs on the armor and recharge the cell. The journey out will take hours, possibly a day. We will need every drop of power.”

The next building caught his attention. It seemed like he’d found something here. Instead of continuing on to the next building, we ventured further into the gloom. The only light here was the thousands of teal glimmering lights, all of them mites.

Father noticed I’d been staring after those. “The lights and body shape of the mites tell you what colony they’re part of.” He said as he examined the interior, headlight now turning on to get a better view of the dark room. The thousands of teal lights became almost unnoticeable in the harsh light. “When this teal colony leaves, another will inevitably arrive. They’ll tear down everything here and rebuild something new. A different city.”

Now that we could see detail with the headlights, it was immediately apparent that electronics and metal completely consumed the inner walls of this room. Wiring and geometric metal lined the blocks deeper into the building. Everything seemed to have been subsumed by a machine or computer of some kind.

The only thing recognizable from this weird contraption was a power cell port on the off side, on a raised pedestal. Everything else, I couldn’t possibly venture a guess at. It almost looked cancerous, even. If machines could have cancer.

His right hand fished through the suit’s leg plates, and one side slid open, revealing a standard power cell tucked into it. This one was dead and spent, empty. “That could be a charging station built by mites, if the gods favor us with luck.”

“Could be?” What does that mean?

Father didn't answer, instead he unhooked the cell, then connected it to the charging station’s port. Waiting now for something to happen.

“Mites are afflicted by madness." He said as he waited. "Most things mites make are just decoration as far as we know. Replicas, half-finished constructions, or outright useless junk.”

I'd never seen power cells charged like this. And only now realized how much I'd taken the celestial flyovers for granted. "Are these charging stations the way Undersiders power power cells?”

Father nodded, “The Undersiders don’t have reliable refueling like what we have on the surface. They need to find fountains like this, or kill machines and rip their hearts out. The cells themselves are not rare down here, but re-powering them is more difficult. It is the exact opposite of the surface. They’ll trade with us as a last resort in times of drought.”

It seemed convoluted, and so much more effort than the celestial flyovers. Up on the surface, we’d simply put the power cells anywhere outside and the gods would recharge them, so long as the cells were directly under their orbit as they flew by in their satellite fortresses.

Father sighed, reaching for the power cell. "It looks like this fountain is also junk. Something should have happened by now."

Mites seemed like blind artists, from what I’d seen. They were creating things, but almost in a dreamlike manner. “And you said some of what they made is functional?”

He confirmed it. I could work with that. No matter how the mites built, the age-old wisdom still stood strong: Where there were wires, there would be power. If I could find the power line, I might find a functioning charging station.

The charging station might be incomplete, shut off or never intended to work in the first place - but it had been similar enough to the real thing that it fooled Father into trying. I could be reasonably sure the power wires would likely look the same here. My headlights illuminated the room as I explored further behind the pedestal while he extracted his cell.

It was a rat nest of wires, all connecting to metal cubes and other structures.

One of the wires stood out to me. It was slightly larger and more unique than the others, with faint red markings. The difference was subtle, but I’d been an engineer all my life. This was the sort of thing I could spot.

“We’re wasting time. Come.” Father said from the side, already walking off.

I caught up behind him. “How are you searching for the charging stations?”

“Instinct. The buildings that hold items within look slightly different from others. It’s not a pattern I could describe in words. They’re all unique, but in slightly different ways from the other buildings.”

We returned to the alleyway outside the room. Further down it widened out into more of a marketplace, with large pillars supporting the expanding roof. Father continued to explore certain buildings over others. Each time spending a few minutes inside before venturing back out. A failure for each.

Knights had at least two power cells on their person, one actively used by their armor and the other as reserves. Once the armor ran out of power, it would be immovable. If he’d already run through his first power cell… “How long until your current charge ends?”

“Long enough.” He replied over comms, spending time in the bowels of the current building he’d been exploring.

“I know the armor can calculate exactly how much time until it shuts off.”

“It can.”

“So how much time at this current pace?”

“We’ll find another charging station soon enough. One will eventually work. You don’t need to worry about this.”

Did he think I was a child? I almost asked him again, but a tinge of fear gripped me and I decided to pick my battles. If Father didn’t want to tell me, he could keep his secrets.

Instead, I’d be doing my part then. Fake tents and odd buildings filled the vacant marketplace. Hundreds of wires littered the grounds and walls. It took some time to spot what I'd been looking for. A wire, leading off from somewhere deeper, up to a two story building further in the distance.

I walked in that direction, passing by dozens of houses on the way, climbing up a staircase to reach the second floor. Inside, my headlights toggled on.

And shining back in the darkness was another charging fountain.

I got Father’s attention quickly and reported to him what I’d found.

“How? You haven’t spent more than an hour awake down here. There’s no chance you know what to look for. If this is a joke, I will not be amused.” He answered back.

“How about you come here and find out then?”

There wasn’t a reply, but I saw him exit his current building and make his way over to where I waved.

Father climbed up the stairs and peered inside the building I’d selected. Then grunted. “Don’t hold your breath. The chance this works is slim.”

That building he’d left didn’t have any power wires leaving it, and I suspect it also had an incomplete charging station within. I’m almost sure I was correct about this. None of the other buildings had this type of wire entering it.

Father delved further into the room, unhooking the spent power cell. Then he inserted it into the charging port.

Nothing happened. Father scoffed.

“See? Now, give-” And then a halo illuminated the entry port, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Green glowing liquid, flecked with bright motes of gold swirling dust, surged into the cell. It filled just about three fourth of the way before the terminal dimmed and died out. It looked like this fountain was now spent.

The cell was withdrawn by Father’s careful hand and inspected quietly, almost hesitantly even.

"How exactly did you find this room?" He asked.

"I noticed a wire I suspected was a power line, and I followed it here."

Father shook his head. "The thicker wire with that red marking? That's been tried before. It hasn't proved to work any better or worse than a die toss. It looks like you drew the right roll by happenstance."

"You knew about the wiring?"

"Do you think us stupid? Or did you think the first naïve solution that comes to your mind would be something every relic knight before you had somehow missed?"

A flush of shame passed through me. I didn't answer back, instead looking down to the ground. It's odd how obvious it was in hindsight, once pointed out like so.

"Tame that insufferable pride, boy. It will only get you killed down here."

The refueled cell’s light remained strong, the liquid shining through the small observation glass of the cell. “However, I'll grant you credit for the attempt to help. We’ll have to make do with this.” He muttered.

Finding a concrete chair, he settled down into a more comfortable position. Carefully moving with each motion. Once again not moving his left arm an inch through the entire process. A wound he didn’t want to aggravate?

The power cell was opened up again, then tilted. Liquid poured in controlled amounts over the armor’s damaged sections. I knew what was going to happen next, I’d seen him do just that dozens of times back home. It still fascinated me, a testament to the heights technology had been taken to.

Once upon a time, there were people who understood how this worked.

It was imperceivable at first. Just faint metallic powder, starting to stream from the furrows that lined the armor. It looked like simple dust knocked free from the armor. Floating down to the earth without any other intention.

However, some unnatural current of air twisted this dust cloud around, making it flow like mist just slightly above the armor. Soon covering the armor, moving with purpose from that unseen wind. The destination became clear as the many dust rivers started converging on the spilled power cell liquid.

There’s never been a printer found that could create relic armor. Each armor had been discovered in some way, abandoned at some point by their previous users. Either in derelicts, taken as spoils of war, or traded from the Undersiders who in turn found it deep within the depths. Here was the reason these relics could survive eons, despite nobody knowing how to even print repair parts for them.

This was the very soul of the armor.

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