12 Miles Below

Elderly Odin could easily die from a strike that would only annoy a younger Odin. Roark had been skilled enough to disable the old Odin commander without killing him, but it still required him and his team to methodically beat down all of Yill's command staff, so that he could precisely incapacitate Yill himself without distractions that would risk the old raven's life.

It had been a mess. Blood and feathers lay just about everywhere inside the command center, along with a few wounded of his own soldiers tending to their broken bones. But they'd pulled it off without anyone outside the tower noticing.

“The success chance of this is near zero.” Yill spoke, nets keeping the old commander tied down. “You are a fool Roark, and you’ve been sent here for nothing.”

“I was sent here to serve my people, same as you were.” Roark's beak clicked, answering without much emotion. He didn’t hate Yill, rather the contrary. But both Odin here knew that Roark was the council’s right hand wing, sent to balance out any potential insurgency. That was the deal struck between the Víkingr and the council for this outpost to remain free as Septimus needed it to.

And when the time came, no amount of friendship or respect between him and his commander would prevent him from following through on his orders.

The Gungnir were specifically trained to fight other Odin, they knew the art of bone-snapping with all thirteen different weapons their ranks used. But Hersir were Hersir, and of all the Hersir active in Odin lands, the deadlanders were known to be the most insane of all. They’d fought in this tower like feral animals, and continued to fight long past the point they should have simply surrendered. Most were unconscious now, tightly bound near their commander.

Yill hadn’t been a fool. The moment Roark had returned after a private conference with the high council, the commander seemed to just know the time had come, and ordered his soldiers to attack before Roark could utter the same order. Yill even had a team dispatched to the power cells already, caught mid-attempt to smuggle them out of Roark’s hands in advance.

But deadland soldiers were trained to handle explosives and heavy machinery. They were military specialized against the infestation. Gungnir were military specialized in beating down rogue Odin. Even with a surprise attack, the result was never in doubt.

“How long do we have?” Roark asked his second in command.

Igret followed behind him into the command center, her wings slightly bloodied from the prior fight. She was among the most dedicated Odin he knew, ever straight and focused on her task.

“Estimate within the hour the camp will have mutinied in the human's favor.” She said, her wing slightly opened on her right, still hurt. She made no show of weakness. “The translator hasn’t returned to us yet, however no alarms have been sent out.”

“We’ll consider him a lost asset. Is this all we could collect that are loyal?”

Igret tapped her beak on the ground in affirmative. “The outside ring is composed of the chaft. They’ve only been recently assigned to the deadlands and haven’t gone native yet, we’ve promised them early reassignment out after all this is complete. Only a few Gungnir are not present, out on mission.”

“How many in total?”

“Roughly two hundred and fifty, sir.”

“You’ll be swept aside by sheer numbers once the soldiers here realize.” Yill said from where he’d been thrown. His words were slurred, difficult to understand given most of his body was bound and wrapped up in netting.

Roark hopped nearby, beak looking down on his old commander. He took a moment to study his elder. “I wasn’t simply biding my time, commander, assuming nothing would ever happen. Or thinking a few elite soldiers who knew how to fight wing to wing would be enough in case of rebellion here. No, I studied. I planned. We are prepared to hold you off for long enough for reinforcements arrive.”

“I doubt any plan could have factored in an ancient in the center of things.” Yill coughed out, a dark chuckle came out, vibrating his feathers. "You have nothing that could harm the human."

Roark said nothing to that. The ex-commander was correct. The human was the one thing he hadn’t planned or prepared for. His Gungnir could hold off most of the outpost indefinitely, so long as they followed the procedures and were careful with what zones to hold and what to give up on. But with the human, holding onto the command center was meaningless.

“You are, unfortunately, correct. Force multipliers no longer matter anymore, the living Ancient would batter through any amount of resistance.” All the prepared sabotage plans, all the surgical cuts in supply lines and organizational structures would break the outpost’s ability to retake the command center in the long run. But the war against a human wouldn’t last hours, it would be over in minutes.

Roark turned to the two power cells lightly glowing in the side of the room. Brought here to protect them from any early attempt to smuggle them out. A good precaution, since his gungnir had caught Yill’s squad of twenty attempting just that. The race for control of those cells had been critical, and Roark had won it.

He considered the two national treasures one last time, but still could not come up with any situation where the human didn’t win and take these for himself. Detonating them would be the last possible resort, but the human's armor would detect power cells going supercritical far before they could maneuver them into him. Ɍ

“Sir?” Igret asked.

“We have no hope of holding these cells out of his hands. Drain them into the ground far away, and bury it all with dirt. I’ll fly to the nearest fountain personally to see if I can disable it. Send a team to do the same with the current cell in use, this entire outpost can be considered fallen to the enemy as of now.”

Egret barked out orders, drafting a team on the spot to handle the power cells, and one to accompany him on his flight to the nearest mite fountain. He left her to it, contemplating the message and orders he’d received from the high council.

The era of the Icon was threatened beyond anything the Odin could have prepared for. But there was a possible way to weave through it all.

Outside the human had finished his feast, now speaking with the translator some more. That helmet constantly turning to look up at the command center. Roark couldn’t tell if the human had already raised suspicions, but his instincts told him he had to move faster.

The squads were assembled. Both outside and within the center. If they had some greyroamers here, they might have had better chances against the human. Those giants were the only ones strong enough to carry the human blades in their jaws. Research and development had never been able to recreate the ancient weapons in a small enough form factor for his soldiers to carry. How they worked remained a mystery to even the Icon.

Roark turned to the Odin gathered before him. It was time. “Gungir! Today we learned the infestation can be reasoned with and hasn’t been active against the Odin this entire time. This forsaken outpost far removed from the light of civilization never had a reason to exist in the first place. Our home has come under attack by the machines, and they’ve proved themselves far above her power. Machines have all withdrawn from our sights, the council expect a massive wave to appear any moment, likely to hunt down the human here. They have offered strict terms: Join them in eliminating the human, or join the human in death.”

The Gungnir here remained silent, watching their leader give his final speech. They all knew the kind of wind that was under their wings.

“The high council has finally left deliberations and ordered that the human must be killed so that the Odin prove themselves outside their conflict. Víkingr Reman attempted a coup and was deposed by the combined might of the Gungnir and Víkingr Verrian who remained loyal. Septimus was already sent here with an army before the revolt, which side he will fall under remains speculation. The council will not take a chance on his loyalty. We've been called to arms early. And so today, we kill a myth. Today we prove that the Gungnir are worthy of our title. We have hours to complete the task, but we will not fail, and we will not falter. Dismissed!”

The command center instantly went into a frenzy of activity. All except for the old commander, coughing on the side of the room. He came closer, if only out of respect to hear his old commander’s parting barbs.

"Are you so willing to turn against the very race that elevated our civilization?" Yill asked weakly. "Have you no shame?"

"An appeal to sentimentality?" Roark clicked his beak. "I expected better from you Yill. If the machines label the Odin as an enemy threat, we condemn not only ourselves and the Icon, but all future Odin after. All our decedents. Any tribe far beyond our lands. All for the sin of one city that balked at the idea of killing a single human. The council understands this."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Yill gave a dark chuckle. "And you don't trust the deadlanders here with that argument? What faith you have."

"Your outpost is filled with fanatics who fight the infestation. They will be short sighted and believe the infestation to be a greater danger than the machines beyond."

"We are more capable against the machines than you believe." Yill coughed out. "We can defeat the machines, they can be beaten. What we can't do, is defeat the Ancient. He’s survived the machines, survived the infestation, he’ll survive your little coup here and easily crush whatever meager resistance you could bring out. You may as well have been ordered to stand and die here.”

“Then we die here.” Roark said, beak staring him down. “For. Our. People.” He turned to Igret, eyes hard, feathers ready for battle. “As soon as the human realizes he’s being stalled, send an order to the generator team. Drain the active power cell, cut off all power and set this outpost on fire.”

“So.” Keith said, head turned to the command center. “Your militia-priest-warrior rank - which is apparently not the same as your normal military rank - got called in four years ago in the same convoy you came, with one of them replacing the old second-in-command?”

Rashant rubbed his beak on the powerwire in acknowledgement. “Yes, that is correct. If I might ask, why are you so focused on the Gungir and Hersir definitions?”

He'd been oddly focused on the tower for the past few minutes now, helmet pointed in that direction as if taking in the details.

A few Odin had spotted that the human was looking their way, but other than stopping for a brief second to stare back, they continued to scramble at full speed.

“The commander of your outpost here, Yill you said his name was? Is he in the military faction or the warrior-priest faction?” Keith asked.

“Hersir Yill? He has been in command of the deadlands for a decade now. I believe he was one of the soldiers sent here as punishment, and rose the ranks instead. He is very old now.” It was difficult for Rashant to add the extra subdivision designation, since that part was indicated through body motions in the head. But the human seemed to understand well enough.

“Punishment?” The giant raised a hand in front of Rashant before he could answer. “No, no, let me guess. This far out from civilization, and fighting against Bob, serving here is probably seen as a threat to keep soldiers in line. ‘Follow orders or get reassigned to the wall’ How close am I?”

“You are… well, correct. Why do you ask?”

“I’ll get to that in a moment.” The giant said. “What was the official reason the second-in command had to be replaced? The commander here’s been on watch for a decade now, so I’m assuming the second in command was equally doing just fine here.”

“Early retirement, if I remember right.”

“Uh huh.” Keith said, the voice still passive and flat. “You never thought it strange that a replacement for the second in command also came with a small platoon of warrior-priests completely loyal to him?”

Given the gungnir were now running all across the command center tower, Rashant was now having those doubt. “At the time, I did not consider it? Hersir Roark was an ex-gungnir, and those who flew with him here came to support him, likely as old friends and comrades from their past. Should I… erm, should I fly over there to see if I might confirm some of this?”

The human’s helmet finally turned away from the tower to stare him down. He could hear the whirling gears deep within that armor, still well powered and coiled like a snake. “Well, if you’re asking my opinion about this, I would tell you that’d be a terrible idea.”

He felt his talons nervously curl and uncurl on the power line. He didn’t like this at all. There was something in the air. “... and why would that be a terrible idea?”

The human was touching the bottom of his helmet with his hands, as if looking for some hidden button with his thumb. “Because if I’m not mistaken, I think your current commander just got deposed in a four year scheme triggered early. And if you fly up there, they’ll net you up and toss you in with the other prisoners they have up there.”

Rashant gave a terrified squawk. “Prisoners? What?”

The human tilted his head, shoulders lifting up and down in slow motion. “There’s been a fight up there. No deaths that I could see, but ten birds are tied up. Can’t tell who’s who.”

The human could see through walls? No, not the human. His armor likely had sensors or something that let him get a better picture. Perhaps he had a drone of his own flying further off, sending him video footage? Was human armor really capable of seeing through even walls?

The other deadland soldiers seemed to pick up that the human was looking up to the command tower often. Many had started to look upwards and notice only the gungnir scrambling around like an overturned ant colony up there. Questions were starting to float around.

Insane to think about. The Gungnir were dedicated to law and order. They’re the last to want to rebel against order. This was insane. He ruffled his feathers, which the rest of the deadland soldiers noticed, picking up on his fear. Sounds of chatter stopped. He nervously waved them off, turning back to the quiet human beside him.

There was only one question he really had: “But, why would they want to capture me for? I am only a translator, I have no military skills or significance to any of this.”

Keith hummed, which sounded like a deep vibration to everyone around him. His helmet scanned the other soldiers nearby. “Folks, raise your beaks if any of you can understand me.”

The Deadland soldiers around him continued to chatter and gossip among themselves, still trying to guess what the discussion between the translator and the human was about. They were starting to question what was going on in the tower. Rumors were already spreading out, and a few were organizing to check in on things.

None realized Keith had asked a question for them specifically.

“See? Out of everyone in this outpost, looks like you’re the only one I can talk to. And I’d bet if there was a second backup translator somewhere, you’re mysteriously not going to find them anywhere now. So if you flew back up there, you’d be netted down and kept in their backpocket. That way they’ve got the additional option to negotiate with me, and nobody else can.”

The systematic and pragmatic logic the human gave filled Rashant with more and more dread. But the human hadn’t even finished speaking. “Trying to be covert tells the rest of the picture. Means they had no choice but to be sneaky about all this. And the only reason they’d need to be sneaky is that there’s a faction more powerful than them in this outpost right now that would object to the decade-long commander being deposed.” The human’s hand lifted once more, a finger uncurled and tapped the helmet. “And with the commander as the target, that means he’s not an ally to them and could mess up their coup attempt, otherwise they'd have just asked him to join them from the start. So what faction is larger than your police-priest numbers, that are loyal to your commander?”

Rashant straightened up and looked around him at all the gathered deadlanders. “I see what you mean. You are more astute in politics than I am.”

“This isn’t the most convoluted political scheme I’ve seen before. It’s fairly straightforward.” Keith said. “I don’t see any double betrayals, splinter factions, power struggles or proxy agents preparing anything in the background. No threats being given in a back alley, or beating up others behind everyone’s backs. Not even a single opportunist either. No one’s taking personal vendettas out while there’s distractions everywhere. It’s well organized, and everyone’s lockstep behind your friend Roark. Easy to work with.”

The information seemed to boggle his mind. “Easy to work with? What kind of world do you come from?”

“Humans are dramatic in nature.” The human did a slow motion with his shoulders again, both moving at the same time, hands lifting up to follow. “You get used to it.”

Rashant didn’t think he could get used to it. This currently felt like he was living three lifetimes worth of events in under three hours so far. First the human shows up, then the infestation turns out to be sentient, machines are active again and now there was a coup attempt on the hersir-commander himself. Right under the nose of the deadlanders?

“Are you going to open fire on them right now, or cut the tower down? What do... What do you think we should do?”

“Nothing. We do nothing.” Keith said, two hands slapping each other up and down in one heavy ring. “I know where the power cells are. The first thing they did was make sure those cells were in the center of their controlled space, that's what I'd do. Probably they're debating how to take me out of the picture, and they’ll soon realize they got nothing. So they'll go for second best, asset denial. They'll go dump and hide the cells somewhere outside of the outpost. Which is exactly the best time for me to go and do a little stealing.”

Rashant considered it from the gungnir’s point of view. The ancient human was a seven foot tall titan that loomed far above any Odin. A mechanical tank piloted by an experienced and ancient warrior, prepared for war and already deep within their fortified walls.

Keith outclassed any arms or tactic the gungnir could do to keep him away from the power cells, and they knew it.

Of course they’d eventually decide to dump out the power cells. “And so... You’re simply waiting for them to move?”

“Yep.” He answered. “I could storm up that tower, but there's hundreds of nests and buildings in the stairwell up there, and all over the tower sides too. Just getting my hand inside there means half the outpost is ripped apart. Better to wait for them to bring the cells out instead. I’d continue eating a few more meals, but I suspect they’re going to start anytime now. There is one last thing I do need to confirm: What side are you on Rashant?”

He wasn’t a nestling barely learning how to fly. Rashant immediately knew he’d rather put his shinies on the massive ancient weapon of war that stood next to him rather than any other side.

“What should I do?” He asked.

“That’s the spirit.” The human said. “I want you to let the deadland soldiers know the situation. And that I’ll be moving to secure the power cells that had been promised. The rest will get taken care of.”

“If I say that, the deadland soldiers might become… erm, violent.”

“That’s what I’m hoping happens.” Keith said. “Easy way to tell if the soldiers here are going to work with me in the future, or pick to follow authority." Keith said, folding his hands together and stretching the fingers against each other. The plate clicked slightly, but otherwise held firm. "And speaking of events, looks like our chat time is over.”

Rashant ruffled his feathers one last time, beak nervously looking up at the tower. The deadlands soldiers had already started to notice most were being driven away, told only gungnir were being allowed anywhere near the control center.

They all knew something was off about all this. And when the human drew out his weapon, it solidified it.

Rashant opened his beak, and spoke the words to the soldiers.

Absolute chaos descended not even an instant after.