Submantle- The Alpha Key

by Patrick Lane

  “Upon return to the delve train the solution will activate and its files will become available to you for your perusal. I can only warn, guard it carefully. The contents of the files could undo the work of me and my brothers and sisters, crippling Rion’s Ring in the process.” She warned.

  “My reports indicate that above all you are an honorable man Niftmire Orediten. I am placing my trust in you with this gift, more than you may realize, and I hope in return you can place your trust in me.” She said, her blue eyes pleading in a way that could only be described as human.

  “Can I expect to see you at my machine room at Hellstamp? And soon? We are running out of time.”

  Nifty nodded numbly, accepting the gift, knowing he had some serious thinking to do before he could even begin to consider her proposal. He held his forearm away from his body as if she’d attached a salt adder about to bite. She could have killed me a dozen times by now. He though, feeling a little sheepish as he finally pulled down the jackets cuff.

  Not knowing what else to say he asked. “How the scrap does one get out of here?”

  “Simon will lead the way.” Ink replied simply.

  The Fluxbots nodded to Ink, its eyes flashed briefly and the purple disc rose out of the head to seal up its cockpit before it sped out of the chamber, forcing Nifty to sprint to catch up. His name is Simon?

  He turned back only once to see Ink still watching him. Her hair now lank and lifeless, lending her a defeated look as she watched him run, reminding him of nothing more than a lost child.

  Relieved, yet still cautious, he followed Simon through the maze that was the machine room, passing through several security checkpoints before reaching the machine room doors

  Without warning he was once again enveloped in the repair solution only this time with his head free. The solution raised him thirty feet in the air and with scant inches to spare funneled him through an air vent, sending him this way and that before plopping him out on the floor in the courtyard outside.

  Picking himself up with a shake he shivered for a moment, feeling rather violated. “You could have at least bought me dinner first.” He yelled back at the gate, for the first time realizing why that little topsider Newton used that phrase. He almost actually chuckled, feeling giddy with the stress of it all.

  He dodged around the frozen branders and trussing machines, managing to reach the boulevard without further incident and found Scotty flat on his back at the top of the gates, with the thermosilk bundle at his side and Ryder perched on his stomach.

  “Just resting my eyes,” the big man said, as Nifty woke him with a gentle shake, giving Nifty no small measure of relief

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The trip back over the gates with Scotty proved to be fairly uneventful, now that Nifty thought about it. But the explosion caused by the brander had shaken Scotty worse than Nifty had realized.

  After waking Scotty at the top of the gates, the senior Ranger had remained silent as Nifty took the lead. He’d offered no resistance to aid, whereas, at any other time, he would have objected vigorously at being coddled like a new recruit. He even allowed himself to be lowered on a pulley to the pushsnouts below.

  Outside the protective walls of the storage bay, they were once again engulfed in the suffocating heat of the Gears and forced once more to reinitiate their protective coverings. The heat shield did nothing to hide Scotty’s injuries and as the pushsnouts closed in to greet the men, Grunt quickly wheeled from Scotty to glare at Nifty, somehow blaming him for his rider’s condition.

  “Oh, stop that, will you! You should see the other guy,” Nifty said, trying to lighten the mood. Why do the Topsiders find that funny?

  The tactic worked, although not with the desired effect. Grunt started butting his armored snout into the gates in an effort to smash them down and get to the ones that did this to his friend. The thundering sound resonated throughout the Gears.

  Nifty winced with every blow, his head pounding in tandem with each impact. He really didn’t need any more turmoil right now, and he curtailed Grunt’s tantrum with a booming command. “Enough!” Grunt stopped in mid charge, and glared at Nifty again. ”Let’s just get back to the Eos. It was an explosion, and it couldn’t be avoided,” Nifty continued loudly. Grunt looked forlornly at Scotty who was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. Nifty took a deep breath to calm down and tried again in a gentler tone. “He will be alright. He just needs some rest in a well-bed.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Scotty growled, lifting his head from his chest. “I just need a little rest is all,” he said, echoing Nifty’s assessment. “Nifty’s right though. Back to the train, please, lads.”

  Snorting loudly, Grunt gave the gate one final gouge, before the grey-haired pushsnout sidled up to Scotty and, in an uncharacteristic move, dropped to his belly so Scotty could mount more easily.

  Feeling rather worn out himself, Nifty hurried to Snort’s side to secret away some of the hard earned airiron into his packs, and then picked up the body wrapped in thermosilk to load it on Buttar.

  The ram who, despite only having the briefest of naps and no doubt in large part due to the energizing effects of the power cud, managed to muster a vigorous reproach at the indignity of carrying a sack of death, as he called it. Nifty found himself barking a harsh ultimatum once again before the beast finally yielded.

  Once the bag was secured, Buttar suddenly spun around and glared at one of the storage bays with hackles bristling, and began striking his hoof aggressively, sending the noise echoing cross the station. Seconds later, Dart came into view, her wings flashing the orange of danger.

  Mans.

  “How many?” Nifty asked, holding out an arm for her to land, and searching the station behind her for movement

  More than mans you. Riding mans.

  “How many men exactly?”

  More mans than sticks on man’s hands. Men and…She paused for a moment, her eyes blinking rapidly as her mind struggled for a description. Little big wheel riding machine and pointy things animal, but little and quickly.

  “More than ten riders,” he summed up, sticks of course meaning fingers.

  He put the far-scope to his eye but a quick search revealed no movement, but that didn’t mean anything with the coverage provided by the buildings. “Scrap, that doesn’t sound like a shield patrol. They ride in squads of eight don’t they? Ascendants favor the mechanical transports. That’s risky stuff through a Gears though.” he said, looking to Scotty despite the fact Ink had already told him that they must be these greenback fellows. The senior Ranger just sat there in his saddle watching him and the duster numbly.

  “Perhaps we should just get going.” Dart took to the air while Nifty leaped onto Snort's back.

  It was less than four miles to the train, but traversing the platforms between cogs while attempting to stay out of sight would slow their journey significantly.

  “A shield patrol wouldn’t be here this quickly after a Key alert,” Nifty voiced as soon as they were on the move. “If these are those rovers they must have been on standby near a communications hub, or the dreadnaught followed us here somehow. Or it could just be a precautionary sweep to eliminate the Gears, just in case.”

  He questioned Dart further and learned that the patrol wasn’t between them and the delve-train, but true to Inks claims it had entered the Gears from one of the tunnels near the machine room and was travelling on the upper-most tier where a vessel the size of a dreadnaught might easily dock. “What do you think those pointy things animals are?” he asked Scotty.

  “Lance-hares,” Scotty answered shaking his head. “As you probably recall they’re quick as a whip, but non-confrontational. They’ll be using them for reconnaissance like we use the dusters. Dart, tell the rest of the ladies to be on the lookout for them. Our position will be reported the instant we’re spotted.”

  Nifty sighed, more tired than annoyed. His head was beginning to hurt with all
the variables. Between the dreadnaught, finding a dead body, battling rogue machines, and then finally encountering a Fluxbot and the Fluxforms, he’d had more than enough excitement for one day. Fortunately, unbelievably, they’d found the Key, completing their assignment in near record time – even though he now knew it was better than just dumb luck. But none of that would matter a whit if they were captured by greenbacks.

  He would have liked to return at a full gallop and, were it not for Scotty’s injuries, they most certainly would have, but Nifty still felt confident they could slip away. Motorized transports were fast, but not through a litter strewn Gears. The boars could definitely outpace them across the station, and even if the hares had their scent, it would most likely be too late. Or so he hoped. They still had to deal with the delve-train’s fin before they could leave, and that could take some time. With this in mind, Nifty reached into the front packs and pulled out the blot-spore canisters.

  “We shouldn’t be crossing the middle of the Gears – we’ll be spotted a mile off, even without the hares on our trail,” Scotty suggested while Nifty was loading three of the dusters with the blot-spore canisters. “We can circle through some of the storage buildings; it shouldn’t add too much time to the journey, but it would provide sufficient coverage.”

  Nifty nodded and shifted his knees to veer Snort to the right. “Just stay hidden,” he cautioned the dusters unnecessarily, “and try to stay ahead of them. Dart try to take it easy with the spraying: it has to last the whole way back to the train.”

  The dusters took off in different directions, and Nifty watched them for a moment, biting back a reprimand as he watched Dart begin spraying almost immediately. He really needed to send her for more training.

  Zigzagging through the endless maze of storage warehouses, repair bays, and other deserted buildings, Scotty’s suggested course proved to be sound, and they made good time. They were less than half way back to the train when Dart returned, landing on Snort’s saddle, and began warning them of the approaching whip-wasps, crank worms, and brindle-badgers.

  Nifty made a show of looking across the Gears before responding to Dart as she signaled frantically.

  “For the last time, there’re no crank worms or whip-wasps coming!” He repeated, in exasperation.

  Her wings flickering a vibrant red in protest.

  “You ladies do this every time we use the blot-spore,” Nifty asserted, tapping the canister on her belly. “We swapped this out, remember? It’s not kickback anymore, it’s blot-spore. It’s filled with scents from dozens of dangerous animals, and you’ve been spraying it around since you reported that someone was coming.”

  Yes, Blot-spore, I spray. I spray everywhere to smell like animal, make patrol go back, scared, wrong way, Dart signaled, her wings refusing to change color. But wasp coming, and something else, bad. I smell with these, she insisted, waving her delicate antennae.

  “You’re smelling what you sprayed!” Nifty argued.

  Yes, I spray. I spray. Need to go faster. Badger coming, she persisted, her choppy gestures indicating an increased impatience with Nifty’s thick-headedness.

  “Scotty?” he sighed, looking to the senior Ranger imploringly.

  Scotty gazed distractedly at the two of them for a moment before his eyes focused. The strain obvious on his face.

  “Just let it be, son,” he croaked. “As long as they’re doing their jobs, it’s best not to get yourself worked up. You know they can’t help it.”

  Nifty watched his partner hunched over in Grunt’s saddle and suddenly wished he’d left the big man alone. Behind the heat shield Scotty’s entire left side was encrusted with dried blood, the bleeding had stopped, but it only served to highlight the metal shards imbedded in his skin from brow to chin. Scotty was right: given their current situation, there was no point wasting energy arguing with the stubborn little creature.

  “Fine, fine, calm down,” Nifty finally said. “Thank you for the warning, Dart, we will keep a lookout and be extra careful. Fly back right away if you see anything dangerous.”

  A barely visible flashing, nearly a mile off, caught his eye, and fishing out his far-scope once again, he scanned along the buildings, spotting his quarry. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like Ryder. She was darting up and down, high above the ground, the locator flash on her chest pack blinking.

  He checked the ground below her to see what all the fuss was about, and grimaced. “Scrap!”

  “What?” asked Scotty in a tired voice, squinting at Nifty.

  “We’ve been spotted,” Nifty replied.

  Crouched on the ground below Ryder, oblivious to her flashing, sat a lance-hare. Aptly named, the knee-high, rabbit-like creature had a thick pelt of viciously sharp, silver-grey porcupine needles. Even its ears, cocked and swiveling in all directions, were sheathed in barbs that rippled dangerously with each breath.

  The creature leapt into motion, moving faster than Nifty thought was possible, its spikes lending it a fluid grace as it sped away to alert the rovers.

  “Full gallop,” Scotty ordered reluctantly, after he looped one of the saddle harnesses around his waist, favoring his ribs with a wince.

  All three mounts surged ahead, and despite not knowing the exact destination, the hyber-ram insisted on leading the way

  Dart had circled back and signaled. Good mans, sensible. Badger coming.

  The pushsnouts were in full gallop, and Grunt, desperate to get Scotty back for treatment and the promised well-bed, had Snort struggling to keep pace with him.

  Nifty scanned the cogs, and with the help of the flashing dusters, he quickly located the patrol. Pulling up on Snort to check on their pursuers, he let the rest of the party go up ahead onto the final ramps to the entry pools. They were closer than he’d thought.

  He tightened the image and his heart sank a little. Dressed in matching green livery and conical, full-faced helmets he saw them, greenbacks! Just as Ink had said. She also said that he was a Jax but he pushed that notion to the side for now.

  What he hadn’t expected was their unfamiliar three wheeled cycles with sleek sweeping handlebars. They were accompanied by…well, a rough looking Yolon, who, despite the heat, wore no helmet. His face bore a glowing blue tattoo around his eye and he rode a two legged reptilian beast from nightmares that was clawing its way alongside the party at a determined pace.

  The lance hare guiding the group suddenly skidded to a halt, then lunged off to the side, circling back behind the riders, cowering in their wake. With an angry chopping gesture the Yolon ignored the hare and he pointed at the ramps leading to the delve-train.

  Blaze it all! He knew it wouldn’t take an acumen engineer to figure out where they were headed but he’d hoped the blot-spore would have led them astray a little while longer. As he watched, he saw the man sniff at the acrid air before pointing to the transit platform at the top level of the gears. He tilted up with the far-scope to follow the man’s finger and cursed aloud.

  “Slagg it!” A dozen more cycles were looping through the wreckage along the top platform, heading straight toward the train. This was going to be tight.

  “Full sprint,” he ordered, causing Snort to lung forward with that deceptive speed of his. He tucked the scope away as the boar bolted up the final ramp.

  “We don’t have time for the rudder – start prepping her for departure,” Nifty instructed leaping from Snorts back.

  Surprisingly, the senior ranger didn’t argue, and dutifully boarded the train, leaving Nifty to cover their retreat.

  The limpet mine had done some serious damage to the engine, and a large fragment had lodged itself between the rudder and the train’s stubby fin. The hour-long ride, up through the mantle, with no slip-shield had only served to worsen the condition and it was all but welded into the crack. He doubted the train’s repair solutions had even begun to make a dent in this mess.

  “In the train,” Nifty said to the pushsnouts guarding the landing platform, and after searc
hing around the station, he called out, “Dusters, attend.”

  All six dusters shimmered, materializing around the cargo door, bright red, signaling, patrol down there. Wheel ones soon here.

  “Double dross! Inside – we need to push off now!” Nifty ordered.

  A whistling sound was the only warning Nifty received and almost without thought he ducked as a small object sailed past where his head had been and ricocheted off the train’s hull. He felt the pressure of released energy as the object detonate its charge and Nifty turned to face its origin.

  Armed men closed in around the Eos and began firing small discs from long, thin launchers slung between the bars of their cycles. The first disc was quickly joined by others and Nifty soon found himself engaging in an intricate dance in order to deflect each salvo. Eventually he was forced to engage his shatter bat’s shield. The weapon snapped out two a guard panels, each one extending half a foot to either side allowing Nifty to deflect each volley from the weapons without too much fuss.