“What does this all mean?” Anaya said. She had been listening from the doorway. “Berat Corporation. That’s Berat-Kor, right? How are the gods involved here?”
“They’re not a god. They’re a company. A group of humans,” Alex said. “One that were creating machina and tapping aether for power it sounds like. I don't think it's too much of a logical leap to assume those protestors were right.”
“It’s not even a leap. Look at this one, a year later.” Casey had opened a second memo. “All Berat Corporation employees travelling to the secure facilities are to report to their nearest assembly station by noon tomorrow. Failure to appear will be treated as a refusal of the companies offer of protection. A reminder that anti-aether militias are to be avoided for your own safety, particularly if you have visible augmentation. Kiran Orix, Olga Korax and their supporters are not to be trusted. Use of controlled machina is permitted for the protection of Berat property or staff, from either militia or feral machina. Berat Corporation would like to remind staff the company accepts no liability for the damaged environments known colloquially as the aether-lands, and that their locations near aether generators or machina production plants are entirely coincidental.”
“I’m not sure I follow all of this, but it sounds like this is scripture from Berat-Kor themselves,” Anaya said, a look of confusion across her face.”
“In a way, yeah.”
“And it’s saying that they were…making, machina? And spreading the aether?”
“It would look that way.” Casey stood up, stretching her back as she did. Stooping over the monitor was uncomfortable. “Sounds like they tried to pull all their employees out to somewhere else. The employees with augmentations. Machina parts. You get what I’m saying.”
Anaya had gone white. Her people had always held that Berat-Kor had done nothing wrong, struck down by heretics under false pretences. Here though, were their words, scripture never before seen by any other, admitting they had a hand at least in destroying the old world. Everything her people held sacred, was wrong.
“My ancestors…” she managed to mutter. It all lined up. Anaya didn’t know how to process her worldview changing so rapidly. “I need to sit down.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Return
Whilst Anaya sat on the floor of the reception, pondering the rewritten nature of her reality, the other knights got to work. The train within the work area was carved up, the panels sliced into neat squares that could be reused later. They had stacked the salvaged parts in the bed of the truck. Neither Alex of Casey had any mechanical knowledge, but they had at least been able to figure out the handbrake on the relic.
At one end of the room was a ramp, one that spiralled upwards. The party had agreed that it likely led to the surface and that the truck, even without its engine, would make a good replacement for the destroyed wagons. Their luck was turning, between the two machina and the train they had more useful scrap than they had expected. Erwin would be pleased with their haul, the stack of thick rail especially. It was hard to imagine finding better bones to build their airship from.
“This should be the last of it,” Alex said, pulling free the last panel from the train with a clunk. He carried it over to the truck, tossing it onto the pile, the metal clattering as it came to rest. “She alright?” he said, nodding towards the reception.
“Who knows? I'm not a religious person but I imagine finding out it's a bunch of rubbish right from the mouth of your god is pretty world-shattering,” Casey said. She was leaning against the side of the truck and chewing on one of the dried vegetable sticks that served as field rations. “Just leave her be for now. At least she isn’t trying to kill us at the moment, which is a nice change.”
“That muckgrinder is following her like a dog. It’s weird to see one acting like that, instead of just hissing and trying to bite.”
“I sounded like from that memo that Berat could control machina somehow. Or at least try to. Could be that her people have kept that ability, or some version of it anyway.” Casey took another bite of her ration, her veil flipped up over her head. “It’s probably something to do with the eyes. If Berat employees were giving themselves implants, augments, whatever they called them, before the aether consumed everything, there must have been a reason.”
“To help control machina. Makes sense, I suppose. Kind of.” Alex took position next to Casey, resting his weight against the side of the truck. “Something to ask Horton about, I suppose. What are we going to do with her?”
“No idea. Take her back to the Towers I guess. If we’re serious about trying to broker a peace, we kind of have to let her go.”
“It’ll give away our plan.”
“What are they going to do? Tell us not to build an airship? All we need now is the body of one of those flying machina in the mountains. That’s probably the easiest part, we can just strap it to the top of this truck now we have it and let the froggletts figure it out.”
Alex removed his helmet, placing it on the edge of the truck's bed. He swung his backpack around and reached inside, pulling out a ration stick. Watching Casey had made him hungry. Alex took a bite, the plant tough and chewy, but with an almost parsnip like flavour.
Field rations. Food Skills- Health up small. Stamina up small.
“Once you’ve finished that we should get moving.” Casey lifted her weight from the truck and brought her veil back down with a swish. “Simian is going to be wondering where we are.”
***
The truck rounded the corner, Casey and Alex pushing from behind whilst Cassius turned the wheel to steer it. Anaya was sat on the back, the muckgrinder sitting across her lap. She hadn’t said a thing since they had left the Berat facility, lost in her thoughts.
“The wagons should be just around here,” Alex said as he pushed the truck forward. Even with his enhanced strength, the combined weight of the truck, scrap and passengers felt heavy to him.
“Stop!” Cassius shouted. He didn’t wait for the truck to stop moving, diving out of the doorway and sprinting across the overgrown road. His haste attracted the attention of the others, Casey and Alex running to the front of the truck so see what had caught their friend’s attention.
Standing between the wagons was a man, a towering wall of rippling muscle. He was wearing the simple armour of the chosen, machina scraps threaded onto cord and loosely draped over him. In one hand he carried a huge stone club, more machina plating screwed into it. In the other he had Simian by the next, holding the man aloft. Simian wasn't moving, his body limp and lifeless.
“Heretics!” the Chosen warrior cried out. “I wondered where you had gotten to. You friend wouldn’t tell me, much to his misfortune.” The warrior tossed Simian’s body to the ground with a sickening thump. “If he had held out a few moments more he might have lived long enough to see you again. A shame.”
“Scrone,” Anaya said, stepping down from the truck.
“Ah, Anaya, Olgan’s brat. Thank you for leaving me that sigil. When my trap failed in the swamplands it inspired to me try again.” Scrone shifted his hand on his club. “I’m surprised to see you helping the heretics.”
“Scone, the things I’ve learnt, the things I’ve seen. Below here, in the tunnels, there’s a temple. One that has scripture from Berat-Kor themselves. It’s all a lie Scrone, the things these…heretics,” the word seemed to stick in her throat, “say, it’s true. All of it.”
“Sounds like they’ve gotten to you, filled your head full of lies.”
“I was there Scrone, I saw the scriptures with my own eyes. The temple recognised me as one of the Chosen and opened itself to me. It’s real. Our history is a lie, our people minions for the thing that did this to our world.” Anaya gestured around herself with her spear. “This is our legacy. This destruction. This…desolation.”
“I was hoping you would help me deal with these heretics, Anaya. It’s a shame to see you become-”
Scrone stopped mid-sentence, the w
ind knocked from his lungs. His free hand fell to his chest, gripping the spearhead that had slammed into it. Blood trickled from the wound, splashing onto the carpet of green at Scrone’s feet. He took a staggered step backwards, and pulled the spear free, skin and muscle coming away with it. Scrone stared at it in disbelief, then fell forwards, his heavy body slamming against the ground.
Anaya recalled the spear tip, the cable whirring loudly as it retracted. She shook the weapon twice, bloody splattering off it.
“He would never have listened. He didn’t want to. All he could see was vengeance,” Anaya said. “This will be the outcome if you try and tell my people the truth. Some will believe it, some won't. There will be bloodshed. I'll come with you on your journey. You'll need my help.”
Alex nodded. He wasn’t going to turn down the help. He stepped forward, crouching at Simians body. There were dark bruises around his neck. He had been dead before he hit the ground, the life crushed out of him. “We need to bury him. We can’t just leave him out here. We owe him that much.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that. He might have been a pain, and a robber, but he was still a knight. He deserves that,” Cassius said.
“We must bury Scrone as well. I killed him because it was necessary, not because I wanted to. He deserves to be laid to rest,” Anaya said.
“We’ll bury them both. There’s been enough killing over this. Those memos mentioned fighting back then, making this a war thousands of years in the making. It has to end,” Alex said. He saw a gleam on the ground, bending down to pick it up.
Artificer’s Aether Rile. Damage rating eight. Aether edge Ten per cent. Augment slots two- Augment installed Farstriker augment rank one. Grants one rank in the farstriker skill.
“His rifle,” Casey said. “We should hang onto it. Simian would want us to. It was his whole business model after all.”
“It does feel right,” Cassius said.
***
They buried Simian and Scrone at the base of one of the ruined skyscrapers, placing them at opposite sides of the building. Burying them near each other didn’t feel right. It had been a sombre affair, conducted in stilted silence, the only sound the noise of Anaya’s pet machina digging away at the earth. The creature had been more than happy to receive the instruction dig, understanding Anaya’s command instinctively.
With the grim task finished, the caravan began its journey home. The truck had been tied to the rear of the caravan, Alex taking the task of turning the wheel to follow the path of the machina pulled wagons. Anaya had taken to sitting on the bed amongst the scrap pile. Alex hardly blamed her, despite learning the truth it would take a long time for her old prejudices to fall away.
The swamps were buffeted by the aether to the north and south, forcing them to move through the muck a second time. It was slower going, the heavy truck struggling in the dirt. Their defeat of the snapjaw was still fresh in the minds of the swamp’s denizens, leaving the party to trudge through the mire without incident.
The swung northeast once they left the swamplands, navigating through the scorched wastelands of the forest and cutting across towards the mountains. There was one more thing they needed to collect before they could head home. It was the main reason why Simian had come along, his expertise useful in their attempt to reclaim the most vital part of the plan. Now he would never see it, a lone angry man robbing Simian of life over a mistake older than recorded time.
***
Emilia swore as she dropped into her office, bouncing off the table and bruising her knee. A bullet flew through the closing portal, embedding itself in the door as it sailed over her head. Her sanctum had been breached, Austin and a collection of his goons waiting for her when she emerged from her portal. The smug look on his face had been unbearable like a cat playing with its prey.
“How? How did he know?”
“Oh, Emilia dear, you’re thinking so limited. Not just about our purpose here, but about yourself.”
Emilia spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. “Hiding, as usual, Austin. Skulking about in the shadows?”
“You’re the one that’s been skulking about, Emilia. Working with these natives behind our back. And with Horton, no less! Trusting him is foolish, you know? I’m hardly surprised to see he’s carved out a little fiefdom of his own.”
Emilia turned frantically. The voice seemed to be all around here, moving constantly about the room.
“I always wondered what it was you were up to. Vanishing for long periods as you did. It answers so many questions I had. Like principally, what exactly could interfere with the transfer process? And low and behold, I find you conspiring with the man who invented it. If Horton had forewarning of our plans, well he certainly could have intervened. I don’t think trapping us here was part of the plan though, was it?”
“Someone has to stop you. The things here, they’re dangerous. We already know aether is leaking into Earth, and you want to go poking around? What if you make it worse? What if you open that floodgate and turn our world into another aether lands?”
The shadows in the room shifted, coalescing into a stretched blob in the corner of the room. The small shadow creature had two tiny arms that gesticulated as it spoke. “And what if we solve world hunger? Offer clean safe power? There is no advancement without risk.”
“Some risks are too far.”
“I disagree. You’re a fine one to talk. I gather you’re trying to build your own little army in this…” the shadow creature twisted around like it was looking at the room, “place. Do the people here know you’re slowly grasping the reins of power? You’re a hypocrite, Emilia.”
“I’m doing what has to be done to protect these people from you, and Earth along with them. If I have to go about it this way, so be it. I’m willing to pay the price when the time comes.”
“Well, you're trapped with them now, aren't you? I believe that your portal ability is somewhat restrictive and that you can only return to this rather plush chamber you've built for yourself. One where you'll find corporate forces waiting for you. When we take that settlement, and we will, you’ll pay the price for your treachery.”
“Talk about advancement all you want, but you just want to play at empire-building.” Emilia took a step towards the shadow. “Is this how you know? This little shadow gremlin you've got here.”
“As I said, you're not thinking broadly enough with your powers. A tiny mote of my power split off into your shadow when you were last here for a board visit. My own eyes and ears, if you will.”
Emilia had heard enough. She lashed out with her leg, stomping her heel down onto the shadow creature. It squealed in pain, a hideous wail that shifted in pitch as Emilia struck again and again. The creature exploded into a cloud of black motes; its form disrupted Emilia’s aggression.
“Oh, shut the hell up,” she said through panted breaths.
***
Olgan looked at the scout’s report. It was distressing reading. The rest of the clans and tribes had been wiped out, only the Cavecrawlers and Skyrunners surviving. The Developer assault on the caves had ended poorly, their warriors picked off one by one within the dark of the caverns by the Cavecrawlers’ machina.
The enemy hadn’t bothered trying to deal with the Skyrunners. It made sense, the clan was too scattered as they watched for retaliation from the south and the Developers likely didn’t consider a single clan a threat to them. Olgan realised they didn't consider any clan a threat, not in the weakened state they were now. They would learn otherwise.
“Things are in place, war leader. I’ve asked my best scouts to head towards the Developer lands,” Igni said. “The Skyrunners are patrolling the skies overhead to watch for follow up attacks. We won’t be taken off guard again.”
“And the binding stones?”
“The incomplete stones are still in the villages that were building them, whilst the completed stones have been moved. I’ve even had a report that one of the stones on the outer edge of our terr
itory has been removed.”
“That makes sense,” Eric said. He had stuck around after escaping atop the insectoid machina. Going back to the city and facing the board didn't stick him as a particularly good idea. “They’re as eager to keep the passage between here and the southern settlement as you are. I wanted to work with you, they don't care how it's done. Losing a bit of this region to keep a route to another major settlement open is a trade they will take.”
“How defended is this…city?” Olgan said.
“Not very. Only the centre is populated, the outskirts are filled with machina. It’s why the people there were so happy to accept company control. If you’re fighting for your lives constantly and someone offers you a helping hand, you take it, without looking at the price you pay.”
“You think you can get some of our warriors in without being noticed?” Igni said. She could tell what Olgan was thinking.
“Maybe. But then what?”
“Then,” Olgan said, “we retaliate.”
***
Erwin scratched his head. He didn’t know quite what to make of the pile of metal before him. He hadn’t expected scrap metal of this quality and consistency. A treasure trove of flat panels and thick strong steel rails delivered to his doorstep. It was perfect. The new improved Star of Orrix would have a strong frame and a reasonably tough skin.
“You did a damn good job,” Erwin said, placing his hand upon the skull looming from the pile. The party had found one of the flying machina part eaten, its spine exposed to the elements. They had been able to extract it, along with the attached mechanical organs in the field. The froggletts were pleased with it, which told Erwin they had all the required parts to convert it to an engine.
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