12 Miles Below

Automatons are more like wild animals. Father’s voice drifted into my mind. Even weakened as it was, those legs moved too fast. Too fast for a human like me to react to. I felt silly, lifting up a tiny occult knife against the towering monster.

That last violet eye locked onto my own. Every other eye had been shot. Still, that monster’s mechanical ability alone meant there wouldn’t be a win coming from pitting my combat skills against it. If I was going to come out of this alive, I had to figure out a plan that sidestepped the spider’s advantages.

In short, there’s no winning this by being better. I needed to be smarter. It moved so much faster than I could be. Only another machine could match that speed.

Only another machine…

“Journey, can you fight this thing?” I asked.

“Movement requirements would exceed user safety limits. Combat protocol stands an unlikely chance of matching the target enemy and will cause injury to the user. Option not recommended.”

“Is my current chance better than ‘unlikely’?”

“At user’s currently displayed close quarters combat skills, estimate two percent chance of success. Combat program estimated at thirty-four percent chance of success.”

Not great. There had to be ways to improve that. But how?

Could I abuse its sight? No, it would turn too quickly. The thing was a fast little scrapshit. There was no way I could get into the blind spots. Not with it focusing solely on me, even if it only had one eye.

If I can’t move into a blind spot, could I create one? A cloud of dust right in that eye would obscure me, giving me the chance. “Journey, can you obscure that thing’s vision with your spirit?”

“Option possible. Target would need to remain within three feet of the central nano swarm to maintain coherence.”

I’ll put that idea down as a maybe. I’d need to stay real close to do much.

"Can Winterscar also trigger the combat program?" If both Journey and Winterscar worked together, that might give a better chance at victory.

"Option not recommended.” Winterscar immediately answered. “Combat armor emergency life support would need to be canceled to allow full range of motion. Immediate first aid required.”

That option was off the table. Winterscar was barely keeping Father stabilized. He'd die if the armor stopped its efforts.

There was something glinting on the side of the automaton’s leg. The crusader long-sword remained embedded, turned off, last wielded by Father in his last strike. He must have let go of the weapon.

The sword had cut deeply, but not deeply enough to affect operation. Could I get those extra inches with a gunshot? No, the sword wouldn’t turn on unless it detected a hand gripping it out of a built-in safety. These weapons would only remain active without a wielder for a few seconds being let go of, long enough for a thrown weapon maneuver and nothing more. No bullet shot would do anything to turn it back on. Gods, my head was going in strange directions now.

Think. What else could I use?

There was a large gash in the body where Father’s attack had wounded it. Black oil was leaking out. Was that flammable? A bullet shot might cause a spark.

I drew up my empty pistol on reflex and the spider instantly took to the defensive. Its limbs drew in to protect itself, the advance slowed. Far more cautious now.

All automatons have patterns, only not always obvious. Remember this if you ever get caught.

In a flash of insight, I recognized the pattern. This defensive fixation. The spider reacted the same way the first time we’d met when I brought out my pistol. It always played as safe as it could. Every step of the way, it was risk-averse to any physical damage. Greedy outside of a fight, and skittish inside one.

Against something it had seen before, it would remember and assume the proper defense against it. But when pitted against something it hadn’t, it would maximize its defense just in case.

It had already seen everything we could throw at it. Rifles, pistols, knives, even explosives. There wasn’t anything new I could spook it wi - wait. It had reacted to the pistol - the unloaded and harmless pistol.

There’s always a weakness to leverage, Keith.

I didn’t need a new weapon - I only needed it to think I had a new weapon.

The plan ironed itself out in my mind. This was how I was going to win. I would abuse its behavior. There would be one shot at this. One chance. If I failed the execution at any point… no do-overs.

That meant I couldn’t rely on my combat skills. I came up with the plans, that’s what I was good at. I’ll leave the fighting to those who are good at that. I’d have to give complete control to Journey the moment the spider started any counter attack.

This couldn’t be a partial control setup. I need to commit completely and trust my armor could execute a good offense. My own inputs would muddy the waters. This happened too many times already - two drivers at the handlebar would crash the airspeeder.

“Journey, on my signal, override all my motion control with the combat program. I can’t fight that thing with my own skills, but I can open a window for you to do the damage.” I said.

“Warning, extended use of full override may cause possible physical trauma.”

“Will it kill me?”

“Negative.”

“Then do it.”

"Releasing safety locks. Loading standard combat module. Full combat module, online. Standing by.”

I had to trust the combat program would do its part in all this. I prepared for my part.

Do or die time. I holstered my pistol, loosened up my shoulders and then sprinted towards the enemy.

The spider mimicked my charge, screaming fury at me, ready to stab down and end it. Near the end of my suicidal charge, I yanked the artifact out of the belt and flipped it on. Still no idea what it’s used for, but it glowed blue when turned on and looked techy. That’s all I needed.

Drawing it as if it were a pistol, aiming my bluff down range. The brick lit up bright blue. The effect on my target was immediate.

It scrambled to a stop and hid behind the only limb it had left for the job.

Covering its last eye. Father’s sword still embedded on that very limb, the hilt inviting.

You remembered the wrong lessons, you oversized piece of scrap.

I let go of Cathida's artifact to free up my hands as I ate the last few feet of distance and leapt forward to get the extra bit of height I needed to reach the hilt, my hand extended out to grasp it. If I missed, I was dead. There wasn’t time to question my plan now.

I soared through the air, reaching the apex of my jump, the hilt just barely in reach.

My fingers wrapped around it.

The crusader’s long-sword flickered back to life the moment it detected a firm grip.

The inertia of my jump did the rest, severing off the limb as the sword cut itself free. The jump hadn’t been high enough for the second part of the plan. The machine's body blocked my path and I bounced back. Scrapshit. I’d planned to land on the top.

Instead, I hit the ground and rolled on my shoulder, finding myself directly under the creature just as it shrieked in realization. Instinct and reflex had me ram the long sword blade up into the underside carapace.

It sunk into the creature, but the blow hadn’t been enough. The creature lifted itself up in panic before I could execute a full cut, out of reach again. The spider stumbled backwards, weakened, trying to keep me in vision. One of it’s limbs lifted up.

“Now Journey!” I screamed out.

The relic armor locked shut around me, trapping me immediately in a claustrophobic space. I couldn’t move a single muscle - not even my fingers or neck. It was as if I had been moving around comfortably in liquid lead only to have it instantly petrify solid, completely entombing me inside. Fear flowed through my veins and I threw a wall of willpower at it, trying to remind myself this was the plan and that it would only last a few seconds. Trying to stay as still as possible to not trigger the mounting fear.

Instinctively, I knew there were only seconds before the claustrophobia wakes within me in primal terror and overpowers all my senses. Time seemed to stretch out. The limb lifted, tip as sharp as a spear.

I was hyperventilating from claustrophobia already, darkness at the sides of my vision.

Journey jerked my body to the side, dodging the attack within inches. In the same motion, it slashed out with the blade against the attacking limb. The attack had no elegance or poise, no set form. A simple and brutal swing. But what it had was sheer speed. I could feel my muscles and bones ache from the whiplash.

Journey released the locks on my body moments right as I started screaming.

I found myself collapsed on the ground, breathing out the last of my panic, trying to steady myself again.

It had cost me.

But it had worked.

The sword had cut straight through the leg, leaving the spider to tip down. Now it had only two rear legs. Not enough to stand up or attack.

It desperately tried to escape, but the mass was too much for two legs. I could see it dragging the weight behind it, black oil trailing behind it, that single purple eye glaring at me in both hatred and panic.

I stood back up to my full height, mustering the last bit of energy I had left, and sprinted after it. I jumped on top of the domed bulk. The violet eye tracked me, following my trajectory. It watched with naked fear. Good.

The thing had been following us all this time. Learning. Adapting. Now I had one final lesson to teach it.

“Remember this,” I snarled and rammed the blade deep into the monster’s center, down to the hilt. I spun on myself and pulled, executing a massive chasm as the blade cleaved out in an arc.

All traces of violet faded to black around me.

It was over.

It was dead.

There wasn’t time to celebrate.

I let go of the sword sprinted over to Father. Traces of his struggle to get up colored the floor with bloody streaks and handprints. He’d managed to drag himself to a wall but nothing more. There he remained, slumped against it. A trail of scarlet painted around him.

I made it to his side, finding him still breathing but too weak to stand up on his own.

“Two minutes until hemorrhagic shock. Immediate first aid required.” Winterscar said calmly. Biometrics flashed before my eyes, warning after warning scrolling by.

“No, no, no no!” I rushed out both first aid kits.

“Keith,” He said, gasping, reaching up a hand to unhook his helmet.

Winterscar’s helmet slipped from his fingers midway down, hitting the ground with a clunk. Neither of us made any move to bring it back as it rolled away.

Grey eyes marred with red veins. A harrowed out face, clammy skin, pale as death. Stubble had grown across the sunken cheeks. Short black hair filled with grey whisks. Gods above, he looked so frail. Haunted even. He’d seen better days - He’ll see better days, I mentally corrected.

“No, not yet. We’re so close,” I hissed, snapping open the medical kits from both his armor and my old environmental suit. “Lord Atius is right around the corner, any moment now, we’ll link up and get out of here and we’ll be back at the colony in no time.”

Inside each kit, all tools remained safe. The padding had protected them through everything up to now. I had a chance.

He tried to speak. Only able to get parts of a sentence out with each quick breath. “Thank the gods I’m dying, boy... saves me from having… to scribble n-numbers on the-” a coughing fit cut his voice off, his chest heaving with the effort.

“... on the dirt.” I finished for him, voice catching in my throat.

The spider’s limb had made a hole in his stomach, blood flowed everywhere from it. They’d built the superglue to stem blood loss, except there was... so much. Where was it all coming from? Gods above. Where do I even start?

Journey came to my aid. The HUD pointed out locations to apply aid. I followed the pinpoints blindly, moving as fast as I could. Dozens of spots.

“Everything will be fine. I’ll just carry you back home after this.” I said as I worked. “You’ll take a vacation for a few months on a wheelchair and I’ll teach you all about engineering and all that scholar scrapshit since you won’t be able to run from me. You’re going to hate it, it’ll be great, you’ll see. Everything will be okay.”

“Thirty seconds until hemorrhagic shock.” Winterscar announced in my helmet, calling me out on my lie.

I ignored the armor, continuing treatment. Glue was everywhere now. It formed a massive patch, the first dispenser running dry. I was almost through the entire second one when I’d finally tagged the last spot.

Winterscar confirmed the bleeding had been stemmed.

“Twenty seconds until hemorrhagic shock.” The timer continued ticking down, ignoring all my efforts. He was still dying.

“Journey! Damn you! Fix this!” I screamed out.

“No options available given the current resources.” It answered in monotone.

No, no no - Something else - there’s got to be something else I could do. I ripped out the gauze from both kits and tried to clean up the wound. They filled up with blood in seconds.

Worthless.

I swore and tore at the kits for more. There was nothing left inside. Both empty save for useless drugs. I swept the empty boxes away in a fit of rage, turning back to my old man.

Peace was not an emotion I’d seen on Father before. He wore it perfectly.

“You turned out good, boy.” Words wheezed out, lucidity ebbing away into the air with them. “T-turned out… good.”

Fourteen seconds, Journey’s HUD showed.

“W-when I see h-her... I’ll tell her about...y-you,”

Seven seconds.

Sensors had to be faulty. The bleeding had been stopped. He should be fine now! What more was I supposed to do?! I ripped my helmet off in sheer rage, throwing it far away with a scream. I didn’t want to hear Winterscar’s scrapshit lies or Journey’s helpless shrug.

The chill air attacked my cheeks instantly, the cold reaching in through my tears. I couldn’t care less.

Stupid scraping shit filled - “You could have made it out alone!” I screamed, throwing the worthless superglue dispenser away, hearing it break on some faraway rock. “Why didn’t you just let me die in some corner?! You would have lived. You should have lived.”

He stared back, breath wheezing, seconds dying away.

Then a look of shock bloomed across his face. And for the first time in my life, I saw him smile. A broad, massive thing, full of wonder. “I know.. I know why,”

He reached out a trembling hand. I clutched that hand back tightly, watching those grey eyes lose focus.

The world reduced to faint whispers.

“My… m-my son. B-because you…

are…

my…”

He let go.