12 Miles Below

Humans had trench lines, formations and generally kept some order. Either the Odin had a different view of what order was, or it was simply impossible to keep everything organized with three degrees of freedom.

Because the tower had the single messiest war I’d ever seen. The sounds were deafening. Hundreds of birds flying in all directions, at all angles. A few organized flights could be spotted keeping in a loose formation and they’d dive into the melee and immediately dissolve into the fight.

There were some things I could understand: The enemy side was clearly well prepared to fight. Small nets were used with skill and precision to tangle up Odin mid flight. Some were armed with silver pebbles on their wings and with every wingslap, a bird would come tumbling out of the air. And all of the tower defenders paired those with long metal needles affixed on their beaks. I got to see their real use in combat. They’d stab down mid-air with precision at different wing muscles, equally causing Odin to fall right out of the sky. The entire battle was so dense, just falling down meant the bird would collide against a few others before finally hitting dirt.

The other side outnumbered them by a significant factor, but against a force with nets, needles, weaponized wing slaps and an entire fortified base to retreat behind, there wasn’t that much the deadlanders could do.

It was like watching relic knights fighting off a wave of normal soldiers. Though not quite as invincible.

But in that chaos was some kind of civility to it. They could have stabbed each other in the throats, or gone down and crushed skulls of the hapless birds who couldn’t fly anymore. Instead, once an Odin hit the ground, that seemed to be the end of their soldier career. They’d hobble or crawl back to the direction of their forces, and they weren’t otherwise harassed by any other attack. Helping all sides out on the bottom was some kind of highly decorated group of Odin, with actual jewelry and vivid yellow colors. Some kind of combat medics?

I’d find out more about all this later, but good to know the civil war here was actually civil in some way.

And then there was the fire, which was spreading out fast. It was splitting the focus of the deadland soldiers, with them stuck between trying to take the tower or trying to put out the fire.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A small vehicle carrying a large red tank strapped on its back zipped to my right. The driver passed by without giving me a single look, too focused on correctly piloting the thing, but the other wrapped up passengers holding onto the sides all had their heads swivel slowly as they stared up at me.

There were no seats on the thing, the driver was doing everything sitting upright on a very low perch of some kind with levers by the talons, and a cyclic stick to steer the whole thing in their beak. Last truck I’d intercepted, my focus had been on shooting the wheels off first, but here I could see exactly how they made things work.

The little firetruck-like vehicle reached its destination, abruptly stopped and the crew hopped off, working as a team to grab the nozzle of the hose and draw it out. Soon, they started spraying white foam into the general direction of the fire. These Odin seemed to be among the few that had some confidence in approaching the fire, the rest of the Odin were trying to throw water at it from above and staying far away otherwise.

I decided this was where I could help the most. For trained soldiers, the reaction to fire was underwhelming, but I do remember Odin seemed to have an instinctive fear of fire that I just… didn’t have. At all. In fact, being around fire made me feel cozy and safe from machines. Fighting inside a ball of fire meant my mechanical enemies were having their overclocks messed with while I swam through it like a new fish in fresh tanks. Fire meant that the air was warm enough to breathe in. Heat was the greatest treasure a surface dweller could ask for, and I got to play with it in the palm of my hand anytime I wanted.

Perfectly normal appreciation for humanity’s oldest friend, I’m not a pyromaniac and I denounce any allegations as slander to my character.

I had some basic training and drills down on handling fires within the colony, so I knew a few bits of theory on what best to do. None of the tools or team of surface dwellers to work with, but I’ll improvise that. A plan came to mind and I got to work.

My first actions were to dig a giant hole in the ground. It’ll come in use later, there’s always a good use for a giant hole in the middle of a disaster.

After the hole was dug up with a pile of dirt and chunks nearby, I calculated which of the buildings were beyond saving and planned to eliminate those completely from the picture.

The process was simple. My sword sliced through entire chunks of unburned Odin structures, then I dug the blade into the ground to keep it handy nearby, leaving me with two free hands to work with. I’d grab the still burning section and pull it free of the foundations. Given it was all held together by what felt like string and glue, half of which was already on fire, all of it easily ripped out without issue. Once I had a giant section of burning down Odin stuff, I’d bear hug the entire structure until it was a dense core of tangled fire, after which it would go down into my dug out hole. The process was complete by stomping it down further into the dirt.

Not to put out the fire, but to make more room for the next section of burning buildings. Odin buildings had a lot of open air in them despite being giant twig messes on the inside, so they compressed really fast. The soot was ruining the tunic sections of my armor, but the fabric didn’t catch fire easily. And the few times they had, I simply slapped the fire off.

I’m sure I crushed a few valuable items the Odin might have had, but I could fix it later with Journey. Probably. Maybe.

We’ll map that route when we get to it.

The Odin around me realized my plan and shifted tactics from trying to put out the fire directly, to fully containing it from spreading out. I could see a sort of second wind behind their efforts now, and their panic was quickly replaced by discipline. If the human could do it, so could they and all that. 𝖗аNȫ₿ƐṢ

The deadland soldiers decided the rebels inside the tower weren't worth the effort, so instead they focused on assisting me with the fire. We couldn’t talk to one another, but there was some communication between us, in the same way a team could operate without a word said.

The rebels quickly realized that if they wanted any kind of lasting damage, the best time to attack would be during the chaos of the fire. So they tried some surgical attacks, aimed at me since I was doing the heart of the work here.

At first, the deadland soldiers tried protecting me from the waves of tower forces attempting to harass. Up until I turned and sprinted right into the next group of rebels flying to get me, yanking a net off the ground and waving it through the air. I tangled up the entire squad, easily tanked the lobbed explosives at me, and didn’t bother to dodge the machine gun fire from smaller turrets from the tower. Whatever agreement the Odin had between each other to minimize deaths, they clearly didn’t apply to me given the measures they attempted.

I did get to try out a new idea I had, about using the Odin’s primal fear of fire. And got immediate success. From my hands and helmet fractals, weak bursts of fire blew out which freaked them so badly they often lost orientation of where they were within the cloud of fire and slammed into the ground. Easy to pick up and toss into the direction of deadland Odin, who’d handle the rest for me.

That became my new default method of dealing with anything flying at me. Spew a giant cloud of fire at them, use the soul sight to see where they were frantically flying within it, and finally grab them out of it. They came out fine, maybe a little singed. The fire’s mostly cosmetic at that heat. Though I don’t think they’d see eye to eye with me on that.

The deadland Odin realized I wasn’t in any danger, and left the rebel forces to waste their manpower on trying to slow me down, instead focusing their efforts on blocking other sabotage from the tower forces.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The tower Odin tried just about everything, including attempts to break my blade while I was busy shoveling burning buildings into my hole. They knew to aim for the hilt at least, and bullets would break the fractal inscribed inside. Journey’s nanoswarm fixed it up easily on my administrator orders. They break the sword, cheer at their little victory, and then stare in despair as I’d yank out my sword from the ground, and have it turn back on right after. Explosives they had would have done better, except they’re Odin-sized.

My blade was more of a colossal monument to them at their scale, and the little firecrackers they could fly with weren’t doing the work. Their bombs were either short explosions, or would throw tar-like substances that would stick around and continue burning. Both of which weren’t anywhere near the scale needed to worry me.

Only thing I’d fear is a bomb with power cell fluid inside of it, the ones they reserved for Bob. But then they’d run the risk of blowing themselves up with it. And enough power cell fluid to pose a threat to Journey would have equally leveled their tower here. Armor is very good at handling unfocused explosive energy.

They stopped trying after the seventh attempt. They swapped to bombing runs on non-burning buildings, which the deadland Odin put a stop to with superior numbers.

Chunk after chunk of burning buildings, I walked through the flames and crushed things, slowly piling it all up inside the hole where they wouldn’t set anything else on fire. I spewed out fire at any approaching Odin with a needle on their beak, and in that entire time I made sure to keep my pace and movements calm and energy-efficient. Since the Odin around me were now fully committed to keeping the fire from spreading, they gave me all the time to handle the main issue. No need to rush anything.

It took a little bit of work, maybe twenty to thirty minutes of walking around but I had the majority of the fire put out. After that, I yanked the red canister from the back of one Odin truck, where two operators quickly ran out of the way, and proceeded to follow Journey’s directions on optimal places to spray the foam out and cut the fire down to pieces.

Being able to stick my hand into the flames directly and hit points within the burning buildings really helped deal with the worst of things.

And I’d occasionally slap any spare fire that was too small to waste the foam I had to work with.

At that point, the Odin now had full control of the remaining fire, overwhelmingly outnumbering it and following through on clearly practiced drills. Soon there was nothing but smoke, and just small wisps of it

Which left the tower rebels inside. They’d seen the direction of the battle and had now focused on reinforcing their tower and encampments. With the fire all gone, the entire outpost was left staring daggers at the tower defenders. Who were all staring daggers back, mostly in my direction.

“Well now deary, what’s your next move?” The old bat asked, appearing into the world at my left from digital sparks.

“I guess this is the part where I ask what the scrap is happening, and why half the Odin want me dead while the other half don’t. Information is power.”

I heard a few recognizable croaks nearby, and turned my helmet to spot one of the few Odin I knew by name. “And just who I needed to talk to.”

“That little rat’s a survivor.” Cathida said. “Didn’t see tail or wing of him until the fire was put out.”

Rashant squeezed past a few others, the feather colors he used looking out of place compared to the other soldiers. And the general sense of terror about him also made him stand out. Following behind him was a different Odin with far more calm movements.

“Well done with the fire.” He said. “I take it you were able to recover the cells from the gungnir running away?”

“Yep.” I gave him a thumbs up, which was meaningless to them. Damn my reflexes. “They’re all still alive, I pinned a few under a rock and tied up one other. Should be two still flying around to keep them safe from any critters looking for a free meal. I have enough energy to last a long while now.” My helmet turned to check the bottom of the tower where some Odin were still limping away. “I take it there is some kind of taboo about actually killing one another?”

Some weren’t moving at all, but I suspected that to be more accidental than intentional given the low number.

“There was discussion between the tower and the deadlanders.” Rashant said. “We have been working together for four years now, some of them were our friends even. It was… messy. Both sides are doing the best for the people, they only disagree on how to go about it.”

And Odin didn’t live too long. Twenty years was near ancient for them. So four years might have been a quarter of a life. “The deadlanders here really didn’t appreciate me being thrown out in the freeze that much?”

Rashant looked around him, at the gathered forces. “They did not.”

“I hardly know them. I’m more surprised they would follow through and fight their own comrades like that just for someone completely alien to them all.”

Rashant gave a series of movements. I could tell the rest of the birds here were watching, and there were enough to cover the entire area in black ravens. Maybe a thousand or so of them, all whispering to one another.

“To the deadlanders, you are more important than anything else. You can speak to Bob, and possibly end the threat for good.” The translator said. “The Gungnir gave good reasons to turn on you, but none of it was more important to the deadlanders.”

“Good reasons to turn on me?” I asked, my eyebrows raised high up inside my helmet “I beg your finest pardon, but what ‘good’ reasons are there to turn on me?”

“The gungnir claimed that the machines have attacked the Icon and bypassed her defenses without effort.” Rashant said. “The machines number in the thousands, and they’ve all disappeared to regroup, the first mass movements the Odin have ever seen from them. In the face of an army, one human cannot hope to succeed. The Icon Odin do not know you, but they know this: You cannot be everywhere at once. You cannot live forever, and they cannot put the lives of all Odin in one person’s hands. They do not know if your hands are even loyal to the Icon or would turn on them. But most importantly, you would not be able to arrive at the Icon to save her in time.”

“Rather harsh of them. I’m only fashionably late to things.”

Rashant gave a few pecks into the ground. “I am not certain what that means, but I assume it is an idiom in your language of some kind?”

I wiggled a hand at him side to side, “Sorta. I’ll explain it another time, when we don’t have a giant rebellion to deal with. And the tower Odin over there, was that all their arguments against me? Or is there anything else I should know?”

First step to winning any political shenanigans was to understand what the other side wanted and didn’t want. Sometimes the winning move was just to make it so impossible for the other side to win, they’d give up. That’s how I survived in the old House Winterscar, I was too much of a pest to be involved in any plot or scheme.

Rashant spent another few minutes trying to go over all the points the tower Odin had attempted to give to the crew, including after hostilities had started. The little speech given at the start while I was gone picking up my power cells had been extremely direct and to the point.

As I’d expected, it really did come down to just numbers.

There were several hundred thousand Odin out there, in multiple different cities and places. Even if I swore I’d be their defender through thick and thin, I couldn’t be everywhere. And even if I could be everywhere at once and beat back the machine hoard somehow, I’d need to stay there forever to continue helping them out. And even if I did do that, I’d get old eventually and die off, which would leave the Odin at the mercy of rather upset machines with a grudge.

And those same arguments could be used if I declared myself an enemy to them. I couldn’t possibly hunt their entire race down to extinction. I’d die of old age long before I managed to actually kick them all into the dirt. That wasn’t the case with machines, their chance of complete extinction was very possible against those metal bastards.

To the Odin, I was a passing natural disaster. Here for the moment, gone in the future. Hiding wasn’t going to work for them since I was already involved. So they had to plan for the far future, and in that future only the machines remained eternal.

“Regardless, the argument did not succeed with the deadlanders.” Rashant ended, “As you can see, they took offense to that. By great margins.”

“All because I can speak to Bob? Given that entire argument against me?”

Rashant pecked the ground. “The Deadlanders have spent their life here for one goal. And they view that goal as far more important than any other.”

The Odin fighting on my side weren’t here for my winning personality or my guns. Just that I could sweet talk Bob. And if they were willing to fight everyone for it, I think I can trust them. They were out here getting burned up and stabbed, all while screaming insults and fighting back with beak and claw. My kind of people.

Rashant quickly turned to the other, larger raven next to him while I mulled over the briefing. He gave a series of head bobs and whistled half-words. The actual Odin language did have a lot of crows and shrill sounds, but no pattern I could recognize at all.

I’d leave learning the language to Journey for later. Right now, we had to deal with a minor uprising.

The larger raven at Rashant’s side gave a response crow, and then sent a series of commands to the other Odin nearby. Ten flew off to the direction I’d trapped the rebels at.

Rashant turned back to me, “I forgot to introduce you in the chaos, this is hersir Tanariss. The ex-captain that Roark replaced four years ago. He’s returning from his retirement as a logistics officer.”

“I can see that.” I said, giving Tanariss a good look over. “So what is the plan for the tower?”

The giant raven gave me a sideways look as Rashant passed down the information, and then turned that beak of his down to where a small truck was bringing with it a good pack of hand-sized grenades.

I had a feeling I’d get along with these folks if their first solution to things was to explode it.