Ash Haven: Descent Chapter 2

The air above was hot and dry, and the harsh wind wicked away the sheen of sweat on my brow. All around me was the gleaming skeleton of civilization. The bare bones inviolable frames of towers a hundred stories high and more jutting in the south, toward the center of ruin, and the distant buzzing shapes of the still active hornets-the flying automata that still patrolled the deeper places- were ominous black dots reflected over the occasional intact pane of adamant glass. Here in the middle city, it was quiet except for the sounds of the salvage crews at work, the tread supported wain’s crackling and grindings as they rolled over gravel and bits of metal, pulled along by the drover tortoises.

“You look like you went through a wall,” said a gruff voice as I hauled myself out of my landing crouch. Standing with a grimace, I felt a hundred little twinges from the cuts and splinters in my back.

“I just about did,” I said wryly, stepping away from the open hole, toward the low edge of the crumbled wall that marked this building lot. A man sitting in the driver's perch of wain looked at me from under his veil. Saffi, they were easy to tell apart from other ashlanders. No one else wore billowy black robes like that, keeping everything but a narrow strip of skin around the eyes hidden.

“Active security automata,” Vee grumbled, climbing out of his pack. He let out a metallic hiss and fluffed his scales out, the gleaming points coming up as he vented sand and dust from his internals.

“Pfah, come on, get off me before you do that,” I complained, waving my hand in front of my face.

The drover regarded me curiously, chewing something under his veil. “Better you. I’d be jelly. Bless your tread Delver, it is good work you do.”

I gave a nod. Someone without a single circuit reinforcing their body, that close to a blasting charge going off? Yeah jelly was the word for that. I hopped the broken wall, gave the great sandy brown tortoise hitched the wain up a pat on the head as I passed it by. The scales were raspy and rough under my hand. The beast barely raised its head from its food bucket. “Thanks much friend. Gotta report to base now though.”

The drover nodded, held out his hand silently. Oh, dried fruit? So that was what he was eating. I took the offering without a word, and eyed the rim of the cliff in the distance, the escarpment over the ruined city where the actual camp was. The climb was going to suck without channeling to jump it, huh?

***

It did, in fact. Without being able to boost up past the switchback, and drift back down to the encampment like a stray feather, I was stuck following the footpath, trudging through the dust clouds kicked up by the wains carrying salvage up the road carved into the cliffside. It was the middle of the day too, so it was packed. It took the better part of an hour to make the climb.

The view from the top was good though. Behind me the ruin stretched out to the horizon, the gutted frames of the numerous high spires jutting up into the afternoon sky. It was a place of the dead, even with us scurrying around inside it. Ahead though, was the land of the living.

I thought of it as en encampment, but it was really more of a town. Stiff or billowing canvas and hide still made much of it. Rows and rows of tents and pavilions stretching off into the sand, but toward the east end, there were real buildings. Carved stone and beaten sheets of metal, baked mud brick, and more had begun to replace temporary shelters. Built in a half-dozen styles and a little shoddy, they gave the place a haphazard look.

Only the Association building was different. Carved and mortared stone, square and blocky in the style of the builders, who were Gholam, like Gramps. It was undecorated, save for the flapping blue and silver Association banners that flew above the turret emplacements on the roof. The circuit pattern woven into the cloth shimmered in the declining light. The inside of the building was homier, I knew, but damn if it wasn’t a gloomy looking building on the outside.

“Well, that took long enough. Let’s get in there and report, so Gramps can look at your back,” Vee said, peeking his head up out of my bag, where he’d hidden to avoid the dust.

“And that’s going to be fun. Just love having to hold perfectly still while I have shrapnel picked out,” I grumbled, rolling my shoulders as I headed down into the makeshift streets between the tents. Even with my channels damaged I could feel the tingle of my bruises healing… slowly, but the splinters of metal were a constant itch, it seemed they were a little too deep to be pushed out properly on their own.

“Don’t blow things up while you’re standing next to them then.”

“I didn’t see you barking better ideas,” I quipped back. I appreciated the distraction. “...We really are lucky I had the charges. I don’t think I could have cracked the chassis otherwise.”

“That’s why cute, scrawny little things shouldn’t go off alone.”

A hand almost big enough to palm my head fell on my shoulder, and I almost staggered as I was yanked against my assailant's side.

I grunted, my complaint muffled by the soft curve I found my face buried in. Not bothering to pull back, knowing it was pointless, I tilted my head back and glared up.

“Amara,” Vee said dully, peering out my backpack. “Did you seriously cloak just to get a hug?”

The big woman holding me at her side laughed. She was more than two meters tall. Her shoulders were about half as wide too, with skin like polished ebony, she stood out from the ashlanders all around us. Looking down at me her eyes crinkled up in a smile, and the six matching crimson eyespots on her forehead gleamed. “You’re the only one here who's so stingy. What’s the point of being augmented if you’re going to be boring about it?”

Sensing weakness, I twisted my body and ducked, coming out from under the grip of her hard chitin covered hand. Amara was Garden-born, with a spider’s aspect. Her grip was ridiculously strong, even without channeling, so I knew I was just being messed with. I dodged under the second right hand that swept out to try and ruffle my hair too. When we’d first arrived here she’d been my assigned ‘mentor’ as a delver until I’d proved I could operate on my own.

She was way too friendly.

“You’re a bad influence. They shouldn’t have you teaching anybody,” Vee shot back.

“Besides, weren’t you supposed to be spending the day with… what was her name?” I grumbled, hopping back out of easy reach. Around us, people diverted around our little scene with only a little grumbling.

The towering woman looked sheepish, shaking her head. The tightly rolled braids pulled up into a tail at the back of her head whipped back and forth. “Ah, well you got me there. Li Zhi kinda… well she started with the clingy talk, and you know my policy on that.”

“Break it off before anyone can get more of the wrong idea, yeah,” I said, sighing. I didn’t really get it, you’d think her reputation would have gotten around the encampment by now. She was up front about what she was after.

“If you spent half the time you did canoodling on work we’d probably be in the city center by now,” Vee huffed.

“Sweet of you kitty, but I’m not that strong,” Amara laughed.

“I’m not a cat!”

“But look at you Kazi, I can tell you got stuck in down there. Was the haul good?” She asked, ignoring Vee’s outrage.

“Just Kaz,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. I really didn’t care to be treated like a woman. It was just too much of a hassle. As long as I kept my voice down and kept to the guy's nickname, most people just assumed and that was fine with me. “...and yeah it was. A serious haul. A wiped archive room. Gonna need more than haulers to get everything out intact. That’s why I’m heading to the association.”

“I getcha,” Amara said, straightening up, putting her bottom set of hands on her hips, she rested her cheek in one of the upper ones. “Man, I was hoping we could hit the canteen and get a drink.”

“You’ll have to strike out with someone else tonight,” I said dryly.

“Hah, you’re so mean, Lil’ Kaz,” she chuckled. “I bet you ten cred I go home with a pretty girl tonight.”

“No bet,” I refused. I may not have got it, but I knew I was apparently in the minority.

“No fun,” Amara huffed. “Well you get out from under work tonight, and find me around, I’ll buy you a drink anyway.”

“Sure, sure,” I dismissed. “Sooner I get this report in the better chance you’ve got.”

“Well get going then. And Kaz. Good you made it back, yeah? There’s no loot…”

“...You can spend dead,” I finished with her. It was one of the first things she’d told me as a mentor.

“There you go, and you say I ain’t a good teacher, kitty.”

“I said you’re a bad influence, I didn’t say there wasn’t anything useful in that head of yours,” Vee scoffed. “C’mooon Kaz, I wanna get home and recharge, you need Gramps too.”

“Ugh, it’s just some splinters, don’t worry so much,” It was an awful itch, but I’d had worse. “See you Amara.”

“See you Kaz, you know where you can find me,” She said, giving a  multi handed wave as she turned away.

Yeah, I did. I grimaced a little as I rolled my shoulders, and started back toward the Association Center.

It didn’t take too long to get there in the waning foot traffic of the day. The building loomed larger and larger ahead until I was approaching the Center’s open doors, facing into the square. It was actually paved over these days, slabs of rock shaped into thick, sturdy tiles. Little sweeper automata buzzed between peoples feet sucking up sand and ash that had blown in over the day. The doors of the association were flanked by two guards. An ashlander in patchwork armor filched from the ruins on one side, and a bare chested big garden-born man on the other.

I raised my hand to greet them both as I approached, I wracked my brain for a second, searching for names. “Issouf! Dimitris! Closing things tonight? Is the coordinator still in?”

Issouf, the garden born squinted at me for a moment. He was unaspected, unlike Amara, instead the etched lines of his channeling circuits were gleaming steel lines standing out on dark skin. “...Kaz. You were scheduled out until morning.”

Dimitris scrubbed a hand through his stubby beard, the third eye in the center of his forehead rolled, scanning the square. If it was a tribal bloodline and not a random mutation, I didn’t know the name of it. “You’re going to be waiting, that snotty Magos Inquisitor barged in and demanded a talk. Alexios’ soothing his temper.”

I let out an irritated groan as  I moved to lean against the rail of the stairs leading up to them. “Really, what do those blowhards want?”

“Who knows,” Dimitris shrugged. “But curious,  as Issouf says, you were scheduled out for the night. Bit off more than you could chew?”

“Found some stuff I can’t harvest by myself. Good stuff,” I said. “Blew up a full blown security automata. Got banged up doing it though.”

“Interesting. You still mapped your assignment?” Issouf asked curiously, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, didn't they get cold? The night chill was already setting in.

“More or less,” I said, waggling my hand. Other people were so slow about it. “Lower level was out for me, needs a fumigation team. Mirage Crawler Nest.”

Dimitris grimaced and spit over the rail. “Wonderful. Good to know what scutwork I’ll be getting tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t be so good at smoking the bugs out,” I said with a chuckle. Vee peeked out of my bag.

“Any idea what the Magistocracy rep wants?” he asked worriedly. “Those guys are no joke you know…”

“Bah, pampered fops, too good to do the salvage work themselves,” Dimitris scoffed.

“They pay well, and keep food coming. Not enough to hunt, no soil to farm, a camp  here is not possible without their deliveries,” Issouf said. “If they want to complain, it is the bosses problem.”

“Who will make it our problem,” Dimitris drawled. “Feh, but delving is a better deal than wandering the wastes, fighting the other tribes for scraps.”

The Magistrocracy of Tar Vanoinen was one of the Associations sponsors, a wealthy city state sitting on the shore of the largest surviving lake in the world, fed by what gramps was pretty sure was surviving pre-Scouring tech. Ashalnder’s thought them soft,, but Gramps always got real cagey when they were around.

Vee’s head perked up, and a second later I heard a door slam and then footsteps myself, carried on the airflow coming out of the Hall, approaching the exit.

“Well, think I should head in. Might see you tomorrow, if Alexios has me guide the clearing,” I said, pushing myself upright.

The two door guards waved me off with some affirmative grunts, and I headed inside. The inside of the hall was plain but clean, without much in the way of decoration. Polished mosaic tile for the floor and ceiling and not much else in the way of color. The inside was lit by sparklamps, simple metal tubes set in wall sconces. Each one tipped by a glass bulb lit from inside by sparks of flame prana. It only took a minute to square things with reception, and by the time I was headed back to the offices, those footsteps I’d heard revealed their source.

The Inquisitor we’d been talking about was a tall man, with a good head and half of height on me. His head was mostly shaved, with only  black tail gathered at the back of his head. The rest of his scalp was covered in circuit tattoos, stark lines of dark blue on pale skin. His thin aristocratic features were drawn down in a frown. His ears rose to short, sharp points, and his eyes were solid, dead blue without a hint of white or pupil.

Unlike the folks outside there was nothing kludged together about his kit. At a glance, I could spot the outlines of the ceramic plating under his dark blue uniform. It was all smart and trim, without any loose or trailing hems, the ashlanders liked. There were a bunch of little pins across slightly bulky armored vest, whether they were talismans or just rank marks, I couldn’t tell in the brief second before we passed each other in the hall.

His eyes flicked over me just once, before clearly dismissing me from his mind. I returned the favor. I wasn’t about to get tangled up with a magos or their business.

I reached the coordinator's office not but a few seconds later. And I heard the faint rustle and clink on the other side, a sure sign Alexios had broken out his flask. Apologizing silently, I reached up and rapped my knuckles on the door. There was a faint, muffled curse and another rustle.

“He shouldn’t be drinking on the job anyway,” Vee sniffed.

“Come in.” Alexios sounded real tired

I pushed the door open, putting on an easy grin, and a bit of swagger. Poor guy probably needed some good news. His office was pretty nice by ashlands standards, clean stone, a proper air vent in the ceiling, and carpet on the floor. His desk took up most of the space in the room, a construction of light, thin metal tubes and sheets shaped only a little crudely into furniture.

Alexios himself was a haggard ashlander, without any outward mutations, olive skin, dirty blonde hair, a bit of stubble. He was built like he was made of bundled sticks, and dressed in a loose airy blue and silver robe.

“What is… you. You were not supposed to be back yet,” he said, eyes narrowing on seeing me. “Let me guess. Tunnel collapse. No, maybe a biohazard breach. Triggered a self destruct in a ruin core?”

“That only happened once!” I protested to the last one. “And the reactor was already deteriorated when I got there.”

“You triggered the surge that pushed it over the edge though,” Vee chimed in, unhelpfully.

I shot him a betrayed look.

Alexios scrubbed a hand through his stubble. Those bags under his eyes were actually pretty bad. “No, no… I can see it on you’re face, you think you have good news at least.”

“It is actually. Lower level needs fumigation, but I found a good stash,” I said, crossing my arms. “Was your last meeting that bad?”

“The Magistocracy is impatient, and they’re considering pulling funding, that’s all you need to know,” Alexios grunted, picking up a tablet off his desk, the glass set into the metal shimmered, text rushing by his flicking finger. You were assigned site F-27a, correct?”

“That’s the one,” I said, reaching back to fish for the map I’d sketched out, I found it rolled up and pressed into my hand, held daintily between Vee’s teeth. I took a step forward and bent over, ignoring the twinge to unroll it.

“Honestly not much of interest in the upper levels, except for the spot I found here…”

Alexios listened, his eyebrows rising further the more I spoke.

By the time I was done the coordinator looked a little energetic. “You’re not exaggerating at all, are you?”

“Not on something like this,” I replied. “I couldn't get inside and dig into the circuits and arrays with my gear, ‘specially after that fight, but all the interfaces still turned on, even if they were wiped.”

“This might actually get that man off my back for a little. Quality array computation circuit parts, intact and high efficiency batteries… I’ll put together a secondary expedition tomorrow. Will you be recovered?”

I grimaced, considering my wounds, the damage from overloading my flame circuit. On the other hand, an even higher take by leading the harvesting expedition too? “...If you send someone else with direct combat circuit arrays. It’ll take time for mine to recover.”

Gramps could work some miracles, but there was only so much you could do for cooked nerves.

Alexios nodded absently, tapping at the interface on his tablet. “Understood. Won’t be a problem. I’ll place you as guidance and admin to the team then. Was there anything else you’d like to add to the report?”

I considered him, Alexios wasn’t a bad guy. He was a pretty good boss honestly. But…. like everyone else here, he didn’t really care for much more than the value he could get for salvage. I’d left one thing out of my report. The card I’d found in the array chamber….

Nah, no need. It’d just end up on some Magos nobles display case. Better I give it to Gramps, he might find out something interesting.

“No, that’s everything.”

“Then get home and rest. I’ll want you out at the site again by noon tomorrow.”

“Got it boss,” I said, turning away.

I rolled my shoulders and winced. Honestly, it was about time.

***

The place where Gramps and I were staying was on the East end too, with the other permanent structures. It was an ugly little windowless gray block, but it was where I laid my head down, and more importantly, it was Gramps’ workshop. Out on the edge of things, past everything but sparking warding columns and rolling ash dunes. There wasn’t much of anybody around as I strolled up to the door.

I glanced up at the roof, where the ventilation pipes jutted out, smokeless and cold. “Huh, wonder if he fell asleep. Usually he’s got something cooking around now.”

Vee peered past me. “Mm, I keep telling him he shouldn’t use so many stimulants. He better not be totally crashed.”

“Eh, it’s Gramps, he’s fine,” I said idly, reaching into my pack for the key. Sticking it in the lock, I let it go, and traced my finger through a swooping, complex pattern across the banged up sheet metal. Only when the glowing white trail left behind by my finger flashed and went dull blue on the metal did I turn the key and step inside.

It was dark. Lamps were off. Signs did point to Gramps crashing after a fugue. I squinted and frowned, the workbench in the front room was tipped over, and so were the shelves behind it. Components spilled out across the floor, crystals and metal glinting in the light coming in through the door. It was a total catastrophe zone.

“Hey, Gramps?” I called warily.

Metal and crystal clattered, and a massive metal hand erupted from the clutter pile to slam down on the side of the tipped workbench, with a squeal of bending metal.