Submantle- The Alpha Key

by Patrick Lane

  Nifty refused to take the bait, pretending instead to be distracted by one of the hundred or more relics that dominated the far wall in Scotty’s office, each piece representing a successful mission. His eyes then settled on a neatly bound stack of paper on the edge of Scotty’s desk.

  “I discussed our assignment with Councilor Doon,” Scotty said, pointing to the mission brief as Nifty began leafing through. “It seems he wants us on our way before the search parties deploy. We don’t need to get embroiled in any countermeasures if it turns out the Hydrohelixes have taken the missing Rangers. You were right in your earlier assessment, the Seismic Council has waded into the hunt for these Keys and have added a bounty for early completion.”

  “So it’s a Key for the engine rooms in the bastion Helixes, after all,” Nifty said as he skimmed the brief, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. The bounty implied that the mission was going to be more dangerous than their regular assignments. Far more dangerous.

  The bastions were the oldest of the Helixes. They had been built by the ancients, thousands of years ago, before the Scourge hit and turned each one into ravaged wastelands, leaving most only partially resettled as a result.

  Jax’s Scourge had been created just over fifteen hundred years ago during Core War Five. The creator, Flux architect Rion Jax, worked for the Rocklinker alliance and had been tasked with developing a revolutionary repair solution the alliance could use on their soldier’s battle armor and struggling war machines.

  The solution was a creation he dubbed Fluxbots, small semi-sentient robots created from organic metal. These pint-sized bots controlled reservoirs of liquid Flux that enveloped damaged tools and machines, returning them to their original form within minutes.

  Initially, the Fluxbot’s creation was celebrated as they helped to turn the tides of war in Helixes around the world, but it quickly became apparent that Rion Jax had made critical mistakes in their design. The Flux energy in the bots mutated into a tech-organic virus, attacking healthy Flux metal and warping it beyond recognition. The Rocklinker's savior had become a global menace—machines, animals, and millions of Submantlers all fell victim.

  Even after a millennium of research the virus remained a puzzle that couldn’t be solved. The affliction had been completely random, but so destructive it nearly dragged Submantle back into the Stone Age.

  Rion Jax, or The Jax, as he was to become known, was tried and found guilty of gross criminal negligence. He and his family were stripped of all vestiges of Submantle tech and enhancements and were exiled to the earth’s surface. The name Rion Jax became a curse, a disgrace, and oft times a punchline.

  “Are we taking any additional crew with us?” Nifty asked. “One of the topside engineers, maybe? I can see if Newton is available.”

  “No lad, deployment is tomorrow, there are no engineers available right now. And they’ll not spare an Alexandria cube for a mission of this sort.”

  Nifty shook his head once again. His mind once more returning to the Scourge.

  The situation with the Scourge became so bad that topside humans were secretly recruited from the earth’s surface to be trained as engineers. With their unaltered bodies, they were able to enter environments that were fatal to most Submantlers. A temporary purging device was created to clear areas ahead of the Rangers. It was powered by an Alexandria cube, made from one of the rarest Flux’s known to man.

  The Jax Scourge, although now just a shadow of what it once was, still posed a threat. The machine rooms, which contained mile high weather and water engines with power rods the size of a dreadnaught had been a no-go for well over a thousand years.

  Although it wasn’t in the brief, Nifty knew Scotty well enough to know the seasoned Ranger would want to test the Key once found.

  “Thirty-two bastion Helixes, all engaged in the Core War to some degree or another,” Nifty said, shaking his head as he spoke. “I’m sure it’s safe to say that no two keys will be coded alike?”

  “Agreed,” Scotty replied. “Although I think an international council was convened, war be slagged, when matters got completely out of hand, so the Keys may be more universal than records indicate.

  “Are there any clues as to who is trying to gain access to these machine rooms?”

  “Just what you see in the reports lad,” Scotty answered. “But don’t worry about that just now; we’re heading to the engineering libraries at Terraport. It’s outside our jurisdiction but it could be our best chance at success.”

  Scotty retrieved half a dozen books from a shelf and stacked them neatly into a rucksack. “We need to get a move on. You have two hours to prep for the mission. I’ll retrieve the dusters while you go get the lads. Hopefully, they’ve not consumed too much swine-brew and you’ll have time to sort a couple of things out. By which I mean dropping off your application papers before meeting me at the delve-train.” Scotty said pointedly. “It’s really getting embarrassing lad. Rune was promoted four months ago, and he was two years behind you at the academy.”

  Nifty wasn’t about to be bated. He snapped shut the report and nodded.

  His hand strayed to his chest pocket and the pendant. Blaze it all, so much for delivering it to Lulu. “See you at the train.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Heavy foot falls on the metal deck plates announced Scotty’s arrival. He entered the cockpit with one hand rubbing his eyes and the other vigorously working a toothbrush against his gums.

  Nifty smiled. The fantastical stories told about Scotty at the academy rarely included the parts about him grooming in the cramped confines of the delve-train’s living quarters. Nor did they mention the endless hours spent traveling from mission to mission without anything to pass the time except a hypnotic tableau of holo-viewers projecting the endless swirling current of the mantle as the train forged ahead.

  Leaning forward, he manipulated well-worn brass dials set into the rim of the console, and expanded the holo-viewer to display their destination. The journey to Terraport Helix had proven to be far less eventful than the mission brief had suggested. There had been no sign of a rover crew or even a shield patrol.

  Their task was relatively straightforward; they were to make their way to the engineering libraries in the city of Harkenwell, located inside the Bastion Helix of Terraport, to conduct research.

  Unfortunately, Terraport, with just a handful of struggling outposts, was still on the list of hyper-ravaged Helixes. To make matters worse, the settlement was at the center of a territorial dispute that had simmered for well over six hundred years.

  Nifty set the train’s course and sank back into his seat, absently toying with the tools in the wrist band of his mantle watch.

  “Anything to report?” asked Scotty as he landed heavily in his seat, tucking his toothbrush into a breast pocket.

  “Nothing,” Nifty replied, pursing his lips for a moment, steeling himself for the assault. “But I wanted to ask you again about this being a freelance mission.”

  Scotty raised his eyebrows. “No amount of verbal cleverness will ever make this a freelance mission,” he shook his head. “Well, out with it! You’ll no doubt not leave me alone until you’ve said your peace.”

  “I only brought it up because I was hoping to complete things sooner rather than later. The bounty for an early mission completion means I could stop in for a few things at the markets of Textermire in the Ragnatex Helix.”

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” Scotty cautioned. “We aren’t even at Terraport yet, and there’s no short-cut to finding the Key. We find the Key when it’s ready to be found and we report back to Rocktower immediately.”

  “Yes I know, but—”

  “No ‘buts’,” Scotty interrupted, “and no side trips to an unauthorized Helix to shop for knickknacks. You do realize that eight Rangers are missing and it could quite easily be tied to these Keys?”

  “It has cities,” Nifty grumbled.

  “Did you at least finish reading
the mission report?” Scotty continued, his eyes locked on Nifty, his brows beginning to furrow. “This isn’t the usual Rocktower business. The report only mentions the machine room of a single Gears, but I know from my sources that at least half a dozen other Gears in our hemisphere alone have experienced the same security issues.”

  Nifty noticed a series of red dots flickering briefly on the viewer. Possibly rovers looking for a hiding place behind the immense mass of the ancient Helix.

  “Of course I read the report.” Nifty leaned forward and spun the two well-used dials again. This time he expanded the navigation image to show a detailed, three-dimensional view of the lower three hundred miles of the Helix.

  “Questions?”

  Nifty resumed his search for the dots, expanding and contracting portions of the hovering image. “I did a couple checks before leaving and heard much the same as you. The machine rooms have been sealed for just under fifteen hundred years without so much as a whisper. And now, in the last six months alone there have been multiple alerts. Something more than just random artifact pilfering is going on.”

  Scotty nodded. “I agree. We need to find the Keys for those machine rooms so a proper investigation can be conducted.”

  Nifty returned the display to its normal size, confident that the rovers would not be returning for a single combat vessel. “Oh, and by the way, did your brief include at least a vague description of the Key, a holo-scan or something?”

  Scotty shook his head. “Too many security protocols, any information regarding them will be sparse.”

  Nifty exhaled slowly, considering the enormity of their task. A flashing blue light on the steering lever interrupted musings; the automated navigational systems of Harkenwell had locked onto Eos’s signature. Several docking options had sprung up across the floating, purple holo-viewer; blinking expectantly for the approaching vessel.

  “It’s only another few miles,” he informed Scotty needlessly; at this distance the Helix loomed so large its edges were barely contained by the display. Its topmost point hung from the crust, ninety-two miles beneath the Earth’s surface. The entire Helix was close to eleven hundred miles long, far larger than Rocktower or any of the newer Helixes.

  “I haven’t visited Harkenwell before, do we need to go full battle gear?” Nifty asked, hoping for a yes as he nodded towards the rugged Ranger’s jacket, slung haphazardly over the back of his seat. “Or do we keep a low profile and try something less Ranger like?”

  “Suit up? You mean follow Ranger protocol?” Scotty rumbled, pulling a lever set into the outer edge of his armrest. The seat’s base telescoped smoothly upwards, elevating Scotty towards the ceiling, where several pressure gauges hung. The big man paused for a moment, thinking. “You do have a good thought though, lad, your instinct is sound, sifting through libraries in full armor would surely become quite uncomfortable. And I can hardly imagine capture at the hands of Terraport’s librarians.” He smiled as he tapped at the gauges with a thick forefinger. Seemingly satisfied with the result, he dropped his seat back to its original position with a thunk.

  Nifty looked down at his dusky-brown work uniform. He had no desire to get caught out again with no gear, like he had with Rogarth’s crew. They would most likely be recognized as Rocktower Rangers anyway, especially once word got out about their delve train.

  “Fine, we’ll play it by ear,” Nifty settled.

  “Not to worry, lad, we do have some latitude regarding the rules,” countered Scotty. “I confirmed with the council that this mission was sanctioned for both regional and intercontinental tectonic plates. Although, considering the circumstances, I don’t doubt that all parties searching for the Key will be given the same concessions.”

  “Other parties?” blurted Nifty. “Who else is looking for it? I thought this mission was supposed to be top secret.”

  “Councilor Doon made it pretty clear just how important these Keys are. It would be foolhardy to send out just a single team. I’d wager at least a dozen other teams could be joining us in the search, not to mention other teams from the different alliances across the mantle.” He sighed and his eyes narrowed. “This cloak-and-dagger nonsense must be because enemy forces are either actively seeking a Key, or waiting for us to find one for them. Doon remained frustratingly tight-lipped about any other teams that may have been assigned to the task,” Scotty finished, stroking his moustache, deep in thought.

  “Toro and Rune, or worse, the Fergraniteson brothers,” said Nifty. Cloak-and-dagger? Must be another topside phrase. “I knew there would be a catch to this assignment. I saw Toro before we left Rocktower but it seemed like he was spearheading the rescue effort.” He shrugged. “Both are excellent teams, they won’t be far behind, or ahead.”

  “Don’t forget Lulu and Belle,” said Scotty. "They came in from the Blitzrorg cluster two days ago.” Scotty watched with amusement as Nifty’s shoulders slumped in dejection.

  “You can’t be serious!” Nifty exclaimed, “That doesn’t really seem fair. How are we going to find it before Lulu and Belle? They are far better suited for this than we are.”

  “That they are,” agreed Scotty, nodding solemnly.

  Belle was nearly as old as Scotty and had been a Ranger her whole life. Unlike Scotty, whose specialty focused more on Submantle infrastructure, Belle was a true-born artifact seeker. Her prowess was legendary.

  Lulu was a different story. Nifty’s pulse skipped a beat at the mere thought of her). He absently massaged a small lump behind his ear that had never fully healed. It was the result of failing to avoid the business end of Lulu’s truncheon nearly a year ago at the Ranger game semi-finals. His cheeks bloomed red as he remembered the kiss she’d distracted him with for that win. He had found himself thinking of little else lately.

  “I wouldn’t concern yourself too much with them, lad,” Scotty said, interrupting Nifty's rumination. “Unlike the artifacts they’re used to finding, the Key, or Keys, as they may turn out to be, may have been intentionally hidden. Any literature or historical records on them will be few and far between. There will be no great advantage to any one team here,” he added, as if attempting to buoy Nifty’s spirits.

  Scotty let his rationale sink in, then continued: “Okay, to answer your question, maybe it would be best if we suit up. We want to avoid a repeat of that Bolengrath mess, there’s no need for us to join the ranks of our captured Ranger comrades when precautions can be taken.”

  Nifty nodded, more than a little relieved.

  Scotty leaned forward and flicked two dials on the control panel, twisting the holo-viewer’s image until only the top of the Helix was visible. “Too bad we didn’t have more time to dilly-dally, Harkenwell is the fifth largest of the Bastions.”

  “It would be a nice change to visit one that doesn’t have us…Ah, dross lode,” Nifty trailed off. The navigation display had flickered back to its original size. Red dots were emerging from behind the Helix, less than thirty miles ahead of their current course.

  “Slaggin Rovers,” Nifty cursed again. “I had hoped that our displacement reading would be small enough that they wouldn’t bother with us.”

  He yanked both levers to reduce their speed, giving them a few moments to consider their options.

  “Rovers?” Scotty growled at the readings. “It’s a bold bunch to be sure, raiding this close to the Helix. Less than eight?”

  “Six, but I counted twelve earlier—the others must be hiding, probably trying the old anvil-and-hammer strategy,” Nifty said, scanning the image for the most likely place for the remaining raiders to hide. “At which gate are we expected?” he asked, watching as the red dots fanned out in front of the slower, larger and far better-armored delve-train.

  Scotty reached into his vest pocket to retrieve his mantle-clock. It was a family heirloom, its decorative casing worn almost completely smooth through generations of use. He depressed a small, recessed button along the edge and the top unfolded itself like the petals of a flower. An
ethereal, scaled representation of the Helix floated above the clock face. The words ‘Harkenwell Seven, dock six’ glowed at the edge of the projection and dozens of hovering tabs offered facts regarding the docking procedures.

  “Should I just activate our Rocktower beacon and send them on their way?” Nifty asked. “Judging by the displacement readings, I suspect they’re just frigates.”

  “And have them set upon the next cargo vessel that happens by?” Scotty said predictably, snapping the clock shut and returning it to his pocket. From another pocket, he pulled a battered brown notebook. It had doubled in size through an array of added pages and abused edges. Removing a pencil from its spine, he began scrawling notes across one of its few vacant pages.

  “I suspect the rest will spring their trap a few miles outside Harkenwell. We’ll allow them to take us, then wait until we have their hideout in our sights before we disable the frigates.” Scotty chuckled to himself. He tucked his notebook away and gripped the armrests, his expression focused, determined. “Let’s go fishing.”