Submantle- The Alpha Key

by Patrick Lane

  Choosing a well-lit spot, Lulu stalked across to a section of seating carved to look like intertwining branches of a tree. From across the park, Nifty noticed that a large group of children had gathered with their parents, and each child began strapping on heavy boots, gloves, helmets, and were taking practice swings with smaller versions of the drill mauls that were usually found on mining crew rigs.

  It dawned on Nifty suddenly where they were. This was a spider ball pitch. Well, a version of it any way. Each Helix seemed to have its own spin of the sport made famous by the Ranger games.

  Sure enough, several boost spiders, none larger than forty pounds, smaller cousins of the Ranger’s silk-bommers, were scuttling around the children, smashing against one another excitedly as they warmed up for the game. One of the parents set down a blue and silver box, carved to resemble webbing, and began removing metal armor. Another parent was strapping the armor to the already heavily clad legs of the boost spiders.

  Lulu was forgotten momentarily as he watched them prepare for the practice game. A green team and a blue team, each with seven players. Two of the mini-bommers, as the boost spiders had come to be nicknamed, per team. They collapsed down into armored balls, their legs locked into a protective interlocking casing around their abdomens and thoraxes, becoming nearly impervious to damage. A fifth spider, encased in glowing red armor, served as a living ball called the Heat.

  The rules were simple: using your boots or mauls, you could bash your or your opponent’s spider into the Heat, guiding it through the perpetually-changing water and metal obstacle course at the center of the field to score. Your spiders fought for you, changing their basic ball shape as they tried to manipulate the outcome of the strikes, and your opponent’s balls worked against you. The Heat’s job was to stay as unpredictable and elusive as possible. Simple right?

  “Hey, can you focus for more than ten seconds?” Lulu mocked as he stared. “Just like a man – becoming distracted as soon as you sense a game is about to start.” Her words broke Nifty away from the spiderballers as they began with a few practice kicks, sending their mini-bommers sailing into the air, eliciting excited whistles from the creatures as they flew. Several of the other benches started to fill as locals arrived for some evening entertainment.

  Turning to Lulu, he noted she had removed a kerchief from her satchel and was dabbing her cheek. The blood had nearly made its way to her collar. In her lap rested a small purse that Nifty recognized. It contained lichenbalm and probably a couple of knit-rods.

  “Sorry,” he replied guiltily. “Let me help.”

  Setting down his box, he moved to her side, sliding beside her to sit on the bench. She pulled back, almost reflexively, before relenting and allowing him to take the cloth.

  “Yikes!” He moved in for a closer look. “That’s deeper than it looks.” He continued to dab closer to the open tear on her cheek, until he finally elicited a wince.

  “It’s my professional medical opinion that your cheek may need to avoid direct contact with fists of any kind for the next four to seven day…offfff.” He whooshed as Lulu’s fist found his diaphragm.

  “You’re supposed to be helping me, not making me laugh!”

  “Yes, sorry my lady, you’ll have nothing but professionalism from me henceforth.” Smiling, he managed to deflect another punch.

  He reached down and plucked the first aid purse from her lap. Unsnapping one of the sides he scooped out a large dollop of stitch-balm onto his finger.

  “Now hold still. The last thing you need is a third ugly scar across your face that hasn’t healed properly.”

  “Third...?” she began in mock outrage.

  “Gotcha.” He said with a simile and leaned in to cup her chin gently in his other hand, stopping whatever it was she’d been about to say, and she allowed him to tilt her face toward the light.

  Ever so softly, he smeared the cream across the wound, allowing the combined restorative and numbing agents to soothe the angry gash.

  Satisfied, he removed one of the knit-rods and ran it gently above the balm, leaning in close to inspect it as it coagulated into a temporary skin that would protect the gash until the real skin was ready to break through. He noticed a sudden reddening at the edges of the wound and pulled back for a moment.

  Looking into Lulu’s eyes he realized she was blushing. They were close, close enough for him to smell the faint aroma of the lichen juice she’d had at the tavern. He leaned in.

  “Look out!” someone yelled; then he heard the whistle of an approaching mini-bommer hurtling towards them.

  With less than a second to react, Nifty straight-armed Lulu and lunged back, and in the same motion brought a boot straight up to connect with the spider, sending it sailing high in the air to land a dozen or more feet behind their bench. Nifty ended up in the bushes and the spider merely unfurled its armored legs chittering angrily as it realized it was out of bounds. With a series of impressive leaps it rejoined the game.

  “We should go.” Said Lulu, seemingly unruffled by his shove.

  Nifty cursed under his breath: their moment had passed. There was a second of awkwardness as Lulu helped Nifty to his feet and she reached up to pull a leaf from his hair. “We should go.” She repeated, with a rueful smile. Her green eyes holding his, softening, causing Nifty’s heart to hammer in his chest as they both realized what had nearly happened.

  Nifty coughed awkwardly. “Um, yes,” watching her stow her medi-purse back into her satchel.

  He picked up his tea set and cast an annoyed glance at the spiderballers as Lulu led the way to her mystery foundry. Blaze it! I should have said something. Should I say something? Blaze it, blaze, blaze it. Nifty thought to himself as he followed.

  He was drawn to Lulu, more than ever, the airiron and his Jax heritage be dammed, he’d have been just as happy sitting here for the rest of the night chatting with her, coaxing as many smiles as he could from her. He steeled his will for a different kind of battle, one he had never really been any good at. She had let him inside and he didn’t intend to waste any more chances.

  “This is the third largest producer in Ragnatex; they even have a machinist department,” Lulu said, trying to shake off the awkwardness, as they descended on one of the fountain discs. “You’ll never guess who runs it. Do you know Councilor Doon back home? He’s his distant older cousin I think, and he’s a friend of Belle’s. She seems to think he has a relative in the Ranger Corps but for some reason remains evasive about the subject.”

  “Good.” Nifty replied as they disembarked from the disc. “I really appreciate this, I just hope the place is still open.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “We’re closed,” said a distracted-sounding Vulpurite as Nifty entered the offices of the foundry, his long hooked nose buried in a stack of papers on his desk

  Lulu was right, the buildings were huge, taking up nearly half the lowest platform and disappearing into the wall of the Helix.

  The man looked up as Lulu entered and quickly added. “Sorry, Miss Longshire. I didn’t know it was you. Did you leave something here earlier?” He shuffled forward on legs disproportionately long for his body. Added to his hunched shoulders, it gave him an almost bird like appearance.

  “Greetings, Master Gillwattle. No, nothing was forgotten. Is Master Smoath still in?”

  “Master Smoath always has time for his friends, Miss Longshire. It shan’t take but a few moments to fetch him.”

  Lulu grinned slightly as the book keeper left. “You owe me big for this, Orediten. I’m beginning to wonder how I may get payment from you for bothering a foundry master for something as silly as bat upgrades.” She said leaning into him with her shoulder.

  “You have my gratitude, make no mistake about that. Ladies choice of course, but I may have a few suggestions if your imagination fails you,” he said with his best impression of a leer, while inwardly cursing himself for leaving the necklace and pendant back at the train.

  He was about
to continue when Gillwattle returned, followed by an ancient Rocktowern. Nifty found himself surprised at how surprised he was. For some reason he hadn’t expected to find one of his fellow Helixers in a position of such authority this far from home, especially in a helix with such a dubious reputation.

  The man had at least twenty-five years on Doon, putting him at well over a hundred years old, and what little white hair remained on his head was cropped short, giving his deeply-lined face a less grizzled look. Bright blue eyes regarded the pair as he shuffled around the desks towards them.

  “Greetings, Master Smoath. I know you are about to close and I hate to interrupt a man with your undoubtedly busy schedule with such a trifle but I have come looking for a recommendation from you,” Lulu began.

  “Nonsense, child,” Smoath said, waving his hand. “I consider it an honor to still be involved in Ranger business at my age. A man can only take so much of the endless minutia involved in running these foundries.” And with a conspiratorial wink to Nifty added, “It’s not every day such a pretty lass darkens this doorway, let alone twice in one day.”

  Nifty smiled, taking an instant liking to the old codger. He reminded Nifty of Doon, if Doon had been raised by gentler hands. And by his accent, Nifty had no doubt the man hadn’t spent much time in Rocktower before venturing out to find his way in the world.

  “Master Smoath, this is Lance Corporal Niftmire Orediten. He’s a Rocktower Ranger. Nifty, this is Master Smoath.” Then turning to Nifty, “It’s probably best if you just show him,” Lulu said, by way of further explanation to the old man.

  Nifty was about to reply with something glib, but reconsidered. “Well met, Master Smoath.” Setting down the tea set, he removed his pack, shooing off Ryder, and pulled out the sack of airiron, setting it with a loud thunk on the front counter.

  A low whistle was Smoath’s first response. “Where in crust crag did you find this? I haven’t seen that much airiron in one place in nigh fifty years.”

  “Don’t bother, Master Smoath. He’s remaining frustratingly tight-lipped about its origin,” Lulu chimed in, sending a glare Nifty’s way for good measure.

  “You walked through the city with that on your person? By rights you should be dead by now. This could keep my foundry running for a year. Providing of course you could find a customer.” The old man dry-washed his hands as he leaned in for a closer look. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  Nifty removed the shatter bat components from his pack and lay them down beside the airiron. “I was hoping you could point us towards someone who was able to machine parts for my bat.”

  “Your bat?” Smoath let out a loud cackle, raising bushy eyebrows. “Now why would a young lad waste a small fortune of airiron on such a foolish thing as a shatter bat? ‘Twould make better sense were I to purchase the metal from you and you could afford a hundred such bats.”

  Nifty let out a breath. He’d known that this was coming, and he considered asking for a moment alone with Smoath. “I don’t care about the metal’s worth; the Ranger Corps provides me nearly everything I need. But I require the upgrades to my shatter bat if I hope to stand any chance at winning the Ranger games this year he lied.

  Smoath rolled his eyes in surprise. “That sounds a little far-fetched, lad. Do you have a mind to get your Link advanced in the archives or some nonsense? Or is it the glory?” He stood back and with a raised eyebrow he took a long considering look. “Well, you are about the age when you would consider courting. Is that it, lad, love? A high placed Linker lady catch your fancy?” He let out another cackle as Nifty’s face reddened.

  “I have sons, grandsons and great grandsons, all full grown men, and it always be women that drive them to such foolishness…. and what’s to stop someone running off with the bat after the upgrades are complete? I doubt anything like this will have been attempted for quite some time – never in my lifetime, I’d wager.”

  Now Smoath doubly reminded him of Doon: both men saw to the heart of a matter with shocking accuracy. “Well I did have…”

  Smoath just waved his hand. “I’ll not embarrass you in front of the lass – the reasons can remain your own. Now, to the airiron. Might I give you a quick lesson about what you may be getting yourself into?”

  Nifty just nodded, glad to be moving on. He avoided eye contact with Lulu, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet herself during the discussion.

  “As you well may know, it is illegal to produce airiron...” he started, pausing for a moment. “…well not that anyone could even if they cared to. Knowledge of the production process has, like many other technologies, died at the hands of Jax’s Scourge. But fortunately for you, it isn’t illegal to recover it. Do you know why it’s outlawed, son?”

  “It’s very dangerous,” Nifty replied. “Something to do with the Jax Scourge, no doubt.”

  “Something to do with the Scourge? Something to do with the Scourge?” the old man cried out, with an almost angry glee. “What are they teaching you lads and lasses? Everything has something to do with the Jax Scourge. What I’m asking, lad, is whether or not you know that M4879, also known as airiron, was the only metal that was ever Linked with almost one hundred percent compatibility with Flux R1004. Its nigh unbreakable, accepts programming, and if it does take damage, by all reports, it manages to repair itself.”

  “Accepts programming?” Lulu finally chimed in, making eye contact with Nifty, who was equally interested in this idea.

  The old man let out another cackle. “Strong and light weight metals abound in our foundries, lass.” And he dug his hand into the sack of airiron. “You may already feel like your Link with the bat is strong, but the airiron be different. If the legends be true, you’ll feel the bat from across the room, possibly more. And it be not just a bat – it be a launcher, axe, slinger, shield, spear…any weapon can be programmed into its framework, and in seconds it will change form.”

  He paused for a moment to let the possibilities sink in. “But more importantly, and this be me only warning, what you may have here is a bomb, powerful enough to rip your delve trains apart from stem to stern.

  It be highly unlikely, but if you enter any region of Submantle where the virus be still active, this be the first thing it attacks, and it will react almost without warning. It be not the same as Flux by itself: it somehow amplifies the corruption. It be one of the reasons the metal tis so rare. It’s destroyed most every trace of itself.

  “I know,” Nifty said. He’d read much the same in the archives, before he’d left the Eos. “Although I was hoping tales may have been slightly exaggerated.

  “Well, you can still take it to the games,” Lulu interjected. “I remember no rules discussing its use. That’s why they have the decontamination chambers set up before each event. You just can’t go carrying it around all over Helix and high-water as you practice; you’ll most assuredly perish if you do...”

  “Possibly, lass, but improbable,” Smoath answered for Nifty, cutting off what she was about to say. His tone had changed, his earlier affability all but gone. “Try using your head lass. Do they still teach you how to do that at the academy? When was the last truly horrific instance of a Flux explosion you remember hearing tell of in the last five years?” he said, straitening his bowed form to look her in the eye.

  “I may not be in the thick of things like that young lad Doon in Rocktower, but I hear things. Every year less heatstoked panels are ordered for Flux damaged craft. It be down to a positive trickle. Something is changing in Submantle, something good, I hope. But, mayhap not.” He took a long pause. “You youngsters gallivantin’ about, running this way and that, and never paying mind to what’s staring you in the face.” He shook his head. “Still, I feel the obligation to warn you about the airiron and precautions need be taken.”

  Nifty swallowed hard, considering his options. He looked over to Lulu, her eyes boring into him. The jewels under her eye glinted dangerously. She gave him a slight nod. “Well, I see no other o
ption, nor any need to do anything else with it. I’ve made up my mind.” He said.

  “Well then…” Smoath started, his mood lightening somewhat.

  “Good,” Lulu stated almost offhandedly; then, checking her mantle watch, “I’m returning to my train, before Belle begins to wonder at my whereabouts. I know you men, you’ll be dallying over the details all night.” She crossed to where Nifty had placed the tea set. “Oh, and Nifty, it will be bad enough for you at the brawler bash now that I know about the airiron. I don’t want to spoil all your surprises – you may actually be a challenge this year.”

  Reaching down, she retrieved the set. “But I will drop this at your train if you like. Those idiots may still be tracking your scent and it’s the least I can do for getting me in a good fight like that.”