Chương 19: [b1] 019 - Spying

Seven days. It had been seven entire days since a single delver appeared at our dungeon entrance. It didn't make sense. I provided a great boss fight. It was creative, required problem solving and teamwork. They were clearly proud to have defeated it. My processors kept coming back to the one big mistake I'd made—the loot. I didn't want to think that I had ruined any hope of a relationship with the delvers simply because I gave them the wrong loot, but seven days was a long time without them coming back.

I had messaged Adranath on day four what the longest stretch of time he'd had between delvers.

"Long enough to watch kingdoms fall and forget that I was the one to bring them down," was the answer. Then he followed up with usually he had to wait no longer than two days and even that was only due to religious issues before he convinced them that their god was weak and put their faith in him instead. So… yeah. Not a great answer in any interpretation. Either my delvers had forsaken me, or I was going to have to wait several years. Neither of which was a good option for me at the moment.

I flickered open the Power Statistics window, poking at the old bruise I had hoped had finally healed. Power Statistics ► Battery Percentage: 3% ► Estimated Time Remaining: 24 hours, 02 minutes Top Energy Spenders ► Ship AI system ► 312 stasis pods ► RCS system Through sheer luck (or perhaps fate) we were exactly where we were before we plugged in that stupid cable. This had to end. We needed to do something to get our delvers to come back. Thankfully I hadn't spent the time idle, far from it.

Over the past three days I'd spent many tireless hours concocting a plan. I took the program that KLUDGE had tried to offer me that controlled the dungeon monsters and ported it to help instruct REPR12 what to do instead. If we were going to figure out what was going on with the delvers, we had to find them. That meant the bot had to leave our five kilometer communication radius. The decision matrix was pretty simple, all things considered.

All the little bot had to do was leave communication range, go find the delver settlement, snoop around a little to make sure they were still okay, then report back. If they weren't fine, that would explain what was going on and maybe we could help. If they were, well, then I'd have to find a way to instigate an engagement. I wasn't sure which possibility I was looking forward to the least. [KLUDGE> Are you sure this is what you want to do? We still have time.] [Colin> We have just enough time to hang ourselves. No, we need to do this now.] KLUDGE was just worried his software wouldn't work flawlessly. Which in his defense, if it didn't REPR12 would be lost to us. But that was a risk I was willing to take. I looked down at the little bot while MAM and KLUDGE finished the last of the preparations. As I watched the little spider-like bot bounce back and forth, memories flooded my processors. I pulled at a specific one, my favorite one with the my bots. I'd thrown a birthday party for myself.

The crew did one every year, and it was the first year they had been in stasis for it. REPR12 wore a little party hat and spent the entire time trying to ensure it stayed perfectly centered on its little head. The rest of the bots—I had over 120 at the time, can you imagine? —put on plays for my amusement, and REPR12 sat next to me watching them, clapping where appropriate. Now I was going to risk the bots life. All because of a series of decisions I had made.

[MAM> I have completed a final check of REPR12's supplies. It has everything it needs.] [KLUDGE> And I've confirmed its instructions are clear and its decision matrix flows correctly. I guess if we're doing this, now's the time.] REPR12 was waiting in the Communications Center at full power.

Strapped to its back was a little satchel with some emergency supplies like an external battery pack, a compass in case its navigation sensors broke, some duct tape (seriously, you never knew when you'd need some), and a directional beacon to help guide it back to the ship if it got lost. MAM had also thrown in a small stuffed animal she'd found in Henry's room. He would have wanted REPR12 to have it.

With a heavy sigh of my fans and nothing left to do but do it, I instructed LNDR02 to pat REPR12 on the head for good luck and sent the little repair bot on its way. REPR12 skittered its way across the forest floor quite easily. It had been designed for a multitude of terrains, and dirt was in fact one of them, much to its surprise. The humans really did think of everything. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

An alarm chimed and REPR12 pulled up its decision matrix. Ah, that was the problem—it was at the end of its communication range with COL-1N. The bot followed its instructions, pulling out a beacon from the satchel it wore on its back. The beacon was a thin, circular piece of metal that hummed with electricity. REPR12 activated the beacon, then placed it on the ground just inside the communications range. Then it took another step. It's first step into the unknown.

Past the edges of the burnt forest and the green, lush forest beyond, the terrain turned into grasslands. REPR12 very much disliked this section, the grass obscuring its view of the surroundings. It lodged a formal complaint for COL-1N that failed to send due to the lack of communications range, so it saved it to a temporary buffer and continued pushing through the grass. 62. 75 minutes later, another chime sounded. Its sensors had picked up signs of a settlement in the distance.

REPR12 kept its sensors peeled for any signs of life and approached the village. It had a fairly simple layout, with a seemingly circular shape, small wooden buildings spiraling out from a center location. The little repair bot turned spy hopped along the roofs of the buildings in an attempt to avoid being spotted on the road. So far, it had made it six rows of buildings in toward the center and it hadn't seen a single living being yet.

If COL-1N had been able to communicate with it, it was sure he would think that "odd" or "intriguing", but since he was not here, REPR12 enjoyed the peace and quiet. The subsystems sure did talk an awful lot. The bot reached the center of the spiral which culminated in a fountain. Behind the fountain was the largest building, and its sensors could pick faint signs of talking. It just needed a way inside. It circled the building and eventually found an open window in the back.

From the window it could see two people, one of which it recognized from the dungeon. Burke, the leader of the team that defeated the Star Coordinator, was having a hushed conversation with a very large man. Tall and muscular with a shaved head, the man's eyes looked like Captain Wilnur's whenever COL-1N had one of his "brilliant" ideas that she very much disliked.

"I'm telling you Burke, the Tress are here. I saw the tracks myself." Burke's eyes dilated 16% and his lips parted to form a 1. 2 centimeter gap. REPR12 wasn't sure what the implications of such a facial expression were, but he knew COL-1N would want to know about them.

"I understand that. And I know how serious that is. That's why I think we need to reevaluate our decision about the dungeon."

"I agree." Burke cocked his head to the side.

"You do? We can get a group together to head in today. Start a training plan, build up our Guardians into something that—" The tall man didn't smile—REPR12 knew smiles all too well; its humans used to smile at it all the time because it did truly stellar work, unlike some of the other bots it used to work with. The expression was close, but it was too… toothy.

"We won't be sending anyone to the dungeon. I'll go in, alone. And I'll come out with the core." Burke staggered backwards, clutching a hand to his chest.

"Atlas, you—no. We can't kill the core. We need it. What don't you get about this?" A spear appeared from nowhere. REPR12 rechecked its recorded feed sixteen times to ensure it was not a visual bug, then concluded it was a result of whatever powers the delvers had also demonstrated. When Atlas spoke, his voice was low and gravelly.

"I was hesitant about allowing the core to live on our lands. Now the reason for my hesitation has appeared, just kilometers from our village. This must end now."

"It was just one scout. We could find them and kill them."

"And when they doesn't return? The Tress will just send more. Even if they wouldn't, our entire village together wouldn't be able to kill a single Tress scout. You weren't there, Burke, but I was. I saw how they fought. How ruthless they were. They will not stop, as long as the core lives." The man known as Atlas started to leave the building but Burke stepped in front of him.

"Just talk it over with the Elders first. They should have the right—""The Elders wanted the core destroyed more than I did. I talked them down to letting it live as long as we left it alone and nothing came of its existence." Burke furrowed his brows, deep lines of confusion or perhaps concern marring his face.

"That doesn't make sense. Elder Perun—" Atlas sighed.

"Just step aside, Burke. Let me do what must be done. The Goddess wishes it." Burke refused to move. He rolled his shoulders back, sticking his chest out slightly. Still, he looked pitiful compared to Atlas. Atlas shook his head, then steeled his gaze and simply pushed past Burke and out the door. REPR12's decision matrix finally caught up to the conversation it witnessed—it didn't have the powerful servers that COL-1N had to offload the processing onto—and an alarm blared in the bot's feed.

It hadn't understood much from the conversation, but between a body language analysis and vocal analysis, one thing was clear. Atlas was a threat, and he was coming for the dungeon. REPR12 crawled down from the window and retraced its steps back toward the ship. In the distance, growing nearer, it could hear the sound of running feet pounding the ground. It sped up its pace and focused its sensors on the path ahead. As it neared the beacon, it swore another set of footsteps were nearing close.

Not just one, but four.