Book 6. Chapter 41: Rest for the wicked
“You humans are insane.” Kres said, from a safe distance away on a branch he’d just landed on. His beak turned left and right, watching over the dead machine. “Magic. You humans can actually use magic.”
I gave a shrug, then patted one of the dead monster’s legs. “Drakonis did tell you that we’re Deathless. Comes with the turf. More importantly, Murdershrimp is now Murderchum. Or maybe Murdered-shrimp? …Hang on, let me have a do-over."
Drakonis groaned, taking his helmet off for a breath of air, then hooked it to the shoulder plate. "Your fucking jokes are getting worse, Winterscar. Stick to fighting, it’s the only thing I’ve seen you good at."
I gave a quick tut, "You wouldn’t understand. Wit and wordplay are just too civilized for the likes of you."
"You lack both. Nothing to understand there.” He shook his head and pointed at the dead beast. “Job’s done, let's strip it for power cells and get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, job’s done…” But that one thought put a stop in my step forward.
Was it?
All machines had a pattern of behaviors, and I’d started picking up on Murdershrimp’s - Try to ambush, kill fast, and if that failed it would try to run and repair itself quickly. That’d been what it did at the fountain. Now, we caught the next set of patterns past the run phase. If it couldn’t run, it would try to hide, like it had in the ravine. And if panicked, it would even make the attempt in plain sight, camouflaging right in front of us - as if we wouldn’t notice it.
There’s more than one way to hide without camouflage… I flared out my occult sight, searching through the giant concept of a machine right besides me. And deep inside, was a soul fractal. A still working and well powered soul fractal.