“Hurry! Work!” The command was barked from the other end of their bonds. Cyr’s face glowered at Gin. Evidently, his own fate felt strange, and he wished to hasten its change. A master of demons in his own horde, now Cyr labored under an uncertain future.
Zaria saw Solok’s eyes narrowed at the surviving engineer from Xuxuhr’s horde. The clutch on his sword tightened. Zaria noted the issue of command appeared to stoke demonic ire more than a lust for revenge. So far, she had not felt any palpable acrimony flexing from Cyr’s thorny limbs, even though Zaria had slain his Lord and General. Was he hiding his emotion, restrained by his impressment by Anguhr? That would mean a high degree of emotional control for such a savage appearance. It was evident that at least the demons in the command structure could control and transcend their basic impulses.
Zaria wondered if those controls were a design feature imbued by the Dark Urge. Perhaps they manifested from living within a well-ordered power structure. And what of the minds at the top of that structure? The Generals spent long periods at war and away from the Dark Urge. What evolution had their minds undergone? Anguhr’s mind was obviously complex and now of great significance to the future of the galaxy.
Xuxuhr’s transport craft flew overhead. The vessel was a far smaller, cubic version of Hell’s titanic warships. Visible missiles glinted like metal spear points piercing the chaotic girders that wove its fiery hull. There had been no skirmish with the demons aboard when it descended from orbit. Zaria had hoped the Generals’ hordes would be competitive if not openly combative to each other. Thus Hell’s forces could be frangible. But in the absence of their own General and in the towering presence of Anguhr, the demons followed him. Zaria wondered if the realities of power determined their allegiance. Xuxuhr’s ego died before his transport entered the battle. Thus it was spared the more powerful fusillade possible from her archers.
Demon arms shot upward as salutes. The demons atop the cliff brandished weapons as the golden thorned Uruk soared into the opening maw of the ship. Barks and screeches echoed through the ethereal atmosphere. A group of heavily armed cohorts followed their Field Master in a tight delta behind him. Another formation carried two gruesome objects into the transporter. One was the severed arm of Akhad. The second was the easily recognized if decapitated grimace of Xuxuhr. Zaria and Gin had assumed the craft would descend to collect the grapnel node. Instead, the ship’s portal shut and the craft shot swiftly into space. Instantly, the eyes of Gin and Zaria’s captor’s fixed back on them across rifles that never moved off target.
“Solok!” Anguhr bellowed from above.
Solok gave a nod to the demon on his right. He turned and barked at Cyr who replied with a look of long hunger now satisfied. Solok then soared to the cliff top, and stood beside Anguhr. Another chorus of demon cheers assaulted the surface of the great machine.
“Now!” Cyr shouted at Gin. “Set the charges, alien thing! Or I will crush your heart!”
“Very well.” Gin knelt once more and swiftly placed his collection of explosives along the base of the node. “Done. But I warn you, if your crew stays at the—”
“They are my demons!” Cyr bellowed at the much taller Gin. “I control their fate. A better one than yours, sickling! They will see our fallen Lord's mission fulfilled!”
Cyr craned his head and let loose with an assault of screeches and barks. Zaria tensed. The charges exploded in a devastating flash of white. The force only jostled Zaria, but it blew back the demons around the grapnel’s base. Others screamed and fell. The survivors slammed against the node and lifted with the much taller and more powerful Zaria. Her strength proved the deciding factor. The node tipped. The black column tilted and crashed into the cliff wall. It rested on an angle and fully separated from the other nodes that stood in perfect order. In a perverted manner, Zaria’s dreams were being realized. The demons had no desires to savor the results of success.
Badly injured demons struggled to right themselves on whatever limb was intact. Swift slashes by their cohorts ended their pathetic attempts. Gravely wounded demons with limbs intact continued to gather the trailing lengths of cable lashed to the node. They bled out while completing their tasks as their final acts. Each demon in the work crew assessed its companions. Minor wounds went unnoticed. Major wounds that prevented motion meant sudden release at the edge of a blade. The cables never rested. Zaria’s end was snatched out of her grip. The lengths snapped together, and the ends stretched into the air in the claws of flying demons. The lengths met in Anguhr’s hands. He pulled. The node jerked, and then swung free. It continued its ascent as the General hauled up his prize.
Gin looked at where the node had been seconds before. There was no trace between the other nodes to testify the stolen grapnel had ever been there for many ages of history. Now it was apart from the field in demon hands.
Zaria slowly reached for a fallen demon’s rifle. Cyr grasped her wrist.
“What you do is foolish.” Cyr barked low. “Do you wish to die?”
“Why do you care if I live?”
“You live because it is so ordered by General Anguhr who is now my leader. His will is that of the Dark Urge, and thus it shall be obeyed.”
“And if I do take the weapon?” Zaria asked with defiance.
“I am not here to be killed by you, alien.” Cyr snorted. “I wish to survive. Do as you are ordered, or your bodies will not be given a pyre. You will become nothing. Die instead in service, as you have been granted, and become something greater than what you are now.”
“What might that be?” Zaria asked with spite. “Food for demons?”
“If you are given a pyre, then you may become part of Hell, and the greatest of all things: the Dark Urge.”
It surprised Zaria that Cyr, of all demons, would express his beliefs to her as a means of salvation. It surprised her more that his faith was genuine, and not a sinister and egotistical façade, albeit originated as a control method by great evil. Two lengths of cable dangled next to Zaria.
“Climb!” Cyr barked, and flew skyward.
Zaria permitted herself a sigh. She looked at Gin who joined her and shrugged. Both of them grabbed an end of the cables, and climbed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Uruk and his heavily armed strike force sped from the Iron Work in Xuxuhr’s transport. Cyr and Xuxuhr’s surviving demons were kept back to show their obedience, willing or enforced, to their new Lord, General Anguhr. The small craft blazed through vacuum on a jet of hellfire. At full speed its hull stretched into a slightly sleeker delta shape of burning, crisscrossed beams. Uruk sat near the nose of the single cabin. Next to Uruk, his Strike Leader, Zahl, watched over the craft’s automated guidance. In smaller craft, the orientation of up and down was the position of deck plating. However, that was ripped up and used to make a partial coffin for the decapitated head of Xuxuhr by recognized demons now tasked as engineers. This craft’s previous crew were fellow demons, but their smells were different. Uruk could sniff traces of Cyr and other strange demons. Most of them were now corpses on the Iron Work. Those demons could not have known their future. It was chosen for them by their leaders.
Anguhr had given Uruk such fateful power. Freedom. Choice. Uruk could serve his Lord in greater danger than ever, or he could ignore his mission and stay on Xuxuhr’s ship. There, he could serve the Dark Urge as blind as all other demons. Uruk instinctively thought to ask the Dark Urge for guidance. He mentally rejected and crushed the idea. It was his will that now mattered most. Anguhr had invested not only power but faith in him. And in Anguhr’s service, Uruk evolved beyond being a weapon.
Uruk had faithfully burned his dead in pyres or the scythe so they could become a part of Hell and the Dark Urge. Now he wondered if their ashes instead mingled with lies. As a devoted soldier, Uruk had never imagined a need for false prods and manipulation of the demon hordes. Their devotion to their Lords, and their Lords to the Dark Urge, was the only true order of creation. It was all that was needed to e
xpand Hell’s dominion. Evidently, the Dark Urge thought otherwise. New thoughts pawed through Uruk’s mind. He considered his place in Hell’s future. It was clear Lord Anguhr had seen the benefits of free thought long ago. Even potentially seditious thoughts. Now Uruk began to realize that power.
The Dark Urge was the mother of all demons born in Hell or aboard ships among stars. She held their total faith. At least among demons not initiated to Lord Anguhr’s boon. She had created the galaxy’s greatest war machine. The might of her Generals had proven stronger than any god invoked by the vanquished worlds. All this was true. The fact she also took worlds to forge ingots that became nothing but stellar ash was also true. She was, then, the mother of the galaxy’s biggest lie. Uruk had no answer for why such great power—
Uruk found himself growling aloud. He cast his serpentine eyes to his sides and grunted. He turned his mind to more immediate concerns. Such as what to do if Voltris refused his authority. He would make that decision when he faced it. That would be soon. Xuxuhr’s ship was a red fire in space, dead ahead. Uruk reached down and retrieved Akhad’s arm. He secured it at the center of his two grenade bands. Wings prevented a full loop across demons chests and backs. Their thorny skin acted as excellent holdfast for hellish straps, equipment, and more unusual objects.
If Uruk’s mission was not difficult enough, he faced an additional hardship. He had a headache. Among all the firepower, technology, and arcane arts that armed and equipped a horde, demon analgesics had never been considered. Uruk would solider on. He identified his pain as a headache. It was more a mental strain from colliding lines of thought. One line was the demon will to dominate. It opposed a knowledge strand he unspooled to better deal with Xuxuhr’s Ship Master. Uruk had set foot on countless worlds around many stars, but found one thing most alien. Diplomacy. Adjusting his mind to use it caused the strain. Nevertheless, demons enjoyed hardship. Thus his headache was a challenge. A contest of will over pain. But it was still annoying.
Zahl guided the transport around its massive parent ship. They docked at the bottom aft of the hull near the main drive. The transport craft remerged with main body of the Hell ship, as did all systems and weapons. The front of the transport became an aperture for Uruk and his crew to enter the cargo hold before the smaller craft fully reintegrated with the hull. Uruk led as they flew in. Xuxuhr’s head was now fully encased in a coffin cube fashioned from deck plating. It would preclude shock and harmful reactions. Accepting a General’s death was not encoded into demon brains. Xuxuhr was quite dead. Uruk had received special privilege to read histories known only to Generals. It helped ease the shock a General could die. Uruk hoped Xuxuhr’s Ship Master had been given equal privilege.
Two rows of demons flanked the cargo hold. Uruk was unsure if they were an honor guard, or merely guarding the rows of generation chambers behind them. Uruk peered across the expansive hold. One, large demon stood at the far end. He had wings, and thus was not the Ship Master. He was presumably a ranking strike leader serving as Field Master. Uruk held the arm of his predecessor. The lone demon did not fly to meet them. He waited for them to traverse the hold. Uruk glanced at the demons standing before the generation chambers. The chambers formed long rows of glassy wombs holding embryonic demons. These guards alone outnumbered Uruk’s force. The chambers could birth more. The guard demons paid no recognition to Uruk. As yet, he had no idea what would emerge from this unprecedented encounter.
The chimera effect of Hell’s biology held fast to the systems that spawned its warriors. The base of the generation machine had the structure of a spine torn from a giant ten times more massive than a General and then thrown on its side. Two such massive spines flanked the cargo hold. The demon wombs rose off the vertebrae. Each appeared as an imprisoned moment where expanding space stretched two thorns holding a defiant teardrop pierced by a large spearhead at its base. The spearheads tapered to a point inside the glassy, teardrop wombs and impaled the embryonic demons.
New demons were released only in accord with a General’s demand and the sensed need of the machine. The governance of the generation system was an echo of the Dark Urge’s fearful caution. When both agreed, the spearhead sank into the vertebrae, releasing the demon to grow. The sharp edge sliced open the teardrop womb. The hatched demon would instinctively clamber out as it rapidly grew. Its thorny skin quickly hardened and its wings tempered in the hellish ship. When empty, the base of the womb released a new gestational mass. The cut membrane healed as it refilled with a semi-fluid matrix. The umbilical spear point then slid back up and impaled the larval creature to trap it in time. In Hell’s twisted systems, the demons were born when freed from death.
Mass hatchings were rare. Yet there was a reason this system was built over the bilge. Uruk noticed unusually tight decking sealed the hold from the bilge compartment. He sensed heat rising from beneath it. That was different to Lord Anguhr’s ship. Uruk knew the standard design placed no reactors or real space power generation within the ship’s bilge. Uruk noted that as large as Hell’s warships were, the bilge deck could hide a city. But why would a city live in the bottom of Hell ship, and who could survive in it other than demons?
Uruk and his force arrived at the end of the hold. The demons tasked with carrying Xuxuhr’s cephalic coffin set it down with as much reverence as a monster made for war could summon. It hit the decking with a thump! The other demons behind the coffin formed four rows that in turn formed a square.
“I am Triat.” The waiting demon barked. “I am Primary Strike Leader, and sub only to Lord Xuxuhr the Ravager’s Field Master Akhad. I am now brevet Field Master biding our Lord General and Master Akhad’s return. Ship Master Proxis holds the bridge.” Triat halted as if leaving more information unsaid. He then eyed the arm held by Uruk. His face stretched with a look of recognition and shock.
“I am Uruk, Field Master of Lord Anguhr, the Destroyer. That is my rank by right. This is the arm of Akhad.”
Uruk thrust the arm at Triat who took it as if being handed a grenade. His eyelids rolled fully open to reveal the roundness of his serpentine eyes. Uruk allowed Triat to stare at the arm and recognize the truth of his words.
“He died in combat.” Uruk continued. “He will be honored with a pyre. I have other news. There has been calamity unknown for our hordes. It is why I am here. I seek the Ship Master. By right, he would be the highest ranking demon. We need parlay. Now.”
Triat’s head jerked. He inhaled and then spoke. “Master Akhad leads a special engineer force with our Lord, Xuxuhr.”
“Akhad is dead.” Uruk replied. “As are many from that mission. Those who live now serve Lord Anguhr. They serve well.”
“No new demons have hatched.” Triat said. He glanced from the arm he held to the generation chambers at his left. The facts of the situation were assembling in his smoldering brain.
“Take me to the Ship Master.” Uruk said. “The rest of what I must say is for the demon of rank. And though I am away from my obedient horde, I am a rightful Field Master. Take me to the bridge.”
Triat again glanced at Akhad’s arm. He angled his head and glanced at the large cube of refashioned deck plating. He then looked at Uruk and nodded. Triat then flew upward.
“Zahl, with me!” Uruk commanded. “Coffin guard, follow us. Others, stay at the ready.”
Uruk flew to follow Triat. Zahl followed immediately, as did the demons carrying the head’s coffin. The remainder of Uruk’s force saluted and then marched directly below the junction of passageways that led to the forward areas of the ship. They turned and glanced at the flanking guards along the generation chambers. Those demons already eyed them. Triat entered the junction and flew along the straight path leading up to the bridge. Nearly all the corridors made from burning beams were large enough for several flying demons, or one striding General. The red flames curled throughout the ship providing illumination, protection, and reminder of its infernal origin.
Uruk noticed sentries posted at branchi
ng passageways. He noted the squads in the hold did only guard the generation chambers. If sentries were posted across the vast ship, then many demons were deployed as single guards at these junctures, not just as units at critical systems. Uruk sneered at the thought. This meant the posted sentries were taken from ready strike units. That spread demons thin across the ship while undeployed demons sat in racks on the weapons deck. Uruk knew sentries filled a defensive need in some tactical situations. However, he favored a more reflexive response to enemy probes and covert movement. These sentries were no more than an alarm system with one rifle at a fixed point. The tactic employed on this ship over highly monitored, secured areas decreased firepower and adaptive response. Better to use mobile squads with many weapons. The guards seemed more for intimidation of guests than security. What force would threaten a warship from Hell, internally?
The passageway forked at a bulkhead of fiery beams that now sealed the General’s personal entrance. Triat broke right to enter at the Field Master’s portal. All followed him. They entered the bridge. It was also sized for the ship’s giant General. His throne sat at its rear. A length of massive chain lay coiled at the right of the slab-sided throne. The rungs for another lengthy weapon were empty. Again the coffin met the deck with a thump!
A tall demon stood with his wingless back to the entering group. He stared at the bulkhead across from his control dais, but no screens displayed visual data before it. Uruk knew a vast amount of data could still be flowing into his brain without visual input. Still, this Ship Master seemed preoccupied by empty space.
“I am Uruk, Field Master of our Lord Anguhr, the Destroyer. I bring—”
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