The summons was broadcast in the highest and most authoritative code tense, and as such could not be ignored. The flanks of the flyer gusted steam and folded outwards, providing debarkation ramps for the warriors carried within.
Three hundred modified Skitarii and Protectors marched from the flyer’s hold onto the basalt causeway. Wretched by-blows of the Fabricator General’s union with the power unlocked in the depths of the forgotten vaults beneath Olympus Mons, these were twisted perversions of their original martial glory. Hunched carapaces, spiked armour and horned helmets clad them and their limb weapons seethed with unnatural power.
The Protectors were no less modified, their bodies swollen and grotesque, their weapons blackened and reforged in new and hateful shapes, designed for pain as much as killing.
Under the watchful gaze of armoured turrets and missile emplacements cunningly worked into the walls of ceramite and adamantium of Zeth’s forge, these abominable killers formed up in three separate cohorts and marched on the Vulkan Gate.
Behind them came a shield-palanquin borne by towering, brutish Skitarii with grey skin and barbed armour. These monstrous, ogre-like warriors had been raised to such stature by more than simple gene-bulking and augmetics. Their bodies glistened and their veins pulsed with ruddy light, as though with an internal electricity.
Ambassador Melgator and Adept Regulus stood proudly atop the palanquin, clad in robes of midnight black with their hoods drawn up over their skulls. Melgator carried a staff of ebony topped with a snarling wolf s head and Regulus a staff of ivory topped with a skull of black obsidian.
The host of horrifically altered warriors parted to let them through, and Regulus halted the palanquin a hundred metres before the gate. The soaring adamantine glory of the Magma City’s great portal was worked with silver cogs, golden eagles and lightning bolts, and it was opening.
As a widening bar of light split the two halves of the gate and the skitarii bristled with belligerent scrapcode, Regulus raised his arms and a streaming hash of lingua-technis, irregular and arrhythmic, blurted from his internal augmitters. His skull-topped staff crackled with corposant in time with his utterances and, one by one, the turrets and weapons platforms on the wall shut down.
The light of the city spilled outwards in a growing fan of orange light, throwing the shadow of the slender figure that walked from the city out before her in a thin line of black.
Adept Koriel Zeth swept her gaze over the assembled cohorts before fixing a distasteful stare on the two figures borne upon the palanquin, as though they were pestilential plague carriers begging entry.
‘By what authority do you dare come to my city and demand my presence?’ she said.
Melgator rapped his staff on the shield-palanquin, and its monstrous bearers carried it forward until it was less than twenty metres from Zeth.
Zeth winced. ‘That’s dirty code you’re using, Regulus,’ she answered, reading his identity from his fizzing electric field.
‘On the contrary,’ replied Regulus. ‘It is pure code, as it was meant to exist before it was tamed and shackled to the will of flesh.’
‘If you can’t see the flaw in that line of reasoning then you are beyond the reach of my logic,’ said Zeth. ‘Now speak your piece and begone, I have work to do.’
‘That will not be possible, Zeth,’ said Melgator. ‘We are here to escort you to Olympus Mons, where you will submit to the judgement of the Fabricator General.’
‘My title is Adept Zeth, I believe I have earned it,’ snapped the Mistress of the Magma City. ‘And on what grounds do you dare arrest me?’
Zeth said nothing for a moment, letting the weight of the accusation settle on her.
Then she laughed, the sound echoing from the mountainside, carried far and wide across the length and breadth of the causeway.
‘You mock these accusations?’ snapped Regulus. ‘Is there no end to your wickedness?’
‘Oh, I absolutely mock them,’ sneered Zeth. ‘They are laughable, and if you weren’t so blinded by what Kelbor-Hal has turned you into, you would see that.’
She swept an arm out, her gesture encompassing the gathered skitarii and Protectors. ‘These monstrous things you bring to my forge… they are abominations of flesh and machine, freakish hybrids worse than the feral scrapshunt rejects that wander the pallidus. You have turned all that is beautiful of the Mechanicum into something dark, and it horrifies me that you cannot see it. So, yes, I mock your accusations, and more, I refuse to recognise your right to accuse me!’
‘Then you refuse the summons of the Fabricator General?’ asked Regulus, his code laced with eagerness to unleash the skitarii. ‘You understand the severity of this action?’
‘I do,’ confirmed Zeth.
‘Then we will take you by force,’ said Melgator. ‘You can try,’ said Zeth.
Melgator aimed his staff at the walls and said, ‘You will either come with us or you will be destroyed, Zeth. Link with your wall defences and you will see they are shut down. We control the code now.’
The three cohorts of skitarii began to march forward, flame lances, energy halberds and limb weapons arming in a flurry of crackling activations and clattering autoloaders.
‘Not all of it you don’t,’ said Zeth as a pair of enormous mechanical forms marched into the gateway behind her.
Nine metres tall, the two Knights dwarfed the slight form of Adept Zeth, and the deep blue of their armoured plates shimmered with the reflected glow of the magma lake. The proud heraldry of a wheel encircling a lightning bolt was emblazoned on their shoulder guards, and they rode from the gateway to stand behind Adept Zeth with their energy lances and gatling cannons trained on the approaching skitarii.
Behind them, a dozen more Knights took position in line abreast to block entry to the Magma City with their majestic forms.
The march of the altered skitarii faltered and they milled in confusion in the face of the war machines, their pack-masters squalling for orders. Regulus emitted a panicked burst of code, the same mutant algorithms he had used to shut down the wall guns, but the Knights ignored him, their systems shut off to incoming code.
‘This is Lord Caturix of the Order of Taranis,’ said Zeth indicating the Knight on her left, its aggressive posture making no secret of its desire to wreak harm. ‘And this is Preceptor Stator. Their order is an ally of this forge and if that flyer is not off my causeway in five minutes, they are going to ride out with their warriors and destroy you. Do you understand the severity of this action?’
‘You dare threaten an emissary of the Fabricator General!’ cried Melgator. ‘You are a disgrace to the Mechanicum, Zeth!’
‘Your assassin destroys the mind of my apprenta and then murders one of my acolytes, and you dare call me a disgrace to the Mechanicum?’ snarled Zeth. She consulted her internal chronometer and said, ‘Four minutes and forty seconds, Melgator. I suggest you get moving.’
‘You will regret this,’ promised Regulus. ‘We will see your city in ruins and your legacy expunged from all records.’
The Knights took a step forwards, the hiss and clank of their metal limbs sounding dreadfully loud.
Melgator rapped his staff on the shield palanquin and, without another word, he and Regulus withdrew. A hurried code squeal recalled the skitarii and they marched with bitter disappointment back onto the heavy flyer.
As its flanks folded up and it took to the air, the lead Knight turned its cockpit towards Zeth and a noospheric link opened between
them.
‘You should have let me kill them,’ said Lord Caturix.
‘Maybe,’ agreed Zeth, ‘but I have a feeling you’ll get another chance.’
‘You think they’ll be back?’
‘I know they will, Lord Caturix, but next time they won’t be so arrogant,’ said Zeth. ‘I have to send word of this to Maximal and Kane. Kelbor-Hal might come for them next, and I need to petition Legio Tempestus once more. I have a feeling we’ll be needing some larger engines to defend the Magma City in the days ahead.’
‘The support of Tempestus would be most welcome,’ agreed Caturix. ‘In the meantime, we will continue to stand with you. What would you have us do?’
Zeth watched the blue-hot glow of the departing flyer’s engines.
‘Prepare for battle,’ she said.
2.07
THE MAG-LEV SPEARED into the tunnel and Dalia cried out in terror as the blackness swallowed them. She clung close to Caxton as the compartment lights flickered on and he put his arms around her, shrugging in puzzlement at her fright. Sickly fluorescence bathed the compartment, but the glass window was an unchanging black mirror. Dalia recoiled from its impenetrable depths, pushing away in terror from the wall with her sandaled feet.
Her breaths came in short panicked hikes and her muscles cramped painfully. She felt her flesh become cold and clammy as sweat filmed her skin. She could hear her heartbeat like the thunder of an industrial hammer and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
‘Dalia?’ asked Caxton. ‘Dalia, what’s the matter?’
‘It’s the darkness,’ she gasped, burying her face in his shoulder. ‘Its all around me!’
‘Dalia? What? I don’t understand!’
‘What’s the matter with her?’ cried Severine.
‘I don’t know,’ said Caxton, helpless as Dalia sobbed into his robes, her struggles becoming more and more hysterical.
‘She’s having a panic attack,’ said Rho-mu 31, moving from the door of their compartment to stand in front of Dalia. ‘I’ve seen it before in new arrivals to Mars. The red planet is so different, it sparks all kinds of reactions.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ replied Rho-mu 31. ‘But I’ve dealt with this before.’
The Protector knelt on the floor between the seats and placed a hand on Dalia’s shoulder, prising her away from Caxton and holding her twitching limbs. Her face was pale and streaked with tears.
‘The darkness,’ wept Dalia. ‘I don’t want to go into the darkness again. Not again!’
‘What’s she talking about?’ said Severine. ‘Make her stop!’
‘Shut up!’ hissed Zouche. ‘Let the man work!’
‘Dalia,’ said Rho-mu 31, looking directly into her eyes. ‘You are having a panic attack, but there’s nothing to worry about, we’re perfectly safe. I know you don’t feel like that right now, but trust me, it’s true.’
Dalia looked up at him and shook her head. ‘No! No, we’re not. I can’t face it anymore. Please don’t make me go back in there.’
‘We’ll be out of the tunnel soon enough, Dalia,’ said Rho-mu 31, keeping his voice even and steady. She could feel his biometrics linking with hers, using his rigidly controlled metabolic mechanisms to try and stabilise hers.
‘Breathe slowly,’ advised Rho-mu 31. ‘You’re taking in too much oxygen and you don’t want to do that, do you?’
She shook her head and forced herself to take longer, slower breaths. With the help of Rho-mu 31’s bodily control she felt her heart begin to slow and the flow of blood to her muscles lessen.
Rho-mu 31 read her calming internal functions and nodded. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘These are all just physical symptoms of anxiety. They’re not dangerous. It’s an evolutionary reaction from ancient times, when humans needed all their wits about them for a fight or flight reaction. Your body has tripped that reaction, but it’s a false alarm, Dalia. Do you understand that?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Dalia, between breaths and tears. ‘I’m not stupid, but I can’t help it!’
‘Yes you can,’ promised Rho-mu 31, and he knelt with her until the panic had passed, holding her hands and talking in low, soothing tones. He reminded her that she was travelling on a Mechanicum mag-lev, one of the safest means of transport on Mars, and that she was surrounded by her friends.
Eventually, his words and his gentle easing down of her metabolism calmed her to the point where her breathing rate was normalised and her heart rate, while still elevated, was less like the rattle of an automated nail gun.
‘Thank you,’ said Dalia, wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her robe. ‘I feel so stupid; I mean we’re only going through a tunnel. I’ve never felt claustrophobic or scared of the dark before.’
‘Only since the accident in Zeth’s inner forge,’ said Zouche.
‘Yes, I suppose since then,’ agreed Dalia.
‘Maybe you’re feeling its fear,’ said Severine, and they all turned towards her.
‘Feeling whose fear?’ asked Caxton.
‘Whatever it is that’s buried beneath the Noctis Labyrinthus,’ said Severine, suddenly awkward with the attention. ‘Look, she said she felt she linked with its mind, didn’t she? I don’t know about you, but if I’d been buried underground for that length of time and I got a brief glimpse of the world above, I wouldn’t want to go back into the darkness either.’
‘You may have something there, Severine,’ said Caxton. ‘What do you think, Dalia?’
Dalia nodded, unwilling to confront such thoughts head on after her panic attack. ‘Maybe.’
‘No, no, I really think Severine’s onto something here,’ said Caxton. ‘I mean if—’
‘Enough!’ said Rho-mu 31. ‘Save it until we’re out of the tunnel. Zouche, how long until we reach the other side?’
Zouche hurriedly reconnected with the mag-lev’s onboard cogitator and streams of data light cascaded behind his eyes.
Rho-mu 31 turned his attention back to Dalia and she smiled at him. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
He bowed his head, and though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he was smiling back at her.
‘Well?’ asked Dalia in as relaxed a manner as she could muster. ‘How long until we’re clear of the tunnel, Zouche?’
Zouche frowned and moved his hands in the air, haptically shifting through holographic data plates only he could see.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘According to the onboard driver-servitor we’re slowing down.’
‘Slowing down? Why?’ demanded Rho-mu 31, and Dalia felt his threat auspex light up.
‘Here, look for yourself,’ replied Zouche, projecting the view of the tunnel from the hull-mounted picter onto the window once more. ‘There’s something ahead of us.’
They looked, and there was.
Rumbling along the floor of the tunnel towards the decelerating mag-lev was what looked like a tall robot of roughly spherical proportions mounted on a heavy gauge track unit. A pair of heavy arms were held vertically at its sides and a set of malleable weapon-dendrites flexed in the air above its shoulder guards.
Three glowing yellow orbs shone like baleful eyes in the centre of its mass, and, as they watched, its main arms locked into the upright position. As the mag-lev stopped, no one in the compartment failed to notice that each arm was equipped with an enormous weapon.
Even through the poor quality of the picter’s image, Dalia could feel the strangeness and uniqueness of this machine’s electrical field. Opening herself to the part of her mind that Zeth had called her innate connection to the aether, she reached out towards the machine, reading the heat of its internal reactor and the sticky web of dark, malicious sentience at its core.
Kaban… that was its name.
In the fleeting moment of connection, she read the memory of its creation and the killing of its former friend, an adept named Pallas Ravachol. With that death, the machine’s murderous nature had been unleashed, and th
e primordial evil with which its masters had tainted its artificial intelligence now consumed it with dreadful, killing lust.
‘Is that a battle robot?’ asked Caxton.
‘It’s much more than a robot,’ said Dalia, her eyes snapping open. ‘It’s something far worse.’
‘What?’
‘A sentient machine,’ gasped Dalia, still reeling from the moment of connection to its grossly warped consciousness and the awful clarity of its purpose. ‘It’s an artificial intelligence and it’s been corrupted with something vile, something evil.’
‘Evil? That’s nonsense,’ said Zouche. ‘What do machines know of evil?’
‘What does it want?’ asked Severine.
Dalia looked over at Rho-mu 31 in uncomprehending terror. ‘It’s here to kill me.’
The Kaban Machine opened fire and the driver-servitor’s compartment disintegrated in a blitzing storm of las-fire and plasma bolts. Flames boomed from the ruptured energy cells and the darkness of the tunnel was suddenly dispelled.
Rho-mu 31 grabbed Dalia and hauled her from her seat as the machine rumbled down the tunnel, its weapon arms wreathed in halos of white fire as it systematically obliterated carriage after carriage. Designed to penetrate the hulls of battle tanks and overload the void shields of Titans, its sustained fire easily sliced through the sheet metal of the mag-lev’s sides.
Caxton, Severine and Zouche needed no encouragement to follow Rho-mu 31 and blundered into the corridor beyond their compartment in terror. The noise from outside the mag-lev was deafening, thudding pressure waves of explosions laced with the squeal and hiss of impacting lasers. The bark of solid rounds and the whine of ricochets echoed from the tunnel walls. The mag-lev shuddered like a wounded beast, flames and smoke erupting along its length as it was systematically riddled with gunfire.
Dalia heard screams from further along the mag-lev as passengers were chewed up in the fusillade. The corridor was a mass of terrified people, its length choked with panicked bodies. Men and women screamed and clawed at one another as they fought to escape the approaching slaughter. Rho-mu 31 gathered Dalia into his arms and forced a path through the heaving, jammed mass of people fleeing towards the rear of the mag-lev.
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