by Ronan Frost
____________
Sun Lord
____________
Ronan Frost
2005
Chapter One
Drop Zone.
The troop carrier groaned, massive treads carrying the iron flanked mass up the steep incline until engine roaring in sudden relief it crested the hill and slammed horizontal upon tough suspension.
Orc-like troops rode within the dark cabin, ignoring the massive jolts with impassivity borne only from military hardness, half shrouded in the shadows of their helmets, wide shouldered in full scale battle armour. Sitting deeper in the shadows was an android, one hand twisted about an overhead strap for stabilisation and its flawless, plastic outer skin glistening faintly in the semi-darkness. Although resembling a living being the android's icy eyes held an element of the supernatural; a machine in the guise of man.
A red light suddenly flashed on the ceiling, casting dancing flickering shadows over the dark interior. The android swung into action, its voice precise and commanding.
"Approaching the drop zone, disembark upon my mark."
The alien troops responded instantly to load and cock their weapons. Mechanical armour hummed as joints sealed and locked into place, a shaded visor moving down from the helmet to cover their squat faces.
"Drop site forty seconds."
The carrier careened over rocky ground, dust spewing in its wake. The tracks lost traction at frequent intervals, sending clods of infertile clay into the air. The carrier crashed through the dangerous terrain with brutal power, the navigation computer skirting major barriers but unheeding to all else.
"Minus thirty seconds and counting."
The overhead sun shed little warmth on the land, its heat lost through the atmospheric dust hanging heavy in the air. The resulting pale orange light gave the landscape a surrealistic look, as if nature had been slowed to near lifelessness.
The carrier travelled through an artificially cleared region blasted clean of vegetation by a controlled nuclear explosion, the result enabling the mother ship in orbit to send troops down to the planet. This such troop carrier had begun its arduous journey from the mother ship and was at last reaching the fringe of forest surrounding the blasted zone. The carrier bounded over an ashy landscape devoid of vegetation, the silhouettes of burnt stripped trees appearing like wraiths through the swirling mists and smoke.
"Minus eighteen seconds and counting."
At last it cleared the dust and entered forest. Plants grew wild here, and a few seconds later the carrier was surrounded by foliage; brightly coloured leaves flashing past, the forest a blazing spectacle of vivid greens and deep purples. Huge conical yellow flowers as big as a man shattered as the lip of the tank shot past like a scythe, movement flickering in and out of the undergrowth to either side as countless numbers of strange forest creatures fled from the oncoming tank. The animals moved with quick motions, eyes wild, their feet beating a rapid tattoo as they bolted away.
The carrier's tracks crushed leaves and fallen vegetation as it tore along a narrow trail through the trees. The deeper it progressed into the forest the worse the track got and the larger the trees became. The carrier's momentum propelled it over sizeable logs and through river beds pooled with muddy water. In its path were left two parallel tracks of destruction, the undergrowth torn and saplings uprooted.
"Three, two, one," said the android, "mark!"
At this exact instant the hatch of the carrier dropped open and the vehicle skidded to a halt. The ten troops inside filed out, spreading to take cover in the thick purple and green vegetation. They formed a growing semi-circle with weapons held at the ready. Barely had the last troop dived out had the carrier roared into life again and taken off back the way it had come.
The android surveyed the area in a millisecond, its electronic eyes whirring softly in a moment of excited activity. Satisfied, it took cover amongst the foliage.
Already the carrier was in the distance and heading back to the landing area, its heavy whining receding to be replaced by birdsong.
The next few moments passed warily. The troops scanned their surrounds looking for their enemy amongst the leaves. Fingers were tense on triggers that if pressed would unleash a deadly hail of explosive armour piercing missiles. Their dull black armour reflected no light, making them near invisible as they walked as shadows amongst shadows.
The android swept the forest, its attention totally focused and precise. Switching through all frequencies of light, from infra-red to x-ray, it did not miss the smallest detail.
A glint of metal flashed between the great trees and the android made for it, the troops in arrow head formation behind. Their march was stealthy and swift and soon had reached a small rocky clearing.
"This is the spot," muttered a troop beneath his breath.
In the clearing lay an overturned scout car, its dull metal surface gouged with dents. The hatch was open, allowing the motionless body of a man to spill out. Blood caked his clothing and his face buried in the leaf strewn ground, his limbs splayed unnaturally. The man had broad shoulders and squat neck, showing himself to be of the same race as the troops.
The android scouted the area, electronic brain gathering and filing information with incredible swiftness. The android turned on its steel heels, pausing momentarily as a link was established between it and the orbiting spacecraft overhead. The inbuilt radio antenna buzzed for a moment, and a second later had relayed an update to the spacecraft. There was a slight delay as the message shot through the upper atmosphere and through thirty thousand kilometres of space where the mothership lay in geosynchronous orbit. Aboard this thirty million ton mothership lay the main computer, embedded into every steel recess of its frame; such was its presence it had a name - Avatar. The computer drew from its many peta bytes of memory and computed the information, and within moments relayed the result back to the planet.
"The bandits made off to the south-east," the android transmitted to the troops as it approached the track of broken foliage as subtle as a few bent blades of grass and a disturbed spider's web. With this information the computer could tell that path maker was humanoid of small stature and light weight. Heat analysis revealed the trail was but four hours old.
"Single file," the android ordered. Its words were abrupt. "Arms at the ready. Shoot to kill."
The troops reacted instantly, and in moments were hot on the trail of their ill-fated prey.
Shata-Bera held the heavy weapon at his side, its bulk unfamiliar to him. He was a simple man, his features fine and delicate. As with all of his race he was small, only five feet high, yet this was considered exceptionally tall among his peers.
He was a member of a race known as Currach, human like in appearance yet more adapted to philosophy than warfare. He wore loose fitting robes that were ripped and torn from arduous forest trekking, on his feet flimsy sandals. His inadequate clothing revealing the haste to which he had taken flight into the trees. Shata-Bera's torso was oddly shaped, a wide chest narrowing quickly, his hips wide and angular like a pair of wings at his side. The small alien's wide, pupil-less, lidless and almost insect like eyes moved quickly beneath thin brows, his breath catching raggedly in his throat; the small man was nervous and started at every sound that the breathing forest made.
He called to his companions who were struggling with a backpack almost matched their own body weight.
"We can't go any further," gasped Hoplor. Hoplor had been a farmer a few weeks ago - until the alien invasion had turned him into a rebel. His muscled frame was drenched in sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead. His clothing was in tatters and his face and forearms scratched as a result of running through thick forest at wild speeds.
Shata-Bera nodded in understanding.
"Ta
ke strength from the natural world," he said. "Draw in the forest's energy and remember your teachings."
Hoplor spat. "Teachings? A lot of good they've been!"
Shata-Bera lowered his head, all-too aware that they were on the verge of complete breakdown. As if it wasn't enough, it was not only the alien invaders against his band but the entire Currach community.
In leading his band in the act of defiance which had killed two of the invaders he had broken the sacred laws of the Currach - to take the life of another creature.
"We shall rest here," Shata called. Sighing gratifyingly the Currach unloaded their haul of bizarre weaponry. The creatures at last gave in to exhaustion and fell to the moist grass.
K'iop, Shata's adviser, was not so quick to relax. His aged face and parched skin bore testament to his age, his brown Currach eyes glistening with knowledge and experience. He stood with one foot upon a log, his head perked and scanning the thick green forest around them. The great orange cloud of dust of the dropsite was far behind them, now seen as a billowing mass of dirty cumulus clouds stacked upon the horizon. The air here was clear and the sun warm over the thick lush purple vegetation.
K'iop was dressed in a long hunter's cloak and sturdy leather bound thongs. A hood was pulled over his head, bathing his weathered face in shadow. He held a laser rifle in his small hands, its butt propped at his waist and the muzzle pointed skywards. By nature the Currach's splayed four fingered hands were unsuited to the alien's weapons but K'iop had adapted quickly, and now held the laser rifle that they had stolen with unconscious ease, making it looked as if it had been moulded to his form. Shata-Bera approached. "Do you think they will follow us?"
K'iop gave him a worn wry smile.
"I hope not. If they have found us we are as good as dead." K'iop waved his many jointed hand in disgust at his fatigued comrades. Spreadeagled, they drank greedily from canteens containing precious stream water. Some were to tired even for this and had simply flaked out in the small clearing.
Shata-Bera came to their defence. "They have spent two weeks in this jungle close to death. They have a right to be weary."
"I am not blaming them," K'iop said. "I just wish my buddies from the Oversea War were here."
"So you fought in the War," mused Shata-Bera. He had not had much of a chance to speak with this man since they had met under unusual circumstances in the forest. As a result many aspects of the man were still a mystery to him. The old veteran had banded with Shata's company a week ago, united against a common enemy - the men from the stars.
"I have lived in this jungle probably more years than you have spent on this earth, Shata. I have fought for this land yet those fools in the cities will not allow my entry."
Shata reddened. Before he had taken to the forest he had been a Church Administrator and had been a part of placing the ban on mercenaries entering the city. He had once thought that the it was for the best that the citizen's be kept free of such a tainting influence. Now he saw that he had alienated people and forced them into the wild.
"The Church should never ha-"
K'iop cut him short.
"Bah!" he scoffed. "It's over, and we have graver concerns. Those creatures could be all over us in a matter of hours; we have no time to speak of history. You are no longer in your library, Reverence, and no longer are your children at your feet."
Shata flushed in anger. "Don't mention my children!" He breathed deeply and quickly brought his temper under control.
K'iop quietened, his voice low with concern. "What happened back there?" he asked.
Shata-Bera would not answer.
K'iop shook his head sadly. "I have seen many men go over the edge in war, and I am afraid I see the signs in you. You trouble yourself too much."
Shata nodded slightly. His body was aching with tension and strain, physically and mentally. Images of his dead children and family kept flashing in his mind's eye, haunting the man. Shata found revulsion and hate rise within him; he wanted revenge.
This deep passion was the same that had forced him from the city, from the apathetic Grand Council who would do nothing against the Star-creatures. He had rebelled from the system to quench his thirst for vengeance.
"I saw my wife the night before she was killed," Shata spoke softly. "The physicians couldn't do a thing, said she was beyond help. Her flesh was cold by sun-up. The stress builds up in you as time goes on, all the death stacking heavily in my mind, weighing it down. I recall speaking to a fellow farmer the day before his farm was captured and destroyed." Shata spoke as if his hide was leather, such was the impassion his tone conveyed. But the cold glint in his eyes betrayed his true emotions.
"The space creatures killed his family, and then took everything," he finished harshly.
K'iop was silent, his depthless eyes brooding. "They have the power to destroy us all."
"You sound afraid. Surely you're not going to let them walk all over us?" Shata's eyes showed disbelief.
"No, boy. I have fought before and I will fight again. But something tells me that our battle will be difficult indeed. Ambushing the Star creatures vehicle was probably not the wisest thing to do, but it is necessary if we are to use their own weapons against them. When we figure out how to operate this equipment many Star creatures will fall before us." K'iop turned slightly to bring himself face to face with Shata. "But it is a grim task. Death will come to us all, but we shall go fighting."
Shata's mind wandered over the morning's events, and how quickly everything had changed. Before they had been a band of roving farmers, but now they were wanted by the most powerful race in the galaxy.
"How long do you think until they find us?"
K'iop shook his head. "I can't be sure. I laid a score of false trails, but I doubt it will confuse the Star creatures for very long. At best we have a five, maybe six hour start."
"That doesn't leave us much time. Are you sure you can shake them off our trail at the falls?"
"I know many tributaries and stream beds that would be sure to upset even the best tracker."
"That is well." Shata's eyes came back into focus as he drew his mind back to present. "We must be ready to move out soon," he said. "We can rest when we reach the safety of the Falls, but until then we must press on. I think the men are rested enough by now."
K'iop nodded grimly. His voice raised to address the company of fighters. "Okay, lets get moving again."
The ragged Currach struggled to their feet, full of groans and muffled curses as heavy packs were hauled once more upon aching backs.
K'iop plunged into the thick jungle, leading the way for Shata and his band of fighters to follow. Then suddenly Shata heard a sound unlike anything natural crashing through the jungle, growing louder all-too-quickly.
Incomprehension was reflected on multiple stunned faces until Hoplor shouted a warning.
"Run!"
The moment of stillness was shattered. The rebels stumbled over themselves in their haste to get away and into the cover of the trees.
The next instant flame erupted from the foliage. As if in slow motion Shata saw Hoplor fall to the ground, blood flying from an open wound. There was a sharp rattling and the dirt at his feet billowed.
They were being attacked!
Shata-Bera and his companions leapt for the treeline. Shata's vision narrowed, almost tunnel-like, as his mind concentrated on only one thing - reaching the trees alive.
He has cast off the backpack almost unconsciously and ran with only his rifle, one of the devices stolen from the Star-creatures earlier that morning. He leapt and rolled, his heart beating loud and fast in his ears. He scrambled into the cover of thick bushes, heedless of scratches endured.
Shata-Bera fumbled with his new-found weapon as he attempted to line the sights upon their hidden enemy.
A split second later white-hot fire erupted around him, he saw sudden flame and instantly his flesh was alight. Wild screams emerged from his throat as he fell backwards, the hair upon hi
s head licking with angry flame.
The rebels' eyes were wide with fear. They saw their leader's form on fire as he stumbled about in pain inflamed panic. Bullets and laser bolts ricocheted about the trees creating unearthly chaos.
K'iop's voice stood out from the confusion like a beacon of solidity and firmness.
"To me men! We fight!"
The old man's laser rifle lanced into the jungle, swathing a path through the leaves. His eyes narrowed in cold fury, the stabbing of the laser random as the enemy still did not show itself.
The rebels aroused themselves from their stupor and pulled weapons from their packs. Four Currach had fallen to the attack. They convulsed as their bodies were horribly mutilated with the tearing of projectiles. The seven remaining Currach knew enough to try and get to the shelter of the trees. They ran heavily and blindly. They did not see that the attackers had surrounded them, and they were running straight into their grasp. They fell like flies before the crossfire from the trees.
The few remaining Currach returned blasts, but were ill aimed and futile. In seconds all were flung backwards as bolts tore them apart.
K'iop was at Shata's side, standing over the Currach giving him cover from the aliens with almost continuous blasts of his rifle.
Shata moaned in agony. Rolling in the long damp grass had extinguished the fire, leaving rippled and scarred flesh and a bald blackened skull.
"We've got to get out of here," breathed K'iop. One hand still upon the trigger of the rifle he reached down and grabbed Shata about the waist. The old man's strength was surprising as he lifted Shata up and over his shoulder.
Shata groaned in intense agony, muscles spasming and aching, knowing nothing but the pain.
K'iop stepped backwards, never relenting his blasting. Tree limbs fell and burnt as he struggled to shake off the attacking shots. Moving quickly he reached the cover of the trees and ran as best as he was able, the burden of the man on his shoulder made his footing clumsy and stumbling. The heavy throbbing of his heart beat a hasty tattoo in his ear, fear pushing his body on beyond exhaustion.