Sunlord

by Ronan Frost

  "Great," grumbled Capac. "Avatar is sounding more and more like a god the closer we get to it. Just how do avoid its eyes?"

  Shaun cast about for a moment, his brows furrowed in sudden thought. "That's a good point." He made off towards the rear of the tank and began prising open some wall panels. Finding the mechanic's tool locker, he returned with a large container of viscous jet black engine grease.

  "It will hide your body heat as well as disguising you from the Sunlord's eyes."

  "How does Avatar sense body heat?" asked Ashian.

  "Infra-red. What we feel as heat it can see as light. Smear it on all your exposed flesh." He tossed it and Capac caught the plastic container deftly. The native dipped in his hand and unflinchingly wiped the grease on his cheek.

  "I'll leave you to your makeup." Shaun grinned at the comic sight. "Don't worry, you look beautiful!"

  Capac scowled, but was otherwise silent.

  "I have to get back to the cabin," finished Shaun. "Get ready for a rough ride."

  The jolting which sent Capac and his companions clinging to the polished metal frame of the bunks for support did not seem to bother Shaun. The latter strode purposefully across the leaping floor, maintaining his balance with almost supernatural ease.

  Capac, Myshia and Ashian quickly applied the cold sticky grease to themselves in generous dabs. Although a humorous sight the tension in the air belied any joviality or laughter - they were preparing themselves for a head on attack against a superior race.

  Once finished Capac unslung the miner's rifle worked the bolt, the metal slippery in his greasy hands. Ashian gazed at the Scavala, his train of though leading to his weapon in his belt, hidden by his tunic. His hand stole unconsciously to the smooth metal surface of the stubby pistol, touching it fearfully. Deep inside he knew that the time would come when he would be forced to use it.

  Meanwhile Shaun was in the control room taking in his surrounds. He swung himself into the small chair and cast about, searching for something he recognised. The small cabin was surrounded by hundreds of dials and instruments, every space used efficiently and effectively. At the fingertips of the chair was an array of Hartrias keys, a small joystick and a trackball. Also within arm's length was a visual display unit that pulled down from the ceiling, covering the user in a helmet that gave a virtual, computer enhanced image of the outside of the tank.

  Shaun settled into the cushioned seat and immediately felt the plastic-like fabric envelop and conform to his body shape. It provided comfort and absorbed the heavy jolts without encumbering him, retaining ease of movement. He leaned over the rows of buttons, his finger hovering uncertainly over them, as he haltingly read the Hartrias symbols. He reached up and pulled the vdu down and over his head. Screens lit up before his eyes, casting a 180 degree image that danced before his eyes, computer polygon graphics rendered so fine to look incredibly realistic. The ever thickening dust was of no concern to the cameras, and, using differing wavelengths of light, the computer pieced together a crystal clear image. Although the dust couldn't be seen its effects could as uprooted bushes bounded across their path, driven by the wind. Shaun jumped as a high pitched beeping came from the speakers overhead. He held his breath as he saw, through the vdu, a droid approach the tank.

  The droid was about two metres high, and ran along on three widely spaced tracks. Atop of its pole-like torso a light flashed, strobing like a beating heart. Its grey metal surface was scarred and pockmarked, evidence that the droid had served upon a countless number of worlds. Shaun knew this to be a perimeter guard, sent by the Hartrias to check out the medic tank.

  There was nothing Shaun could do but sit tight and let the tank computer take control. If Shaun intervened the guard would surely know of his presence.

  The medic tank ground to a halt before the flashing light of the guard. Its identification code was transmitted, along with its purpose.

  A long tense interval of static followed as the guard processed this for what seemed like a long time. Shaun felt blood rush to his head and a feeling of dread stole over his heart. Had they been found?

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the guard rolled backwards, freeing their path. The tank responded instantaneously and jerked forward with brutal power.

  On the radar Shaun saw they were nearing the main complex. Then all of a sudden the image before him cleared as the tank broke through the blinding dust. In the space of a few metres the ferocious wind reduced into silence as they entered the eye of the artificial cyclone. Rows of building confronted them on all sides, nested into each other like a bee hive. Pods and scout craft squatted on the baked earth, nestled into hangers like larvae. The entire structure looked impenetrable and firm, as if bolted in place to stand the full ravages of time. But Shaun knew that every component was able to retract into its root structure and pack into cargo ships, to be back in orbit within the space of hours.

  Shaun spoke over his shoulder to the anxiously awaiting Eloprin.

  "Get ready, I think we're going to have some company."

  The tank rushed past the structures, coming scant inches from the tips of some buildings. Even though he knew the computer would not make a mistake Shaun found himself clutching the arms of the chair in the expectation of a collision.

  A few other vehicles pulled out in from of the tank, other zipping past and down side streets. Even though it looked chaotic, a traffic policeman's nightmare, the computer had everything under control.

  The tank's computer guidance turned the tank in a ninety degree left-hand turn to leave the main road. It seemed they were fast approaching the hospital, where the computer thought it would unload its cargo of wounded Sunlords. They were in the heart of the complex, deep behind enemy lines, yet Shaun knew as long as he let the computer drive them around they were in no danger of detection.

  They travelled for a further few minutes, and Shaun became puzzled as the sheer size of the establishment sunk in. It seemed the Hartrias were setting up a major base, complete with trench lines, perimeter gun turrets and infantry tents.

  His thoughts froze as a Sunlord trooper dressed in an armoured pressure suit stepped forward into their path, his six-fingered hand raised in a halt gesture, the other brandishing a hefty looking rifle. This was real danger, for a Sunlord would see what the robotic sentry had not.

  Shaun hesitated for a brief second before decidedly reaching over the control board and flicking a master switch. It was time for some manual intervention.

  Shaun rammed the throttle slider to its maximum, jamming it against the stop. The tank's engine responded instantly as it shot forward with an animal like roar, lurching Shaun into the padding of the seat and sending his native companions skidding over the polished floor.

  The Sunlord trooper learned the last and most important lesson of his life; never stand in the way of a tank. He disappeared beneath the heavy tracks, jolting the massive vehicle slightly.

  Speed and momentum built as the heavy duty engine roared. Shaun pushed the trackball left and the tank responded quickly to skid around the corner on one track. Restoring full throttle as soon as they had recovered from the corner Shaun clipping the corner of a passing construction vehicle.

  The natives cursed at their predicament as they slid helplessly, striking projections and grasping for solid support. They could not see outside and could only guess at were Shaun was taking them, their imagination populating the surrounds with ranks upon ranks of Sunlord troopers.

  A row of guards stepped out before the tank, but quickly retreated as soon as they saw the tank was not about to stop. But Shaun knew reinforcements would not be long in coming. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a combat tank roared from a side alleyway and spun about in pursuit, coming close to collision as it barrelled in at full speed. Shaun could see in the holographic image of the tank in the vdu, its great cannon bearing upon them.

  "Your stop!" bawled Shaun over the crashing of the engine. He activated the emergency brakes and shoved the trackbal
l hard right. Skidding sideways on the concreted slabs the tank crashed into a pile of steel crates with a terrible grinding of metal, scattering debris in all directions.

  "Get yourselves hidden," urged Shaun as Capac appeared at his shoulder. The tank's engine idled roughly, and Shaun knew it would be only a matter of seconds before the enclosing net of Hartrias security caught up to them.

  "I'll divert their attention," he continued. "From there I'll get myself a cruiser and head back to the Federation."

  "You're not coming with us?"

  Shaun glanced nervously at the tank's controls. "No, look, we haven't got much time. Quickly, get out of here while the going's good."

  Capac heard the hydraulics hum and felt a gust of dusty air as Shaun opened the hatch.

  "Good hunting!" the forester cried as he leapt out the hatch, his rifle held low and ready.

  Myshia quickly followed with the silky motions of a dancing shadow.

  Ashian paused in the doorway, silhouetted by the light. He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell.

  "Thank you, Star Man. Goodbye."

  With these final words he took one final breath, braced his nerves, and launched himself out of the tank.

  Shaun wasted no time in resealing the hatch, his mind working without emotion. The engine thundered and took off, shedding scraps of metal as it flew off down the concrete road. The natives dashed to the shelter of the buildings, covertly making their way through the jumble of crates and wreckage.

  There was no turning back now.

  Ashian and Myshia followed Capac's lead as they ducked through the shadows, their eyes darting about nervously, hearts beating a ferocious tattoo in their ears.

  A tank rumbled past, followed by the shouting of Sunlord troopers. The natives ducked low as a trooper practically walked straight past them. If Ashian had reached out through the jumbled crates he could have brushed the armour of the passing trooper.

  The forest warriors did not move or even breathe. It seemed the whole world had stopped as the trooper walked ever closer. Capac held his rifle ready, his muscles bunching, in the shadows his oil smeared body was almost invisible, the colouring of his large insectile eyes seemingly disjointed.

  Luckily for them it seemed they were following the tank, and signs of pursuit quickly diminished. Capac breathed a sigh of relief as he unlocked frozen muscles. They moved quickly into the shadows to seek as much cover as possible.

  In a brief moment of introspection Ashian looked upon himself, suddenly astonished at the transformation that had occurred. He had once been a slightly rotund council member, the Grand Vizier, who directed the morning sermons at the Temple of Abas. And now he was plastered in thick black oil, his once combed hair a tussled unruly mess and his fine clothing given way to a leather tunic bound by a length of cord. His life was now balanced on a knife edge.

  Capac reached the end of the cover of the crates - beyond lay an empty expanse of bitumen and storage bays. A forklift and crane worked on some equipment to unloaded a huge docked cargo ship. The mammoth size of the cargo ship was stunning; its landing pads were taller than a man, and a vast expanse of grey metal of its hull seemed to reach up into the sky like a mountain. Occasionally great clouds of steam would hiss from vents like the breath of a gigantic dragon.

  The onlooking hunter wondered how on earth the Sunlords managed to get such a thing off the ground.

  An uneasy niggling of awe crept into his belly, but he forced them away. He was a tribesman, and fear meant nothing.

  Capac hunkered low while awaiting for the other two to regroup. He spoke silently, like a stalking hunter, his words the barest of whispers. "One of their craft is there. The outlander said that's our ticket."

  Myshia nodded, but remained apprehensive. "How do we get onboard?"

  The eloprin hunters turned as one to look upon Ashian, for he was the one who boasted that he could smuggle them aboard. Caught off-guard, Ashian cast about looking for inspiration. He peered over the lip of the crate to spy upon the working forklift once more, careful not to make any sudden movements.

  "We've got only one option," he muttered. "We've got to get into those crates."

  Myshia's eyes widened in surprise, but Capac nodded in agreement. "From there that metal beast with the long arms will carry us on..."

  Their eyes met, and the decision was made. Capac lead them off, circling around so that they were closer to the forklift. It was a tense few minutes, but they made it unscathed. The humming computer controlled forklift trundled about not five metres from where they lay.

  As soon as it had disappeared with a full load into the hull of the cargo ship they made their move. Ashian immediately set about attacking the catches holding the crate's lid fastened and soon his nimble fingers had removed all four of the metal devices. Capac and Myshia helped as best as they were able to budge the lid, but it remained solid. Together all three pushed against it, their muscles trembling with effort.

  Capac cursed, and gave up. An idea struck Ashian.

  "Here, give me your knife, Capac."

  Capac handed over the implement, and watched as Ashian fitted it under the rubber seal of the crate, working its end to prise it in. The weapon began to bend with strain and Ashian pushed down, applying leverage to the blade.

  With a final heave the lid opened a crack and air rushed in to fill the vacuum sealed interior. Ashian fell back as the crate seemingly gasped for air.

  Capac lifted the lid, finding that it gave easily now that the difference in pressures had been resolved.

  He peered inside, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  The crate contained a neat stack of machinery, immersed in a pool of evil smelling grease.

  Capac hauled out of strangely shaped apparatus, and lay it in the shadows between the nearby crates. The others helped to remove the peculiar pieces of machinery, dripping with heavy oil that would preserve them.

  In a few moments enough room had been cleared that enabled Capac to lower himself into the black oil. He positioned himself between the few parts of remaining machinery and braced his back against the inside wall, expecting the journey to be a rough one. Myshia leapt lithely into the crate without a word, holding her bow above her head to keep it free of the oil.

  Suddenly a rumble made Ashian look up, and he saw with horror that the forklift had emerged from the ship and was headed directly towards them. In their exposed position they would surely be seen.

  "I'll seal this crate," he breathed. "I'll have to find another for myself."

  Capac seemed concerned. "Be careful."

  Ashian was already closing the lid. "Don't worry, I'll meet up with you once we get inside the ship."

  He flicked the catches closed, putting a splinter of fractured metal between the rubber sealing as he did so that would allow a small flow of air to circulate in the crate. He realised suddenly that those inside wouldn't be able to open the catches from where they lay; if Ashian didn't release them they would be trapped!

  The heavy burden of responsibility weighed upon his mind, for he knew he could not simply leave to catches open or it would look suspicious. He had just flicked the last catch when the squat orange machine bore down upon them. He dropped out of sight.

  Ashian moved between the crates on hands and knees with bare seconds to spare. He realised that the forklift had reached the crate containing his companions, and had extended its robotic arms to engage with the brackets on the box. With a hum of machinery the forklift made easy work of lifting the crate off the ground and spun quickly about-face, one tread working forward while the other worked backwards. Moments later it was headed for the ramp of the cargo ship and disappeared into the darkness of the hold.

  A sinking feeling settled in Ashian's belly, for this was not what he had expected. They had never intended to separate, and this new turn of events meant that they may never find each other again. For the next few hours, Ashian was alone. The Currach exhaled, releasing pent up air that he realised he had
been holding. He sunk against a steel crate desperately trying to think of was going to do.

  He froze, the hairs upon the nape of his pale fleshed neck bristling at the sound of footsteps. He felt the vibrations more than he heard them, and immediately knew that a Sunlord approached.

  Ashian was wild eyed for a brief moment before rationality replaced the spark of panic. He must hide!

  Legs curled beneath him, Ashian dove for a narrow gap between two massive stacks of various sized crates. He hit the ground and rolled into deeper cover, putting a barrier between himself and the marching Sunlord.

  At that moment the footsteps rounded the corner, bringing the guard in view of the crate he had just leapt behind. It had been close, and Ashian feared that the Sunlord may have seen him.

  The Sunlord android froze, its senses suddenly attuned to a small disturbance. It looked exactly like a flesh and blood Sunlord trooper, but its true identity was know only to a handful of technicians. It belonged to the TX sub-class, a lean mechanical network underneath the layer of plasticised skin, nerves honed to fine edge, its body extra-ordinarily powerful. Its secret identity allowed it to mix more easily with the Hartrias troops, giving Avatar the opportunity to overlook her workers and supervise construction. Rebellion or strikes amongst workers was rare due to the presence of the awed TX androids.

  The TX android cocked its ears but heard nothing over the rumbling of machinery of a nearby rock crusher and the steady overhead whooshing of passing jumpjets. Its heat sensors also showed negative, but still something in its circuits suggested something was nearby. Its synthetic leather boots squeaked as he stepped forward, advancing upon the rows of crates preparing to be loaded aboard a cargo ship.

  His heart beating so loudly in his chest he feared the Sunlord may hear it Ashian held his breath and did not move a muscle or even attempt to peer over the top of the crate. He just crouched, adrenalin coursing through his body, ready to flee at the slightest of movements.