by Ronan Frost
"It is a female, sir."
"What?"
"The native is a female."
The Admiral scowled. "There are only two of these sneakers? I trust you haven't let an entire tribe walk the corridors?"
Avatar recovered smoothly from the sarcastic remark.
"I will not underestimate them again, sir. And yes, scanners reported they were the only ones who left duct 331. If there were any other infiltrators their bodies will be uncovered as the repair team cleans up."
"And the battle? Any new information?"
"The rebellion is under control."
"Very well, then," said Admiral Karthorn, rising to his feet. "I have important matters awaiting me." He paused at the door, hand poised over the latch. "Get me a report as soon as they are captured, and have them held in a cell for my inspection..." Karthorn hit the button and the black surface of the door slid open with a hiss, spilling in white light from the corridors. "...I'd like to meet this rogue native face to face." His boot raised, the heel coming down upon the shiny metal floor, and he moved forward.
The Admiral saw only a brief blur out of the corner of his eye before the knife hit him, driving him backwards as if clipped by a fist. He spun, blood in his eyes and beating in his ears, and fell, legs twisting like saplings.
Capac dropped from the ceiling and almost on top of the huge form of the Admiral. His squat face was blurred with motion as he leapt, his eyes shadowed where patches of grease still remained giving the impression of a mask. His animal hide clothing was torn and dirty, his bare feet slapping dully against the floor as he moved. He looked so out of place in this environment of cleanliness and technology. Out of place, but moving with dreadful grace and efficiency, like a virus moving through the veins of a host.
Karthorn's hands clenched the handle of the long bladed knife that stuck from between his ribs. Breath came in short wheezing gasps, every movement seeming to catch and tear his insides. The involuntary cry from his throat of pain and surprise, his narrow eyelids bunching closed as he felt a pool of blood rise in this throat.
With a great jab of searing white hot pain he felt the knife wrenched from his chest, a warm cascade of lifeblood gushing over his hands as if it a plug had been pulled. His vision was hazy and confused but in that silent moment he looked up and saw the small primitive alien standing over him, the tip of a knife dripping.
Capac brought his knife around in a quick chop, the crudely formed blade cutting a gash through the tough fibre of the helicasuit, digging deep into the Admiral's barrel-like chest. The Sunlord rocketed backwards and crashed back through the door, his lower back smashing painfully against the raised lip on the floor. His eyes blazed fury, six fingered hands clenching, the claw on the back of each hand extended and slashing at the air in rage. Capac darted just of reach for a moment, then sprung lithely with the knife held before him, his shoulder wrenching backwards as the final blow bit deeply between the Sunlord's ribs.
A thickening mist clouded Admiral Karthorn's eyes, drowning out the chaos of light and sound. He struggled for a minute longer before life gradually faded from the huge limbs, red-green blood seeping through his magnificent cape, gathering in a fast expanding pool about his form.
Breathing heavily, Capac turned and saw Ashian close. Capac lowered himself and cast aside the cloak covering the tree trunk like torso of the fallen Sunlord, inspecting briefly the damage he had inflicted. His quick fingers moved to unclip the blaster from the Sunlord's shoulder holster and he pulled it away, hefting the heavy pistol in his hand before tucking it firmly through the belt about his waist.
"Is he dead?" asked Ashian.
"Scroching right he is," muttered Capac. His wide green eyes traced over the sharp edges of a projecting rib-bone, the bone starkly white in contrast to the sickly coloured blood around it. Capac gestured over his shoulder with a savage jab. "You said Avatar is in there?"
Ashian nodded grimly, passing a shaking hand over his brow. Pulling his hand away he saw the shallow cut below his eye had begun to seep again, tracing a web of blood down his cheek. Shutting the stinging pain resolutely from his mind he stepped forward, skirting the body of the Sunlord that had fallen half in, half out of the doorway.
He found himself in darkness, a narrow diffuse beam of light leading like a pathway to the centre of the room, in which was a large chair. Ashian involuntarily winced and found himself holding his palms to his ears, the bass vibrations painful to his sensitive currach ears. The noise was on the very limit of hearing, so low that it was felt as a rattling of the bones as if the very molecules were being shaken apart. He shook his head and blinked a few times, impatient for his vision to adjust to the darkness.
"Do you hear that?" grumbled Capac, standing close to Ashian.
Ashian nodded. "Sounds like large machinery."
"It gives me the creeps..." Capac's voice trailed off, his tone hardening with awe. "What is that?"
The space before them was lit with the light of a thousand candles, dancing like glowing moths weaving in an intricate pattern. A vast array of colours assaulted their eyes - vivid reds strobing, deep blue waves expanding through the air, bright yellow flashes looking as distant as star bursts. What looked to be a face pulled away from the molten mass of lights and colours, eyes flashing, the glimpse of a tooth and long jawbone, before it faded back as quickly it had come. Other shapes replaced it, oozing out, expanding, then falling back. Every new image seemed to play at the mind, tug at it and twist it like a Dali painting. They drew the onlooker into another world, each new burst of colour impossibly bright and fascinating.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Capac looked on with deepening wonder.
"What is it?" he repeated slowly.
But Ashian was not listening. He had pulled away his eyes, snapping his mind back into reality.
"Something's not right here," he muttered. "The computer - it's silent, as if I doesn't notice us."
Capac closed his eyes with visible effort. It required immense willpower to stop his gaze wandering back to that fantastic colour show. "Not notice? Impossible! Shaun said that it c-"
"Exactly," interrupted Ashian, already moving. "It knows we're here, and it is just entertaining us, keeping us occupied with its little optical display until the guards arrive."
"Close the door!" Capac silently cursed himself for being sucked into the computer's little distraction, knowing if Ashian had not of pulled him away he would still be gazing at it.
They heaved the body of the Admiral through the door, for most of the Sunlord's bulk was on the inside. It was an easy matter for Capac to grasp the Sunlord's legs and pivot the body about, clearing the door runner. Ashian was searching through the many pockets of the Admiral, heedless now of the Sunlord blood as it streaked his forearms. Then he found his quarry, withdrawing the keycard from a chest pocket in the gashed helicasuit and holding it aloft critically in the dim light.
"It operates the doors," he explained to Capac. "Shaun showed me how they use it...they run it somehow through this..."
In the darkness behind him the bulk of the Admiral stirred. The solidly built Sunlord's breath wheezed silently through half open, blood splattered lips. The Admiral's thick fingers twitched, instinctively pulling into a fist as wave after wave of pain smashed into his conscious mind. He felt a strange tingling, almost disjointed sensation in his chest. The shredded patches of his cloak flapped with each indrawn breath, a gurgle of blood filling his throat, and he knew at least one of his lungs was punctured. He rose a hand with great effort, trembling with pain, and tenderly probed the long wound running down his left side. It was covered in blood.
But Ashian's attention was far removed from the Admiral. A wild beating filling his ears, the tattoo of his heart pumping adrenalin into his veins. He fumbled with the keycard, and it almost slipped from his hands twice, before he managed to fit it between the narrow slit on the wall.
Capac leapt backwards in surprise as the door hissed closed, sliding firm
ly into position in less than a millisecond, sealing them in complete darkness. He ran a rough hand over the cool metallic surface, grinning in relief. In those moments before the door had snapped shut he had caught a glimpse of movement down the corridor, knowing immediately that it could have only been guards rushing towards them.
"Not bad, city man."
The air cracked suddenly, a booming voice flooding their ears. Both fell back in shock, heart leaping into their throats. Even though Ashian felt exhausted he could feel the rush of adrenalin in his veins as Avatar spoke in the natives' language.
"You are clever, for primitives."
Capac backed against the wall, pressed tight against it, palms sweaty and eyes darting futilely in the darkness. The light show had disappeared, as had all other lights. The darkness was so utter it seemed as if they were in deep subterranean tomb. And that voice - it seemed to come from all directions at once.
"Many would have found themselves enraptured," came the voice again, its tone smooth, almost genteel. "I must remark on your strength of mind."
Ashian's groping hand found Capac's shoulder in the darkness and pulled him close. "Don't listen to it," he muttered. "It is smart, and will try and talk you around."
Even though his voice was the barest whisper Avatar picked it up.
"That's no way to talk," it interceded. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement..."
Ashian gritted his teeth, ignoring the powerfully loud voice, instead raising the infra-red telescope to his eye. He prodded Capac in the ribs, motioning towards the nearest rocklike projection.
"Help me with your knife, Capac. We'll start here - just pull as many wires out as you can."
Avatar's voice commanded their attention, making the natives pause midstride.
"Stop! You cannot hope to go further. If you do, I shall open that door and let in the guards...and I don't have to tell you what an unpleasant experience that would be."
Capac held his breath, his heart pounding in his ears. "He's right, Ashian-"
"Now, if you'll just lay down your weapons, I'm sure we ca-"
"No," shouted Ashian. "Don't you see, Capac? If this great maggot could open the door it already would have."
"Then why-?"
Ashian's eyes hardened as realisation dawned. "The Sunlord was high ranking."
"What?"
"You noticed the Sunlord you killed was dressed differently to the others?" Seeing Capac's shadowy head move in a nod, he continued. "It could only have been their king...and his card is unquestionable, and not even the computer can override it. When I sealed that door it was by their king's authority."
Blinding white light suddenly smote the air before their eyes. It was almost silent but for a soft whosh like an flash on an old fashioned camera. Ashian could not react in time - his gemlike eyes felt as if they were assaulted by a thousand hammers, driving his brain down into his feet with sensory overload. Avatar's voice was magnified a thousandfold, deep bass tones shaking the ground.
"You are fools!" Ashian may have been mistaken, but he thought he detected an element of anger in the voice. His comment had obviously struck home - the computer could not override the Admiral's authority. Despite the numbing pain in his eyes he felt the elation of victory in his heart and he managed a weak smile.
Capac lay huddled on the floor, hands over his eyes. Darkness had settled in once more, leaving dancing bright spots before his eyes. "Uh, Ashian, I think you've got it pissed off."
Angry flares still traced across Ashian's eyes, making he stop and gasp for breath. He stood shakily, finding his dazzled eyes were absolutely useless in the dim light - even Capac's silhouette was lost on the inky backdrop.
"Capac," he questioned, mind moving into gear. "Do you still have that Sunlord weapon?"
The forester fumbled for a moment at his side in search of the pistol he had taken from the Admiral. His hands met with the warm plastisteel surface of the barrel and he pulled it free. By this time his eyes had recovered a little, bringing a vague outline of Ashian into view.
Ashian felt the unmarred smooth surface of the blaster being pressed into his hand and his fingers closed about it, momentarily surprised at its weight. After a few attempts he managed to wrestle the magazine free of its housing.
Capac backed up against the wall, the blade of his knife like a long flashing tooth in his hand.
"What have you got planned?"
"Just rip open something." Ashian's voice rang with urgency, so much so that Capac immediately set about with probing fingers, tracing the floor in search of a narrow crack that would give away a hatchway.
"If my guess is right..." Ashian paused and immediately heavy silence set in, only that it wasn't totally devoid of noise. There was still that monotonic, low pitched humming emanating from the floor that ran up the fibre of his leg bones like a physical presence. "Avatar is powered by a source under here."
"Found something!" barked Capac suddenly, his fingers running along the cool floor. His knife blade was immediately under the lip of the hatch, levering and prising at each corner.
Strange yellow light filtered into the darkened room, a square outline of light appearing as if from thin air as Capac pulled the hatch from the floor. Ashian stepped forwards, peering into the half-metre square opening with cautiousness. He heard a dull clatter as Capac threw the cover aside, at the same time cursing as he found a wedge of his knife had sheared off, rendering the weapon useless.
They had forgotten Avatar. It had been strangely silent for the past few minutes, but when it spoke again it was with increased volume.
"You cannot hope to escape me," Avatar thundered from all directions. "You cannot even begin to harm me - I am an integral part of this ship."
"Ignore it," growled Ashian to Capac as he lowered himself gingerly down through the trapdoor.
"What are you doing?" Capac's voice rang with firmness. He was once more the stalking hunter, in control. All of a sudden his mind focused with ferocious intensity on the task of disabling the entity that had come close to taking his life may times - Avatar.
Hot pipes brushed against Ashian's pants as he squeezed himself through two large bulks of machinery. His eyes had grown used to the yellowish light and he looked down between his dangling feet, seeing a narrow platform just below. He dropped the short distance, narrowly missing smashing his head against a projecting cast of machinery as he fell. Satisfied the magazine cartridge had remained in his belt he looked up, moving his head with difficultly in the confined space.
He saw only Capac's head and shoulders as a silhouette outlined against the trapdoor above. "This is what drives the fire out of the Sunlord's guns," he explained. "Shaun told me about it, so if I can put it in the right place maybe we can upset Avatar."
Capac nodded quickly and braced his hands against the lip of the trapdoor. "I shall help."
"No," said Ashian. "It's too tight in here as it is it. Just hang on until I get this thing planted..." He pulled the blaster from his belt and placed it at his feet. He could do without its bulk - it seemed he would all the agility he could muster if he was going to get through some of those gaps.
Capac watched uneasily as the lithe figure of Ashian slipped from view as if he had burrowed into a tunnel. He shouted a caution, but feared his words were lost on empty air. He had to admit, the little fellow had guts.
Ashian grunted as he pulled himself deeper into the web of machinery. He moved his hips, managing to just squeeze between two horizontal bars. His right leg suddenly smashed upwards, the fabric of his clothing tearing with a loud rippp. Ashian gasped and struggled free, thrashing wildly and screaming his fright. With a savage jolt his leg was free, bruised but unbroken. Sweat running down the length of his face, Ashian saw the two bars he had clambered through now spun like driveshafts, shreds of his clothing twisted about the bars blurred in motion and making a flickering noise. Ashian passed a shaking hand over his brow, uttering a silent oath. It seemed Avatar was out to ge
t him and had activated the machine in the hope of tearing off a limb or two. He reflected how lucky he had been; if the driveshaft had started a second earlier he would now be a thick paste over the machinery.
Undaunted, Ashian pushed onwards, on his belly now and moving through tighter and tighter spaces. His ears rang with pain as the deep vibrational humming built in intensity. It seemed he was getting closer to Avatar's beating heart with every further inch he crawled. The throbbing, pulsating noise was unbearable now. It wrenched at his teeth and nerves, its pitch becoming lower to become more of a vibration than sound.
With a agonising jolt felt something deep in his ears crunch, a bolt of pain running the length of his head. Gritting his teeth, Ashian wiped away a stream of blood that trickled from his ears. The noise dulled immediately, as did everything else. It was as if two thick pillows had been stuffed over his ears, somehow cutting him away from reality.
"This is far enough," he muttered to himself, wriggling a hand around to withdraw the magazine from his belt. He tore at the covering with his teeth, spitting away the plastic disdainfully, his jaw aching. The twenty cylindrical stubby bullets fell into his palm, rounded dull metal heads clanking dully against one another. His nimble hand closed about them, reaching forward as far as he could, jamming the Hartrias cartridges hard between plates of machinery. In a few minutes he had all but one distributed in a broad circle before him in what he hoped would be the most effective positions. He kept the last cartridge, replacing it back in the magazine before tucking both into the small of his back.
He had to crawl out backwards, his clothing catching on every projection. The metal plating he slithered along had also grown hot against his cheek, and he feared it wouldn't be long before Avatar had a real heat built up. Progress was awkward and slow, but he moved step at a time, his mind set firmly, refusing to give in to exhaustion. He reached the pair of spinning driveshafts that had almost torn his leg off before and moved past them with a little difficultly, managing to fit himself through an opening a little to the side. Minutes which seemed like hours later Ashian was back where he had started, looking along the length he had come. If he moved his head and peered between the chaos of pipes, feeders, shafts and machinery he could make out the black spots that were the cartridges. They were about five metres away, jammed under the lip of a solid wall that had blocked his path.