Sunlord

by Ronan Frost

  "Why did he give us that gun?" asked Capac.

  "A better question would be why did he shoot the other guards in the first place?" Shaun paused, looking over Capac's grubby form. "Better yet; what possessed you pair of fools to jump right ontop of four armed Hartrias guards?"

  Capac paused. "What do you mean?"

  "You jumped down like a pair of bloody idiots!"

  "We should have let you rot!" growled Capac. "I'm sorry for getting in your way, but at the time it seemed you needed all the help you could get!"

  "Yeah, right." Shaun's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "I like your plan - drop on their heads and let them beat the crap out of you. Brilliant!" His voice turned suddenly vicious. "You realise you endangered all of our lives with your foolish prank-"

  "Prank?!" Capac demanded breathlessly.

  "-if it wasn't for that crazy guard turning his gun upon his own men we'd all be dead."

  Capac opened his mouth to rebuke but Ashian stepped between the two hunters of different worlds. The currach's eyes had a glazed look about them, his face blackened with soot and a long shallow gash ran below his eye. Despite his exhaustion he stood with proud determination with hands raised, silencing the argument. Tension grew as the silence lengthened before Shaun's steely gaze broke down. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile.

  "Sorry mate." Shaun held a hand to his chest. "It's just that you scared me back there."

  One corner of Capac's mouth pulled into a wry smile.

  Shaun extended a hand and clasped Capac's four fingered hand in a firm grasp. "I really didn't think you and Ashian would make it." As he spoke a knot built in his chest; he never thought he would be so relieved to reunite with these natives. With a start he realised these people meant a whole lot to him - they were his friends.

  "You owe me a tale when we get back," Shaun growled good-naturedly, a thousand questions rising in his mind. "I'd never thought you'd succeed. Defeating Avatar is no small task."

  Briefly Ashian related their battle against the master computer. In a few sentences he had filled Shaun in on how they had rigged the blaster caps to set off a chain reaction.

  A cloudy brooding look crossed Shaun's face, for the currach's story just did not settle right. Why hadn't the ship's secondary generator kicked in - and what had prevented the vacuum seal emergency doors - that could easily contain such an explosion - from closing? Not voicing his discomfort, Shaun uneasily put the matter to the back of his mind.

  They started off down the walkway, their pace suddenly becoming hurried as another rumble went through the hull of the Urisa. All four stumbled and almost fell as the floor rocked through forty-five degrees before resettling itself. Shaun knew the effect was caused by the artificial gravity machine faulting, producing the sensation of tilting.

  Only a few more metres and they were there, facing a small circular door in the wall before them. Shaun read the Hartrias lettering above, that feeling of uncertainty rising again. Everything was too neatly placed. "It seems our mysterious friend dropped us in an escape pod dock."

  "I don't like it," muttered Capac with quiet suspicion.

  "Like it or not we've got to take the pod."

  Knowing it could be a trap, Shaun knew they had no choice but to board the escape pod. Punching the button he felt a cool breeze against his forehead as the door whooshed open.

  "All aboard," he motioned, looking for a moment like a bizarre war-weary train conductor bearing a minigun. "We're planet bound." After a moment's thought, he added; "I hope."

  Ashian stepped into the craft after Myshia, his eyes lowered, looking everywhere else but at Myshia. It seemed in those instants when their gaze met a galvanising bolt ran the length of his spine in the gasp of a power he could not define. Confused emotions swirled in his chest as he stepped into the pod, immediately feeling the closeness of the walls.

  He looked up, startled, as the small room became suddenly pitch black. His currach eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness, catching Shaun's shadow as he moved back away from the door.

  "Strap yourselves in," the human muttered, reaching over a control panel and switching it on. A coloured array of lights blinked on the dash which Shaun looked over critically.

  Stumbling in the semi-darkness Ashian fell into a huge padded seat and struggled with the belts. Designed for the Sunlords it took a little difficulty to draw it across his lap and fit it into the catch at his side. Pausing a moment to regain breath he noticed six seats were arranged compactly about the interior of the escape pod, Myshia seated closest to him, her attention focused on fastening the belt. It seemed in this physical proximity to one another the link that had somehow linked their minds was pushed to unbearable proportions. His forebrain tried to repress the alien sensation, to blot it from conscious thought, but the emotions he was receiving were just too strong. Some instinct knew a change was coming over the eloprin huntress; her mind flailing in the quagmire of superior thoughts. Since the party had rejoined Ashian had not spoken a single word to Myshia.

  Nearby, Shaun pulled himself away from the control panel and moved quickly to seat himself in the one of the heavily cushioned chairs closest him. The air was as black as the inside of sack punctuated only by flashing countdown lights on the control board. Holding his breath and clenching his fists at his sides Ashian prepared himself for the jolt and when it came it was worse than he had anticipated - the incredible push of g-forces that pressed against his skull and chest forced the blood to his feet.

  Mechanical jaws opened and the escape pod shot from the Urisa, spinning gently and engines glowing white-hot. The pod, roughly spherical in shape, curved parabolically towards the glowing surface of the planet below.

  Ashian opened his eyes, struggling to keep hold of his stomach. The pod was in weightlessness now, and suddenly there was no up and down. He felt a rising sense of nausea and clenched his eyes closed again. It felt as if he was falling, time suspended. He was falling but not moving, his mind spiralling and gut somersaulting.

  Through half-open eyes he shot a sideways glance at Capac. Ashian saw his friend was similarly affected by the disturbing sensation. Only Shaun seemed immune to it as he tapped at the control panel from his seat.

  Slowly, very slowly, he felt weight return to his limbs as Shaun applied the engines, pulling them up from their rapid descent. The gentle acceleration at last restored direction, enabling Ashian to pull himself fully alert.

  Capac risked opening his eyes. "That was some ride," he grumbled.

  "We're not over it yet," muttered Shaun from the control chair. Small lights at his side flashed, rapid beating like a moth's wings as gauges shot into the red. "We've got engine failure right and left and we've hit atmosphere. Lost pressure in the tanks...the computer system is totally haywire. Get ready for a rough descent."

  Ashian stumbled for bracing and caught a strap as the craft floor bucked. He clung tightly as metal chattered against metal, vibrating his thoughts from his skull. And the small stubby pod spun planetward, a thread of flame in its wake.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Riposte.

  Rise like lions after slumber

  In unvanquishable number,

  Shake your chains to earth like dew

  Which in sleep had fallen on you -

  Ye are many - they are few.

  - P. B. Shelley.

  "It's them! They've got the League!"

  Locantar raised his head, ears prickling. The other prisoners stirred from the darkness, muttering to one another as word spread. The small boy stood at the front of the cage, his four fingered hands wrapped about the bars, vertical slats of light falling across his dirtied face.

  "The Sunlords have got the League," was all the boy could say.

  Then a silhouette fell across the entrance - broad shouldered, looming ominously. The boy fell away from the bars and hurried back into the darkness as the Sunlord moved to slide a keycard across the locking mechanism. The door clicked open dryly.
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  The group of haggard currach laying nearest the entrance moved away hastily as the Sunlord guard stepped partway into the huge containment vessel. Over four hundred former citizens lay confined in the giant transport cell, spread along the bottom of the fifty metre long twenty metre wide floor like a sickly uneven paste. The air was stuffy and hot in the darkness, deadened sounds echoing from the walls of flawless steel.

  The Sunlord held open the gate as thirty-six currach were thrown in with the rest. The battle-armoured Sunlords hefted the former Leaguesmen like sacks to haul their limp forms through the door. Then the Sunlords were done and withdrew, locking the gate behind them.

  The new arrivals were suddenly the centre of attention for the concerned citizens. Locantar had managed to weave his way through. "Rest, my son," he muttered, his hands moving over the nearest Leaguesman's body, probing for any signs of injury. Even though Locantar was blind his hands enabled him to discover more than sight could.

  "He needs some water," Locantar announced. "He's lost a lot of blood."

  The blind old man paused as nobody moved. He straightened in the darkness, milky eyes wandering.

  "Has nobody any water for a dying currach?"

  Mother's drew back, holding their children's hands tightly in their own. Everywhere the reaction was the same; they had no water to spare. They had been imprisoned since evening, and it was now midmorning. The Sunlords did not allow them food or water and nobody had thought to bring in their own supply.

  "I know some of you must have a little," Locantar pursued as the dirtied, huddled mass drew back, trying to look nowhere. "Give, and you shall receive, as Abas says. All I ask is a drop."

  "I have some."

  The boy stepped forward before his mother could hold him back. The family had jealously guarded the small canteen of liquid, keeping it from the sight of others.

  Locantar took the proffered bottle. "I thank you." His white eyes moved up to the mother. "I sympathise with you - I myself would do all I could to protect my family. But my family is the whole of the currach race. You must understand."

  The mother nodded, insectile eyes downcast in shame.

  Locantar tipped the canteen to the lips of the Leaguesman. The later let a few drops escape down his cheek before he snapped alert and began to swallow greedily.

  It wasn't long before other currach moved to help Locantar. Very quickly all thirty-six Leaguesmen had been given a mouthful of water and their bleeding wounds staunched.

  Curiosity rose in the currachs' minds, and as they patched up the Leaguesmen shreds of their story started to come through. They learned of the failure of the poison gas that was supposed to destroy their enemy and the League of Steel's subsequent capture.

  Josian was at Locantar's side. He had not once left the old man's side since the Sunlords had captured them and felt a growing kinship with the clergyman; he knew Locantar's strengths and failings and he could conspire with him.

  "The League has lost," he sighed. "I wonder what made their gas fail in the end?"

  Locantar smiled slightly, his head turned away, gaze affixed somewhere in space. "There is an old saying about receiving gifts without criticism. Who knows...perhaps it was the hand of Abas intervening to save our race."

  "It was the best thing," nodded Josian. "If that gas had of worked it would have only stirred the Sunlords into a raging fury."

  The hunchbacked shadow moved so quietly neither man hear nor saw it approach. Standing half the height of a normal currach and dressed in a thick black shapeless robe his voice was keen and insistent.

  "So it was a good thing Shata failed, eh?"

  Josian spun, surprised. Glancing uneasily at Locantar Josian saw the blind man seemed unaffected. The hunchback drew closer, smelling rank and unwashed. "Let me introduce myself," he said, voice cold with poorly concealed hatred. "They call my Mosata, Shata-Bera's loyal Adviser."

  "It is good to see you survived Shata's foolish attack," replied Locantar levelly.

  "I'll kill you old man," Mosata whispered between clenched teeth. "You traitorous mound of drusk dung."

  Locantar's head snapped around, sightless eyes blazing white. Mosata could not help but stare into the depthless gaze.

  "I have done nothing to harm you," growled Locantar.

  "Oh no?" rebuked Mosata in mock surprise. "It was you who polluted the minds of Shata's warriors, making them leave the League. And it wouldn't have been you who made the gas fail at the city gate, would it? No, of course not." Mosata grinned mirthlessly, his voice dripping sarcasm. "It was your fault Shata-Bera was killed."

  "I could not bring myself to cause injury to Shata. Misguided though he may be, he is not beyond Abas' reach."

  Mosata was infuriated. "Don't you see it? Shata-Bera fought for his people!" Those currach nearest the group pricked their ears and whispered uncertainly to one another. Seeing his growing support Mosata continued the verbal abuse.

  "It was you, Locantar, who lowered us to this. Your preaching turned our minds - polluted it with Religion - until our people's army was lost."

  His last comments drew a wave of murmurs for, as a prominent Church figurehead, Locantar was held in high respect. Seeing his mistake Mosata back-pedalled hastily, knowing in his cunning mind that he needed to pass a test before these people's eyes before they, too, saw the hollowness of the Grand Teachings and the pretension of the Council.

  "Very well, old man," snarled Mosata, now speaking for the benefit of those surrounding. "You say Abas can haul us out of our troubles, mmm? That was why you disbanded the League, wasn't it? Because Abas can look after us...?"

  Locantar nodded slowly and deliberately.

  "...then let him free us from this prison," finished Mosata triumphantly. He gestured to the locked gate with an angry flourish. "Let him command that door to spring open."

  "Abas' hand has steered us through troubled times before, and will do so again," said Locantar with unwavering faith. "I know our prayers will be answered and we shall walk free."

  Mosata turned to the crowd of confused citizens. "It is done. If the door does not fall open by sunset Locantar falls from office, and you take me for you leader. We shall band together to form another fighting force - one that will this time win!"

  Stunned silence settled as Mosata slipped into the shadows and disappeared, intent on thoughts and plans of his own. Josian glanced sidelong at Locantar, his gaze silent and imploring. He knew Locantar had put himself on thin ice.

  For a long time Locantar was silent, simply sitting crosslegged and head bowed, black hood pulled over his head. Very slowly the crowd pulled away. Josian found himself listening to the sounds of breathing and muted, echoing speech. Someone close a child started to wail, shushed by a mother. Towards the back of the huge transport cell somebody had started a small fire to ward away the numbing cold, a few chanting hymns for comfort. When Locantar spoke his voice was soft.

  "My heart is torn in two, my son. How can our proud race fall into this..." His voice choked out as he bowed his head, sobbing gently.

  Unit sub-commander Ryloth paused in his task as the pitch of the grinding machine changed. The bullnecked Hartrias solider cursed under his breath, standing and reaching for the communicator at his belt. He slid the visor of his helmet up and a blast of hot air filled the air-conditioned interior of his warsuit.

  "Ryloth reporting," he said briskly. "It sounds like the generator has thrown a belt again, I'm going to check it out."

  The two-way showered static for a second before the reply. "Ryloth, where the frugging hell are you?"

  Ryloth's eyes wandered over the interior of the large workshop, which had been converted from the stone basement of one of the currach buildings. "I'm supervising the fitting of the radar," he returned defensively, eyes narrowing in anger. He knew it was against regulations to curse over the comm-link, yet the jock on the other end seemed oblivious to the fact. "Who is this?"

  "Sub-commander, everything's gone crazy up here. Th
e computers have all gone down and the power is dead. Nothing's responding t-"

  "Shut up!" barked Ryloth into the receiver. He hear the panic edging into the other's voice and knew he had to choke it quick. "Cut into the auxiliary power-"

  "-it's off! Nothing works-"

  "-then put a contact through to Avatar," finished Ryloth. "She'll be able to patch up the systems."

  "Sir, I've tried that. Avatar is not responding."

  Ryloth paused, eyes widening. "Hold on, I'll be there in a second."

  He moved quickly to slam the communicator back into his belt and brought the front of his visor snapping back down. A trickle of sweat ran down his face and he knew everything was coming apart - the generator was whirring unnaturally high and the jury-rigged lights overhead had dimmed noticeably. His face set in determination Ryloth strode into the elevator and punched the button. The machine rose quickly and Ryloth stepped out before it had come to a complete rest.

  A young Hartrias technician dressed in a dirty white helicasuit sat at the computer terminal, large six-fingered hands moving quickly over the keyboard. As he stepped closer Ryloth read the name tag on the right shoulder of the other's helicasuit.

  "Techman Logrid, what's going on?"

  The young officer spun. "Sir! The entire system's gone down."

  Ryloth leant over the bank of VDU's, eyes narrowing. As he watched the indicator statistics dropped lower and lower. Ryloth's finger jabbed the touch sensitive screen and the computer responded to bring up a display of a multi-layered map of the newly invaded city, blotches of red rising through blue outlines.

  "The droids are overheating," he cursed angrily. "What's got into them?"

  "That's just it, sir." Logrid moved closer to keyboard and attempted to send a message through to Avatar. "You see, sir. All of a sudden nothing works."

  Ryloth listened only partly to the young technician. He concentrated on running the search program which gave a full update on the systems. It was showing a negative on all counts.