Sunlord

by Ronan Frost

  Federation forces met with the Hartrias fleet and the battle was long and dirty, but it was clear from the outset that the Federation's superior numbers meant they eventually ruled the space around the critical point. Several hundred thousand pilots and officers died as each side clashed time after time, the Hartrias still maintaining the upper hand with the land based Skycannon facility.

  The league of human forces felt the sting of the defensive weapon several times in their attempt to gain control of the planet's surface. Forced away by strong shielding, the only option for the Federation was to send paratroopers down onto the surface and infiltrate the enemy's complex. For three months tanks, footsoliders and aircraft ruled the land both in the north and south continents. In the north the Hartrias dropsite was one of the first to fall to invading Federation forces as they struck with confusion as their ally. Troops wore gas masks and airtight suits as chemicals weapons were implemented on both sides, and while they fought air strikes shook the earth they trod upon, turning nights as bright as day.

  The Skycannon was lost to the Federation on the sixth month of fighting. It was one of the single most bloody and horrific battles ever fought; the entire southern continent was ravaged. Once lush, thick forests of purple green and yellow plants fell before the barrage of weaponry. The Hartrias' defence had been admirable and had kept the Federation at bay for twice as long as anticipated. Powerful lasers were erected upon the tallest of the surrounding peaks emitting light flashes so powerful they instantly blinded any solider to look upon them. Many Federation soldiers had no defence against such a weapon - for if they could not use a closed-circuit camera the only other option was to go into combat with one eye covered. This way, if a blinding laser was used, the solider then be able to remove the cover and continue the fight.

  It was no walkover, but the Federation army won out in the end though the forces of sheer numbers.

  It was decreed that the city of natives in the northern continent should be taken as a strategic advantage. Laying on the border of a large expanse of forest and being close to the Hartrias dropsite it must be put to full potential.

  The many hundred currach who had taken residence in the city newly won from the Hartrias found it taken back from them once more by the Federation. The latter's attack was no less deadly efficient as heavy forward tanks and droids moved in to round up every living creature and shot whatever tried to flee. The captured currach were placed in a container and incinerated by the blast of a modified attack fighter's afterburner. The Federation acted quickly with no patience for charity, for the Hartrias had amassed a counterattack and were already reclaiming underground bunkers.

  What Currach lay left alive in the city fled towards the forests, leaving the Federation to rediscover abandoned Hartrias equipment which further boosted their defence against the counterattack. Nobody knew why the Hartrias had simply picked up and left the city, but few cared.

  Control of the quadrant of space around the planet waxed and wanned as reinforcements added to one side's efforts, or a cunning manoeuvre forced retreat. When twelve Earth Standard months had passed no definitive advantage could be seen...

  * * *

  "Hey there." Shaun's tone was of forced levity as he sat upon the stool beside the bed.

  Richael opened his eyes slowly, as if disinterested. "Are you back again? I thought you were off visiting the Comitia."

  Shaun tried not to let his eyes trace down the tight white sheets where it was obvious Richael's body terminated at the hip. The bank of computer equipment and drips that kept the young ex-fighter pilot alive looked like a trap that would forever moor him.

  Richael had barely survived the explosion when his Minnow had come under fire from the Rplore, and it was not until several days later was he found floating in space. His life-support system upon the ejector seat kept him alive despite third-degree burns and crushed legs, and he had been put into suspended animation for seven months while the battle raged.

  Shaun bit upon his lower lip. "So what's up, little brother?"

  Richael did not answer immediately. He just looked at Shaun, his eyes clouded. "Doing the same as yesterday, and the same as tomorrow. Just great," he sneered.

  "The medics tell me that you may regain muscle control of your arms in time," offered Shaun. "It won't be long before you're off these machines."

  "Its not you laying here unable to move until the med-droids turn you over for the night - so keep your damn optimism to yourself."

  Shaun bowed his head. "Yeah, right. Sorry."

  Richael closed his eyes. "You didn't tell me about your meeting. Any more accolades?"

  Shaun glanced at his watch. "My appointment is not for another half hour. They want me aboard the convoy heading back to Earth. Our forces have managed to hold the critical point and this is an ideal opportunity to ship in more reinforcements and send some of us home. The med-ship leaves the same time. You'll be home in less than month."

  Richael did not respond. Finally, after a year in suspended animation, the Federation had the resources to send him home. Richael's eyes were closed as if sleeping but Shaun knew that his brother was listening intently.

  Clenching his fists and staring furiously at the floor, Shaun finished, "I'm not going to go with you."

  Richael grunted. "Why stop when you're on a roll? A medal of Valour from the General and promotion to First Officer. Hell, this war is doing wonders for your resume, not to mention your ego."

  "No, it's not that." Shaun knew regret being in his position when his younger brother lay cripple and unrecognised, when his sacrifice had been equally large.

  "So why are you staying?" Richael asked.

  "I must help some old friends. I've got to fight for the natives; they deserve more. Perhaps the Federation will listen to me."

  Richael was silent for a long time; a silence that Shaun wanted desperately to break but could not find the words. It was obvious Richael cared as little for the natives as did the members of the council governing the Federation army, the Comitia. Standing abruptly, Shaun knew he had no more to say.

  "Goodbye, Richael." He motioned to the sheets where half of the young man's body was missing. "And I'm sorry."

  * * *

  It was good to get the muscles and mind working once more. Shaun slipped down the corridor dressed in the standard issue Federation helicasuit, his officers uniform discarded down the nearest rubbish chute. Dress boots replaced by combat boots, a small pistol tucked into his thigh and an arsenal of electronic lock picks tucked into newly created pockets in his helicasuit. He wore a backpack stocked with a gas mask, radio, navigator device and other paraphernalia he thought may see him through the ravaged warzone below. Shaun slunk into the hanger bay and strapped himself into the seat as the craft warmed up.

  "Flight identification," came the voice over his headphones in a tone so calm and patient it could only be computerised.

  Shaun punched in the authorisation codes he had obtained the previous night - the result of careful hacking and manipulation of computer records.

  "Confirmed. Be prepared for launch," said the voice. "Computer control will take this craft to the first beacon."

  The Minnow jolted as if drifted away from its moorings. Weightlessness came and Shaun could only sit back as lines of numbers scrolled across the screen, all other controls inoperative. One minute and forty-five seconds later the computer informed him to take manual control.

  Glancing one last time at his wristwatch Shaun breathed a sigh of relief. The controls were light in his hands and he spun the small fighter craft into a descent towards the planet, his movements smooth and controlled.

  The message console blinked suddenly.

  Incoming message

  The visage of Admiral Rinhold appeared, red with rage.

  "What the hell do you think you are doing?" Rinhold cried. "Turn that crate around and get back here before I strip those medals from your chest!"

  Shaun shook his head. "I can't do th
at, sir. I've got a promise to keep."

  "Dammit! You're not still on about those stinking primitives are you? I refused you permission to return planetside and now your in direct contradiction of those orders. I suggest you turn around before things get worse."

  "The Comitia won't listen to me. I've seen what's happening to the eloprin and I can't just sit back on the sidelines any more. Not after what I have seen." Shaun glanced away to check his navigation vector and tweaked the control surfaces.

  Admiral Rinhold's mouth pulled up at the corners. "Come on lad. Leave the bullshit to the whingeing humanitarians. Those natives aren't worth squat to anyone; this is a war not a playground. I know you've been through a lot," Rinhold winked conspiracy, "I've got my contacts in the Comitia - I'm sure if you return now the whole incidence will be forgotten. What do you say?"

  "Goodbye, sir." Shaun reached for the End Message switch.

  "Damn it to hell boy! Get y-" Rinhold's snapped into silence and the screen went blank. Shaun lowered his hand and returned his concentration to directing the Minnow as it hit the first banks of atmosphere.

  * * *

  Sounds of disturbance grew closer.

  Capac stood and reached for his walking cane, head tilted as he listened.

  "What is it?"

  Capac motioned the tribesman into silence. The unchanging sounds of the forest was all that filled the air - the cry of birds and the chirping of insects. Then it came again; a bass rumble barely audible.

  "It's heading this way," growled Capac, limping forward and motioning with his cane. "Fetch Kiroth."

  Nodding, the tribesman ducked out of the toolmaker's shelter to search for the Clan Chieftain.

  Hobbling stiffly, his left leg half-paralysed and weak from the wound he had received a year before, Capac moved out into the open air and sniffed deeply. Cursing, he instantly regretted the long months he had spend resting and recovering inside tents where his sense of smell had deteriorated from lack of practice. He had not hunted for a long time; too long. Capac knew that he would put up but a shadow of a fight, yet the aging eloprin still carried a long sheathed knife at his belt and, despite demureness to the contrary, was still able to throw it with accuracy.

  Kiroth appeared at Capac's side, his approach typically silent. "You hear it too?"

  "Sunlord tanks. Heading straight toward us."

  A figure ran towards the pair from the late-afternoon shadows of the forest. Tatura the Huntsmaster sped towards them, a spear in one hand and his pace checked and even.

  "My hunters have seen Sunlords moving in the forest, approaching us from two directions." Tatura indicated with gestures. "They are clearing everything."

  Capac looked Kiroth in the eye. "We have been over-confident in our hopes of the Federation's success. It seems in our complacency the Sunlords have amassed their armies again. I suggest we send the children away - quickly."

  Tatura nodded; in his time spent with the Great Water clan Capac commanded great respect and his suggestions were often heeded. "Where should they be sent? From your tales it seems no place is safe from the Sunlords."

  It did not take long for Capac to reply. "Elio will lead them to the west - it will take a full days march." A mischievous glint shone in the old hunters eye. "Elio knows what to do."

  "Elio?" questioned Kiroth.

  "He will know what I mean," finished Capac firmly. "There are tunnels to take refuge in."

  Tatura the Huntsmaster stabbed his spear into the soil. "What are we going to do?"

  "We've got to fend off the Sunlords long enough for them to make it to safety." In a moment of painful concern Capac prayed that Riel - Myshia and Ashian's child - would escape unharmed.

  Kiroth voiced his agreement. "Tatura, bring your huntsmen back and organise them for the defence. Have all able bodied hunters fully armed with a quiver of arrows and spears."

  The Huntsmaster produced a carved wooden horn and, facing the forest, sounded three long ear-splitting notes. Meanwhile Kiroth motioned to a young eloprin. "Fetch my spear and knife from my hut - and be sure that everyone is out into the clearing!"

  "I suggest we set the hunters off in all directions to confuse any Sunlords trying to track us." Capac looked upon the band of villagers gathering, the chilling sounds of approaching artillery so loud now it was unmistakable. "I suggest you address them, Kiroth. Fear is in their hearts."

  "I should do well to bring sense back into their minds," agreed Kiroth, and moved towards the centre of the clearing. While the leader spoke words of confidence Capac retrieved his cane and ducked quietly away towards his shelter. He had spent a year fashioning this hut to his tastes and he knew that everything inside must be left behind. Except for one thing, he thought as he began searching through a woven basket.

  Capac started when a sudden movement sounded the entry of another. Looking around he saw it was Riel, the small child's face pulled into an expression of befuddlement.

  "What are you doing, uncle?"

  Tucking the long bladed hunting knife into his belt Capac took Riel's shoulders in his hands clawed with age and looked the boy square in the eye. "The Sunlords have come and you have to go with Miora."

  "I don't want to go with Miora," protested the boy, referring to the nurse who looked after him. "I want to go with you, uncle!"

  "No, you will go with the other children." Capac found himself perturbed as Riel's brown eyes met his own gaze; eyes that reflected so much of Ashian. One year was a long time for the eloprin, for a high metabolism meant they age quickly; the boy had grown strong over ten months and already he had developed a temperament much like his fathers. But there were other times, Capac reflected, when Riel was quiet and sullen as Myshia had oft been.

  "Are we going to die, uncle?"

  "Now what made you think that?" exclaimed Capac with forced confidence. "Come on, I can hear Kiroth speaking."

  They emerged into the evening air where every single member of the Clan had gathered together. Kiroth was midway through a sentence when an unexpected roaring grew to a startling crescendo. Too stunned to make any movements the tribespeople could only watch as a jet aircraft rocketed overhead in a flash of light and blast of shocked air in its wake.

  The eloprin screamed and dispersed as the forest to all sides burst into sudden flame - a napalm like substance bursting even the dampest of leaves into fire.

  Even Kiroth's powerful voice was almost drowned in the dim. "This way! This way!"

  Hesitantly pausing, Elio made broad gestures with his arms as he led the tribespeople into the forest. On all sides huts burned and a thick smoke filled the air, sparks and hot ash falling over every surface.

  Tatura the Huntsmaster used the complex sign-language used when stalking prey to save strain upon his voice to call to his hunters. From the corner of his eye Tatura noticed Capac move with the hunters, a longbow in hand. Tatura shook his head. "Stay with the tribe."

  Capac fitted an arrow into the bow, walking cane tucked into his belt. "I'm not decrepit yet, Tatura." Pulling the bowstring taut Capac wished for one of the Sunlords' handguns, but he had not set eyes upon one for nigh upon a year. He had lost his rifle used aboard the Urisa, and here deep in the forest any forays into Sunlord encampments to steal was out of the question.

  Tatura regarded Capac's arms, parched with age yet wry with seasoned muscle. "Okay, but stay close to me. I don't want to leave you behind."

  "I can manage," assured Capac, keeping pace as the hunters flanked the body of the tribe. Every movement drew waves of grinding pain and without his cane the weight upon his left leg was almost unbearable.

  "Any suggestions?" Tatura turned, still walking, while he spied through the trees back at the burning village.

  "Keep going along this path," said Capac. "Keep your hunters from firing upon Sunlords wherever possible."

  They moved quickly through the dense forest. Night was settling in and a cold mist blanketed the space between the towering tree trunks, providing an eerie
setting for the now-silent flight. Time passed, yet Capac knew not how long for in that period time had no meaning; they may have been travelling for minutes or hours.

  Fingers tracing thoughtfully over passing tree trunks, brow furrowed in thought as if counting, Capac suddenly halted and lay his hand upon Tatura's arm. "Wait, this is the place."

  Tatura pursed his lips as he observed they were now between two faces of rock that towered up on either side, details obscured by the night mists. Capac pulled his cane from his belt and leant heavily upon it, trying to hide the pain from showing on his face. Forcing aside discomfort he limped forward, gesticulating with his right hand. "There are traps set above these faces. To activate them remove the safety pegs." Turning to Tatura he explained. "I've got boulders stacked against a log that will fall aside when a rope is pulled." As he spoke two hunters clambered the rock and disappeared from sight. Capac bent to his knees and moved a length of vine across the path behind them that would act as a tripwire. "With any luck, the boulders should be enough to kill their soldiers or trap their tanks."

  Tatura's eyes showed admiration. "You've been busy."

  Capac grunted. "Call me paranoid, but I've long been worried that this day would come. I have had several of the older boys assist me while you have been out on hunts."

  "We owe you for your forethought," remarked Tatura. "The trap is set then? Let's move."

  The country grew steadily softer underfoot as they headed downhill towards the swamplands. The path under the hunter's feet was muddy from the passage of the rest of the tribe further ahead. Their pace had slackened considerably due to the older tribespeople's exhaustion, and as a result the defending hunters had to drop back.