Sunlord

by Ronan Frost

  Capac was first to spy the boy's inert form upon the marshy soil. Crying to gain the attention of the others he scrambled to Riel's side and sought desperately for signs of life.

  "He's alive," Capac breathed with relief. "Quickly, we must take him back down."

  The boy's flesh was cold to the touch and Capac shivered, feeling the touch of the Power as he eased Riel into his arms. The back of his neck prickling in apprehension he hurried back into the cavern.

  Chapter Twenty

  Treaty.

  Hunter - strength and pride,

  Stalks his prey, imitates their call,

  Forest spanned, no pause in stride,

  For he is the master of all,

  Under the eye of the Forest Mother.

  - Eloprin tribal song.

  The bridge of the command ship was chaos.

  Never before had the battleship seen such disorder as officers scrambled from console to console, not daring to believe what their instruments told them. Admiral Rinhold cut a swathe through the confusion, his face impassive as he gestured for his astro-navigation officer. Rinhold held open the door to allow the navigator to gain passage then closed it behind him, shutting off the sounds of confusion.

  Rinhold paced around the small office, his silver-grey eyes glinting in a hard gaze. "Tell me straight, Berkley, none of this technical shit or theories; just what we know."

  Astro-navigator Berkley had served with the Admiral on several Federation ships, knowing and respecting his desire for cutting straight for the heart of the matter. "Our instruments are showing that the jumptunnels are no longer in existence."

  Rinhold breathed out slowly. "You've tried sending ships through where they used to be?"

  "Used to be?" laughed Berkley without mirth. "They used to be so thick near this Critical Point that it was hard to find a spot not containing a jumptunnel!"

  "Message pods?"

  Berkley shook his head. "It's as if they've just disappeared. Maybe its just a natural phenomena?"

  "Has such an event ever been recorded?"

  "No sir." Astrogator Berkley bit his lower lip. "Never."

  They were fighting a losing battle, the Warmarshal knew that. It had seemed only a matter of time before the Federation's superior numbers and technology took control of the skycannon and the planet's surface. The battle for L/Cn-41a would not end so lamely, though, for the Warmarshal knew that the Hartrias army would stop at nothing to regain the Critical Point.

  But it seemed fate had cast a new light on their situation. Force Master Loakar's heavily chiselled features appeared on the holographic console.

  "Warmarshal, sir."

  The Warmarshal returned the greeting. "Force Master, are your instruments recording the same as ours?"

  Loakar nodded. He still commanded the Rplore and was using it to battle a band of Federation medium size warships in the H-8 quadrant. "We detect no presence of the tunnels."

  His large Hartrias hands drumming upon the arm of the command chair, the Warmarshal mused silently for a moment. "Deploy our fleet," he said at last. "Maybe the Critical Point will return some-place else, and where ever it does I want our forces there first!"

  "Yes, sir." The Force Master's brows furrowed. "Our forces planetside?"

  "Keep them operating," the Warmarshal responded quickly. "This momentary lapse of tunnels has to return soon. We may be able to use this to our advantage in taking the Federation off-guard. Prepare to launch a retaliation blow against the Federation command-ship."

  Hours past, and still the tunnels did not return. Admiral Rinhold watched the movements of the Hartrias army, knowing that they intended to amass a last ditch offence against his men. Rinhold was not one to cower from a conflict, and this time was prepared to engage the Hartrias once and for all. All communication lines with the Comitia back on Earth were cut with the dissolution of the jumptunnels. Normally the Admiral would act only upon orders from Comitia, who directed the course of entire armies from where they sat in safety millions of light-years distant. But now the Admiral was left with no orders and what he saw as little alternative.

  "Ensign!" he bawled, "give me an update on those fleet movements."

  The Federation fleet had already moved into position, ready to receive the Hartrias' blows. There was no fear of further reinforcements arriving while the jumptunnels were inactive - it was also clear that there would be no retreat for the defeated side.

  "Astrogator Berkley." Rinhold's forehead wrinkled. "Is there any chance that the jumptunnels may return?"

  "What do we know about the jumptunnels except how to use them; one point in space actually being two points. But we didn't understand how they worked." Berkley shrugged. "My opinion, sir? They've been gone for three hours and there is simply no reason for their return. Nothing is showing on the instrumentation - they've been destroyed."

  Rinhold inclined his head. "Then we are fighting over a piece of useless dirt," he surmised. "Comm officer, try and get a link with the Hartrias commander!"

  "All wings accounted for." The Warmarshal paused. "On my mark, bring in the stun ships from sector beta, then follow standard battle attack twelve."

  The message indicator light suddenly glowed red. "Incoming signal - radio wave," reported the mother computer. "Source: Federation Flagship Omnicron. Open transmission lines?"

  The Warmarshal did not move for a few seconds, unsure of what course of action the Federation may be trying to play. Surely they were not foolish enough to try and blast the Hartrias Command Ship with high-frequency sounds in an attempt to haemorrhage the brains of those inside; it was common knowledge that screeners were employed to stop such attacks. Still, the Warmarshal did not know what the Federation may try.

  "Put them on," he growled at last.

  An immaculately dressed human appeared on the screen, rows of insignia's glinting on his chest. "I am Admiral Rinhold," began the human brusquely, speaking in flawless Hartrias. "I am the commanding officer of the fleet of Federation forces centred about his planet."

  Heavy brows furrowing in impatience, the Warmarshal asked; "Why do you open this line, Admiral?"

  "You are undoubtably aware of the disappearance of jumptunnels - " Rinhold noticed how a fine layer of sweat broke out on the Warmarshal's forehead " - leaving us stranded here, fighting over a patch of useless territory."

  "If it is useless then I'm sure you will retreat to some other system," growled the Warmarshal. "I have a special...fondness...of it and would prefer to stay."

  "You know I can't pull my men out." Rinhold tensed, knowing that one word spoken wrongly could anger the war-like Hartrias, sparking another bloody battle. "The jumptunnels aren't coming back. It is obvious that the Federation has superior forces and your attack could not hope to defeat us."

  "Think what you may, Admiral," scowled the Warmarshal, knowing that the human's words were true. But they could take out a great portion of the Federation forces before they went, he thought bitterly.

  "Move beyond the orbit of the second moon," continued Admiral Rinhold. "Your Royal Fleet has no further need of this planet - let us spare further bloodshed."

  "Surely you have no need of it either." The Warmarshal lent forward closer to the holographic projector. His fist clenched, the claw in the back of his hand glistening razor sharp. "How dare you insult us with your offerings of 'peace!' The jumptunnels will return, and when they do the Hartrias will control them!" Slamming down his fist the Warmarshal disconnected the communication line. The Admiral's face disappeared in mid-sentence.

  The Warmarshal exhaled, drawing a finger down the side of his cheek. "Begin attack," he growled.

  * * *

  The receiver still worked.

  Shaun tweaked up the volume of the tiny instrument recovered from the mud where he had dropped it the previous day. Wiping away most of the dirt Shaun hunkered down as he held the tiny speaker up to his ear.

  The hunter accompanying him upon his late afternoon forage to the above-g
round world sat close by, uneasy. The original purpose of heading back here was to recover Shaun's pistol, but now the human's attention was firmly attached to the receiver.

  A screech of jet engines rocketed overhead and both ducked for cover as a multitude of aircraft shot past at supersonic speeds. In the distance was the deep rumbling of heavy artillery.

  "Another full scale attack," breathed Shaun, at last pulling the receiver away from his ear. He had heard numerous reports by tapping into the Federation's comm lines. Why wasn't the Federation bringing in re-enforcement's? Shaun could only surmise that the Hartrias had once again gained control of the Critical Point, although how they had managed it was unclear.

  "We've got to get back to shelter - right now!"

  The eloprin hunter eagerly agreed to Shaun's suggestion. For the first time in weeks fighting had flared up again and sounds of explosions were getting steadily closer.

  It seemed a different world when they returned to the cavern, still in shadows and dank quiet. Shaun told the news to the tribe then found a quiet corner in which to sit and listen to the broadcasts.

  Capac looked the elderly healer in the eye. "Will he make it?"

  The healer laid a cool moss over Riel's forehead. The boy had not moved a muscle since his strange breakaway to the surface. "He is a strong boy," consoled the healer, "and he needs rest."

  Lowering his head, Capac accepted the woman's words. In that moment he wished for the Elder's presence; the leader of Capac's old tribe had always had an affinity with the spirit world. The Elder had guided Myshia's way and it was unfortunate Riel did not have such a teacher.

  "The jumptunnels - they're gone!"

  Every head looked up as Shaun leapt from his perch, his voice echoing about the cavern. "Something has destroyed the jumptunnels!"

  "What could have possibly done that?" Capac's gaze met Shaun's. "It would take immense power..."

  Capac caught himself. "You don't suppose - ?"

  "The Power?" Shaun's brows furrowed. "Is that what is does? Control the jumptunnels?"

  "We know little of it," shrugged Capac. "Only it is the Power of the Forest Mother."

  Still unable to believe Shaun gazed around the ancient ruins of the Ansarii. The Ansarii. Shaun bit his lower lip; why was that word looping around his head. It was as if he had forgotten something... he had forgotten -

  "The Critical Point," Shaun muttered. Why was this tiny planet the centre of a mass of jumptunnels? There could be only one explanation.

  "It fits!" exclaimed Shaun. "The reason why all these jumptunnels are centred about this planet - this was the homeworld of a race preceding ours by a millennia. They built their civilisation, wrought the jumptunnels..." Shaun slammed a fist into his palm. "They came from here!"

  "Then were are they now?" Capac found he was fast losing the thread. Ruefully he wished he had the wit and ingenuity displayed by Ashian.

  "Evolved, or something." Shaun waved his hand as if to cast aside trivialities. "Evolved into something else - a cloud of particles free of physical bounds." Shaun stopped his pacing. "Hell, they may be somewhere now where our minds cannot grasp."

  "We are their children."

  Shaun and Capac spun at Kiroth's voice.

  "The eloprin?" questioned Shaun.

  "The eloprin and the currach," nodded Kiroth. "When I was young I was taught of our history by an old woman with the Power. I, too, have a little of that power, although until now it was known to no living soul since my teacher died." Kiroth bowed his head as if living the memory. "The Ansarii left this world an uncountable period ago, no longer needing their travel paths between the stars. They left them, for their children."

  "Did...did you destroy them?"

  Kiroth laughed. "No, not I. But Riel is the son of Power, the culmination of all the powers our people have ever had. He is a window through into the minds of our father race." Kiroth was silent for a long time as he pieced together what he thought had happened. "The Ansarii must have realised their mistake; the Lords of the Sun have not the maturity for such power at their fingertips."

  Shaun rocked back on his heels, slowly, his mind confoundedly refusing to think straight.

  Humanity had seriously underestimated the power of these simple natives.

  * * *

  The war was decisive. Without jumptunnels to call for re-enforcement's there was no continual replenishment of warriors - simply the same men getting tired and disillusioned. And throughout the fighting there was no sign that the tunnels would return, and with every passing day a soldier's valours seemed futile. There was no longer a 'Critical Point' to fight over...now it was fighting simply for planet L/Cn-41a.

  There was no retreat through the tunnels and no standoffs as in the past few days both the Federation and Hartrias suffered heavily. Already the Rplore, the Omnicron and the Berana - the three largest ships in the galaxy - were now nothing more than interstellar debris.

  Admiral Rinhold sweated in the confines of the cluttered office. The air-purifier had been malfunctioning for the past week and had made life inside the complex extremely difficult. Rinhold switched off the console with a snarl and tossed the device against the wall. The logbook showing how little of the Federation forces remained smashed and fell to the floor.

  A small insect buzzed about Rinhold's ears and he snatched futilely at the air, angry that quarantine had been unable to keep such terran fauna from the complex. The way that things were going now it was no wonder a disease hadn't spread.

  Rinhold forced such thoughts from his mind. He hated being planetbound, but every single battleship had fallen from space and all Federation forces had assembled living quarters and defences. The only consoling thought was that the Hartrias fared no better, for they too had no battleships at their disposal. The two sides now fought like rats upon the ground, slowly running out of fuel and equipment as the war ran to its bitter end. Rinhold stared listlessly out the window upon the red sand of the planet, no longer praying for the return of the jumptunnels. It was obvious they would never return.

  His thoughts ran back to his family living on the colony of New Cydonia awaiting the completion of his tour of duty. His wife had known and lived with the dangers presented to Rinhold in the Federation Navy, but always they had never truly expected a mishap. After all, Rinhold was an Admiral protected by a mass of warships and forward soldiers; it had been many years since he had seen fighting first hand. Yet here he was, stranded on a planet three hundred light-years from New Cydonia with no hope of return.

  Returning to his desk Rinhold ran fingers through his hair, absently toying with a silver pen stencilled with his name and rank. The communication links were down again - the technicians were braving the outside elements to repair the broadcaster - meaning that contact was lost with the other complex on the far side of the continent. For the moment Admiral Rinhold had no way to direct or even know where the remains of the Federation corps lay, so his duties were forfeit.

  A tone woke Rinhold from his musings. It was amazing the intercom still worked.

  "Admiral, sir," came the voice. "Defensive troops have captured a hostile - claims to be a Federation fighter. Demands to talk to you personally, sir."

  Admiral Rinhold slammed down the silver pen and pushed back his chair. Nothing better to do, he thought sourly, stalking from his office. The corridor was narrow and he had to twist his wide shoulders to allow him passage. The air here was warmer the closer he grew to the airlock, a sure sign that it was no longer airtight.

  "Sir, there's a small army of them out there!"

  Rinhold stopped as the Captain intercepted him. Dressed in somewhat scratched blue and white armour, the helmet visor unclasped, the Captain looked as he had just returned from a period of front line duty. His blaster was loose in his belt clasp, no longer polished but tarnished with use. Around the Captain's neck an eyepatch hung, to be used incase the Hartrias employed blinding lasers in the battlefield.

  "An army?"

 
"Of natives, sir," clarified the Captain. "My guess is that there is at least three hundred of the buggers appearing from nowhere. They are standing beyond the alpha marker but I've got the garrison soldiers on alert and snipers positioned incase they try a forward attack."

  Rinhold's brows furrowed. "I was told somebody demanded to speak with me."

  "Yes, sir, there is a human and two of the natives who have approached. They seemed weaponless and I allowed them to proceed. ID was confirmed a second ago..." The Captain flicked up a protective plastic face and glanced at the small screen upon the wrist of his armour. "The human's retinal scan checks out - First Officer Shaun Lowry, code 98 dash 3424002."

  "Lowry?" Admiral Rinhold laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. He vividly recalled the First Officer's antics in stealing a Minnow and going AWOL, despite the Admiral's own efforts to stop him.

  "Quarantine checks out - he and the natives are in the containment room."

  Rinhold nodded absently and dismissed the Captain, his mind already working as he strode towards the airlock. He would personally see Lowry hung drawn and quartered for his actions.

  When the door slid open Shaun's blue eyes met immediately with his own; blue eyes that held an edge that refused to be downtrodden.

  "First Officer Lowry," began Rinhold, finding himself at a loss of words. The two natives accompanying Shaun were small in stature with hard skin like that of an insect. The first one's eyes sparkled in fluorescent light while the other's were milky white and downcast in obvious blindness. Both looked aged, the blind one especially so as he leant heavily upon a crudely fashioned cane. Involuntarily taking a step back in revulsion from the primitive creatures it took the Admiral a moment to gather his thoughts. "Why do you return, Lowry?"