Yngve, AR - Darc Ages

by Darc Ages (lit)

  Tharlos Pasko walked over to the rear port of the carrier, and waited for the doors to open. The doors swung aside, and sank onto the platform floor.

  The soldiers and mechanics present shrank away when they saw what waited inside: twelve new, glistening black spider robots. They were lined up in perfect rows, now and then rattling their thin legs restlessly, green sensor-eyes flickering on and off to save energy during transport.

  Tharlos's eyes watered at the sight. His faith in the Black Sun strengthened each time he saw those dead, pseudo-intelligent creatures, ready to obey his every command. Tharlos cleared his throat.

  "I am Tharlos Pasko!" he bellowed at the waiting spider robots.

  At once their sensor-eyes lit up on their metal stalks; a noise of whining motors, compressed hydraulic gases, and rattling limbs rose from the cargo bay. A unison metallic chirp came from the black machines, confirming that they had recognized the name.

  "I am your new owner and master. My first order to you is... line up in front of me - now! "

  As a well-oiled team the robots marched out, resembling twelve giant black widow spiders lining up before a drill sergeant. Tharlos was satisfied. This batch cooperated much better than the previous one.

  "Soon, you will receive a recharge of power for your batteries. But first, I shall perform a test of your loyalty to me, your new master!"

  He snapped his fingers at a team of mechanics, who with frightened gazes rolled forth a cart. On the cart tray, a humanoid-shaped servant robot was writhing helplessly. Its arms and legs had been disassembled, and its remaining head and torso wrestled to get off its chains.

  The servant's red-glowing sensor slit seemed to flicker faster when it turned to the row of spidery machines.

  "Do you se this robot?" Tharlos shouted, pointing at the maimed servant. The black giants twittered and chirped. "Good. On my command, you will tear it apart, without using your lasers, until I order you to stop! On my command - now! "

  Without a pause, two of the spider robots rushed forward with clicking, palpitating mandibles. Tharlos stepped back to give them room.

  The crippled servant uttered a calm, metallic objection: "Please do not destro yYIIIII -"

  And then the robot servant was no more. Tharlos ordered them to stop.

  One of the attending mechanics looked away in disgust - to destroy the lifetime's labor of several guilds, on a whim, was against all his way of life stood for. The other men swallowed, turned pale, but dared not demonstrate what they felt.

  Tharlos rejoiced: his new warriors showed none of the dangerous solidarity with fellow robots, that had made Bor Damon's own favorite servant a traitor in Tharlos's service.

  If the courage of his human soldiers might fail him in the coming battle, these robots would never fail - because they always obeyed.

  Or so he believed.

  Chapter 51

  Bor Damon read the transcribed laser message over and over to himself - as if it contained a hidden meaning that he must decipher.

  My Good Friend,

  The time has come to choose your destiny.

  For some time, I have been intercepting radio-wave transmissions from D. You know where I stand. Whatever battles I have fought against outside forces in the past, I remain steadfast. "He" is The One. I bow before him, and look forward to the onset of a new Golden Age under his guidance. This I know in my heart, and my beloved wife supports my belief.

  Another important development has come to my attention. A distant relative of mine has revealed by way of a secret laser transmitter in Pasko City, that Tharlos Pasko recently met with several high lords. The outcome was secret, but my source fears a military alliance is forming under Pasko.

  "He" is thus in immediate jeopardy, as is your brave son. Tharlos Pasko's ambitions are not likely to change. Should he succeed in eliminating "him," Tharlos will undoubtedly seek to dominate the whole of Castilia and all of Juro.

  Our friendship has suffered from the absence of your son, who shared my opinion of "him." I implore you to set aside our past differences. You must once more become your former self, and act. We can pick up the shards of the once great alliance of five cities, which was betrayed by the Paskos.

  Many of our own people are divided in spirit, but one decisive move from you will seize their hearts. But you must act now.

  Once we were proud lords. This may be our last opportunity to be such men again.

  Signed,

  Lord Azuch Obispo Fache,

  Fache City, Vemba 2, 940 AM.

  Reading Azuch's dense, archaic letter-prose, Bor was in his mind transported to past times - his violent and intense youth, followed by decades of peace and order, before frozen strangers and turncoat allies had complicated his life.

  True, the past had been harsh. The roving Leper tribes had pressed on harder than ever before, and only the alliance of the five families had sufficed to break their advance into the heart of Castilia.

  But even in the darkest moments, Bor had never doubted that he was fighting for a good cause. This had also been Azuch's set of mind. And now Azuch, of all people, was clinging to a sudden leap of faith... risking everything he had fought for, for some airy promise of another Golden Age!

  Bor could not comprehend it. He knew beyond all doubt that Darc was just a man, precisely because it was Bor who had awakened him and seen him return to life. A common illness had very nearly snatched Darc back to the grave. And yet - this sickly, almost foolish man had upset Bor's world to the very core.

  Bor Damon ceased his brooding when the thirst seized him. He dropped the letter, and looked around the transmission room for wine. He groped for the nearest bottle; it was empty. He turned to his servant Vhustank, who was standing in a corner of the room.

  Vhustank had connected himself to a wall socket next to the laser transmission equipment, and was recharging his batteries. A soft, mute hum was all the noise the servant machine made.

  "Vhustank," Bor said hoarsely, "bring me some more wine."

  The robot's ornamented head turned to attention with an oily click, and Vhustank responded with total objectivity: "I cannot obey that order now, my lord."

  Bor grew angry but added, without shouting: "Obey my order as soon as you think you should, then." He had intended a harsher reply, but a prolonged drinking bout had blunted his spirit.

  Then all of a sudden, Vhustank got stuck in loop of unresolved choices: "Just a moment... just a moment... just a moment... just a moment..."

  The mechanical mantra went on and on. These rare malfunctions were triggered by contradictory or vague commands. Bor sighed, not even bothering to get angry. He sauntered over to the robot, and squinted into the flickering red slit that was its eyes.

  "Just a moment... just a moment... just a moment..."

  Bor giggled a little, scraping his fingers against his chin - he had been growing a short beard lately - pointed a finger to Vhustank's forehead plate, and asked: "Will you make up your mind... or must I bash your head in?" He giggled again.

  The robot kept babbling: "Just a moment... just a moment..."

  Right there and then, Bor knew that if he assaulted the helpless machine, he would go insane. Then he saw the lettering on Vhustank's gilded forehead, above the family emblem. The name of the machine's owner:

  DAMON

  "Just a moment... just a moment..."

  A revelation came. The insight chilled his spine. He had to break the loop, end the paralysis.

  On an impulse, Bor reached for the short cable that connected Vhustank's torso to the wall socket. He ought to have used the power switch below Vhustank's head - but he was inept with electronics and too dazed to think clearly.

  Bor jerked at the wrong end of the cable, and a wire came loose. The socket responded with a loud snap: a spark of high-voltage electricity shot out from the wall and into Bor's fist.

  The shock tossed him backward - he hit the floor, twisting spasmodically. The epileptic fit lasted another few seconds, a
nd then he lay still - thinking that his heart had stopped. Yet strangely enough, it was still beating.

  In fact Bor was feeling well, if only a little shaky as he staggered to his feet. He shook his head, stumbled over to the open window and took a breath of fresh air.

  The lights of his city glittered below, and beyond that - darkness. One could barely make out the faint shimmer of neighboring city-states on the horizon. The moon and the countless stars lit up the chilly, clear sky. Bor took it all in, as if for the first time, cherishing the sight.

  "Yes," he said, mouth steaming with vapor in the night air. "I can fight one more battle."

  The drowsy captains and lieutenants arrived to the castle's war room, several minutes late; the call from the city lord had surprised them all.

  Those who arrived last received a brief, vicious scolding by Lord Damon. Before his officers could express their surprise, Bor proceeded to inform them of Tharlos Pasko's plans for conquest of Castilia. Bor called for an immediate mobilization of Damon City's armed forces, including the inactive reserves.

  He explained that all their former or remaining allies had to be won back over - or be declared enemies. The officers soon forgot their drowsiness, and were inspired by Bor's renewed energy. Toward the end of the meeting, they were enthusiastic and attentive.

  Yet, something was on everyone's mind when the question of mobilization came up.

  Bor's tone softened down, and he told the assembly: "I know that my son... Sir Dohan... was held in very high esteem by all of you," he said with audible effort. "His valor helped save our city during Pasko's first attack."

  The officers fell mute. This was the first time Bor talked about his son in public since he disappeared.

  As if speaking for them, Bor said: "Many of us still believe... that he shall return and serve the city again. Until that day... any soldier or officer, who speaks ill of my son is to be reported, and to be discharged from the city forces without trial. Is that clear?"

  He scrutinized the tight faces of his officers; they nodded, almost in chorus. "Very well. Now, we go to the hangar for an immediate inspection of the air force. Alert all hangar personnel for active duty."

  Having slept little during his busy night, Bor Damon was awakened by Lachtfot at six-thirty in the morning.

  With his schedule, Bor barely had time to dress, eat, and clean himself up. But at seven o'clock he stood on the balcony above the main castle gate, in his parade uniform, armor pads, helmet, sword and all.

  He overlooked the front courtyard inside the outer castle wall. A thousand uniformed soldiers were lined up on the courtyard, rifles and shields gleaming in the clear air. In front of the troops, his officers of the lower nobility stood on a line, attentive and silent.

  The park was covered by a white sheen of frost, and thin wisps of mist were boiling away before the heat of the rising sun. Bor was just about to address the forces, when he remembered that his collar loudspeaker was out of order. This was going to be hard; his voice was not what it used to be.

  He cleared his throat and called out as loudly as he could: "I greet you, soldiers!" It was a coarse, weakened voice - yet the willpower behind it resounded through, as his words rolled across the open place and over the outer castle wall. The one thousand soldiers were silent.

  "It is my duty to tell you that Sir Tharlos Pasko, the renegade of our former alliance, is now building a new alliance of cities against us..."

  A roar of righteous anger rose from one thousand throats - and the city heard it too. The Damon family was awake now, and flocked to the balcony where Bor stood and addressed the troops.

  As soon as they heard him at close range, and understood that the roar of the troops were cheers of approval, they were greatly calmed.

  Bor finished his address: "And rest assured, soldiers! I promise you this: I shall do all I can to bring Sir Dohan safely back to our city, to serve and protect our people again!"

  The troops cheered for several minutes, until Bor left the balcony. First then he noticed that his family had been listening behind his back: Osanna, Eveli, Bor's sister Bwynn, and her husband. He blinked uncertainly at them, half expecting the silent disdain he had been receiving during the past few months.

  Eveli was the first one to react. She flung herself forward and hugged her father's large frame, smiling a broad, confident smile. Bor smiled, spontaneously, and patted her long ruddy hair.

  He looked at his wife. Their eyes met; they did not have to speak words. There was much to get done, but they would do it together.

  Chapter 52

  "This is the voice of Darc . This is the Voice of Liberty ."

  No musical number preceded this speech. Darc had prepared a written radio speech in advance, for his subject was too complicated for improvisation. Mechao sat next to him on the soundstage, ready to assist if necessary.

  Darc took on a calm, clear note: "As I have said before: I have lived among Lepers. Now it is time for you in the cities, who may never have seen a Leper, to learn more about them.

  "What is a Leper? What are they like? Where did they come from? How many are there in the world today? And what do I intend to do for them? These are the questions I shall try to answer..."

  Darc was too exhausted to speak for a long while afterward. He had put all his effort and sincerity into that speech, and found himself drained. The servants handed him water and a towel.

  "Never could I have imagined," Mechao said slowly, "that it would take me a lifetime to see the truth." Darc gave the old doctor a puzzled look.

  "So fiercely proud have I been of my heritage as a practitioner of genetic surgery. Countless times have I told my children, like my father told me, how important our task is, how we must never forget the old knowledge of the DNA."

  Then Mechao buried his face in his hands - at once he seemed as old as his years suggested - and murmured: "But now I see...! What have I made of this great heritage? What did my father do? Nothing! We hid it to ourselves, like selfish children herding glass marbles! For centuries, millions of people have suffered the Plague because of our unwillingness to help."

  Darc had asked himself that question many times by now. Even he had failed to grasp the answer, until now. He shook his head, and comforted his friend.

  "No, no, no! It is because you are so proud, that you judge yourself too harshly. Remember! You were born into this world like every other man. Your ancestors took this world for granted too. You never saw a Leper until I brought her here, and how could you?

  "Wouldn't Lepers, too, have killed you if you approached them? You have all suffered from too much isolation - it is natural to turn secretive, when one is persecuted for such a long time.

  "And: before I told you of my adventures in Amrica, there was no way you could know Lepers were suffering from ocean to ocean. Don't you see how open and friendly you have been to my friends, to me, ever since we arrived here? You could have killed us on the spot, just to protect your people. But you didn't!"

  Darc stopped there. He had touched on another sensitive matter. Why hadn't Mechao killed him? Why did he reveal himself in the first place?

  Mechao removed his hands from his face, and looked into Darc's eyes.

  He said: "I thought Pipo, my guardian beast, was going to kill that young warrior, or scare him off... it seemed he had no chance, coming to our island all alone. But he fought like a lion to save you... and so I changed my mind. I gave you the chance to prove your worth, and I cured your fever.

  "I grew more curious, and when you told us that you came from another time... I changed my mind. I once considered destroying your aircraft, to hold you prisoners on Kap Verita and force Dohan to marry Meijji. But then I changed my mind again."

  "Is that anything to be ashamed of?"

  "My shame lies in the fact that I did not trust you from the very beginning."

  "Is that," Darc insisted, "anything to be ashamed of? You were careful, you thought of the safety of your people, as you had bee
n taught."

  "Yes... but I was also afraid, when I should have been brave." There was a brief silence. Then Darc laughed. "What is it?" the old witchdoctor asked him, almost insulted.

  Darc wiped something out of the corner of his eye, and answered: "It just hit me. Women . Women are dominant on Kap Verita. Come to think of it, they dominate this world of yours. And the world has remained unchanged for hundreds of years. They have kept the world going, and that's good..."

  Darc stood up, helped Mechao up from his chair, and set off to see Eye-Leg.

  "But for better or worse," he added as he left, "it takes men to make a change."

  "What are you doing here?" Tharlos snapped, at once angry and nervous. He glared at his mother who stood in his doorway, anxious to come inside.

  "Are you hiding a radio receiver in there, Tharlos?"

  "I don't have to answer you," he said, instantly regressing to a sulking boy, acting ten years below his age. This always happened, he reflected. And always she got her way, in the end.

  "What have you been hearing, that I should not hear?" she demanded.

  "The security of the state is threatened," he replied, blocking the doorway. "I must stay informed. It is none of your concern."

  She made a face of overwhelming worry, and pleaded in a disturbing, unnatural tone: "But you are my security of state, my concern! I live only for your safety!"

  Tharlos felt a growing onrush of panic. He was deprived of sleep; she was drunk again; and he had just heard Darc broadcast an impassioned speech in defense of the Lepers. Tharlos's cult followers were demanding more time and attention than his military endeavors would allow for - and he had a piercing headache.

  The last thing he needed was his mother's smothering, lurking presence. Her long-fingered hand darted out to touch him; Tharlos reeled back and tried to shut the door in her face. She pressed on, hysterical.

  "Don't do this to me, Tharlos! You're all I have left in this world!" she wailed.

  "Go back to your useless husband!" he shouted, and thought: What does it take to make you go away? Is there anyone in the world who could help me against you?