The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  He was about to speak when the Orb spoke to him. “Who are your enemies?”

  “Can you not read my thoughts?” the Darkman asked.

  “No, your mind is to slow to understand,” the sphere replied, “you are a creature with limited calculating abilities and cannot coordinate your thoughts in a way that can be understood with a mindlock, you are substandard”.

  He does not know my mind, the Darkman thought, I can keep secrets and secrets are power, the power to know what others cannot. Knowing that this God could not see into his mind pleased the Shadowman very much, the idea of someone, anyone invading his mind filled him with dread, for there were dark places in his being that he wanted kept hidden, places that he did not want to see.

  “My enemies are many great lord, they walk the lands and speak lies to all who would listen to them,” the machine man said, “they are not the chosen of your kind, they should be punished”.

  Truth or lies meant nothing to the Orb, false information was deleted and factual data was stored, it was a matter of correct gathering and analyzing. Anything that was not correct was a malfunction of the gathering unit, and the idea of punishing that unit was nonsense, you simply destroyed it and replaced it with a more precise device.

  But it knew exactly what an enemy was, it had been programmed to seek and destroyed all its enemies and it did this without the need to know why, all that mattered was completing its mission and waging war till all enemies were gone. So now the long cycles of wishing to die were erased from its memories and replaced with one purpose once again.

  Destroy.

  “Where are your enemies?” the Orb asked.

  The Darkman smiled once more, “everywhere” he said.

  Rawg had seen to it that all the flesh of the dead Rimar had been stripped from the heavy bones and put into the carts of his tribe; they then placed the long leg bones on top of the fresh meat and strapped it all down tightly. The leg bones would be cracked open later and the rich marrow eaten at their leisure, the heart and liver of the great beast would be given to the top males for they needed to be kept strong to defend the tribe. The skin of the Rimar would be dried and cleaned and then made into clothing.

  When all was done Rawg gave the order to continue and they moved on, but they did not bury their dead, they simply left them where they fell and did not think of them anymore. In hard times they would have taken them to be eaten but with their carts full of fresh meat they had no need for that, so they let them lay knowing that Sundroppers would soon remove all traces of their bodies.

  And with the dead Rawg also left his infant son; the tiny baby had been killed along with its mother in the battle over the Rimar. For a time the leader of the Sandjar would feel a loss but it would soon pass and he would not think of them again.

  And so they traveled onward, moving past herds of Rimar and a group of large Ax-breakers, but the Sandjar were not capable of bringing down a strong Thundra beast and they could never hope to crack the armored shell of the huge Ax-breakers. So they went around them and headed for the place where the Lightship had fallen. They continued for another day and night then at last found what they had been searching for.

  When Rawg saw the huge fallen craft half-buried in the sand and surrounded by ancient machinery he could not believe his luck, the ship was titanic in size, a treasure chest of goods that would surely make them one of the richest Scavengers of the Outlands. These goods could be traded with the people of the stone cities and others for materials that were prized by the Sandjars. So with a gesture of his hand and a loud grunt he pointed to the half-buried ship and the wagons of the Sandjar began to roll towards their prize.

  Deep inside the great ship the Shadowman talked to his God.

  “...And there are those that dwell within the great stone cities, but their structures are strong and there weapons powerful, but surely a God like yourself could destroy them all”.

  The Darkman had told the Orb all that he knew of the people of the Outlands, there was much to tell about their ways and their beliefs but at last it had been said and now he waited for the sphere to speak to him.

  The Orb had listened silently to all that the man had told him, it understood most of what it had been said but many things did not meet the standards of logic that was the thought processes of the glowing sphere. The behaviors of those that made this planet their home seemed to be erratic, emotional creatures without a defined purpose or goal, they spent energy and time on matter that had little consequence and wasted resources. But there was one thing that the Orb could understand quite well.

  They loved to kill.

  In fact they seemed to be very good at it, the Shadowman was correct when he said that he had many enemies, they were all around him, creatures great and small, powerful or weak they all fed upon each other, and this was something that the Orb understood to perfection.

  But the entire life of the once great terror ship had been in the stars, it knew the heavens as a Nomad knows his land, stars, planets and moons were just guide post to use in maneuvers to defeat an enemy, now that the M-91 would never move through those stars again meant that the Orb must adapt to its new home.

  “What are the magnitudes of the fazic projectors and the resistance of the polycromic shielding of your enemies?” the Orb asked.

  The Darkman tried to understand the words of his master, but try as he might he could not find an answer, “your words are strange to me my God” he finally replied.

  The Orb thought for a moment then asked again, “tell me of their central command-targeting computers and what level of Coregranic dimensioning system they use?”

  Again the Shadowman had no reply; “they have no systems” he uttered.

  “Then what is the timespan of the self-repairing capabilities in their weapons array?’

  “They have no such ability”

  “How strong are the Metiplexon containers that house their internal mindlock receptors?”

  “They have no such containers”, the Darkman answered, he is testing me again, seeing if I know the questions that Gods ask. It was then that the Shadowman remembered the three questions of Isarie.

  Do you know my Book.

  Do you follow its teachings.

  Do you believe.

  Questions that every child of the Nomads knew, he had been told these words before he was cast out in the Choosing. That time with mother and fathers must make a choice on who is to live and who is to die, and now remembering those words again brought anger to his heart. Foolish questions, he told himself, why did not Isarie come down from the stars like this God and show herself to all? This question made him smile because she is weak, she is not the all-powerful Goddess, she is nothing.

  The Darkman looked up at the glowing Orb, “my lord, the people of the Outlands do not have your power, we fight with what we have and the machines that once were the playthings of your kind no longer move”.

  It took only a moment for the mind that now called itself of Atos to reply.

  “Then I will use them to repair myself”.

  Rawg could hardly believe the thing that had fallen from the sky was now his, as he approached it with his tribe he wondered at the power of the Gods whose plaything this surely was. But his primitive mind would have never understood the technology and advanced mechanical capabilities that once had allowed the great ship to move through the heavens and no amount of explanation of interstellar propulsion or gravimetric mathematics would have matter to the scavenger. He was a creature of earth and sky and simply accepted it as a gift from the Gods.

  The wagons of the Sandjar came nearer the great twisted hulk and then stopped, with a grunt from their leader they got down from the carts and began to search among the wreckage for treasure.

  They would find only terror.

  The Orb could feel the scavengers approaching, it had felt the invading tremor as they entered the fazic shielding that radiated out from the glowing sphere and kept it from being destroyed by th
e entity deep within the planet. This and only this made it able to retaliate against the creatures that came near.

  The Cyberman also knew something was coming, he did not understand the new power the made him able to see with his mind beyond the confines of the dim chamber that was now his home but he found the sensation exhilarating. How can I know what I know? He thought, this was something that was not easily explained, perhaps when the Orb invaded his mind he was linked at some small level with it and that was why he knew what could not be seen, but for whatever reason he delighted in the gift from his God.

  Now he closed his one original eye and saw through the artificial device that had replaced the damaged one, it was strange to him but he saw figures moving and when he concentrated more the images became clear.

  Sandjars!

  Rawg looked around at the sand dunes and broken machinery and it made him smile to see that there was no other of his kind near, now all the contents of the great ship would be theirs and they would not have to fight for it. He gestured to his tribe to begin the search and with hesitance they entered the broken ship through a large crack in its hull plating.

  Inside it was dimly lit but there was still enough light to search by, and so they began to pick through the remains of their gift from the Gods. There was much to be thankful for, there was an abundance of Itarian steel and wire that could be used for trading or in weapons. The copper flex couplings were perfect for holding together broken wagon parts or for jewelry that was worn by the females of their kind, there were many containers, sheeting, flexible plastics and all matter of rare things, all of it there for the taking.

  The family of Sandjars were very content to know that they could load their trading carts with enough good to last them for a very long time, this and the fact that they had a goodly amount of meat made them grunt in approval and forget about all troubles.

  But then it stopped.

  They all stood frozen like statues and no matter how hard they tried they could not move, they could however speak in here crude way and in moments the air was filled with screams. Rawg tried with all his might to raise the weapon in his hand but it was useless, he could move his head slightly and when he looked down to see that no bindings were holding him or any other forms of restraints it made him fight the harder. A primal fear of the unknown now filled every fiber of his being, it swept over him like a dark wave and engulfed his mind, but it was only the being of his nightmare. For out of the dimness of the broken hull he saw strange creatures approaching, as they came into the light he could see they were not things of flesh and bone but metal.

  The Repairbots had their orders and would once more take what was weak and make it strong.

  To say what happened next would only add horror on to horror, for the Sandjar were taken one by one to the inner chamber and there they were cut apart and their weaknesses replaced with steel and circuitry. It was not a quick thing for many processes had to be done, first they were scanned for defects, and schematics had to be evaluated for maximum efficiency, then replacement parts had to be manufactured in the storage chambers and then attached to the living organs that were still functioning. But it was all done with efficiency and skill and soon all the creatures that were once known as Sandjar were now things of the stars.

  The Darkman watched all this happen, but he did not show emotion of any kind, he still had a heart that was true, but it had long ago stopped feeling for others and was now only a pump to move fluid through his half-body. And as for the screams of the Scavengers he had heard screams before and they did not hurt his ears.

  When all work was done and what had been weak was now strong the things that were once weak creatures stood before the glowing Orb and waited in silence. Their eyes no longer showed any signs of understanding, for it was not necessary that they question their existence, and as for their knowledge it was now at such a primitive level that the Orb did not take the time to process it into its mind. All that matter was the fact that the newborn God had servants to do his will and help it perform its primary function.

  To seek out and destroy all enemies.

  Chapter 9.

  The Sky Gods.

  There are many strange creatures inhabiting the planet Gorn, although many of them have been recorded in such works as. The indigenous creatures of Gorn and their mating habits by V.V.Yar, doctor of Inter Creature Relationships, Otarius Moon. And Reptiles of the Outer Rim Planets, by Vardis Cocam. They are far from complete.

  For I have seen with my own eyes the monsters that the Nomads call Gods.

  From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.

  Andra did not sleep in the tent of the King, for the last two nights she slumbered in the shelter of Osh and the boy who called her mother.

  She did this because she still thought of the young warrior and the girl who had died at the ritual and she could not look at her mate without seeing their faces. It was true that she had witnessed horrible deaths when she was a soldier of the Salcarie and had been the cause of many more, but that was in a time of war and she knew that the deaths of the two young Nomads could have been prevented.

  So now she stood outside the tent of the Callaxion and felt the warm morning air on her face, she looked up to see a bright sky with only a few small whiffs of clouds blocking the waking suns. She wore a simple robe of brown woven cloth and there were no necklaces or rings on her fingers. She was never one to adorn herself in girlish attire and refused to wear the mated rings in her ears that would have marked her as spoken for. She did however wear the golden Journey-Nail around her neck for she had proven herself a brave and strong warrior. Not far away lay her Tooth, the deadly war-ax that all defenders of the tribe had, but there were no enemies in the oasis so she stirred the pot of Hagar soup that she had just finished making.

  The smell of the warm liquid would have softened the heart of most warriors but it did not seem to have any effect on Andra.

  He should have stop them she told herself after all he is the King and Kings should not torture their people, the more she thought about it the harder she stirred the cooking pot. If he thinks he can kill an innocent girl then expect me to lay with him he is a fool! The wooden spoon rattled against the rim of the metal pot, a handsome face will not be enough to forgive his mistakes. In her anger she struck the wooden spoon against the side of the pot and it broke.

  The Selcarie girl stood there for a moment looking at the frayed end of the utensil, and then in frustration she threw it to the ground. It’s all his fault, that thick headed, narrow minded----.she tried to think of just the right word for what she was feeling but she could not, so she just pictured a stubborn Trofar laying in Whiptail droppings. It was enough to satisfy her and she smiled.

  She took another spoon and filled to bowls with her soup then proceeded to enter the tent of her old friend and the little Sandjar.

  Inside she found them laying on their sleeping mattresses with bandaged heads and appearing as if they were asleep.

  “Hot soup!” she cried out, “get it now or I’ll toss it out”, the sound of her voice was loud enough to open the eyes of the tent occupants and they sat up in a start.

  “What are you shouting about?” the old man asked holding his aching head in his hand, “can’t you see that I’m a sick man?”

  This made the girl chuckle, “sick? You just got beaten up a little that’s all, now eat some of my soup”.

  When the Callaxion heard that Andra had cooked the soup and not one of the Touchtenders his appetite suddenly disappeared. “You cooked the soup?” the old man asked tentatively.

  “I sure did” Andra said proudly as she handed the steaming bowl to the old man, “and don’t worry my cooking is getting much better”.

  Hearing those words did not make Osh optimistic for he knew as all the other members of the tribe that Andra was the worst cook in all the Outlands. It wasn’t from lack of trying but as hard as she wanted to succeeded she never could get the spices quit right or t
he correct balance of fish sauce to Rimar meat that was needed for a good bowl of Hagar soup. Still the old man hoped for the best as he spooned some into his mouth.

  Now it was well known that Callaxion were very diplomatic, they had to be to contend with all the different species that they were put them in contact with, so when he tasted the girl’s soup his face did not show what his pallet knew was true.

  “Its...good” he said with a half-smile.

  Hearing this made Andra very content, “thanks, I thought I might have put in too much ulon spice”.

  “No, no not at all”, Osh commented, forcing a smile onto his wrinkled face, “its is thoroughly delectable”.

  Hearing this she was eager to see what the Sandjar boy had to say, “here you go” she said as he handed the other bowl to Endo.

  It was also well known that Sandjars were anything but diplomatic, in fact diplomacy was something they had no knowledge of, they did not need too, they took what they wanted and killed anything in their way, but the young scavenger had grown up with humans and he knew how not to offend his adoptive mother.

  “I am not hungry now,” he said quietly.

  Andra put the bowl down on the ground beside him, “well maybe later” she said, then she began checking the bandages around the head of Osh, thank God Callaxions skulls are thick she thought. She checked the small metal import access that all of his kind have on the side of their heads and found it had not been damaged in the attack. She also knew that the wounds were not deep and with rest and a goodly amount of Grana he would recover quickly.

  But thinking of the beating made her remember the anger towards her mate, so she sat down on a small stool near the old man and began to mutter under her breath. Hearing this the Callaxion took the opportunity to put down his bowl of over spiced soup and look at his friend, “is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Andra blurted out, “Why are all men so thick are headed?”