A Guiding Light

by Gerard A Whitfield

  He could always create new troops, although the loss of his converted Immortals would hurt him, once he was clear. His Master needed him and Shan did not expect to let him down. In this the Tauran’s ego had taken over, demons cared little for their vessels and could easily find a new one.

  On and on he ran, his heavy boots pounding against the ground, their beat echoed only by the scrabbling of claws by his side.

  *****

  Viker and Johns led their squad into the central plaza at a run, claws unsheathed and teeth bared. Their accompanying soldiers quickly took cover, where they could and did begin laying down heavy fire against the remains of the undead forces. There were few now, as the creatures had decimated them to start with themselves being turned upon by Marius’ new allies.

  This was not a real consideration for Viker, whose internal beast was free and hungry to kill. He and Johns leapt straight amongst Shan’s forces, clawed hands ripping and tearing. Their squad poured concentrated volley after volley into the outer edges of the group, bunching them in towards the centre and the violence awaiting them.

  One creature spread its wings, ready to leap above the fray, and use its momentum to spear back down towards Viker. He did not wait, one clawed hand slicing through its rotting wing membranes and hooking it back to earth. As its hungry maw snapped towards him, a laser-round flashed by, striking it cleanly in one eye and blinding it. Viker saw Alana lining up her next shot, but didn’t wait, his jaws crushing bone as he finished it off.

  As quickly as the melee had begun it was over, Viker and Johns looking almost disappointed. They looked up amazed at the explosion of creatures, as they arced out of the central tower, their calls angry and menacing. No time was wasted in circling, they simply banked, folded their wings and dived, a harsh screaming cry their only evident warning.

  City Approaches

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  Walters revelled in the control of the machine; it seemed to have been made specifically for him. As Arshavin scurried away, Walters did not feel the urge to pursue him, he was more engrossed in the study of that which had been Magos. Its enhanced sensors added to those powers he inherently held, refining them with the precise mechanical routines contained within the drones. He could also feel the link with the robots fighting still on the ground below, almost as though they were an extension of his body.

  Slowly, he infused the drones with his essence, allowing the connection to strengthen, the fluid machinery to reform. There was no need for a control room as Walters and the machine became one.

  *****

  Robots disengaged from the conflict without warning, their spidery bodies transforming and propelling them quickly away, leaving the ground forces bewildered with their withdrawal. This confusion lasted but a moment as Shan’s disease infected troopers resumed their manic attacks.

  Berbatov had little time for the make-up of his enemies; he was more concerned about killing them. His timely arrival had changed the balance of the engagement somewhat, but was still to be conclusive. The fact that his own dead rapidly revived, to take part in the attack on the zombies’ side was a little disconcerting. However, ever the pragmatist, the big man just killed them again, this time permanently.

  *****

  James had responded instantly to Berbatov’s summons and he and his men had pushed forwards, their tanks’ battle cannons blasting a molten path through their enemies. They were making steady headway, although the disappearance of the robots had freed more of theTauran forces up, and forced him to consolidate his position, before moving on again.

  “Sir!” shouted one of his scouts, pointing to the mass of robots which had appeared once more on a ridgeline to the south of them. They stood silently, in a single line, apparently waiting for something.

  “Oh Crap!” cursed James, as he saw what it was that had caused their vigil; a huge, towering robot, cast in the image of man, descended from the skies, retro-rockets slowing its descent in a flare of blue-white brilliance.

  The thing was enormous, its burnished metal skin flashing in the sunlight as it lightly landed amongst its minions. It paused for a moment, looking down in apparent affection at the robots below and then began to stride forwards, its tremendous footsteps reverberating through the very earth. Its robots flowed along with it, to the front, side and rear they roamed, red eyes bright and malevolent once more.

  The Tower

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  Viker opened his arms and roared his defiance skywards, as the creatures plummeted towards him. He felt rather than saw his squad join him, professionally taking up their firing positions. The sound of power cells being changed and clicked into place gave him a feeling of reassurance and he howled once more, challenging his foes and telling his pack where he was, all at once.

  By his side, Johns mimicked him, crouching slightly in anticipation of the coming fight. Closer came the creatures, Viker’s keen sight now being able to discern their distinct number and also identify one individual above all others. Its vivid blue was in direct contrast to the others midnight black. He could feel its presence, awakening a response within him, his muscles tensing ready to spring him towards his enemy.

  Rifles were raised and targets selected, fingers tightening on triggers, but at the last moment, the precipitous dive was halted, wings flicking outwards to haul their owners upwards and brake their mad dash. As one they slowed, the back beat of their wings causing a physical stirring of the air around Viker, yet still he did not relax.

  The blue-hued leader, for that was obvious, dropped in front of Viker, his wings folding gracefully against his body. There were no distinctive clothing or marks, a fine covering of feathers encased his body. Yet he strode forwards on his spindly legs, with an arrogance born of familiarity. John’s muscles bunched, in preparation for his leap, and the creature spoke once, dismissively.

  “Not a good idea, Johns!” his voice was distorted by a strange clicking and whistling, the beak-like mouth not assisting speech to any great degree.

  Viker tensed, there was something about the intonation, the command, and with this faint recognition he placed a restraining hand on Johns’ chest.

  “Who, or what are you?” growled Viker, staring intently into the creature’s whirling eyes.

  “I am, or rather I was, Captain Marius,” he seemed even puzzled himself as he continued with his strangled speech, “now I don’t know what I am. I need to speak with Walters urgently.”

  “That would be Colonel Walters, at the least,” snarled Johns, still straining against Viker’s hand.

  “Perhaps,” laughed that which had been Marius, “although I think we are more equal now, than ever before. Tell me, where is he?”

  It was Johns’ turn to laugh now, “What? Captain high and mighty, don’t you know where he is? Can’t you, with all your power, simply just feel him?”

  Marius screeched in anger and one clawed hand swiped towards Johns, but Viker parried the blow, leaping forward and kicking out, slamming the creature back.

  “You will regret that!” hissed Marius, raising his head and screaming to his followers, “believe me. The lives of your men are now forfeit!”

  “We’ve heard that before!” answered Viker, his barked retort accompanied by his charge, forcing Marius to unfold his wings and power himself skywards. He was just too slow, as Viker’s clawed hand hooked into the muscle of his left calf, snagging him and drawing him back down. Marius stared directly at Viker, ripped his leg free and then used his momentum to pivot and slash a taloned foot across Viker’s chest.

  The comforting crack of laser-rounds, joined the roars and howls of Viker and Johns and the screeches of Marius’ creatures. No quarter would be given, Viker was sure that this was no mistake, there was something wrong, evil in this thing that had been Marius, and he could not let it go free.

  Chapter Fifteen

  City Approaches

  Diadem />
  Unassigned Space

  Shan was in no hurry to join back up with his forces, rather he was looking for a means to escape the planet. Things had gone from bad to worse and he needed time to recover. It seemed as though his erstwhile enemies were occupied with various threats, and that left him free to continue with his flight.

  Two of the winged creatures continued at his side, as did one of the Immortals. They had not met any other resistance, and therefore Shan was fairly convinced that his troops were at least holding out, if not even winning the battle.

  With an unexpected suddenness they ran right into the rear of James’ troops, catching a group of soldiers by surprise. There was no time to waste and Shan ploughed straight in, lashing right and left, ripping weapons free from broken limbs and callously firing at point-blank range. His companions were no less effective, and the unlucky squad was quickly silenced.

  Not even out of breath, the fight had been short, intense and extremely bloody, Shan surveyed his surroundings. He could see and hear the exchange of fire to his front, and was sure that there would be no possibility of escape in that direction. No, what he needed was where Walter’s men had landed, perhaps there he could find transport of this cursed rock.

  With a grunt, he signalled to the others, retracing their steps until they were well clear of the fighting, and skirting the rear positions as they moved towards their objective.

  Spiteful Dawn

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  Master Arshavin’s escape pod had passed too close to one of Shan’s remaining ships, and now it was too late. The automated system within the pod had communicated with that of the ship, and the often too clever Arshavin, had in effect sealed his own doom. His sub-routine overwrote that of the ship and his pod was guided automatically into its landing bay. No matter how much the Master cursed nor slammed his augmented fists against the control panel, he was simply ignored.

  Speed slowing, the pod gently kissed the landing cradle and began to shut down, the external and internal pressure equalizing, as it prepared to release the main hatch. Arshavin knew that this was not going to be particularly pleasant and that he would need to buy himself some time, if he was to succeed in once more achieving his freedom.

  The pod itself, was like many of his creations, multifunctional and he quickly broke his way into its systems. He knew it was too late to try and relaunch it, but he could perhaps make use of its robotic parts and fashion himself a chance.

  Busily he toiled, even as he heard the banging and crashing of metal instruments against the outer skin of his pod. They, he knew, would not wait too long before bringing up something that could either cut or blow its way through the main hatch. Ignoring the feeling of panic, he continued, a complicated mechanism appearing before him on the floor.

  The Tower

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  Viker soon realised that they were in trouble, he and Johns were holding their own against Marius’ creatures, but his squad were finding things just a little bit more difficult. They did not lack for courage, nor skill in arms, it was just that these things were extremely fast, very agile and totally vicious.

  A cry behind him pulled Viker’s attention away from Marius, who had now managed to lift himself up above the fight. He saw Alana double over, as a black taloned hand ripped through her body armour and he roared with anger. With a stupendous leap, he launched himself towards her, smashing into the creature and driving it to the ground, just as it was about to strike again. His eyes blazing, he punched a clawed hand into the beast’s chest, ripping through tendon and muscle, tearing away one wing joint.

  The whisper of wings behind him caused him to roll, using the creature’s bleeding body as a shield. There was a tremendous blow, which ripped the beast from his hands, and looking up, he saw Marius hovering there. Viker bunched his muscles and sprang straight up, his claws just missing digging into the hovering Marius’ flesh, but still scoring bleeding lines across his calves.

  There was a screech of pain and Marius dove downwards, his beaked mouth pointing straight at Viker’s face. At the last moment, Viker twisted to one side and followed Marius down with his knee, hearing the satisfying crunch of bones. As he stood, Marius’ feathered head in his hands, with one claw raised, he was hit simultaneously from two sides. The first was Johns, trying desperately to intervene as one of Marius’ creatures slammed into an unprepared Viker’s back. He did enough that his momentum pushed Viker away, so helping him weather the blow.

  Marius, climbed wearily to his feet, wincing in pain. “This is not over, “he sneered pointing one long finger at Viker, “you will pay!”

  With that he beat his wings strongly, rising swiftly into the air, his creatures following.

  “I’ll be waiting,” snarled Viker, his voice carrying clearly, “and don’t worry, there’ll be no charge!”

  Spiteful Dawn

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  The hatch began to crack and deform, as the continuous pressure from outside began to have effect. Arshavin sat quietly waiting, he had finished his own preparations a while ago and had simply decided to allow the Tauran forces to tire and anger themselves. He had redesigned circuits and apparatus entirely and his three creations sat quietly awaiting his orders.

  They were strange, compact mechanisms, spider-like in construction, with eight jointed limbs and they bobbed quietly, transmitting eager anticipation. The Master had built each of them to perform distinct functions and, although by chassis they were similar, their individual bodies were very different. Each was the size of small canine, the first of them had many spindl arms weaving slowly and sinuously from its central core. The second carried what looked like two tubular weapons sat high on its back, and the third had two claw-like arms which extended outwards, the pincers snapping quietly.

  In truth, Arshavin was pleased. He now at least had a plan and one he felt that had a good chance of success. So, he waited patiently and then as the hatch split open and a heavy gauntleted hand punched through, he sent the command to his machines, and instantly they were fully operational.

  *****

  The Immortals were not exactly prepared for what came out of the small pod, they had as usual expected cowering and terrified survivors, who they could torment and eventually kill. However, the first of them was punched backwards as a silver blur flashed through the recently opened portal. Squirming arms buried themselves into rotten skin and whatever orifice they could find. Arshavin had built well and had the recruitment of new troops as his first objective, with that aim in mind he had created his first vehicle. Thin filaments pierced further into nerve endings, strengthening and expanding the rotten fibres and coalescing whatever strange magic powered the Tauran soldier. Leaving a thin cap of silver trailing across the forehead and neck of the now prostrate convert, the robot launched itself away from its host, looking for new prey.

  Connections were rapidly made and Arshavin began to feel through his external sensors, so recently wound into the Tauran’s nervous system. With an insane giggle he laid back in his seat and began to control his new toy, as his other creations skittered out of the hole in the hatch. Next through was his miniature weapons platform, its twin-mounted pulse lasers, rapidly cycling. They cut a swath through the less-then prepared undead troopers, and gave the Master time to take over his tame Immortal.

  The bulky trooper rose quietly, a fine filigree of energy sparking around his half- rotten skull, two red eyes burning brightly. A hand jerkily withdrew a misformed pistol, bringing it level with the construct’s shoulder. Once there, Arshavin ordered his mannikin to fire and watched gleefully, as holes exploded outwards from the disease-infected forces before him.

  More silently, the third machine quietly made its way to the nearest control panel, its pincer-like claws cutting through metal, before carefully separating wires and connecting them to its torso. Almost immediately it began to upload the Mas
ter’s hastily prepared programs into the local processing facilities.

  Doors began to close, sealing off the launch bay and trapping the Tauran forces within. Now, thought the Arshavin, we can really get things done.

  The Tower

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  Rapidly Marius led his forces away from the tower, which to him now felt compromised by the arrival of Viker and his squad. He had been over-confident and had almost paid with his life. If it had not been for the timely intervention of his followers, he knew that Viker would have finished the job he had started. It was hard for Marius to understand, he felt full of his new-found energy and there should be no way that Viker could have bested him, yet he had.

  It had to be something to do with Walters, that much at least Marius had clear in his reconstituted brain. Apart from that, there was not much else he had managed to make sense of.

  His rebirth had been both traumatic and rewarding, he had felt the new energy burning through his body, his strength multiplying many fold. There was also the alien and unknown, whatever he had joined with had given him much, but surely it would have taken something too? One clear thing it had given him, was a hatred for Walters and he had no rational reason for this strong emotion. All he knew was that Walters was dangerous, in fact that he presented a real threat to Marius’ new existence. The sooner that he could dispose of him the better, thought Marius, his new synapses being flooded with unreal expectations.

  Spiteful Dawn

  Diadem

  Unassigned Space

  This was something new for Arshavin, the connection, however much corrupted, with a previously thinking and breathing biological entity, brought much more pleasure than he would ever have imagined. There were now three of the creatures under his direct control and he was using them and the robots to clear out the rest of his unwelcome guests.

  They were surprisingly efficient, and much more flexible than his other creations, giving him the ability of causing the maximum amount of damage, in the shortest possible time. His attempts to convert one or two of the zombies had been less than useful, and so he had decided to restrict himself to the already augmented Immortals.