Shan’s Shuttle bored single-mindedly towards his command vessel, he could see the remains of various of his ships, as they drifted aimlessly in the cold vacuum of space. Larger pieces of metal drew others to them, yet still the Spiteful Dawn appeared intact. She was damaged, that much was obvious, but he could feel her virulent integrity, and that was all he needed.
He opened the engines fully, making no attempt to hide his objective; speed was of the essence. It was certain that he needed to get out of here, regroup and return with further forces. Not only was there Walters to think about, but Marius as well now. Hopefully, they would mutually destroy each other, but he held little real hope of that. No, his only option was to retreat, strategically of course.
*****
“Got you!” snarled Arn, as he watched the Shuttle tear towards the Tauran Fleet ship. He sent his call via communicator to the waiting fighter squadron, giving them full autonomy of action. Their only objective was to reduce the stolen craft into space dust, and they eagerly kicked in their thrusters in response to Arn’s orders. Berbatov may have left the Tauran ship relatively intact, but Arn had little concern that there would be anyone left capable of causing his people damage. Therefore he calmly sat back in his seat and waited for his men to do their work.
Spiteful Dawn
Diadem
Unassigned Space
Arshavin was just a little concerned, the sound coming from the entrance hatch, seemed to suggest that his attacker was climbing inside. Once he did that, then he was fairly sure that his long existence would come to a very abrupt and messy end.
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he concentrated on his creatures and was rewarded with visual confirmation that his small weapons platform had arrived. The visual input from the little robot showed the rear of a powered armour suit, one leg still on the floor and the other pushing into the pod’s entrance. There was no time to lose and so Arshavin ordered it forwards, its pulse lasers powering up. In a direct assault, it would have little effect, but he wanted the Immortal incapacitated, or at least slowed down. That way, his bio-robots could arrive and save him.
He watched as the small robot approached his attacker’s supporting leg and opened fire. It switched its assault between the knee and ankle joints of the Immortal’s supporting leg, its concentrated fire doing what no single round could do; it began to melt the articulation and an accompanying roar gave evidence of its initial success.
The Immortal now struggled to extricate himself, to deal with whatever was attacking it from the rear and with one final wrench, he broke free. On seeing the small robot, the hideously scarred and disease infested Immortal smiled, pulled its pistol in line with the mechanical construct and fired. Even as the round impacted, the faithful machine continued its attack, only stopping when the explosive charge blew its insides out.
With a depreciative snort, Sargeant Arius turned back to finish the job he had started, placing his leading foot once more through the opening, he pushed off, his pistol pointing the way.
The Tower
Diadem
Unassigned Space
Walters was close now, the force of the beams striking upon him, holding him in a contorted forward movement. His arms were pushed out in front of him, the construct mirroring the efforts of a human to push back against an immovable object. His metallic feet dug into the earth, his simulated muscles straining and writhing as they inched him slowly towards the tower. With one last heave he grasped the rubble remaining around the tower and grinned as it crumbled beneath his augmented fingers.
One giant leg slammed down onto the pulverised building and unbidden the foundations rendered their submission. In a heart’s beat, that which was Magos crashed through concrete, earth and bones tumbling uncontrollably towards the waiting Marius.
Dust rose in a blinding fog, masking the exact location of the robot as it fell, causing a landslide of debris to cascade down onto the throne. Screeching and screaming in protest, the construct came to a halt, head hanging over the hole above the throne. Through his false eyes, Walters saw the thing that Marius had become watch him, saw its beak open as it screamed in raucous triumph and knew that at this moment, he had lost.
With the enhanced powers contained within his frame, Walters could see, feel and taste the bolt of energy as it formed. He could understand the wave of anger and elation radiating from below and also the necessity to leave. Yet somehow, he needed to stay, to witness this.
Reaching out he felt the love and trust placed upon him by his people and his indomitable spirit flared anew. A surge of power trembled the construct’s frame, strengthening it and laying a carpeted shield across the opening, just as Marius struck.
*****
Vast energies warred, boiled, disappeared and reformed as neither gave ground. To some extent Marius was protected by the mechanisms within the throne, but in such a struggle, this truly was minimal.
Reflected rays struck against him, crisping his outer skin, the feathers burned away in an instant. He could not, however, stop now, the release of such a level of force made no account of a need for temperance or change of purpose. It was all or nothing and both of them were committed to the destruction of the other, at whatever price.
Marius felt himself shrink, as his internal reserves were sucked dry by the throne’s fulfilment of his wishes. He tried drawing upon the vital force of his minions, but felt them far away, crying out their frustration as they died. One of Walters’ creatures no doubt, fulfilling its master’s wishes. For Marius, survival suddenly became everything, he would wager all on one last strike, one blow so massive that nothing could resist it.
Drawing from deep within himself, he concentrated beam after beam, holding them as he felt the power build, fizzing and bursting from him. His avian eyes blinked once, twice and then gleamed full of fire, as he let his ultimate weapon go.
*****
Just before the he was hit by the incandescent rod of force, Walters knew he was doomed and potentially all of his people too. There was no time to think, only to act and he grasped onto his only chance, pouring all of his essence, his knowledge, his hopes and his fears into a willing vessel. A calm satisfaction filled him as he watched the front of the beam rage upwards, spitting and clawing against his shields, which held for that instant he needed and no more.
*****
Utterly spent, Marius saw the effect as his blow struck, the brief flare of a shield and then the instantaneous vaporization of the construct. There was a strange flare of energy, just before Walters’ shields collapsed, but it was nothing; the final struggles of a defeated God-in-Waiting. He, Marius, had now taken that mantle and would draw his own followers to him. All he needed was a little time to recover, to regain his strength, and once that was done, he would continue Walters’ quest, but in his own name.
*****
All across the battle field, they felt his passing, the cold wind of despair blew through them, for one moment. Then, the raw animal rage deep within them surged through and they killed, they maimed, and they destroyed, all in His name.
*************************
A Guiding Light Page 11