by Ste Sharp
‘We were guarding the supplies,’ one of the creatures said.
‘I don’t have time for excuses,’ Gal-qadan replied and turned back to Peronicus-Rax. ‘And what of your intelligence? Were these your Ascent?’
‘No,’ Peronicus-Rax replied quickly. ‘These are not the Ascent I am searching for.’
Gal-qadan tilted his head. The tall alien had just betrayed his true motive. It made sense now: the questions about each soldier’s fighting ability; the collection of weapons; and why he was watching the battles in the dome… Peronicus-Rax was delivering Gal-qadan’s army to the Ascent.
Gal-qadan fought to control the hundreds of new questions rushing around his mind. He slowed his breathing and focussed. Was this why Peronicus-Rax had returned to the dome? To bring back the most deadly soldiers he could find? Gal-qadan’s chest swelled at the thought he had been chosen above others, but his anger remained – he would not allow his army to be hired out without being part of the discussion and, at the very least, being paid. He sighed. He couldn’t afford to reveal he knew the truth… he had to maintain order and be prepared for what was to come.
‘Then we will search for your Ascent,’ Gal-qadan said. ‘We share the same goal.’ He looked at the tocka, some of whom were standing again and looked strong enough to carry on. ‘Heal the injured,’ he ordered those who could hear him, ‘fix the carts and we’ll resume our journey.’
Gal-qadan headed straight for the ration boxes near a broken cart, which Smith and another soldier were fixing. A strange feeling tickled the back of his neck and he turned sharply, but nobody was there.
*
Isao had watched the conversation between Peronicus-Rax and Gal-qadan in a state of mild amusement. Here he was in the shadow world, yet he felt comfortable. There was no tidal pull, as there had been in the dome, and only the slightest smoky distortion interrupted his view of the real world.
And he could see people’s hearts.
There was more he could see, if he concentrated, but the most obvious feature of the soldiers around Isao was their beating hearts: the Sorean’s large, multi-chambered heart; the humans’ fist-sized organ; and Peronicus-Rax’s three large pumps, which squeezed his thick bloods around his large frame. He’d seen the odd, triangular hearts of the enemy as well.
Isao had been unable to fight during the battle and had found it bizarre to have his fortune reversed. In the dome he’d fought in clarity, yet here he’d been stuck in the shadow world during the battle. No, he wasn’t stuck now; he had chosen to stay in the shadow world. Isao simply concentrated on which world he preferred and he could slip into either.
Isao felt like a boy with a new toy. He toured the army, walking around the broken carts and fallen tocka, invisible to them all. He stopped to marvel at the intricacies of the horse-like creatures’ inner workings of glowing organs and glittering vessels. He walked over to Steve Smith and waved his hand in his face but got no response. He pressed his hand on the man’s shoulder and felt some pressure, but nothing like the real thing. Could he travel through matter? he wondered as he walked to where the group of Sorean were burying their comrade. The inert body lay in the scraping they had made in the desert floor and Isao saw nothing within.
An idea came to Isao and he jogged over to visit the two Lutamek eggs which had flowered into such violent war machines during the battle. Warily, Isao stepped close and peered deep inside their mechanical bodies. He wasn’t disappointed. The colours were different to those of the other soldiers and the Lutamek’s metal pump of a heart was clear to see, as were the biological components which were scattered throughout the metal and ceramic body parts: thick nerves twitching in tubes; fibres pulsing in boxes; and odd-shaped organs vibrating in time with a variety of twisting mechanisms. One of the shapes, which reminded Isao of Ten-ten’s face, turned in Isao’s direction and he felt an odd tingling sensation spread over him as orange lights appeared, floating between them.
As the lights grew into shapes – two twirls, a cross and a star – Isao wondered: was the juvenile Lutamek trying to communicate? The shapes twisted and moved as Isao stared at them. He found he could rotate them if he concentrated, and they changed colour when they crossed each other. Isao presumed it was a type of puzzle, but the lights faded before he could answer it.
Maybe another time? he thought and left the Lutamek alone.
Lost in his thoughts as he walked away from the group, Isao nearly walked into Peronicus-Rax, crouched behind his small cart with a box of lights which he pointed towards the nearest dome. Isao tiptoed around the huge warrior to get a better view. If the Lutamek had sensed him, maybe the technology Peronicus-Rax held could do the same?
A screen on the box of lights showed moving lights and, as Peronicus-Rax moved it from left to right, a grey image on the screen changed too. It was a map of the land ahead, Isao realised, which meant the groups of dots had to be soldiers. Were they the Ascent?
With a grunt, Peronicus-Rax swung the device towards the cluster of domes that surrounded the needle-like tower. On the edge of the screen nearest the tower, the collection of dots merged into one writhing mass.
If Peronicus-Rax had the ability to see an enemy coming, Isao thought, why hadn’t he told Gal-qadan about the attack?
*
Gal-qadan resisted pressing any of the buttons which covered the intricate metal shells of the sleeping baby Lutamek. He reached out and saw a metallic graze on his wrist.
‘You and I are more similar than you would imagine,’ he said, looking around to make sure nobody was in earshot. ‘A strong shell protecting a terrible fury deep inside.’ He dropped his head. ‘I admire that,’ he whispered, and turned as he sensed heavy footsteps coming his way.
‘We should change direction,’ Peronicus-Rax spoke in his deep tone, ‘and make our way straight for the rendezvous.’ He pointed towards the tower.
Gal-qadan studied the tall alien for a few seconds before replying. ‘Why now?’ he asked.
‘Our numbers are too low,’ Peronicus-Rax replied, ‘and the danger too high.’
Gal-qadan sniffed. With the Lutamek on his side they were a match for any army crossing their path, but Peronicus-Rax still wanted to lead them into his trap, which suggested the Ascent were even more powerful. There was little Gal-qadan could do. When the time came, they would fight, and his skin would save him. Maybe it was time to let go of this army and think about the next one? From within the Ascent, he would have a better chance of gaining power.
‘So be it,’ Gal-qadan replied. ‘We switch routes.’ He pointed at the distant tower and raised his voice so everyone could hear. ‘We cut straight to our final destination.’
Gal-qadan threw his bags in the cart next to the Lutamek eggs, hefted himself over and made himself comfortable on a sack of spare gear. Not the same as being on a tocka, he thought, wondering how the herd would readjust themselves now they had lost their leader.
‘Move out!’ he shouted.
The cart wheels creaked and the tocka’s hooves padded the ground, creating a hypnotic rhythm. Gal-qadan surveyed his army and spotted Isao riding in the distance. He tried to recall what the samurai had done during the skirmish, but a flash of movement caught his attention.
‘Das and Pod,’ he called out, ‘ride with me.’ He patted the cart. ‘Tell me what you know about our metal friends here.’
The two pangolin-like creatures scurried over, leaped aboard the cart without a word and made themselves comfortable on a sack opposite Gal-qadan.
‘What is it you wish to know?’ Das asked with a twist of his head.
Gal-qadan leaned forward and said, ‘What I wish to know is how to communicate with them.’
Pod shook his head. ‘They hear all and see all,’ he said. ‘The trick is getting them to talk to you.’
‘Obviously,’ Gal-qadan snapped back. ‘But why are these two not talking like the rest of the Lutamek?’
‘They’re children,’ Das replied and gave the nearest eg
g a glance. ‘Before they can talk they need to understand the world around them.’
‘Lutamek develop fast but they still take time,’ Pod added.
Gal-qadan sat back with an audible humph and cast a glance out at the horizon beyond. Time was one thing he didn’t have.
*
Isao felt Gal-qadan’s glare on him but kept riding. Their leader sat in his cart, like an emperor on his throne, chatting with those strange animals he had avoided since seeing them swell into giants during the battle against the Brakari.
Isao was paranoid that someone had seen him slip back into the real world, but he concentrated on the path ahead and the huge, needle-like tower which glistened in the distance, squinting for anything like the countless signs of life he’d seen on Peronicus-Rax’s machine. Who knew what lay ahead? Were those dots on the screen allies or enemy troops?
Isao felt a twinge of shame, knowing he would be safe if they were attacked again, while his comrades would have to fight. He clenched his fist to control his anxiety and felt his eyes blur. Flashes of red lit up on the nearest soldiers: a Sorean riding a tocka and a Roman soldier beyond. He recognised the colour and shape instantly. He was still in the real world, but had seen the hearts of his allies as though he were in the shadow world. He tried it again, forcing his eyes to lose focus. But it didn’t work.
Where did the energy come from? Isao thought. In the dome he had been pulled by a tide, yet outside it there was no pull… although there was a weight. It was strong, like gravity, yet rather than pulling him down and slowing his movements, it gave him strength. Thinking about it like that, Isao could feel it once more: a power beneath his feet. He tried drawing on it… and the vision returned. Red hearts and organs glowed and pulsed a variety of colours. Isao was still in the real world, but his eyes were in the shadow world. What if it affected him permanently? He scanned the horizon – and saw a low pink glow straight ahead of them.
Isao snapped his vision back to normal and steered his tocka towards Gal-qadan’s cart.
‘Captain,’ he said, ‘I see soldiers ahead.’
‘Where?’ Gal-qadan growled and sat up straight. ‘I see nothing.’ He took a moment to watch the army marching around them. ‘And the tocka show no sign.’
Das and Pod were at the cart edge, staring as well. ‘Nothing out there,’ one said.
‘Peronicus-Rax,’ Gal-qadan called out. ‘Any sign of movement ahead?’
Isao looked back and saw the isolated figure of Peronicus-Rax standing motionless some distance back. ‘He’s stopped,’ Isao said and pointed.
‘Peronicus-Rax!’ Gal-qadan yelled.
‘What shall we do?’ Isao asked, feeling ready to slip into the safety of the shadow world.
Gal-qadan looked at Das and Pod, who were stuffing their possessions into a sack. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘This is the place,’ Pod said.
‘What place?’ Gal-qadan spat.
‘Where we meet our followers,’ Pod replied.
‘Followers?’ Gal-qadan’s voice was growing louder.
Das and Pod laughed and shared a look, enraging Gal-qadan further. He drew his sword and slashed at the creatures, who dodged and jumped over his angry blade.
Isao slowed his tocka and let the cart continue ahead. He could see more pink shapes and they were spreading out around them. Their army was outnumbered five to one.
He heard Pod reply to Gal-qadan, ‘Our followers are the Firstborn.’
‘Firstborn? What are you talking about?’ Gal-qadan yelled back.
‘They have come to collect your army,’ said Das, as both brothers leaped off the cart.
Gal-qadan dropped his sword, snatched up his bow and started firing arrows at them as they ran away, weaving away through the forest of tocka legs. Isao pulled his tocka away, unsure of what to do.
‘I thought Peronicus-Rax was selling us out!’ Gal-qadan yelled with rage, ‘not you little bastards!’
Isao turned a full circle and let his eyes slip into the shadow world. The pink shapes were advancing on the stationary army, who had no orders now Gal-qadan was chasing the brothers, and a dust trail led to the ever-decreasing shape of Peronicus-Rax, who had fled the way they’d travelled.
This is not a time to fight, Isao thought. He jumped off his tocka, gave it a consoling pat and slipped into the shadow world before the pink shapes closed in.
Chapter 8
Delta-Six hovered at 300 feet with his suit set to camouflage, watching distant energy flashes in the direction of Gal-qadan’s cavalry. Calibration had proved a problem since they’d left the dome, but his systems seemed to work better at altitude, giving him a clear view of the tocka on their knees and a dark army surrounding the cluster of human and Sorean soldiers.
Then an odd sensation washed over Delta-Six.
There was no beep or signal; he simply felt a vacuum open up, and instantly raised his alert level until he found the source… his communication line with the Lutamek had dropped out. Spinning on a slow rotation, he raised a sensor map over his vision to plot the location of every Lutamek on the landscape below. The nearest scouts had stopped moving.
‘We have reports of martial activity,’ one of the Lutamek’s metallic voices spoke in Delta-Six’s ear, a second after he felt the connection reattach.
‘I see it,’ Delta-Six responded. ‘Suggest we hold position.’
‘Affirmative.’
A green light flashed, pulling Delta-Six’s attention to where Lavalle, Euryleia and the Sorean rode their scouting tocka at the head of the main army. His systems suggested something was happening, but he couldn’t see what.
‘The army are assuming defensive positions,’ Ten-ten said. ‘All scouts to return to formation.’
The Lutamek were able to communicate through a range of methods, so the communication channel was purely for the humans’ benefit. So, why had the Lutamek cut off communications? Had it been a defensive move to isolate their systems, or an attempt to communicate with someone else?
Delta-Six scanned the desert and was descending slowly, ready to defend his comrades, when an orange blip flashed in his view.
Movement.
He pushed energy to his visual processors, and more orange dots appeared. Surely the Lutamek could sense them too? He extrapolated his scan and view until he saw hundreds of clusters of dots moving at speed towards the army. Why weren’t the Lutamek doing anything? The Lutamek nearest the attackers remained motionless while those on either flank were retreating and appeared to be outflanking the rest of the army. In less than a minute they would have the entire group surrounded.
‘Samas,’ Delta-Six contacted his direct leader. ‘Samas, do you copy?’
Silence.
The bulk of the army were moving on, seemingly oblivious to the oncoming threat.
Delta-Six triggered a set of chemicals into his bloodstream, forcing him to focus. It took a second to calm his heart, but then he could think straight, and immediately it was clear: he had been cut off, but why?
‘Lavalle, do you read me?’
Silence.
‘Rar-kin, can you read me?’
A new Lutamek voice blared in Delta-Six’s ear, ‘Delta-Six. Return to the army. Defensive formation.’
Delta-Six studied the incoming orange dots, then correlated them against the signals he’d picked up from where Gal-qadan’s men were being attacked. They were substantially different – enough to suggest they were separate armies.
‘Copy that,’ he replied to the Lutamek. ‘Returning for defensive formation.’
Delta-Six had to act normally. If the Lutamek suspected he had spotted their change in tactics, they would neutralise him straight away, so he muted the comms link from his end and fired off a ghost probe to mimic his signature and descend as ordered. He triple-locked his camouflage, reduced all outgoing emissions to zero, including his breath, which was captured by a face mask, and drifted up and away from the main army. If his calculations were co
rrect, he would have to climb several miles up to avoid the Lutamek sensors, to where the strange force field scrambled their sensors. Maybe he could sit out whatever was about to happen?
Maybe he would survive.
A surge of guilt ran through Delta-Six, similar to when his mini-sat had sent back images of the army’s battle against the Brakari inside the dome. He should help his allies now, but a quick scan showed they were moving into groups to defend themselves. Maybe they would be okay? He gave himself a new shot of battle-ready drugs and kept climbing.
As he ascended, his mind calmed. He was a mote of energy almost in space, indistinguishable from the other debris the Lutamek had sensed near the disc’s protective net.
He stared into the dark sky above and, after some time, when he started to feel safe, his mind returned to the one question which had been bothering him for days now.
What would he choose as a real name?
*
John kept the long-range bullets spinning in his gun-arm’s chamber and remembered what Ten-ten had said about using up the metal and bone every time he fired. His arm felt different since the shock in the dome cap, more flexible somehow, but he didn’t know if that was a real change or in his mind.
‘Get behind that cart!’ Crossley shouted, and John followed.
Samas was directing the army to group up behind whatever shelter they could find. Carts were tipped over and Sorean shields were being projected over each Sorean contingent, like huge half-bubbles. Olan was behind a nearby cart and Mata and Yarcha were approaching.
‘Look at that!’ Olan shouted and pointed at the small red army of British soldiers who were throwing boxes onto the ground. ‘More of Ramsholt’s inventions!’
‘What on Earth?’ John said as each box erupted into life as it hit the floor, forming solid-looking sets of metal-sheet walls which automatically locked together with a clicking and ratcheting sound John could hear from thirty metres away. In less than a minute, they had built a crescent-shaped defensive shield which curved overhead to protect the riflemen within, who poked their guns through tiny holes.