by Ste Sharp
John was as gobsmacked at seeing the redcoats’ contraptions as he had been with any Lutamek or Sorean technology.
‘They’ve been busy!’ Crossley said. ‘They swear it’s just metal and levers, but I really need to find out how they build that stuff.’
‘Shall we join them?’ John asked, eyeing up the broken cart they had as protection.
‘Guess it would get a bit cramped in there,’ Crossley replied.
‘This will be fine,’ Olan said and patted the cart.
‘Plus we’ve got Mata, right?’ Crossley grinned as Mata and Yarcha joined them. He moved in to pat the Maori on the shoulder but pulled his hand away when Mata squinted at him.
‘My strength is returning,’ Mata said with a glimpse at the sun. ‘But the Lutamek will defend us, I’m sure.’
‘If you trust them,’ Yarcha replied, stony-faced.
‘I guess this feels like one long nightmare, right?’ Crossley said. ‘I mean, you only just woke up–’
‘Nightmare or not, I’m always ready,’ Yarcha snapped back.
John saw she had one hand on the hilt of her bizarre-looking sword.
‘But not ready to trust everyone yet?’ Olan said. ‘Wise decision.’
‘Trust is to be earned,’ Yarcha replied.
John scanned the horizon beyond the Lutamek sentinels, who all remained motionless. New silhouettes were appearing.
‘The enemy are coming–’ he started, but an explosion made him turn to where a tiny, bright dot burned brighter than the sun for a second before fading to nothing.
John followed a vapour trail down to one of the Lutamek.
‘Well that sorted that out,’ Crossley quipped. ‘They won’t be sending more missiles, that’s for sure.’
John frowned. He hadn’t seen a trail coming from the oncoming enemy. A new, cracking sound made him turn as a criss-cross mesh of blue light flickered into life high above their heads.
‘And now the shield,’ Crossley beamed. ‘Whoever thinks they can take on the Lutamek better think again!’
‘Are you sure this will defend us?’ Yarcha asked.
Mata remained silent but stretched his neck and spread his fingers wide, each one sprouting a green tendril.
‘What do you see, Olan?’ John asked.
‘Nothing strange,’ the Viking replied. ‘The shield is like the one Li created when we fought the Brakari.’
John looked over to where Samas crouched behind a cart with Rar-kin, Osayimwese and a host of other soldiers. By his hand gestures, Samas was clearly frustrated. He was pointing out to the left flank, so John looked over. He could see movement: a ring of tocka, circling the same spot.
‘What are they doing?’ John asked and pointed.
‘I guess they don’t want to be sitting ducks,’ Crossley replied.
‘They need to move under the shield,’ Olan said.
‘If these were the guys who attacked Gal-qadan, they’d have to have moved pretty damn fast to be here already,’ Crossley said.
‘What if it isn’t them?’ Olan asked.
‘Another army?’ Crossley said. ‘I guess all these domes must have been full of armies at some time.’
John watched Lavalle and Euryleia’s group of tocka. They were splitting into two groups – one was heading back under the shield but the second was heading towards the enemy. A flash of light was followed, a second later, by a deep cracking sound which ripped through the air.
‘What the hell?’ Crossley shouted and ducked. ‘Did you see that?’
‘The battle’s started!’ Yarcha said.
John could tell by her face she hadn’t seen such an explosion before, and he wondered what her wars had been like.
‘No!’ Crossley yelled, looking from flank to flank and back to where One-eight-seven hovered behind them. ‘That was a bloody Lutamek missile.’
More cracking explosions ripped through the air and John peeked over the cart to see a line of white flashes popping in the direction he had seen the tocka heading.
‘That’s not the only thing,’ Mata said. ‘Look!’ He pointed up.
John stared up at the blue sky shield.
‘It’s getting lower.’
*
Delta-Six scanned the air around him as he ascended and moved away from the events taking place around the human–Sorean army. He hadn’t detected any Lutamek sensors or missiles since they had destroyed his ghost probe. The Lutamek would have analysed the explosion spectrally and, thanks to his preparations, the dense organic material inside the ghost probe should have given a convincing recreation of a human getting blown up. Still, the speed at which they had despatched him told Delta-Six everything he needed to know.
Trust no one.
An alarm flashed on Delta-Six’s view and he looked up. The stars were clearer here, in the deep blue of close-space, as were the satellites and what his sensors told him were orbiting spacecraft – hundreds of them. But that wasn’t what his systems had drawn his attention to. It was the force field keeping the atmosphere in and those spaceships out, giving clearance only to sample craft to land on their assigned dome.
Delta-Six slowed his ascent, hovering ten metres beneath the field, and looked down. From this height, the entire disc was visible. The edges were clear and the domes were more concentrated towards the centre, but with an empty ring around the central tower. Even at this altitude, Delta-Six didn’t feel safe above the Lutamek, so he drifted towards the centre of the immense disc.
He started to map his visual info against the data files the Lutamek had given him and stopped. Anything originating from the Lutamek had to be treated with suspicion. False information, virus loads, trigger mechanisms – it all had to be quarantined. He set off a deep-dive analysis probe, looking for anomalies or trends among the numerous files on gravitational readings, star maps and the files he had stored.
Looking back down, Delta-Six could see a light-blue mesh covering where he’d last seen the army. The Lutamek had been joined by the new aggressors – the orange dots – who were slowly moving in, like fishermen drawing in their trawl net. Movement and explosions suggested some soldiers were attempting to escape.
Delta-Six scanned the new enemy army, careful not to give away his position. Scores of the fighting species didn’t register on his databanks but each unit’s leader did.
‘No?’ Delta-Six zoomed in to double-check his readings.
Visuals confirmed it and his spectral and radiation analysis backed it up.
The new enemy were being led by Lutamek soldiers.
*
‘We can’t run for it, John!’ Crossley shouted. ‘We’re not fast enough.’
‘I know,’ John shouted back, feeling panic take a hold of his body. The muscles in his legs felt jittery, his gun-arm clicked and his metal foot tapped against the cart. He needed to do something – to run or… ‘We have to fight!’
He looked to Mata, who was watching the blue net with his intense glare as it closed in on them.
‘We won’t have time to fight,’ Crossley replied.
‘Here they come,’ Olan said.
John made out a silhouette walking up to one of the Lutamek guards and his eyes picked up more detail of the large-shaped creature.
‘Isn’t that another Lutamek?’ Crossley said. ‘That’s why they’re not firing. Jeez!’
‘What can we do?’ Yarcha asked. ‘These metal men are too strong to fight.’
‘Not for some,’ Mata said and walked off, his arms already rippling with vines and spiked tendrils.
‘No, Mata, don’t…’ John called out but it was too late.
A blue bubble, similar to the one the Lutamek had used on Li, wrapped around the green Maori, pulling his steel-strong vines and barbed thorns in until he became a solid mass of wriggling tendrils. The perimeter of Lutamek guards turned to face the army now, with their weapons activated.
‘What can we do?’ John asked. ‘Are they going to kill us?’
‘
Where did the new ones come from?’ Olan asked.
‘It has to be their ship,’ Crossley said.
‘What?’ John gave the American a quick look.
‘What if the Lutamek ship wasn’t broken into by looters?’ Crossley asked. ‘But some of the Lutamek broke out!’
‘And they’ve been out here all the time the Lutamek were in the dome?’ John said. ‘What if someone’s got control of them again?’
‘Not like the Brakari did,’ Olan said and shook his head. ‘I would be able to see it.’
‘What d’you see there then?’ Crossley asked and nodded at the British redcoats.
John saw a patch of rough earth where the metal fortress had been and a cloud of dust.
‘Some kind of land ship,’ Olan said as the dust cleared to reveal a moving vehicle.
Smoke was billowing out of scores of funnels poking out from what, to John, looked like a squat train.
‘How on Earth did they build that?’ John said.
‘No idea,’ Crossley said with a bemused smile. ‘That guy’s a genius. Look, it’s changing again!’
The Lutamek had noticed too, sending snaking missiles its way.
John squinted, catching glimpses of whirring shovels and a sharp point protruding from the front. Then, with a deep, metallic clang, the missiles hit home, exploding in a wild eruption of dust and smoke. John turned and covered his head, wary of shrapnel, and felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. When he looked back and the dust had settled, the desert floor was bare.
‘You bastards!’ Crossley said, turning away. ‘They killed them all!’
‘We have to fight,’ Olan said, leaning on the cart.
John spun a thick bullet in his gun-arm’s chamber, hoping it would penetrate Lutamek armour, and looked up at the blue net, following its arch to the floor, where it fizzed and sparked as it touched the ground, creating a fixed half-bubble over the entire army.
‘We can’t get out now,’ Crossley said, biting his fingernails.
‘Do not be afraid,’ a metallic voice boomed inside the shrinking dome. ‘You will not be harmed.’
‘That’s rich after you just blew up those Limeys,’ Crossley muttered and crouched to pull a grenade from his thigh pocket.
John looked at him through heavy eyelids but couldn’t raise the strength to stop him.
With all his effort, Crossley turned and threw the grenade at the advancing blue mesh, where it exploded and froze in mid-air like a mini-star surrounded by white spears of light.
‘Dammit,’ Crossley groaned and slumped to the floor.
In the distance, John could see soldiers falling down as the blue net swept over them. Tocka were collapsing and groups of Sorean looked like they were already sleeping. Crackles and muted thuds signalled some fighting back, but it was all too little, too late.
‘We welcome you all.’ The voice seemed to echo as John’s vision blurred.
The light from the blue mesh dazzled John, so he closed his eyes and knelt down to rest. His head was heavy and he soon felt the dusty earth against his cheek as he listened to the robotic voice.
‘You are now the guests of the Ascent.’
Chapter 9
Praahs cantered through the Tathon army encampment, sending up clouds of dust as her clawed feet bit into the dry ground. ’Kno-lib, one of the three Tathon leaders, had summoned her, which was a good sign: she was needed. But, as benevolent as they were with their enhancements and endowments, they didn’t appreciate being kept waiting.
For a moment, Praahs thought back to the lake: to her natural environment, where she’d mastered her own destiny. She tried to imagine herself deep in the dark water once more, her seven sets of light receptors and her rudimentary motion-sensitive eye, all on the top of her head, feeding her information. Her past was as murky as the waters had been though, no different to that of the other large beasts which had inhabited the lake, all forced to adapt to a new world and given little choice but to kill to survive.
Praahs imagined she could still taste the blood of the last set of animals she had fed on, and a pang of hunger tensed her stomach. It had been days since her last feed. In the lake, no sign of food for this long and the predators would turn on each other. She didn’t miss those days.
Praahs could see the three huge shapes of the Tathon leaders, the nearest being ’Xit, who rarely conversed with non-Tathon, then the other two generals, ’Kno-lib and ’Brin, who discussed tactics openly, knowing none of their minions would disagree. She lowered her elongated, armoured skull submissively and slowed to a trot, then stopped with all but her foremost set of eyes open.
‘Praahs,’ the familiar, deep voice of her leader spoke directly to her through the ossicle bones of her sonar gills, the vibrations echoing in a tight air chamber at the rear of her brain, ‘we have a mission for you.’
‘I am ready, as ever,’ Praahs spoke out loud.
‘We have learned more of the mechanisms at work in this land and will soon vote on a new course of action,’ ’Kno-lib said.
Praahs kept her head low in respect. Having been so easily subdued by them in her first encounter, she had never considered attacking even the smallest of the Tathon: the gelatinous soldiers who made up the majority of their army, and whose stories told of their accelerated development.
‘We no longer desire to travel to the silver gates,’ ’Kno-lib’s voice echoed in her head, ‘but believe there are resources worthy of acquisition in the land ahead.’
Praahs felt her wet teeth tingle in anticipation.
‘You have command of the Cirratus.’
One of Praahs’ eyes turned to the swathe of smaller, hard-shelled Tathon, who had proven almost indestructible when attacked by those who had naively opposed the Tathon expansion.
This marauding army of tentacled soldiers had only been unleashed for a matter of days when they’d captured her and, in the few days since she’d been assimilated into their ranks, hundreds more soldiers of various species had also been brought into their ranks.
‘We need your speed and skill, Praahs,’ the voice continued, ‘to bring us new recruits. Return within four cycles, with the region’s weapons and any soldiers of use.’
‘Yes, ’Kno-lib,’ Praahs replied. ‘We shall pick the bone clean.’
*
As she ran across the plains, the wind rushed over Praahs’ long body like the waters of her youth. Only the bitter tang of air in her gills reminded her this wasn’t her natural environment, and that gave her strength – it showed how far she had come! She was flanked by a platoon of formidable, rock-hard, squid-like warriors who fought at her command as they scoured the land for a set of survivors the Tathon scouts had seen near a rocky outcrop. These warriors needed to be brought into the fold, or killed.
Despite all of the changes wrought on her by the generous Tathon, the thrill of the chase had never left her. If anything, it had been enhanced now she had masters to impress as well as a stomach to fill. Praahs hungered for their praise as much as she yearned to feed and sink her teeth into the warm, wet flesh of prey.
On the day they captured her, Praahs hadn’t fed for weeks. Vibrations travelled to her deep, underwater cave and, slowly, she had drifted into open water, tensed her long abdomen to balance her swim bladders and unfurled her antennae-like sonar gills from behind her jawbone. She’d been as close to defenceless as she dared be, so she’d had to be quick as she absorbed the pulses of sound, processing the waves and clicks into pictures of movement in and around the lake and, more importantly, up the red cliffs to the hollow construction which sat high above her world. Deep vibrations told her a vessel had just left the building, which meant a new set of creatures had been brought in. New, softer vibrations had suggested the other deep dwellers were also ascending from their energy-saving stupors in their hidden caves. In a few days there would be a migration to where the water entered the lake, and she hadn’t wanted to attract any attention from larger hunters.
In the end,
Praahs had been late to the feeding party, as her urge to stay alive had clashed with her desire to feed on fresh flesh. These new soldiers had been quicker than any which came before them, she thought, as a new waft of blood-heavy water swept across the hairy sensors at the end of her long snout, each gill-full of water tainted with death.
Praahs had navigated upstream towards the kill zone, hoping the other predators had full bellies and were in no mood to fight. Better to have scraps than to be someone else’s meal.
She’d ascended towards the green light, opening new pairs of eyes, and set her six fighting appendages flush against her side, keeping her muscular body streamlined as it wove through the water, following the trail of blood up a path to one of the inlets which fed into the lake. She’d needed to feed. She swam fast, concentrating on her surroundings as the channel funnelled into a thin red canyon. Praahs whipped her tail harder and kept low. New scents ran across her: fresh water and fresh blood. Then the canyon opened and she dived into the deep water beyond.
Praahs had known there were other small lakes like this, beyond the channels, but had never ventured into them. She could feel the shape of an island some distance away. She felt the movements of hundreds of creatures in the water just off the island’s coast and opened her mouth to let the strains of blood rush over her tongue, which detected a bitter tang she hadn’t tasted before. The other flavours were recognisable from those dark days when the predators of the lake had turned on one another, which suggested it was happening again.
Or had they been killed by the new creatures?
An ancient emotion, far stronger than hunger, took control of her and old instincts kicked in. Food could wait. She had to survive. Praahs turned around and headed back to safety.