Survival Machines

by Ste Sharp

  John looked into the hole to see a short drop down to some rudimentary steps and a dim light.

  ‘I don’t tolerate trouble here, failure,’ the Bensha growled. ‘Just keep digging and you’ll stay alive… unless I get hungry, of course.’

  The Bensha let out another laugh as John dropped into the hole and scrambled down the steps, out of view, where he waited and listened.

  ‘Get digging!’ the Bensha roared and stomped off.

  It was too cramped to stand, so John shuffled along, crouched, around three corners, spiralling down the narrow path, and stopped as a shape appeared.

  ‘I thought I heard someone coming,’ a voice said.

  John recognised the voice but squinted at the face a few feet away. It was gaunt and marked, but the eyes hadn’t changed.

  ‘Yarcha?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied and ran a hand over her dusty, shaved head. ‘You were one of the men who woke me?’

  ‘John,’ he replied, feeling relief at finding a friendly face here. ‘Are there more here?’

  ‘Silence!’ a voice boomed from above.

  ‘We must whisper,’ Yarcha said, in a voice John hardly registered, and beckoned him down the remainder of the passage to a small chamber with a hole at its centre. ‘We have to carry up debris every hour or they think we have stopped,’ she said, nodding at the piles of rocks lining the walls.

  ‘What are we digging for?’ John mouthed.

  Yarcha ignored the question and tapped three times on the edge of the hole.

  John leaned over, peering into the darkness, and, after some scratching sounds, a pair of eyes glinted back and grew in size. He pulled back as a species of alien he’d never seen before, like some oversized beetle, crawled out of the hole on six legs. Its antennae twitched as if sniffing John and its eyes flicked from Yarcha to John and back again.

  ‘Yam-mit,’ Yarcha said, ‘this is John. He’s human like me.’ She looked at John. ‘And this is Yam-mit, a Korax.’

  ‘Hi,’ John said with a timid nod, his heart racing as he stared at the Korax with a mix of intrigue and fear, being in close proximity to another bizarre-looking alien.

  Yam-mit gave a wave with two hands and grunted a vowel. It pointed at the rocks and scampered back into the hole.

  ‘We’re a team now,’ Yarcha said with a nod, ‘so we’d better shift some rock.’

  John nodded back and set to work, trying to make sense of what he’d seen. In the poor light his eyes could be playing tricks on him, but he was sure he’d seen a symbol he recognised on the chest of the Korax. It was identical to the one he’d seen carved into the wall in the prison he had shared with Falen: a disc circled by three dots.

  *

  Although Praahs enjoyed her elevated position in the Tathon army, she longed for the freedom of the chase. She longed to fight once more. She had enjoyed her time capturing scores of rogue soldiers from the far reaches of the plains, and had felt bored stuck with the main Tathon army. Until now. A troop of blue arthropods had been terrorising the Tathon army and, according to her Brakari captive, Panzicosta, they were led by a rebel Brakari. The shelled fighters tore into their rear ranks, then their right flank – attacking with no apparent plan – and had set numerous traps in their path. None had been captured and only one killed, which had earned them huge respect in the eyes of the Tathon leaders.

  A tingle ran through her long body when ’Kno-lib ordered Praahs and her platoon of small, hard-shelled Cirratus to track the guerrilla force and, if they couldn’t be captured, destroy them.

  ‘And Panzicosta?’ she asked the Tathon leader.

  ‘He has potential and will be developed,’ ’Kno-lib replied with its echoing voice. ‘We will camp at a new location–’

  A map flashed in Praahs’ mind, sent from ’Kno-lib. She recognised it but wasn’t sure why a curved boundary ran along one side.

  ‘–and will start our next project, which must remain uninterrupted.’

  ‘Yes,’ Praahs replied, remaining prostrate before the large gelatinous creature, whose adaptations and abilities exceeded anything Praahs had thought possible.

  ‘You did well bringing us soldiers – especially those lingering near the silver gates – but ridding us of this blue nuisance will be more beneficial to our cause,’ ’Kno-lib said and raised the tip of one of his enormous tentacles.

  ‘Yes,’ Praahs replied and took the cue to crawl away.

  Her Cirratus were waiting for her, resting in a symmetrical pyramid shape which, she had been told, provided rest time for over half the troops whilst maintaining maximum defensive capabilities. The Tathon doctors had given Praahs a new organ – she visualised it as a slip of red liver lying beneath her digestive tract – which she used to communicate directly with her group of efficient warriors.

  She had often wondered how she would defeat a Cirratus in battle. No teeth could penetrate the shell and they could hold their breath for hours. A gaseous poison followed by crushing was the best method, she had concluded, and had had four individuals’ sensory arrays enhanced accordingly.

  ‘Move out,’ she whispered through her abdomen, and the pyramid pile collapsed with a tinkle of shells. ‘Open-jaw array,’ she ordered and they followed, spread out into a wide U-shaped formation. ‘Now we hunt.’

  As they left their army behind, Praahs saw the vast array of mobile vats of the liquids on one flank and winced. They had been put to use on so many new soldiers to enhance their abilities and create new physical attributes, but Praahs could only remember the pain. She had been told of the codes within each soldier and how the Tathon masters scoured every new species’ code for fresh snippets of information, which they used to enhance themselves and their army, but her understanding was limited.

  Between the vats, Praahs caught a glimpse of Panzicosta’s blue shell covered in fungus vines, holding him in place as the doctors prepared their machines.

  She bowed her head and saw an eye blink in return.

  *

  John hadn’t felt this tired for days. His body ached, his head was a blur, his eyes itched and his lungs rasped with dust.

  ‘It’ll be our turn for a break soon,’ Yarcha whispered when John returned from carrying another load of rocks up the twisting shaft.

  The air had been cleaner at the tunnel’s opening into the cave, where John had watched the other holes, hoping for a glimpse of the other miners – maybe a human or Sorean from his army – but long shadows had reminded him of the prowling guards and he’d soon clambered back down.

  John nodded at the dig hole and asked, ‘How long until Yam-mit returns?’

  Yarcha shrugged and stared at John, making him turn away. Her presence had made it easier to bear the conditions these past few hours, but she hadn’t answered his questions – too worried about the guards overhearing, he guessed. She shrugged whenever he asked what they were digging for, how long they’d been here and where Yam-mit had come from, so he soon gave up.

  Only when Yam-mit climbed out of his hole, pushing a hoard of rocks ahead of him like some kind of tunnel spider, did they finally speak. Yarcha held a finger to her lips and nodded at the Korax, who rubbed two antennae together to form a blue bubble that expanded to encompass the three of them.

  ‘Now we can talk freely, John,’ Yarcha’s normal voice sounded incredibly loud.

  A hint of a smile curved her lips and John found it hard to tear his eyes away from her.

  ‘I,’ he forced himself to turn to Yam-mit, ‘I’m glad to meet you. I’m John, John Greene – a human.’

  ‘Yes,’ the Korax’s voice was lower than John imagined it would be for a Sorean-sized insectoid. ‘I have heard about your battles,’ he glanced at Yarcha, ‘and heard that your species were unfortunate… a bad choice of ally. Betrayal is not warrior-like.’

  John sighed. ‘Everyone changes,’ he said, remembering his conversation with Ten-ten.

  ‘Some more than others,’ Yarcha said, and nodded at John’s metal hand.
<
br />   ‘The Lutamek used some liquid to… transform it,’ John said. ‘It could still be changing for all I know.’

  ‘But it was not enough for the lock?’ Yam-mit asked.

  John shook his head. ‘The lock nearly blew my arm off,’ he said with an embarrassed laugh. He tapped his metal leg and said, ‘It’s not the only thing the Lutamek helped me with.’

  Yam-mit stared at the patch of material where John’s cauterised leg met the Lutamek tech. ‘I see,’ he said, apparently in deep thought.

  ‘Did they take you to the lock?’ John asked.

  ‘No,’ Yam-mit replied. ‘But many in here have been taken.’

  The Korax’s antennae wafted softly and John wondered if he was listening out for the guards.

  ‘Are there more of us in here?’ John asked, looking at Yarcha.

  Yarcha nodded. ‘You’ll see tonight when we return to the main hall… humans, Sorean… many other species from other domes.’

  ‘Anyone the Ascent has no other use for,’ Yam-mit said.

  ‘And this,’ John pointed to the symbol on Yam-mit’s chest, ‘what does this circle and three dots mean?’

  ‘It’s the sign of our system,’ Yam-mit replied. ‘Three species, three planets, one star… in my time we never physically met or even saw images of one another, but we knew their names and formed an alliance… we vowed to work together to defend our system.’

  ‘Who?’ John asked.

  ‘We, the Korax, lived on the innermost habitable planet, the Drauw lived on–’

  ‘The Drauw?’ John asked. ‘But…’

  ‘You know of this species?’ Yam-mit asked as his antennae started swishing. He held a claw to his mouth, mimicking Yarcha’s earlier gesture, and the blue bubble shrank and disappeared.

  John clenched his fists and listened to the echoing steps above.

  ‘Keep digging!’ came the call from above.

  Yam-mit disappeared back down his hole and Yarcha stacked up the new rocks, leaving John wondering why Falen, the Drauw, had mentioned nothing of her home system or the Korax. She’d talked at length about trade and her species, yet never mentioned other species in her system.

  John picked up rocks and thought back to the prison. Falen could have carved the sign in the mud wall, but what if someone else had done it? A Korax maybe, but what if it was a soldier from the third species?

  *

  Samas punched the wall again, feeling it shatter in response. Shards of stone scattered on the floor and he pulled out loose rock with his good hand. One last assault, he thought, then they could rest… before starting it all again tomorrow.

  This truly was a living hell.

  He couldn’t let the situation weigh him down – there were too many people relying on him. He had to keep up the morale of his troops, which included the Sorean contingent after Jakan-tar’s execution, and there were other wheels in motion which he had to help keep moving.

  He had to stay positive.

  The Ascent leaders assumed they had demoralised the miners by splitting up species, enforcing their silence and keeping them weak with poor food, but Samas knew otherwise. There were many unseen skills at work in the mines, building, exploring and communicating. The humans and Sorean hadn’t joined a slave army; they had become a new link in a vast network of what was, literally, an underground resistance movement.

  Samas loaded the last pile of rocks onto the basket and hefted it up for Rar-kin to take.

  ‘Any progress?’ he whispered.

  ‘Three weak spots complete and marked,’ Rar-kin replied with a faraway look in its eyes. ‘The map is nearly complete.’ It tapped its head with a clawed finger and blinked.

  Rar-kin had been mentally communicating with three other individuals scattered across the mine network and the energy drain was evident. They had sent him mine-layout information which he pieced together to form a map, which would be a vital part of Samas and the other leaders’ plans. Samas had left the Sorean to its own mathematical devices for too long, he realised. Each soldier had to use their strengths if they were to escape from the mines, but it was no good if they left brain-dead. There was more fighting ahead of them, Samas was sure.

  ‘You can start the digging tomorrow,’ Samas said.

  ‘But…’

  ‘You need to keep your physical strength up,’ Samas replied.

  ‘Yes, but the rocks are heavier the deeper we dig,’ the Sorean complained.

  The original miners had been exploring ways to escape for months, but rumours of other factions’ tunnels coming into Ascent territory had given Samas the idea. Crossley had been set to work and, sure enough, had detected a faint echo of a chamber towards the border with the neighbouring group, the Firstborn. They had been directing mine shafts towards the area ever since.

  Through various communication methods, the leaders of each species had discussed the plan under the noses of the guards. Many leaders didn’t want their soldiers to leap from one prison into another, especially those who had experienced the ruthlessness of the Firstborn, but in the end the majority agreed to give Samas’ plan a chance. Regiments were created and knowledge shared. It was a risky plan, but Samas had his troops placed in the most dangerous positions, so any mistakes and the humans and Sorean would pay the highest price.

  There was just one thing stopping their plan – the neck pins.

  Samas knew the guards wore pins too and was sure if he could get one of the controllers he could kill them off one by one. But one thought nagged at Samas – what if the guards didn’t have to die? Maybe he could get the guards on their side? They wore pins because they were captives too. Maybe a little soft and compliant given their guard status, but wouldn’t they join an uprising if they could? The army would be stronger with them.

  ‘You are tired too?’ Rar-kin asked.

  Samas stared at the Sorean for a second before registering its question. He could hear the guards calling above, rousing the miners from their shafts.

  ‘Nothing some sleep won’t fix,’ Samas replied and forced a smile. ‘Come on, one last load and the day will be over.’

  Rar-kin climbed the zigzag shaft ahead of Samas and said, ‘Yes, another day closer to the end.’

  Samas wasn’t sure whether Rar-kin was talking about their escape or their death.

  They were soon up in the fresher air of their shaft’s mini-chamber, where the guards lined up other miners ready for the walk back to the main cave.

  Samas made a quick headcount, checking his own soldiers as well as those of the other leaders so he could report back. This chamber was just one of the scores of caves currently in use, and they lost men every day to accidents or the whim of the guards. Even though they outnumbered the guards ten to one, if they were going to mount an escape they needed to know their exact numbers.

  Crossley was in one of the other groups and winked at Samas when their eyes met. The lines of tired miners funnelled through the narrow, rock-walled corridors, giving them the chance to whisper if they lined up in the right order.

  Samas let a tall, shiny-skinned humanoid go first so that he would be near Crossley. The guards didn’t allow the same species next to one another, so he kept Rar-kin in front of him.

  ‘What news?’ Crossley whispered as they filed through the corridor.

  ‘All three points are ready,’ Samas replied, checking the guards weren’t close behind.

  ‘You?’ Samas asked.

  ‘The deepest one yet,’ Crossley said, referring to his mine shaft, ‘and it’s getting dark… heavy. I can’t see further down.’

  ‘And the rocks?’

  ‘More granulated the further down. Contain patches of something… dense,’ Crossley replied.

  That fitted with what Rar-kin had said about the rocks being heavier, Samas thought, but still didn’t explain what the Ascent leaders were looking for. Every rock they excavated was sent out, labelled by depth and position, and, according to new recruits who had seen the plant outside the mine
entrance, analysed by Lutamek soldiers.

  ‘Later,’ Samas whispered.

  The end of the tunnel was soon in sight, and raised voices suggested the guards had pulled someone out of line for a misdemeanour. The line slowed and soldiers grumbled as they backed up into one another.

  ‘Keep moving!’ A guard shouted and the line sped up again, as it led into the main chamber.

  They passed the argument, where a bone-headed Bensha guard held a small miner against the wall by the neck. Samas couldn’t see the creature but recognised Yarcha, who knelt beside the guard, and what looked like a six-legged Korax lying half dead on its back.

  ‘I don’t care for your reason – silence must be obeyed,’ the guard said and knocked Yarcha to the ground while the throttled creature gargled nonsense.

  Samas felt obliged to help Yarcha.

  ‘Guard,’ Samas said, stepping out of the line but keeping a safe distance back, ‘may I help?’

  The Bensha looked Samas up and down, then barked, ‘Another noisy human? How many do I have to kill before you understand your position here?’

  Samas lowered his head. ‘I mean no disrespect,’ he said calmly, ‘only to help. The more miners we keep healthy, the sooner we achieve our goal.’

  Samas had to play on their shared hatred of the mines.

  ‘It’s his first day,’ Yarcha said.

  ‘Be quiet!’ the Bensha growled, keeping an eye on the line of miners passing, and another on the guards who were scattered along the cave. ‘Is it true?’ he asked.

  Samas looked up as it pulled the limp body from the shadow and presented it to him. It was John Greene!

  ‘Yes,’ Samas replied, staring at John with a mixture of joy and concern. ‘He’s one of my men… how did he get here?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ the Bensha said, distracted by a disturbance down the cave. He dropped John on the ground and said, ‘If he speaks tomorrow, I kill him.’ He patted the controls hanging from his belt and stomped off.

  Samas ran over and cradled John’s head.