by Ste Sharp
The guard instinctively raised his pin device but Peronicus-Rax shook his head.
‘Unlike you, I was never a captive of your ridiculous army,’ he said. ‘I will deal with you after–’
Falen leaped in, slashing at his hand with a red-bladed arm, leaving a yellow glare in John’s vision.
Peronicus-Rax responded by blasting Falen with energy, sending her skidding across the dusty ground towards the group of Korax. He took a look at his hand, where a finger hung limply on a thread of flesh, and bit it off – spitting it onto the floor.
‘Korax,’ Peronicus-Rax bellowed. ‘This creature defied our pact and offended your world as much as my people.’ He blasted Falen again and John could see the white energy pulse from the large warrior’s belt. ‘Your species was bound to your planet, held back by the Drauw. Generations were lost and the Korax weakened. What will you do?’
‘They will do nothing,’ Falen replied and leaped at Peronicus-Rax with a blinding flash of orange.
A blue light exploded and, when John could see again, Falen’s long-shelled limbs, her body and bullet-shaped head, covered in spirals, lay scattered across the floor in a dozen inert pieces.
Peronicus-Rax nodded at the Korax, who nodded back, each of them extinguishing the blue spark on their antennae.
‘And now,’ Peronicus-Rax said, turning to the miners. ‘Let the revolution begin.’
‘What?’ the guard next to the Korax said, still holding his pin trigger.
‘I was talking to the resistance,’ Peronicus-Rax said as he slowly knelt as if to pray.
A white glow shimmered around him as he said, ‘Find your freedom.’
A second later, the cavern was filled with laser fire and explosions as every miner armed with Peronicus-Rax’s pilfered weapons attacked the guards. John stumbled backwards. He saw a Bensha wrestling a Sorean to the ground, slicing into it with his jagged sword. Without thinking, John fired the pistol in his metal hand, hitting the Bensha in the shoulder, sending him rolling away. In a flash, the white-skulled soldier aimed his pin activator at John. He held his breath… but nothing happened.
‘Not this time,’ John said, breathed out and fired again, aiming between the Bensha’s eyes.
Chapter 20
Althorn should have been better prepared after his experiences of being imprisoned by Belsang and the Brakari, yet here he was again, captured by the enemy. They’ll be wondering where I am, he thought, as he bided his time, sitting on his tiny island of dirt at the centre of a pitch-black sea.
Unlike in the deserts of the dome, there was literally nothing to eat here, so Althorn had been reserving his energy, feeding off what little rations he’d manage to keep to himself as he tried to get back to Euryleia and Lavalle, with news of what he’d found hidden beneath the Firstborn temple. The trouble was, after the Lutamek withdrawal and the Ascent retracting their guard, the Firstborn scouts had spread further afield, and Althorn had fallen into their trap.
He’d sped past the dark figures and watched from what he assumed to be a safe distance, but their ability to drop into the ground and resurface metres away confused him. Their numbers grew and, no matter how fast he ran, Althorn was soon surrounded by them. Rather than waste energy, he slowed, ready to fight, but the shapes simply merged together and liquefied to form a moat around him.
That was the status quo. Althorn had no idea who they waited for but he could see a shape in the distance. The tar creatures felt it too. The lake vibrated and a head popped up every now and then, two yellow discs focussing and slipping under again.
The shape was a Lutamek.
The last Lutamek Althorn had seen had turned out to be a shell of a robot stuffed full of steam-powered engines, counterweight gizmos and a group of sweaty British soldiers, but this one moved with the grace of a normal Lutamek and didn’t appear to be producing smoke. Althorn sighed. His rations had gone, so whatever he needed to do had to be done now. He stood and stretched his legs.
Then two more shapes appeared. They were far smaller, but nearer than the Lutamek, running in between it and the lake. Althorn recognised them straight away – Das and Pod. They were in their armadillo body form, as when he’d first met them. Scampering at speed, they quickly reached the edge of the black pool.
‘Ah, Althorn!’ one of them, Das he guessed by the darker scales, said.
‘You’ve come back to us,’ said Pod.
‘Yes,’ Althorn replied. ‘I have returned.’
Althorn wondered if the soldiers of the Firstborn knew the truth he’d discovered in the shrine near the tower and cast his one eye to the nearing Lutamek silhouette, then back to Das and Pod.
‘Have you been busy?’ Das asked.
Althorn shook his head. ‘Not really. This desert offers little. I can see why you have grown bored over the years.’
Das twitched.
Pod narrowed his eyes and said, ‘You were always so busy under your dome. Scouting here… spying there.’
‘As were you,’ Althorn replied, knowing he had to remain confident to get through this.
‘Yes,’ Das replied and motioned for the lake of tar to split and create a dry path for him. ‘We couldn’t save your eye but we guaranteed your victory.’
‘So you could leave the dome safely and lead my army into slavery,’ Althorn said.
Pod gestured and the path widened, allowing his brother to approach Althorn too. ‘The whole army would have been more suitable, of course, but the Lutamek had certain demands and had become affiliated with the Ascent while we were in your dome.’
Pod’s voice became more authoritarian… more leader-like as he spoke. So, he was finally seeing the brothers in their true form.
‘And Peronicus-Rax had his own agenda, so we helped each other,’ Das said.
The dry path opened all the way to Althorn’s island, and the pointed heads of the tar soldiers rose in a ring around him. Eyes shining from the dark. Althorn noticed something new in the distance – a trail of smoke – and his confidence grew. All he had to do was bide his time.
‘And you were here in the beginning?’ Althorn asked.
Das and Pod both stopped walking.
‘It is forbidden to enter the temple of the Firstborn,’ Das said and the black heads around them slowly sunk down.
Pod looked to his brother and said, with slow intensity, ‘This changes our plans.’
‘You don’t want your army to know the truth?’ Althorn said, sweeping his arm around him. ‘The truth about the Firstborn and–’
‘Enough!’ Das shouted.
‘Army, be gone!’ Pod yelled and the pitch-black lake of warriors slipped into the ground, leaving the three of them in the open desert.
Das said, ‘Your truths may cause offence.’
‘You aren’t even warriors, are you?’ Althorn asked.
‘Does that make a difference to you?’ Pod said. ‘When we kill you?’
The pair started to make jerking and twitching movements like just before they had grown during the battle with the Brakari. Could he outrun them? No, they would anticipate that, Althorn thought and glanced a few degrees off from where Das and Pod now advanced.
‘Let’s make this quick,’ Das said, ‘before our soldiers make it back to the nearest outpost and start spreading rumours.’
‘They wouldn’t dare,’ Pod said as his legs ballooned, followed by his torso, arms and head.
Das followed suit and pulled a bottle of liquid from an unseen pocket. Althorn remembered the pills and liquids which had rejuvenated him in the battle and he sprinted off to one side, sure he had to stay clear of whatever they were about to use on him.
‘Were you abandoned here?’ Althorn asked.
Das leaped forward, covering the ground far quicker than Althorn had anticipated, and sprayed the liquid at him. Althorn dodged and sped away. Pod attacked next, pummelling his mighty fists into the empty ground each time Althorn zipped away.
‘You will tire eventually,’ Das shou
ted and attacked again.
‘Maybe,’ Althorn replied and leaped away once more. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘why did you keep the shrine? In case they came back for you?’
The pair attacked in unison this time, dodging and weaving, giving Althorn little space to escape, yet he managed it. Just.
‘Were you slaves or paid workers?’ He teased them now, buying every second he could. ‘Labourers brought here to do the dirty work while the real masters kept their hands clean.’
‘So what?’ Pod replied and pulled a metal rod from his belt. ‘We are the Firstborn – nothing can change that.’
‘Your army follow you because you feed them lies… you concoct your own myths.’
Another attack.
Althorn felt his legs growing heavier with each sprint, but salvation was coming. He pulled out his own weapon – a small laser-pulse pistol Cheng had given him – and fired at the ground, creating clouds of dust, then ran again.
‘You weren’t the first victors to leave a dome at all!’ he shouted. ‘You were just builders–’ Althorn was cut off and screamed as droplets of Das’ poisonous liquid struck his arm, pricking his skin with fire.
‘And you will tell nobody,’ Pod said.
Althorn fired more shots, throwing up clouds of dust, and ran as a new shape joined the melee. As he sped away, Althorn heard an echoed voice.
‘Forward shields to maximum, Carter! Elliott! Present arms and fire at will!’
*
Isao felt serenely calm, which was odd considering he was deep within the heart of a vortex of shadow matter which pooled and pulsed around him. To him it appeared golden, like he was floating in the sun itself, swimming in a swirling mass of vibrant energy.
This was the exact centre of the disc.
Every now and then, an eddy or surge in energy would pull at Isao, but he knew he was safe here. He felt the power and it fed him; it swelled and ebbed around him, reminding him of the tidal pull he and the other samurai had felt in the shadow world under the dome.
From what Ten-ten had said, the original material of his body, along with Hori and Masaharu’s, had been switched with this strange shadow matter, to create a new version of him. The transition had been incomplete, hence the phasing in and out they had experienced in the dome, but he had been reborn and now was one with it.
Like a spider tending a web, Isao could feel movements from many leagues away across the disc, sensing its entire structure. He could feel the centre, the crust, the domes – even the pull of the star. He focussed his senses and felt a new starship locking onto the cap of a distant dome. Another dome’s silver gates were opening, freeing the latest victors. He felt the Tathon; the shockwaves they’d created when they smashed through their dome wall still sent mirror ripples through the shadow matter. Isao sensed the Tathon probing this subterranean, golden lake with their stubborn hyphae – fungal spears which delved through the ground at speed, tapping and probing.
Isao looked up. He could still see and listen as he had done in the air of the soldiers’ world. Above him, the tower reached up, sheltering the huge stone obelisk. From here, inside and under the tower, Isao could see the incessant attack of the Platae, who threw their acidic bodies at the tower wall, for no gain. Although deadly and tactically dangerous, they lacked the complex thought processes to see that their attempts were futile, or the ingenuity to try another tack.
Other factions of victorious armies were spread around the tower in their territories, each with boundaries like spokes on a wheel. Isao saw them all: the Firstborn’s temple; the Ascent’s complex of mineshafts; another group’s boreholes. None of them had what it would take to free themselves from this disc. Apart from the Tathon. Maybe they had the ability to break free of this egg?
Isao floated higher to where the golden sea thinned and mixed with the world of light and other matter. He was still wary of the Lutamek so kept an eye out for their telltale sensory waves as he spread his senses out across the shadow-matter reservoir, developing a mind map of every living creature floating above him. To him they looked like tiny fireflies, and slowly he learned to pick out different species. He identified a group of humans outside the Ascent city and another in the Ascent mines. The Sorean were visible, as were the Lutamek, who were grouped around their research centre. He found another pocket of humans and Sorean beside tocka, and two mechanical hearts that shone out to him. What were they doing here? He was drawn to them and sensed they weren’t happy. They’d been woken and twisted, forced to do someone else’s will.
Isao controlled the energy around him and floated closer to the two life forms. One was injured and the other had withdrawn back into its shell. He knew them. They knew him. Twisting the energy around him, Isao formed the four signs he’d been sent by the young Lutamek when they’d first met, and sent them up – two twirls, a cross and a star – overlaid to form a spiral shape like the image of their galaxy the Lutamek had shown them.
The shape dissolved and Isao felt a tube had linked up with them in the shapes’ wake.
He asked, ‘Can I help you?’
‘Not safe,’ the injured Lutamek replied. ‘Enemies surrounding.’
‘Do you need power?’ Isao asked, staying in the safety of the ground.
The second young Lutamek flashed and replied, ‘Human, leave us.’
A spark of energy leaped from the robot, shooting past Isao, grazing his shoulder. He reeled back and watched the wound heal itself with golden energy from the source. A memory flashed before him of the tiger he had killed with Hori and Masaharu, and shame washed over him. That creature had only been defending itself as these Lutamek were now.
‘You have shadow weapons?’ Isao asked and sunk a little lower, keeping his gaze on the Lutamek.
‘Us only,’ it replied.
‘I am not your enemy,’ Isao said. ‘I can help you.’
‘No more thinkings,’ the injured Lutamek said.
Isao studied the injured robot more closely. He could see organic parts matched with metal and innate substances. Energy in the robot’s circuits ran around its body like tiny rivers of power, combining with the organic conduits to create pathways of silicon, carbon and potassium. Two areas glowed red and Isao felt a warm pain emanating from both, so he focussed on them, allowing the light beneath him to rise and wash away the Lutamek’s pain.
The red patches faded and the flow sped up.
‘Words gone,’ the injured Lutamek said. ‘Orders removed. Protocol returns.’
Isao turned to the other Lutamek and performed the same motion, wiping the red smudges from its pathways, allowing the energy to flow freely until, slowly, the young Lutamek unravelled itself.
‘Release. Protocols remain.’ A rush of blue energy pulsed through its cortex. ‘What we do now?’
‘What any sentient creature does,’ Isao replied. ‘Survive.’
‘And then?’ the other asked.
Isao took a moment to think and let his inner emotions settle. What was it he really wanted? What did anyone really want once they were safe and comfortable? Whatever answer he gave now could have long-lasting consequences with these two individuals.
‘Explore,’ he finally said. ‘Learn, create and help those unable to help themselves.’
A noise made Isao look up and he focussed through the ground to where the other souls stood. Humans, tocka and Sorean. More were there now, surrounding them. Myriad species.
‘Help those?’ a Lutamek asked.
‘Yes,’ Isao replied. ‘Let us help them.’
*
As he walked through the dark passages within the arena walls, Delta-Six changed from his Rhil disguise back to the basic costume he’d used on the farms. He was Lucien Thomas once more. There were no guards at the exits, and a wild roar from within the arena suggested events had taken a course of their own, so Delta-Six continued his walk with his head hung low.
The main lesson he’d learned during their time in the dome was that a battle would be far sh
orter if you removed the enemy’s leaders. Delta-Six knew the Ascent’s leaders were inside the final ring of the city, nearest the dome, so he headed for the nearest checkpoint. The second lesson he’d learned was never to trust the Lutamek. So, as he walked a curved path around the closed Lutamek research centre, Delta-Six dropped pebbles and watched the robots with care. Scores of transport starships lay beyond their research centre, clearly dragged here from the nearest domes, but he focussed on the robots, keeping his left-side shielding on maximum as he recorded the behemoth robots kneeling in concentric rings around a stone altar where a humanoid figure was tied to the stone.
There was nothing he could do to help. His mission was more important.
The pebbles contained tiny monitoring devices which would alert Delta-Six if the Lutamek left their compound. He’d given Euryleia a wrist-bound device that gave her the same information during their attack. Delta-Six looked back through the city towards the farms. No sign of any activity yet, so what were they doing?
The orange pheromone warning went off again: the pheromones were still being filtered by his system, but the parts per million had doubled again. A bleep in his ear signalled the completion of the pebble array, and he diverted his walk to the gate, analysing the three guards who chatted and argued with one another, gesturing at the arena.
‘I say you stay here and let Hirat-que and I go battle,’ a heavily furred biped shouted at a white-skulled Bensha.
‘And I say if you demand anything again we’ll have our own battle here,’ it replied.
Delta-Six strolled forward, bent low and saw the flash of silver on each of their necks. He wondered how strong the hormones had been and if any guards had resorted to blowing each other’s heads off.
‘That’s far enough!’ the third guard shouted and blocked Delta-Six’s path with its tall body. ‘Name?’
‘Lucien Thomas.’
‘You don’t have clearance for this gate, Lucien Thomas.’
Delta-Six offered the stolen ID card, hoping his manipulation hadn’t triggered the security system.