Sunlord (50 page)

The command to shut down the robotics had quite
literally frozen the Hartrias establishment where it stood. Four
huge bulldozers had begun on the foundation where the Skycannon was
to be situated but now the worksite was silent. Logrid was first to
round the corner, and thus first to see the carnage that had
ensued.

Ryloth was there a second later, his large bore rifle
cocked and targeting. Sensors flashed negative as he scanned the
close-packed environment.

"They're all dead," he said through the microphone
inside his suit.

Logrid nodded dumbly. He too held his long barrelled
pistol at the ready, wavering it uncertainly.

"What happened here?"

"Looks like the grinders lost control," Ryloth
grunted. "Those poor bastards were supervising the flattening of
that wall when the machines must have turned upon them."

Logrid winced. Red-green blood splattered up the
walls of the enclosure, limbs laying shredded over the flagstones.
Squat yellow machines lay buried in the mound of flesh, silent.

"Come on, let's move."

Logrid did not argue and immediately followed after
Ryloth. They moved through darkened corridors, dead lights overhead
like empty husks, and everywhere the story was the same. It seemed
in that moment before Avatar had lost contact all the machines had
overloaded, careening wildly and taking the lives of those
nearby.

A red light flashed suddenly on the panel inside
Ryloth's faceplate. He crouched to a halt.

"Something's moving up there."

"Could be a guard," tried Logrid.

Ryloth shook his head. "Moving too fast. Whatever it
is it's closing."

Tension built in Logrid's chest, pulling his heart
like a drumskin. He exhaled heavily with relief as the advancing
shadow raced closer, revealing an angular black frame upon three
widely spaced rubber wheels.

"It's a perimeter droid," he grinned. He opened his
mouth to say more but all that emerged was a cough as rifle fire
shattered around them. Ryloth was screaming through his earset,
bawling for him to take cover, take cover! Logrid rolled, lost
traction, and skidded uncontrollably. When he regained his senses
Ryloth was already on his feet and moving.

"Run, you fool!" shouted the war veteran. "That droid
is firing at us!"

Nothing could describe the knot of fear wrenching in
Logrid's stomach. The command-link at his belt was dead - there was
no calling for assistance from Avatar. He cursed as he realised he
couldn't get Avatar to give him an update of the situation; why the
droid had fired upon them. Without Avatar he felt at sea with
nowhere to turn.

Ryloth had turned back and hauled Logrid to his feet.
"That droid isn't stopping to think," he said. "We've got to pull
out and head back to the Dropzone."

His slender pistol at his side, Logrid raced down the
empty street, breath harsh and panting. Ryloth, however, moved
quickly and effortlessly in the hydraulically assisted warsuit. His
voice was calm and unstrained over the two-way. "Looks like we've
found where everyone is."

Logrid paused for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed with
the stunning mass of motion before them. footsoldiers and officers
alike clambered into large tracked vehicles with confused and
hurried motions. A Hartrias solider in full battle armour stood
picket duty and raced over as soon as he saw Ryloth and his slender
companion arrive. Without Avatar the intercom system was severely
compromised - there was no longer any troop co-ordination or
communication. The watchman's face was shadowed through the yellow
tinted visor as he moved closer to examine the newcomers'
badges.

The watchman saluted smartly as he noticed Ryloth's
insignia. "Sir! The vehicle is ready to go."

Ryloth examined the solider and the evacuation
runners in turn. "Who's in command here?"

"Sir, without the computer system we can't give any
sort of orders. We've relied too heavily on Avatar, and now she's
gone we're in the dark."

Ryloth nodded, for he knew the feeling. All of a
sudden they were all strangers to one another. "There is a
malfunctioning droid back there," he said. "Killed at least four
men."

"Yessir," replied the watchman. "Every machine has
either frozen or gone berserk. That's why we're pulling out - the
warbots are locking onto any moving target and frying it. A scout
flier has also signalled that the natives have escaped."

"The containment cell lost power?"

The watchman nodded. "The air scrubbers are down and
the secondary air tanks will only hold out another six hours. If we
try to attack the natives without scrubbed air..."

"We're prone to another attack with their chemical
bomb," finished Ryloth coldly. "So we have to step back and let
them reclaim the city."

"Until reinforcements." The watchman started to look
nervous. "If you'd board the vehicle..."

Ryloth opened his mouth to speak but his voice was
droned out as an earth-shattering rumble went through underfoot. He
turned in time to see movement flash, a split second later a blast
of yellow explosion rippling outwards. The three Sunlords fell back
as storage tanks erupted in a ball of flame, catching and spreading
blistering heat. Flying wedges of steel arced out, embedding into
and pushing the watchman's back, forcing him face down onto the
slab as if pushed by a powerful hand.

Logrid caught Ryloth's shoulder.

"Come with me!" he shouted. "I've got an Anton on
standby."

"You're a rider?" Ryloth cursed beneath his breath,
casting a glance up. He saw the caterpillar-like vehicles carrying
the other Hartrias soldiers had already begun to pull out. There
wasn't much choice.

"I'm going to hate you for this," he growled. Anton
Sleds were sleek nosed three wheeled vehicles that looked like a
hybrid between an fighter jet and a motorcycle. They could seat
three plus driver, powered by a huge high revving engine. Anton
Sleds were used primarily as scout craft but could employ the use
of twin machine guns mounted either side of the fuselage to become
an assault vehicle.

Logrid's snoutlike Hartrias mouth pulled up into a
grin. "It'll get us away faster than that tank."

Ryloth hesitated for a second more. Sled riders had a
reputation of being foolhardy and suicidal, and Ryloth knew the
high risks involved. But there seemed to be no choice.

They scrambled to their feet, down a side alley
leading directly to the auxiliary vehicle bay.

* * *

To: High Command Establishment 9832 (L/Cn-41a)

Message received from Sub Commander Class 8, B.
RYLOTH; ID 907543-B

Term: 1893 : 58-14

Message begins:

PATCH SIGNALS USED DUE TO THE DEACTIVATION OF LONG
RANGE RADAR TRANSMISSION LINES. HAVE EVACUATED SKYCANNON 8.
PROCEEDING DIRECTLY TO CENTRAL ESTABLISHMENT. STATUS OF PERSONNEL
MANNING SKYCANNON 8: UNKNOWN, ESTIMATE: HIGH LOSS. MACHINERY AND
EQUIPMENT ABANDONED. SITE HAS BECOME DANGEROUS REPEAT SITE IS
DANGEROUS. SCOUT FLIERS RECORD CAPTURED NATIVES HAVE ESCAPED WHEN
MAIN POWER SYSTEMS FAILED. NATIVES HAVE RETAKEN THE CITY.
REINVADING SITE NON PROFITABLE AS AIR SCRUBBERS ARE NON OPERATIVE.
ETA: 5.89 HOURS.

Message ends.

* * *

Those nearest the gate watched in silent awe as the
gate clicked and swung ponderously outwards. It took a full second
before comprehension finally sunk in.

"The gate's open!"

The cry quickly spread, and in seconds a few of the
younger currach had mounted enough courage to step out, revelling
with the feel of grass under their bare feet.

Locantar felt a hand pulling him to his feet. Still
dazed from his state of meditation it took the old man a few
moments to pull together his thoughts. "What's happening?"

Josian held his master close as they were swept along
the rushing tide of currach heading towards the door. "Your prayers
have been answered!"

A group of energetic currach banded together and set
about scouting the area. By the time Locantar had stepped from the
cage the scouts had already returned. Their news came in confused
snippets, but after several accounts Locantar knew that Abas' power
had routed the Sunlords from his city.

In the red glow of sunset Locantar walked, makeshift
staff in hand, through the swarming currach running excitedly
through the city streets, marvelling at the sudden stroke of good
fortune. And unseen by all, Mosata the hunchback stood in the
shadows deepening by the cage, shaking his head in wonder and for a
moment considering that the old priest may have been right.

Locantar paused, listening and smelling. A warm
gentle smile spread across the old man's face, and he knew
justified faith.

* * *

"Closing in," the
astronavigator mumbled. "Exit point clear...3, 2,
1
…
"

Captain Ryson Lockhart pivoted in the command chair,
looking down from his raised vantage point over the control pit
where a team of five tech officers operated. The central
holographic display blurred then snapped into sharp focus and the
image of a starship unfolded into three dimensions.

"Stealth systems engaged," came the dulcet,
mechanically toned voice over the speaker. Sections of the
holographic ship filled in blue as Lockhart watched. Nodding
satisfaction, the square jawed commander spun to face the
astronavigator's console two metres away.

"Now we'll see if that message was authentic," he
commented gruffly.

The astronavigator was too engrossed in watching the
banks of numbers upon the screen to notice Lockhart speak. Instead
the comminations jockey tapped with a light pen at the touch
sensitive screen before her. The comm banks lined the right edge of
the wedge-shaped bridge; a massive wall of blinking consoles and
displays that took many years of academy schooling to master.
Lockhart knew the comm-jockey personally and had served with her
for several tours of duty; Loriena was a ruggedly attractive woman
who's expertise with a comm bank had saved the ship countless
times. She tilted her chair about to face the commander. "Still no
sign of any Hartrias ships. All bands are clear so far. I have my
doubts about that message - it could be a trap to lure us
here."

Lockhart's eyes were icy blue beneath thick grey
eyebrows and beard. "We're on yellow alert, and we're coming out of
jumpspace six hundred thousand kays from our specified destination.
Any attack we should be prepared for." Lockhart spun to his right.
"Engines ready?"

The technician seated before that particular bank of
screens nodded. "Still deactivated due to jumpspace travel, but as
soon as we're out systems will engage."

Captain Lockhart placed both hands upon the arms of
the chair, his eyes fixed in space as his mind wandered for a
moment. The ship he commanded, the Federation Scoutship Scoipre,
was one of the fastest in the fleet. The design stemming from a
medium sized attack craft, the Scoipre's shield and weaponry
systems had been removed to make room for the three massive Class
IV engines and bulky acceleration compensators. Also aboard the
scoutship were the most advanced technical equipment and long range
scanners of the time. Since the war had begun human factories had
turned up production, spewing out new technology and machinery at
an incredible rate. The scoutship Scoipre was a product of
multi-spatial cooperation as fifty-six colonised planets worked
together to form the components of the ship. The Scoipre's history
was extensive; although it had only been in service for two years
it had scouted a thousand star systems and had assisted in thirty
battles.

The astrogator's hail commanded everyone's attention.
"Exit point now!"

Lockhart gripped the metal arm. There was nothing to
be done but wait as the screens showing blurred space cleared,
slowly resolving into stars and galaxies as the narrow shark-like
starship slowed.

"I have multiple readings from heading 143/089."

"Identification?" Captain Lockhart snapped.

"No ID signals emitted, but they are definitely
Hartrias warships. Two - in orbit."

A green bar lit over the top of the holographic
display. The recorded voice came over the loudspeaker. "Stealth
systems engaged. Power systems charging..." Below the green bar a
yellow one slowly grew from left to right.

Now Lockhart had time to see the surroundings. The
star system was shown on the rightmost display, a small blue planet
a speck barely larger than a star in the distance. The computer
systems enlarged the image and Lockhart couldn't help but notice
the planet looked a lot like Earth. He snapped alert as movement
caught the corner of his eye. Again the computer zoomed to reveal
an arrowhead formation of Sova-1 fighters arcing in.

"They've spotted us," he muttered, his face set as if
carved from granite.

"Stealth systems have activated now, sir," said the
technician. "This new Skeeter technology should keep us cloaked
until we refire the boosters."

Lockhart was indecisive for a moment as he watched
the computer enhanced picture of the twenty odd Sova-1 fighters
close in. They must have been on patrol in this sector to be able
to attack an incoming ship so quickly, he mused. Lockhart watched
the red dots representing the fighters draw closer to the central
crosshairs on the 3D radar, his sinewy hands gripping tighter.

"Keep the engines off," he ordered. The stealth
system would only work on a non-accelerating body. He felt a
tightness in his gut - it was not normal battle strategy to drift
uncontrolled through space, yet that was what they had to do if
they were to stay undercover. The Skeeter's system was newly
implemented and barely beyond the experimental stage, accounting
for a tenseness for all of those aboard the battleship.