Authors: Ronan Frost
"Enemy has fired retaliation shots," reported the
radar officer tersely.
General McMillan placed his fists against the glass
of the console, leaning forward with held breath. "Full shields
fore." Barely had the words escaped his lips did the enemy fire hit
the battleship. It was with brisk satisfaction that McMillan noted
the shields had absorbed the blow without any damage. He knew that
in these early stages of a major battle warships threw shots
between one another, testing and probing their opposition's might
before actually engaging.
The control room was a wave of voices, frequencies
stacked atop each other like sediment. Crackles overrode the Minnow
Flight Leader's voice as the starpilot met with opposition.
"...Leader Five squadron...heavily outnumbered-" Another voice
snapped over the top, "-crossfire sector sixteen! It's a minefield,
repeat, laser minefield."
Five thousand kilometres away McMillan clenched his
fists as if stubborn concentration could force Hartrias defeat. He
knew from uncertain glances from aides that many thought he should
withdrawn his Minnows closer to the side of the Berana but McMillan
simply narrowed his eyes. Explosions flashed briefly and silently,
tiny against the backdrop of stars. McMillan at last exhaled as
Flight Leaders five and six reported they had slipped through the
Hartrias other defences.
"Thare in," he growled, his New-Scot accent suddenly
heavy. "Keep that deck cannon firing through their vector - ah
dinnae want them tae meet any opposition."
"Yes sir." The officer pushed the small microphone
closer to his mouth, preferring to use the voice-activated module
rather than the keypad. Once done, he turned to General McMillan.
"Squadron two reports heavy losses as with three and four.
"Pull them apart. Huv squadron two circle and take
most of the fire."
The officer nodded curtly, knowing that his
superior's orders had just sealed those of squadron two's fate.
Their deaths were necessary if the battle was to be won, and he
knew that the pilots would unquestionably obey even when they knew
death was inevitable.
"Accelerate to point oh-oh-three," McMillan ordered
without taking his eyes from the display. "Prepare tae engage
Hartrias motherships."
The tech officer gaped. "Sir, if squadron six does
not succeed we'll be sitting targets for their rockets."
"Do it," growled McMillan. "If we dinnae make oor
move they'll take the advantage."
The FDC Berana's engines glowed with white energy,
pushing the bricklike battleship closer to the awaiting Hartrias.
Flanking cruisers Lanceman and Ki also accelerated accordingly,
keeping formation with computerised precision.
"Cut engines," McMillan barked. "Retain velocity."
Then, almost to himself, the New-Scot grumbled, "Let's hope this
Skeeter cloak works as well in battle as it does in thare lab."
In several stages of winding down the steady
thrumming beat gradually dropped off as the engines quietened,
leaving the three ships to plummet through space at nine hundred
thousand kilometres per hour.
* * *
They were silent, standing in mute awe as the light
of the flickering flame etched coarse shadows upon the walls of the
ancient subterranean city.
Ashian was first to break the mesmerising trace.
Stumbling forward, the city clergyman ran a hand over a rough low
wall, discovering to his surprise that the layer of filth simply
brushed aside.
"What do you think it is?" whispered Capac, not
daring to break the macabre atmosphere that had pervaded the
airless cavern for countless generations.
The brown coloured growth crumbled like sandstone
beneath Ashian's fingertips, revealing a smooth surface that looked
almost metallic. "Something this world has never seen," he
marvelled.
"This is the retreat of the Ansarii."
Both Capac and Ashian paused, startled by the
conviction in Myshia's tone. The female continued to speak as if
supplied words from other mind.
"When yellow and black clouds destroyed their cities
the Ansarii had to burrow to shield against the evil winds that
would bring rapid weakening and death. It was here they had to live
for one hundred turns before they could venture upon outside
soil."
Ashian straightened and advanced upon Myshia. "You
remember this?"
Hesitating for a moment, Myshia bowed her head in a
nod. Ashian stood between the strange ancient buildings and the
eloprin, his head moving back and forth as if slotting two separate
pieces of a puzzle together.
"The Ansarii have inhabited your mind."
"Hold on," interrupted Capac, almost dropping the
flaming torch in his surprise. "What are you saying, Ashian? That
Myshia has been invaded by these...aliens!"
"Not at all." Ashian paused, his brows furrowing as
he fought to control the accelerated pumping of his heart. "Look,
there's been theories floating around in the Order about the
Ansarii. One particular religious leader who studied the ruins of
the Ansarii buildings wrote a manuscript detailing his so-called
'communion' with them. That was near on five hundred seasons ago,
when our culture was in its infancy."
"And what happened to the manuscript?" demanded
Capac, not quite sure whether to be curious or cautious of this new
race that had lived and died thousands of years before the first
eloprin had set foot upon soil.
"The writings were regarded as the tales of a
mentally unstable currach whose isolation led to delusions and
ultimately insanity."
"Now I have visited this place I can feel the
Ansarii's power." Myshia shook her head softly as she stepped
forward, her bare feet splashing through pools of stagnant water.
Her voice tremored as she lay a hand upon the vertical wall of a
building. "It is like something has just birthed inside me."
"This is fascinating!" cried Ashian, running a hair
through wily hair. "Incredible! A race dead for a millennium
resurfaced. How did this happen? Why have you this power?"
Myshia's face was pale white. "My mother had the gift
of healing, and the Elder knew of my abilities too. But he knew
little of its source; the memories flooding through me now - it's
as if the Ansarii have been watching us from the beginning."
"Then they are not dead," whispered Ashian.
"Then where the scroch are they?" growled Capac,
holding the torch partway into the strangely slanted
parallelogram-shaped door of the building. Only dusty bulges and
obscure shadows met his eyes. As the torch burned the shadows
changed, the shapes sliding in and out of light to give them the
appearance of morphing supernatural beings. The old instincts of
the hunter came to his mind as Capac instinctively crouched low,
advancing slowly with his back against the strange rough wall.
Stunned by what he saw he could not help but creep ever deeper into
the structure not unlike those the Sunlords had built. He knew that
any sort of creature could be dwelling here, taking refuge from the
world above. The experience with the k'lockri was too fresh in his
mind for him to relax and with every step he expected to hear the
tell-tale clattering of the beast's claws upon rock. In those
moments he thought of Huso, for in such a situation the stout
eloprin hunter would have guarded Capac's back. In Huso's company
Capac had always felt confident, knowing a strong arm was at his
side. Although he held a grudging respect for Ashian's quick mind
nobody could replace Huso.
Ashian saw Capac disappear deeper into the building,
taking the only light with him. But Ashian was too engrossed to
notice that his surrounds were becoming blacker and blacker.
"Myshia, can you tell me what happened to the
Ansarii?"
"They departed this plane," she replied, still
tracing her slender finger over the wall in an intricate pattern.
"After reclaiming the surface they advanced themselves beyond the
physical barriers. They still exist." Myshia cupped her hand.
"...in the air."
"This is all beginning to make sense. The Ansarii
must somehow be awakening as the Sunlords invade our home, and they
are using you as their tool."
Grief clouded Myshia's face before, with visible
effort, she forced away her confusion. "Why did it happen to me?"
she whispered.
Taken by surprise Ashian moved before he had time to
think twice. Holding Myshia in his arms as she lay her head upon
his shoulder he felt her chest heaving with convulsed breath. It
was only then he realised he had been blunt and cold in his
revelations.
"I'm sorry Myshia, I didn't mean it like that. Just
think of the Ansarii as your Forest Mother, or Abas as my people
think of them." He paused. "You should be proud that such forces
have been channelled through you."
Very slowly Myshia began to calm. It was with a start
that Ashian realised Capac had taken the torch deep into the
building, leaving them standing alone in intense darkness.
Carefully pulling Myshia away from his side Ashian sought to grasp
her hand.
"Looks like Capac is after something," he muttered.
"We'd better go after him before he takes off altogether." He made
to move but Myshia held him back a second longer. In the charcoal
darkness her face was a chiselled shadow but her wide, insectile
eyes sparkled faintly.
"Thank you Ashian."
Unexpected feelings rose within the currach, his
heart lifting and feeling as if it could pull itself up his throat.
Myshia's cheek was soft beneath his caressing hand as he bent his
head, stroking aside her wispy hair and finding her mouth in the
darkness.
Neither knew how long that moment lasted, but the
world was shaken into sudden focus as Myshia pulled away.
"Not now, city man. It is not the time."
A little perturbed Ashian managed to grapple with his
emotions and force them away, a little stunned at what had
happened. It had come so naturally and passed so rapidly, leaving
him no time for thought. Blinking futilely in the darkness he ran a
hand over his brow, his mind throwing a cover over the event as he
blocked it from thought. "We'd better follow after Capac," he
coughed, glad that the darkness hid a face burning with
self-consciousness.
They moved together, forced to hold hands to guide
each other as they stumbled over uneven footing. The torchlight
flickered from beyond a corner, up a flight of what looked like
broad stairs. Climbing them, at last free of the pools of water and
the echoing splashes they created, they moved upwards into air that
was musty and thick on the tongue. The memory of the brief moment
they had shared re-emerged in Ashian's mind and held Myshia's hand
a little tighter, his heart still beating fast and unsteadily.
Ashian nearly leapt backwards as Capac dropped before
them, his cry breaking the ominous stillness.
"I've found a way out!"
It took a moment for Ashian to regain his senses and
for his sight to adjust to the new light. His hand fell away from
Myshia's and instinctively they drew apart at Capac's presence.
Squinting, Ashian managed to make out Capac's form through the
flickering light.
"What do you mean?"
"I found a door that leads to a tunnel," explained
Capac. "The tunnel is fashioned from the soil and supported by
rock, and looks crude enough not to be simply another building. It
slopes upwards, and the section I followed looks promising."
"Their escape route," Ashian said. He paused. "But we
can't leave yet."
Capac turned on him. "Why not?" Capac gestured to the
low flame of the torch. "The wood is almost burnt through and there
is no wood here that isn't rotten, we can't drink that stagnant
water, and I don't like our chances of finding food."
Ashian searched for words, casting about for evidence
to support his claims. "But we can't go. There is so much to
explore! So much to discover! Nobody knows how the Ansarii lived,
but we have a chance to discover that and learn their secrets.
Please Capac, we have to stay."
"I don't know about discovering any secrets," replied
Capac. "From what I've seen everything has practically decomposed.
Besides, we cannot afford to stay, even if these caverns offered
all the riches of the forest."
"Myshia," asked Ashian, looking for support. "What do
you think?"
Myshia glanced at the rapidly dying torch, her
forester instincts telling her physical survival was paramount. If
they died searching these ruins then all hope would be lost. "No,"
she said at last. "We cannot stay. We must leave now." She bit her
lower lip in thought. "We must search after Shaun; he cannot
survive alone in this swamp."
Ashian bowed his head in acknowledgment, his heart
suddenly heavy. When he looked up his eyes were bright. "Then we
must go for Shaun."
Turning, Capac lead the company towards the tunnel
and, hopefully, towards the surface.
5
"Wingman five kappa - what the hell are you
doing?"
Richael Lowry hardly heard the voice through his
headphones such was the intent concentration marring his brow. His
pilot seat pivoted one-eighty degrees as the Minnow slewed, stars
rushing past the computer visiports in long streaks. The crosshairs
upon the heads-up display blinked and with snake-like quickness he
flicked aside the safety and pressed the red fire button. The
Sova-1 was circling around Richael's ship and had shot past his
line of fire only briefly, but that was enough. Steel crumpled into
vapour and fuel exploded violently and noiselessly in the vacuum of
space.
"You're losing formation!" cried Robinson from the
navigator's console. "Pull away!"
Richael shook his head, clearing it of the mindless
determination to kill. Now that he had destroyed the Sova-1 he
found himself able to recapture his surroundings, noting with
slight alarm he had pulled nearly eight marks away from squadron
five's vector. Snapping the safety back over the fire button he
steered the small craft around, re-joining it with those others of
the squadron.