The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End

Chapter Sixteen

  Instruments for Death

  Li-Sen-Tot cleared his desk computer, quietly erasing all his files. He sat at his desk without a single thought of what was going on outside the Embassy. It was now dark outside, and only the glow of distant fires lit the window.

  When he had first returned, he had paused by the window in his office and looked out at the city. It had been a frequently repeated habit over the last few weeks. Each time the bustling city streets and buildings had been the same, always there was life and noise. This time it had been different. In the distance he had seen the smashed and burning buildings, the streets filled with debris and burning vehicles, and the bodies that lay everywhere like little broken dolls. Smoke had covered the city and the fires caused the darkening skies to glow.

  It was a scene he knew too well, a scene from his memory and from his nightmares. To see the same scene here meant nothing to him. What had happened so far was nothing compared to what was going to happen. Soon the Gatherers would reach the city, and with them would come the grotesque forms of the Receivers. The Receivers would linger in the dark and in the shadows while the Gatherers would forage among the ruins.

  Some called it survival of the fittest, war in its most raw and natural form. To Li-Sen-Tot it was murder, murder on a huge scale, murder at its most callous, at its most brutal.

  Although Li-Sen-Tot despised the Keruh and the way they lived not all his race had felt that way. When the Keruh had first been encountered, many had argued in their favour. Each race had the right to live, and who could say that the way of life on the Keruh home world was any less correct than any other? The Keruh were a sentient species, they had their own moral code of life, and their society was stable. Why condemn them?

  It was a short-sighted view that brought disaster. The mere knowledge of other races and worlds and access to them changed the Keruh forever. Until that point the limitations of their own world had kept the Hives in check. For thousands of years they had waged a relentless war on one another, each Hive attacking and devouring its neighbour, until only four were left. These four Hives had lived in a tolerated peace ever since, mainly because none was more powerful than the other, and also because the almost exhausted resources of their world had to be conserved if the Hives were not all to perish. They had lived in a stable famine for generations. With the arrival of the Tun-Sho-Lok and access to the Ring, a new alliance was soon forged, and one Dominant now ruled over all.

  The reasoning was simple: instead of one world, a whole galaxy was open to them. Enough to share for all, enough to expand the Hives forever without the need for conflict among themselves. For the first time, the only time, the Keruh had seen themselves as one race and not individual Hives.

  Everything that followed had been both logical and devastatingly horrific. Now the time had finally come to end it all, and Li-Sen-Tot was glad that it was going to be him who would be the one to do it. All he had to do was wait.

  The Eden Ring Network Portal began to glow and shimmer with grey swirling mist.

  The Nineteenth of the Mysan’Taf hurried from the main hall of the portal building. Behind him, other members of the Keruh Host worked frantically at the consoles that controlled the portal.

  “Most Gracious Fifth!” he hissed and clicked loudly. “Your attendance is required!”

  The Fifth of the Mysan’Taf turned. “Is the portal still closed?” he demanded.

  “No!” the Nineteenth replied, his worry apparent in his voice. “The Assassin-Drones have over-ridden the command codes of the portal! They open it as we speak!”

  “How can this happen? Were you not in control?”

  “We were, Gracious Fifth! But it appears that the Assassin-Drones have bypassed the communication protocols by transmitting the command codes via a carrier wave across the portal flux—”

  “Enough!” The Fifth turned and called to other members of the Host. “Warn the Second of the breech in the portal! All other Warriors are to prepare for the arrival of the Assassin-Drones!”

  As he spoke, a single Warrior turned and hurried out of the building while around him all the others moved forward. They were quickly pressed together, the Fifth lost among them as they all squeezed through the entrance, their axes and laser rifles held ready. Spilling into the main hall, the Keruh Warriors ran toward the portal. As one, they began firing their rifles into the enormous cylinder of swirling mists that now filled the centre of the hall and stretched from the floor to the high vaulted ceiling. They seemed to be firing at nothing, their laser beams going straight through the dense cylinder and leaving pockmarks in the far wall. Then suddenly, the beams stopped emerging from the far side and the mists finally cleared.

  Sunlight, bright and strong, a hot dry wind, and a heavy oppressive heat suddenly filled the main hall of the portal building. Sand blew in the air. And with the sand came new visitors.

  Running out of the portal came slender figures clad in black. Female figures, like the Klysanthians the Keruh had faced before and defeated. But unlike the Klysanthians, these figures were less tall and their build was heavier. They were broader, shapelier, and more sturdily built, their final resemblance closer to the Atlantians whose height they surpassed. But even so, their figures were still slight compared to the Edenites who owned this world or the Keruh who now faced them. But unlike the Klysanthians or the Atlantians, these aliens possessed an overpowering purpose.

  These were the Androktones, their faces filled with anger and hate as they ran from the portal to face their enemy. Like the Keruh, they also carried rifles, but the difference in appearance and effect of the weapons they carried was remarkable. Each Androktone carried a rifle that was chrome silver in appearance, and whose surface texture seemed to move and flow in the light. They fired them as they ran, but instead of a white laser beam, each rifle spat an orange ball of fire toward their targets. Any Keruh Warrior hit by the orange bolts of energy instantly burst apart in a splatter of black blood and fragmented body parts. But the laser beams fired by the Keruh were equally effective if less spectacular. The only difference was in the accuracy required to bring down an Androktone. Those hit low in the chest, in the midriff or abdomen, staggered under the impacts but ran on, only the burn marks in their uniforms a sign of any damage. The Keruh must have learned of this strange resistance from earlier battles because they aimed higher, their beams hitting many of the Androktones in the head and upper chest, and their lithe forms crumpled and fell even as they appeared in the portal. But as those that led the way fell, others rushed out of the portal to take their place.

  A violent and brisk firefight began in the main hall, with the Keruh firing relentlessly into the portal as they fanned out and continued to rush forward. Ahead of them, the Androktones who streamed out of the portal were forced to stand or kneel among their dead, firing back at the Keruh. Despite the limited time they had to respond, they still returned an accurate fire that picked off the advancing Warriors one after another in an explosion of black blood. But faced with a constant barrage of fire, the Androktones couldn’t advance themselves, and many of them were killed where they stood.

  The Keruh didn’t wait for their lasers to win the battle; they continued to run forward, ignoring those of their number who were shot and burst apart as they advanced, until finally, they could at last bring their double bladed axes to bear.

  The ferocity of the fight now doubled and trebled as lasers and energy bolts were joined by the impacts of swinging axes. It was a way of fighting that the Keruh had perfected over aeons of war and battle. It had always proved successful, particularly with the weaker alien races they now faced. But the Tun-Sho-Lok had analysed this method of fighting and had give the Androktones a defence that was far more deadly than the attack.

  In a startling flow of movement, the chrome silver rifles of the Androktones closest to the Keruh Warriors suddenly changed. It was as if the rifles were made from hot, molten silver. They flowed in a liquid-like s
tate, changing and stretching like elastic with a life of its own. In an instant the rifles had changed into long curving blades that wrapped around the body of the Androktone that carried them. The blade then instantly split into two, leaving their owner with two, scythe-like curving blades that stretched both before, and behind them in a shimmering and overlapping razor-edged arc.

  The Androktones used their new weapons both in defence and attack, their movements quick and fluid. It was as if the blades were moulded onto their arms, such was their control. They parried the blows of the axes the Keruh wielded with one blade, and sliced at them with the other. Then with a lunge, they stabbed the sharp curved points through both the armoured uniform and the carapace of their enemies with a thump, driving them in deeply.

  Soon many of the Keruh began to fall to these deadly blades as Androktones fell to the axes, and the death rate increased. In a splatter of red and black blood, Androktone and Keruh alike fell in mutilated heaps as the bodies piled higher.

  Still heavily out-numbered and bogged down at the very edge of the portal, the Androktones continued to enter, throwing themselves bodily at any of the Keruh who were within reach, until many of the Warriors spun and staggered under the weight of several Androktones clinging to their bodies, the curved blades quickly driven into their humped cranial cavities. Other Warriors smashed their axes into the backs of the Androktones clinging to their colleagues, only to have their mighty arms severed in a slicing blow from another Androktone nearby. At such close quarters axes and blades cut into flesh and carapace unopposed and the number of bodies adding to the heaps that grew in the main hall steadily increased. The Keruh beat their axes down on heads and necks, while Androktones sliced through arms and legs and stabbed into fallen bodies. Soon the floor was running in blood and littered with dismembered limbs.

  Many of the Keruh Warriors now backed off and fired their rifles at the Androktones across the bodies that now formed a barrier between them. The Androktones fired back, and continued to leap onto any Warrior within reach, anger and hate still in their eyes. Those that could clambered over the bodies and hurled themselves at the Keruh. Many were shot down or axed to death, but more Warriors fell under their attack.

  For all its ferocity, the battle that raged in the main hall did so in almost silence. There were no screams or shouts, no orders yelled or death cries uttered, no taunts or threats. The Keruh fought in silence as they had always done, any commands both unspoken and generally unnecessary. Each Warrior knew his task, knew his direction and knew his duty. All fought with a willingness to die for the benefit of their Hive and for the brother at their side. For them, death came in silent glory against an honourable and formidable foe.

  But the Androktones also fought in silence. For them, commands were also unnecessary. They, too, had one unshakable purpose: To kill the enemy, to eradicate him from the battlefield at whatever cost. They fought with equal unselfishness, many using their weight to bring down a Keruh Warrior, knowing that even if they died, another would give the killing blow. In all respects they were the same as the Keruh. Only at the end did they differ. Only in their death did they issue any noise at all, and even then it was subdued. Only a brief sigh or gasp left their lips as the life was torn from them.

  The lack of cries from those that fought meant that the only sounds in the main hall were the sounds of death. It was as monotonous as it was horrific. The hall was filled with the almost delicate and precise sounds of lasers firing, bodies bursting apart, the hard impact of scythe-like blades punching through armour and carapace, or the wet splat of axes hitting soft bodies. And to punctuate it all was a final gasp and the splashes of bodies as they fell to the floor in the gathering puddles of red and black.

  By sheer weight of numbers pouring through the portal, the Androktones began to edge forward. The Keruh Warriors kept up the constant barrage, but were now moving backward with every step. Those that loitered for too long fell under the combined attack of several Androktones who leapt upon them. As each Warrior fell under the stabbing blades, others would swing their axes or shoot at their attackers. But with the Keruh Warriors in the main hall reduced and being forced back from the portal, the Androktones coming through now found themselves with more time to take stock. They could pick out their targets more calmly, and could stand and fire more easily. The result was devastating. The number of Keruh Warriors being shot down increased into a torrent. They fell in droves, their bodies burst apart by the orange energy bolts.

  The Keruh were forced farther and farther back as the Androktones drove forward ever faster. Those coming through the portal now put up a devastating fire that enveloped the Keruh and blew them into bloody fragments. And suddenly, the resistance was over. The last of the Warriors fought with their backs to the wall, fighting not for victory now, but for life and delay. They still fired their rifles, but the Androktones with the curving blades now pursued them less urgently. They were content to stay back, to catch only those of their enemy who did not move fast enough. They rested their arms and let the energy rifles of their fresher sisters coming through the portal do the work for them. In a constant and growing bombardment of energy bolts, the Keruh were overwhelmed in a multitude of bright, fragmented explosions. They continued to fire back, but now black blood ran down the walls and splashed the huge entrance doors behind them.

  Among the Androktones one blood-spattered figure lowered her shimmering blades and turned. Her uniform was torn and ragged, and blood spilled from deep gashes in her side and head. She had jet-black hair that was cut short and eyes that were as dark as coal. Behind her an army of Androktones now ran from the portal unopposed. She watched them raise their rifles and run forward to join the battle. And for the first time since the battle had begun a voice could be heard in the main hall as she called out to her sisters in the language of the Tun-Sho-Lok. Her voice was rich and mellow, but the language of her creators was harsh and staccato, matching her stern and aloof expression as she gave the commands that would finally take the battle beyond the confines of the building.

  “Twelve of you! Kneel! Split your minds! Bring the wrath of the Tun-Sho-Lok to our enemies! Those of you around, guard them! See that no harm reaches them!”

  Even before she had finished speaking, twelve of the Androktones standing near to her had knelt before her in the blood and laid their weapons on the wet, sticky floor. Like many of the Androktones in the main hall, they each had long hair. Some had hair of blonde, others black, while among the rest all the shades of brown could be found. Their eyes also differed in colour. Brown was predominant, but black, blue and green were also evident. Some were wounded, their black uniforms and golden skin torn by vicious blows or burned by laser punctures. Others were unmarked and unharmed. All were stained red and black, and all breathed in great gasps from their exertions, some wheezing through damaged lungs or airways. Despite their mixed condition, all had obeyed the call without hesitation. And as they sat back on their heels and closed their eyes, more Androktones quickly gathered around them, their blades and rifles held ready.

  A sudden air of calmness came over those who knelt on the floor. For a brief few moments, each of them had flexed and curled their fingers before laying their hands on their thighs. Now they were still, and almost immediately the anger and hatred left their expressions, and their faces relaxed into visions of innocent beauty. They were all very similar, the slight differences in their features evaporating with the calm expressions on their faces. With their eyes closed, only the difference in the colour of their hair marked them out as they knelt quietly, their hands on their thighs.

  One by one they lowered their heads and their breathing became calmer, quieter and even. And with their calm came another change. Each weapon lying on the floor before them began to flow and change. From curved blades or rifle, the chrome silver shapes flowed and rippled and slowly changed into twelve rounded, snub-nosed triangular shapes. The shapes grew delta wings and at the front appeared a
menacing nozzle. There was a brief pause once the changes were complete. And then, as one, all twelve silver shapes rose gracefully into the air and hovered at head height.

  A white laser beam hit one of the twelve kneeling Androktones in the upper chest. She was immediately knocked back, sprawling on the bloody floor with outstretched arms. The other eleven kneeling on either side of her never flinched, even the closest who was splashed in her blood. But the effect was instant. One of the silver shapes turned black and fell to the floor like a stone.

  The Androktones standing on guard surged forward, closing ranks and firing their rifles in a covering fire. Now those kneeling were blocked from view, and unseen, another Androktone took the place of her fallen sister, kneeling in the gap she had left. Soon another silver shape rose up to join the others.

  The Androktone who had spoken now turned and pointed to the entrance to the main hall where the last of the Keruh still fought a hopeless rearguard action.

  “Take our wrath to the enemy! Seek him out and destroy him wherever he dwells!”

  Instantly, the twelve shapes darted forward, rising higher into the air.

  Set between the many warehouses, passenger and freight receiving centres, military installations and servicing bays, the Control Centre at Nemen stood tall above all. It was an impressive and decorative wide stone building with large windows that circled it at the upper level. From here could be controlled all the operations that took place throughout the whole of the landing fields. But even more crucially, the Defence Net was also controlled from within this building.

  Smoke still hung in the air and fires still burned following the Klysanthian attack. The flames lit up the night sky and bathed the scene in a flickering orange glow. On the landing fields the combined wreck of the Bread of Angels and the Edenite ships it had crashed into still burned. And farther out on the concrete fields other ships and installations also burned unchecked. Somewhere among the scattered wreckage was the Star of Hope, totally unrecognisable after its airborne collision.

  Abandoned fire vehicles stood dotted around, half hidden in shadow, and ambulances and other vehicles also stood abandoned. But these vehicles were in the minority. Everywhere there were tanks and mobile guns, their caterpillar tracks unravelled and their armour pierced and blackened. But even these vehicles were outnumbered by the bodies that littered the concrete.

  Edenite soldiers and Keruh Warriors lay in separate piles or intermixed. Most of the bodies were smashed or mutilated. Some lay sprawled over the burned vehicles, while others lay grouped around deep craters. How long the battle had raged no Edenite was left to count. And now the darkness hid the silent tragedy of the scene, with only the scattered fires providing any light to see what had transpired. As the flames flickered, bodies or burned vehicles came briefly into view only to fade quickly back into shadow.

  Most of the surviving buildings were in darkness, but the large windows of the Control Centre still glowed brightly, and inside, large ungainly figures cast shadows against the bloodstained glass as they pondered over the control consoles.

  Several Keruh Warriors busied themselves at the many consoles and monitoring stations repairing any damage and clearing away the bodies of the previous owners. The Edenites were dragged out of the way but no farther. Here they were abandoned, the Keruh content to step over them or on them. Others more suitable to the task would come to deal with the dead later.

  Among the Keruh in the Control Centre was the Dominant of the Belol’Fan. He divided his concentration between the consoles that controlled the radar and tracking systems and the one that controlled the Defence Net. Both were important to their success. Due to damage to the antenna arrays received during the Klysanthian attack, the tracking systems were still off line. But as the Defence Net was closed, this didn’t matter. That the Defence Net had survived was a mixture of fortune and logistics. The much larger reflectors required to operate it were perched on the tops of mountains that were scattered across the continents. Targeting them would have been both difficult and time consuming in the circumstances. A much simpler way would have been to knock out this Control Centre. The presence of several burned out warehouses and buildings around it proved that this had been the intention and that it had only narrowly escaped destruction. But if this had been easy to surmise, there were other actions that were not.

  The Dominant contemplated the motives and strategies of his enemy as he studied each console in turn. The targeting of all the communications and tracking arrays by the Klysanthian ships that had attacked the landing fields both here and at Kalahar had not been by accident. The Dominant had always known that their success in stripping Eden would depend not on the resistance of the Edenites, but on the intent of the Klysanthians and their Atlantian allies. This was why the Dominant of the Mysan’Taf led the combined fleets to Eden. But he faced unusually stiff resistance from the Atlantians, and the battle continued unabated. Of more concern was the outcome of the battle with the Klysanthians in orbit. There had been no word from the First of the Telen’Gal since the battle had begun. Here was a mystery easily solved if they could switch off the Defence Net. But prudence dictated that they wait for the repair of the arrays first.

  The loss of the communications and tracking arrays hurt them. They had to rely on their own methods of communication, back through the portal to the Hives and then back again to their ships. It was less efficient, but effective, and so far adequate. But as the intensity of the battles increased, the lack of instant information would begin to tell. The arrays would give them those instant results.

  Another conundrum was the true purpose behind the timing of the Klysanthian’s attack on the landing fields. That they were strategic targets was undeniable, but to strike at them when they were still under Edenite control suggested more than just a time expediency. And why attack the Edenite ships bombarding the road? There were too many questions. He needed answers, and the only place where they might be found would be in the head of a Klysanthian. Once the landing fields had been captured, this need had been transmitted throughout the Host. But the message had gone out too late, and as yet, no Klysanthian had been taken alive.

  While the Dominant pondered on the progress of the war so far, his Warriors hurried to repair the damage to the arrays. Even now, in the darkness out on the landing fields, Keruh technicians clambered over the steelwork, their torches welding patches into the damaged structure, while others delicately replaced wiring and burned out circuits. It wouldn’t be long before their eyes would be open.

  There was the sound of hurried and unequal footsteps, and the Dominant looked up as the First of the Belol’Fan entered. The agitated state of the First caused the Dominant’s bodyguards to block his progress.

  “Do you enter in friendship or wrath?” one of them asked sternly.

  The First quickly paused.

  “I come in friendship but with bad news,” he clicked and hissed hurriedly.

  “Then enter.”

  The bodyguards stepped aside and the First went directly to the Dominant. Here he bowed his head and swept his smaller hand diagonally before him.

  “Most Gracious One, the Second of the Mysan’Taf has sent word that the Assassin-Drones have entered through the Edenite Portal. Our portals at Elengrad have also now gone off line.”

  “It is the plan we had surmised,” the Dominant of the Belol’Fan clicked in reply. “They seek to trap the Host on this world with the Assassin-Drones. It is even more imperative that we ascertain the progress of the battle above our heads. Our vessels could await victorious in orbit, but without eyes to see them, the Defence Net must remain closed.”

  The First raised his head. “What do you command?”

  “Continue the Gathering. Contact the Second of the Mysan’Taf and advise him to do all he can to contain the Assassin-Drones until support arrives. Instruct all ships under our control that are airworthy to proceed to Jutlam City and give covering fire. Rouse the Host of t
he Telen’Gal at Kalahar. Advise the Dominant to return to Jutlam City with the utmost haste. Tell him to leave behind only those Warriors that are necessary to ensure the security of the landing fields. Rouse also the Hosts of the Belol’Fan and Orly’Ank here at Nemen. Have all Warriors proceed to Jutlam City. Go at their head with the Second of the Orly’Ank and lead them in my name. I will stay behind to ensure our control of the Defence Net.”

  The obvious flaw in the Dominant’s instructions caused further agitation in the First, and he instantly spoke out.

  “It is certain that the Assassin-Drones will have this Control Centre as one of their targets,” he clicked and hissed in agitation. “If the combined Hosts of the Belol’Fan and Orly’Ank leave here, you will be exposed.”

  “Your concern is commendable, Gracious First. But to reach Nemen the Assassin-Drones must traverse the same highway that you will take back to Jutlam City. By leaving now you will ensure that any that come this way are intercepted and delayed on the highway for as long as possible. We must have time to repair the arrays.”

  “The security of this installation and the Defence Net will be enhanced if the Host of the Belol’Fan remains here with you.”

  “No. The primary objective of the Assassin-Drones is to kill the entire Host and prevent the Gathering. Without the full support of our fleet they will not be defeated easily. This is why the Gathering must continue and why all the Hives must remain combined. In division, we perish. Follow my instructions. Advise those at Elengrad to redouble their efforts to regain control of the portals.”

  “And if they fail?”

  “Then the portal at Jutlam City will be our escape.”

  The First had no more arguments and no more doubts. He swept his smaller hand diagonally before him.

  “It shall be made so.”

  Unseen by those who waited at Nemen, the Keruh Fleet had completed another bloody intersection. The number of ships that now remained were a mere shadow of those that had begun the fight. But the numbers of the Atlantian vessels that opposed them were also greatly and sadly diminished. Now it was the wrecks and the fragments that outweighed all. Space was a burning graveyard, filled with burning debris, drifting hulks, and spinning fragments. And even those ships that survived were not untouched.

  Keruh and Atlantian vessels alike, all carried great wounds. Many ships ailed and trailed debris or evaporating gases. None moved with majestic power. All struggled, engines vibrating, and the turn that would lead to the next intersection was ragged and wide among both forces.

  It wouldn’t be much longer before it was finally over.

  It was a thought that had at last dawned on the First of the Mysan’Taf as he looked down at the astrogator screen.

  “Their subterfuge is revealed!” he hissed and clicked in triumph. “They seek not to win, but to lose in glory! It is a noble deed and a glorious fate! But for us, any victory here will be hollow, for we fight in the wrong place!”

  Many of the Warriors busy at the other consoles looked up at his words. But the Dominant standing among his bodyguards showed no interest. His thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Where is their dominant? His ship is lost to us. Has he perished at last?”

  “Dominant! Most Gracious One, hear me!” the First persisted, stepping forward. “Their plan is clear to me now! I was correct in my fears! ”

  He was so agitated that the bodyguards moved between him and the Dominant.

  The Dominant raised his bulk from the screen. “What can delay do to harm our cause? The Gathering continues on Eden, secondary tunnels now provide safe passage to the Host, and our hold on this harvest world grows stronger every hour. Only the Assassin-Drones pose any threat, and they have yet to be landed. No, the longer the delay, the greater the success of the Gathering.”

  “But the Assassin-Drones could be landing on Eden as we speak!” the First hissed and clicked in urgency, trying to move between the bodyguards that barred his way. They pressed together even tighter, blocking him even from view of the Dominant.

  The Dominant returned his concentration to the astrogator screen once more. “Then we will hear the news soon.”

  “By then it will be too late!” the First’s voice came from behind the bodyguards.

  “Why so?”

  “Because we are too few! And our numbers are reduced at each intersection! This is their purpose! To eliminate our strategic advantage in air power over Eden!”

  “And what of our secondary fleet?”

  “The First of the Telen’Gal is silent! Why?”

  The Dominant waved his smaller hand at his bodyguards. They instantly parted.

  “You have the answer to this question?” he asked the First as soon as he came back into view.

  The First became calm at last. “I think I do, Most Gracious One.”

  “Then speak.”

  “He is dead.”

  “More subterfuge?” the Dominant suggested with a hiss.

  “More subterfuge,” the First repeated.

  The Dominant pondered for a moment, his mandibles moving and clicking. “Contact our fleet at Eden. Ascertain their status. If you are proved correct, I will accept your counsel.”

  “There is no time. We approach another intersection. It will reduce our numbers by more than half. We cannot afford the losses if our fleet at Eden is defeated. We must break off the engagement now.”

  “It was at your counsel that we entered this battle. Your wisdom at that time was proved beyond doubt. Again, as then, you base your judgement on your own fears. I hear those fears and your counsel. But this time there is no proof to be gained other than news from our secondary fleet. A victory here will clear the way to Atlantis itself. We wait.” The Dominant swept his smaller hand diagonally before him. “Follow my instructions. Proceed to the next intersection.”

  The First stood his ground. “I cannot obey. The survival of the Host is at risk.”

  There was silence on the Keruh Flagship. All the Warriors straightened up and ignored their work. They all turned and stared. One of the Dominant’s three bodyguards raised his axe and stepped before the First.

  “First of the Mysan’Taf, do you challenge the Dominant for rule of the Host?”

  The First paused, and then spoke clearly. “I do.”

  Another bodyguard stepped before the Dominant.

  “Dominant of the Mysan’Taf, you have been challenged by the First for rule of the Host. The challenge is acceptable. Do you make way?”

  The Dominant didn’t hesitate. “I do not.”

  All three bodyguards now moved to the side of the room. Another of them spoke.

  “Dominant and First of the Mysan’Taf, you will both enter the main hold with axe in hand and settle your dispute with blood and honour.” He swept his smaller hand diagonally before him.

  Both the Dominant and First repeated the gesture and then bowed. Then they both answered.

  “It shall be made so.”

  Jutlam City lay in silent darkness, the only light coming from the many fires that smouldered among the ruins. But although the city was silent, it was far from still. In a residential area on the outskirts of the city centre a heaving mass of shadows moved swiftly in the dark. From all directions, Keruh Warriors ran in a bobbing and ungainly torrent toward the majestic columned building that housed the Eden Ring Network Portal. They had answered the call to arms given by the now dead Fifth of the Mysan’Taf, and they streamed out of the surrounding streets and poured across the walled garden, clambering over the fountains and broken statues. Even more rushed up the wide road that led to the imposing entrance at the front of the building.

  Once inside, the Keruh Warriors ran down the wide corridor toward the entrance to the main hall in a packed column, their feet clattering against the marble floors. They ran between the now deserted offices, waiting rooms and restaurant, and everywhere the scattered bodies of the Edenites killed that afternoon still lay whe
re they had fallen. Some were trodden underfoot.

  As the Warriors approached the entrance to the main hall, the sounds of the battle could be heard from inside. Suddenly, the doors swung open, and several blood-spattered Keruh Warriors burst forth, one tumbling to the floor. Another turned and called a warning to those that approached.

  “Beware!” he hissed and clicked. “Beware the Assassin-Drones!”

  A moment later and a bright orange beam transfixed him and he burst apart in an explosion of flame and bloody fragments.

  Twelve silver darts shot out of the large doorway. They flew high in the air, almost hovering beneath the high decorative ceiling. Each of them fired a bright orange beam that transfixed another Warrior in the packed column below, bursting them apart in gouts of flame. And from the entrance to the main hall an army of Androktones now poured forth, their rifles spitting the energy bolts that blew more Warriors to fiery fragments.

  The Keruh at the front of the column took the brunt of the fire, but those behind them didn’t hesitate. They rushed forward, many stumbling and falling over the bodies of the dead, but the rest rushing on, firing their rifles.

  The Androktones also ran forward, many of their number staggering and falling under the impact of the laser beams that reached toward them. But the majority ran on uncaring. And overhead, the silver darts flew back and forth, firing down again and again into the packed column of Keruh Warriors, scoring hit after hit.

  With a torrent of orange beams raining down on them from above, the Keruh rushed forward and met the Androktones head on in a clatter of whirling blades and swinging axes. Now the battle was joined in earnest, and the blood flowed once more...

  Black blood. Red blood.

  The marble floors quickly became stained by the two liquids that flowed and mixed together, all of it finally the same.

  The hold of the Keruh Flagship was silent and barren. There was nothing but steel walls with various containers stacked high against them. The containers were secured with metal strapping. Food and sustenance for the crew.

  A bulkhead door slid open. Two figures entered, their asymmetrical forms bobbing as they walked sideways into the hold. They each held a double bladed axe. A third figure entered behind them. Two more waited outside.

  The bodyguard stood in the hold and waited as the First and Dominant walked to opposite sides. When they had stopped and turned to face one another, he spoke.

  “A challenge has been made and accepted for rule of the Host. Tradition dictates that blood must be spilled to decide the outcome. For challenger and challenged, to fight for rule of the Host is a noble deed, and for victor and vanquished, a glorious fate. Only one can be Dominant. Strike the door when it is over.”

  He turned away, stepped through the door, and it slid silently closed behind him.

  The Dominant and the First stood facing one another across the hold. The First spoke.

  “The delay caused by the need to fight could prove fatal to the Host,” he hissed.

  “Then fight quickly,” the Dominant clicked in reply.

  A moment later and they both raised their axes and ran at one another. Their large forms bobbed up and down as they ran, their larger sides leading, their axes held high. There were no blood-curdling cries, no shouts of intent, only the sound of their heavy footfalls on the steel floors.

  At one time in the dim and distant past, the battle for dominance had been fought in the open, outside the Hive. It may have started in the deepest of caverns, but it always finished outside. Only the victor would be permitted to re-enter, the loser, dead or wounded, would be left outside to the Gatherers. There were no axes then, and no laser rifles, only the heavy mandibles dealt the telling blows. Sometimes it had taken hours, the two protagonists locked together jaw to jaw, pushing and shoving each other to and fro, their feet kicking up the dust.

  It would start as a show of power and bluff, where one could back down before it became too late. But once their jaws became locked, it was a bloody and protracted fight to the death. Each would try to push the other out of the Hive, moving steadily up the tunnels toward the light. Once outside there would be no turning back for one of them. It would finally end when a mandible was torn free, or a heavy fist cracked a carapace.

  Intelligence and wisdom didn’t change anything. Instead it just provided greater instruments for death. The laser rifle was considered to be too great an advantage. Even the weak or dying could fire a rifle. But the axe was the true weapon of the Warrior. It led to a much greater bloodletting and a correspondingly speedier end to the battle. But that didn’t make it easier, nor did it allow for the vanquished to be left to die in peace. Now the battle wouldn’t be over until one protagonist was beaten to the ground, his carapace burst apart, and his soft internal organs trodden under foot.

  It was a way of life and death that both the Dominant and First of the Mysan’Taf knew well and accepted. Neither of them could have contemplated any other way, and neither of them would have wanted to. Now a show of power and bluff had given way to a verbal challenge, and once the challenge had been accepted, the battle had to commence.

  Only one could be Dominant.

  They met in the centre of the hold in a clash of armour and axe. In an orgy of ferocity, they struck and parried with their axes, and bit at one another with their heavy mandibles. There were no rules, no niceties. In only a few seconds fingers were bitten off, a mandible chopped free, a leg gashed, and a foot cut in half. Black blood splashed the steel floors.

  Not once did either step apart, never once did one back away. Dancing, leaping, beating down with axe and mutilated fist, they fought hand to hand, jaw to jaw, in the centre of the hold, the future of the Host their prize.

  And as they fought, time passed, and two battered and bedraggled fleets turned once more, flew together, and intersected each other in a clash of steel and fire. Again, their numbers were slashed; again, the dying outweighed the living. But now the numbers of ships that still lived was so small, that neither fleet could have posed much threat. But still they began the turn to the next intersection, and still those in the hold fought on, until blood ran in rivulets across the steel floors and pooled in deepening puddles.

  The three bodyguards waited outside the hold patiently. The sound of fighting from within was hidden behind the steel of the door. More pressing was the sound of the greater battle outside. The Keruh Flagship twisted and spun, and the inertia of the impact that clanged and echoed through the body of the ship was felt through the artificial gravity. The three Warriors rocked and trembled with each vibration, but stood their ground. The fleet was now ruled by the Third of the Mysan’Taf, but his rule would be short-lived.

  Time passed, and then an axe struck the door from the inside.

  The Warriors turned and one of them hit the door control. The door slid open to reveal a maimed and blood-spattered figure. The smaller right limb had been severed at the elbow, a mandible was missing, an eye punctured, the larger left leg was minus two toes, the smaller right leg was cut almost through, and there were several cracks in his carapace where black blood dribbled through and spilled over his armour. The tortured figure leaned against the doorway and dropped his axe.

  One of the Warriors picked up the axe and spoke as if he was oblivious to the physical state of the victor.

  “Dominant of the Mysan’Taf, we vow to protect you from the hidden wrath of others and to permit only rightful challenges against your rule. What is your command?”

  The Dominant spoke hesitantly, his voice more a gargling hiss. “Contact the Second and Third...Advise them of their progression to First and Second...Then instruct all ships to disengage from the enemy...and make passage for Eden at great haste.”

  Death spewed out from the Eden Ring Network Portal. The great doors of the building had been blown open, and the Androktones, victorious in the main hall and all the corridors within, now streamed out in a constant torrent. The Keruh that continued
to pour out of the streets and run toward the portal building now fought with the Androktones in the open, and the walled gardens around the large building had become a scene of primordial carnage as Keruh and Androktone fought a bloody and protracted fight to the death in the darkness. Some used rifles to shoot at distance, while most fought hand to hand with blade and axe. As with the battle inside the building, the death rate was tremendous, and the ground beneath them was soon filled with the mangled corpses of the vanquished that covered the grass in a carpet of the dead.

  The darkness gratefully hid the worst of it, but only briefly. The number of silver delta winged shapes darting overhead had trebled and quadrupled. They flew back and forth, firing down at the seething mass of twisting and turning combatants beneath them. Each bright beam transfixed a Warrior, blowing him to fiery fragments. And each bright flash illuminated a small circle of the carnage.

  Warriors climbed statues and fountains and fired into the stream of Androktones pouring out of the building. Androktones climbed the walls of the building itself, or clambered high on the splintered and broken doors. They fired at the Warriors running toward them from the streets around the square. The darkness didn’t appear to hinder their aim. White laser beams and orange energy bolts lit the darkness as both sides fired at one another over the heads of those who fought below. Warriors burst apart and fell from statues, Androktones tumbled from the walls of the building, but each was immediately replaced by another, more eager sniper.

  Sometimes a silver shape would dart too low, or linger in one position too long. A white beam would then hit it and knock it aside. But instead of falling to earth, the silver shape would tumble, sway, and then return to the fray, seemingly undamaged.

  At first the Androktones were limited to the front of the building, hemmed in on all sides by the Warriors rushing to meet them. But gradually they moved forward, inch by inch, corpse by corpse, slowly but relentlessly spreading out and moving around the building, pushing the Keruh ever backward, until finally they filled the walled garden and then spread beyond it.

  Slowly, bloodily, the Keruh were pushed back into each street they had previously emerged from. Energy bolts and laser beams hit the buildings on either side of the streets during the vicious fighting and fresh fires sprung up. Warriors with several Androktones clinging to their backs tumbled through windows or burst through doors. Other Warriors went in after them with raised axes, and fighting went on inside each burning ruin. Sometimes the fires took more than either blade or rifle.

  One by one the buildings along each side of the streets became new battle zones as the fighting spilled through the windows and doors. The Keruh now fought from street to street and building to building. It was a rearguard action, their only purpose to delay the progress of their enemy until the main Host reached the city from Nemen and Kalahar. But with every minute their numbers decreased while the numbers of Androktones increased. And with the silver shaped Assassin-Drones firing down at them continuously, more and more of the Warriors began to seek shelter in the nearby buildings. The Androktones followed them without hesitation, and if the scenes of carnage in the streets were gruesome and bloody, what took place in the darkened buildings was even worse.

  Energy bolts, laser beams, axe and blade, all were used as Keruh and Androktone fought at close quarters from room to room and from floor to floor. But even inside the buildings the Keruh were not safe from their silver tormentors. The streamlined silver shapes flew in through windows and flew up stairways, shooting at the Warriors in sight. Some were axed down, the Warriors jumping on them. But the silver shapes seemed indestructible, immortal. And once they were brought down, another change swiftly took place.

  Trapped under the bodies of the Keruh, or even while gripped in their large fists, the silver forms changed shape. The delta wings flowed back into their bodies and their triangular shapes changed into one that was more square and bulky. Four stubby legs grew out of the sides, each with a three-fingered claw on the end. At the back a long and sinuous tail stretched out. And at the front the energy firing nozzle split into two, both mounted on independent swivelling turrets that grew out on long stalks. Between them a head with a long snout protruded. Blazing red eyes appeared and then the long snout split open, becoming a wide mouth with long, curved silver teeth.

  With the transformation complete, the creatures trapped or in the grasp of the Keruh quickly turned on them, their tails curling around arms or legs, their claws scratching at armour or grabbing for limbs or axe. Warriors tumbled to the floor, wrestling with the nightmare forms as powerful jaws bit into them, the silver teeth crunching through armour and carapace, severing arms and hands. Like monstrous creatures that were some kind of cross between a dragon and a tank, the grounded silver forms wrestled, bit and shot their way free, clambering over bodies, biting and shooting again and again.

  One of the monstrous forms was struck by an axe and knocked against a wall. Instead of falling, it stuck to the wall, its jaws snapping and its long tail waving and curling. The two turrets snaked out and fired at the Warriors nearby. The twin flashes lit the scene as the flying fragments splattered against the wall, but the silver form had already run up onto the ceiling, and was firing down again.

  The buildings became smoke filled worlds of death and dying, with images from nightmares crawling over the walls and floors and even over the mangled corpses of the dead. And all the while those that still lived struck and sliced at one another with blade and axe. Blood splashed the walls and ceilings and energy bolts and lasers briefly lit the scene.

  But among the blood and death there was an even more foreboding image. The monstrous creatures that had once been the silver shapes of the Assassin-Drones began to grow larger. By a process of assimilation and absorption, the creatures added the bulk that they swallowed to their own mass. With each bite they crunched out of the Keruh Warriors who came within their grasp the monstrous creatures grew a little bit more in size. The change was slow at first, and hidden in the darkness and smoke. But each bright orange flash or stark white laser beam revealed the truth. With bite after bite, the nightmare creatures grew bigger and bigger. And as they grew bigger, the bites they took grew proportionally larger, and their growth rate increased. At first they could only bite through an arm or a leg, or take a whole hand. But soon they were large enough to bring down a Warrior by their own weight and strength, their powerful jaws crunching through armour and carapace. And finally, when they were larger still, they would linger in the darkness, pausing to consume the entire corpse of their victim.

  The monsters were a nightmare image, but they were also a tactically minded foe. They worked hand in hand with the Androktones, many a creature springing to the aid of an Androktone when death was close. They advanced from room to room together, often firing in unison. And when a Warrior struck down one of the Androktones, a nearby creature would spring upon his back, the slicing blades of one replaced by the dagger-like teeth of the other.

  Minutes turned into hours but there was no respite in the killing, and no mercy given on either side. The fighting went on and on, the bodies piling up and the blood staining the streets mixing and flowing in the gutters. Those that fell wounded were despatched with equal ferocity as those that still fought, and none avoided the fight or sought escape in flight. Many Warriors would take a stand to delay the Androktones while those behind them regrouped. But each time they would be beaten down and over-run and the fighting would move on. What was left behind was a pitiful sight that was enough to make any gods weep. Street upon street of bodies and blood, all lying quiet at last, with only the relentless stream of advancing Androktones the sign of any life.

  In the buildings the battle left a more permanent mark. With each laser and energy blast the fires spread and the building fabric weakened. But those that fought ignored it all, fighting on in the smoke and the darkness, until the fires took a stronger hold and the floors finally collapsed beneath them. One by one the buildin
gs were engulfed in flame, the walls collapsing and the roofs falling in. When the end finally came there was usually only one type of survivor, and by then, the change in them was immense.

  The dragon creatures that emerged from the ruins were as large as the Keruh themselves, their jaws enormous, and their silver teeth long curved daggers. It was no surprise that they were the only ones to escape the fire and the smoke. Like in their other flying form, the creatures seemed indestructible. But now that they had grown larger they remained in their new form, too heavy to fly. They padded forward, snapping and snarling, the twin turrets that snaked out from either side of their heads firing independently at the Warriors they pursued. They rejoined and were engulfed by the stream of Androktones rushing down the streets that led from the portal in the square behind them.

  Back at the portal building the square belonged to the Androktones. They continued to pour out of the wide entrance of the building, but now they were unopposed, and inside their passage through the portal had become a calm procession. In the walled garden outside, Androktones shouted commands and orderly columns ran down the streets in pursuit of the Keruh. More Androktones patrolled the roof of the portal building itself, and more than a hundred silver shapes flew out of the entrance. They flew high over the buildings toward their enemy, and once above them, they began firing down relentlessly at the retreating Keruh.

  There was a bright flash.

  Li-Sen-Tot looked up at the window. The glow in the night sky seemed brighter as more fires spread through the city. Then he saw another bright flash, an orange flash. And several silver shapes flew over the buildings, the fires illuminating them before they dived down. Li-Sen-Tot slowly and calmly turned off his computer and got to his feet.

  It was time.

  Walking calmly toward the door he paused and looked back at his office. He looked at the desk he had sat at for so many years. At the chair that had always been so comfortable. And at the bookshelves and furnishings that had been so familiar. For some reason they seemed different. It was as if he had been away and was seeing them for the first time again.

  With a sigh, Li-Sen-Tot turned, walked out of the door and closed it softly behind him.