Sunlord (28 page)

Capac saw the opening. Crouching in the corner he
moved swiftly to whip his rifle to the fore. A quick motion of the
hands and a solid blast shook the guard, pushing it backwards as if
a great hand had pushed it in the chest. The second flare was in
Capac's hands. He twisted the top and flung it.

The flare arced like a comet, spewing more smoke and
blinding light. Like a hare caught between headlights the droid's
eyes followed the flare's path. The flare rolled behind a crate,
disappearing from view. The robot pivoted back to face Capac, only
to take another blow in the back of the head from another of
Myshia's arrow.

Ashian saw his companion's ruse, and without even
thinking had his pistol in his hand. He was firing wildly up into
the roof and screaming like an idiot. Shouting obscenities that
made no sense. Anything to get the robot's attention away long
enough from Capac for his to escape.

It had worked. Capac was free of his trap, and bolted
through the robot's blind spot as it turned to face the peculiar
native screaming at it.

Capac angled in and dove, dragging Ashian from his
feet as the air was blasted with rifle fire.

"Let's get the scroch out of here!"

Myshia tailed them, one final arrow finding its mark
in the robot's visiport before disappearing after her allies.

Going from memory Ashian was able to find the duct,
amazed that throughout the confusion he had maintained his sense of
direction. Obviously hurt, Capac stumbled through first and it took
but a moment for his companions to join him.

"Move left," Ashian spoke through the darkness. They
followed the Currach's orders. The duct was as black as night - a
darkness so absolute not even a hand raised before the eyes could
be seen, the only sensation was a cool wind pushing in their faces
as the air duct pumped air to other parts of the ship.

The metal was cool under Capac's knees and hands as
he led the way through the darkness. They travelled until the sound
of alarms had diminished to a ringing in their heads.

A few minutes later Capac was forced to rest.

Myshia sensed his harsh breathing. "Are you
hurt?"

Capac stopped and leaned back against the round wall.
He could not see her, but he felt Myshia close by, and further
back, the heavy breathing of Ashian.

"I got burnt a little, that's all. Those cursed
flares didn't go off when I wanted them too - I was caught
red-handed."

Ashian slumped to a halt, resting his tired limbs.
"It was lucky Myshia sensed you were in trouble."

"How did you know? I didn't have time to shout."

The darkness was silent for a moment.

"It doesn't matter," Myshia dismissed. "What's more
important is your burn. Is it bad?"

"No, just my forearm. I twisted my leg when the robot
shoved me against that wall and almost blasted me to hundreds of
little bits."

"Do you think you can continue?" Ashian had his ears
perked for any sound of pursuit. "I'd like to get further
away."

Capac grunted. "I think so. Where are you, city man.
Come up to the lead, you can show us where to go."

Ashian was confused for a moment, for they were now
in territory he had not explored before. Yet Capac had still turned
to him. Perhaps they trusted his judgement.

Ashian obeyed, and crawled past the other two in the
confined space of the duct. As he passed Ashian felt Capac press
something in his hand. Peering at it in the dark the slender rod
revealed itself to be the telescope. Ashian raised it to his eye
and saw through a greenish light that they sat inside a grimy tube
that ran long and straight, a few gratings emerging from the roof.
He focused his attention back to the fore and in a minute they were
moving once again.

Ashian chose a path that was as random and as complex
as possible - he did not know where he was going, but he chose the
path that seemed the least likely anyone should search.

* * *

Myshia could see only the vague outline of Ashian's
back, relying as much on her ears as her eyes to guide her. She
kept close upon the heels of the wily currach lest the faint sound
of boots scuffing over the metal surface be drowned out by the
humming of machinery that echoed around them.

Her thoughts wandered as she slipped into a
semi-sleeping state, the task of following Ashian only occupying
part of her mind, leaving her consciousness to drift.

A picture emerged from the mists of her mind's eye, a
figure dressed in a thick layer of furs and hides bound about the
waist by a leather sash. As the figure walked closer she saw that
its lower half was glowing like red coals shadowed by an air of
etherealness. For those few moments Myshia felt herself detach from
reality; the sound of her own ragged breathing diminishing in her
ears leaving her with a sensation of floating.

The figure in her imagination sat down upon a reed
mat and sucked on a long stemmed pipe.

"Elder?" Myshia reached out involuntarily, her
motions as uncontrollable as those in a dream. Her hand passed
straight through the Elder's body. The Elder simply stood and
embraced Myshia.

"We did not get a chance to say goodbye," he said,
smiling. "A time of great change is upon us and the spirits have
seen the time to act, for their's is the power. Remember, my child,
to stay firm - stay strong."

Words ringing through her mind Myshia felt herself
falling, plunging towards a stormy seascape below.

Her voice was a harsh whisper in the dark. "We must
go to Shaun. He is here."

Ashian stopped. "On this ship?"

"I know it - I can feel it. Let me lead the way."

Capac was silent for a moment, confused. "Are you
sure you know what your doing?"

"I can't explain it...please...just follow," Myshia
said, her voice choked with emotion and confusion.

Ashian readily relinquished the lead and passed over
the telescope. "Here, take this."

Myshia shook her head. "It is not my sight I
follow."

They did not question further, but simply followed.
They were lost and dispirited and it mattered not where they fled.
Tears almost welled to Ashian's eyes as they struggled through
terrifyingly claustrophobic air ducts, sometimes skidding out of
control as the frictionless surface angled downward, groping for
support and reassurance that he had not been separated from his
friends. To measure the passage of time was impossible but quickly
Ashian found that Myshia's pace was not slowing and her passage
determined. Slowly he began to wonder if her strange magics held
truth...

A sudden cry of pain echoed down the network of
tubing - distant and eerily hollow. But Ashian recognised it. It
was Shaun.

The need for stealth forgotten they hurried towards
to the source of the sound, bare feet slipping and skidding as the
diameter of the duct lessened. A surge of wind and Myshia came face
to face with a spinning fan turbine, her nose just brushing the
metal blades that, if touched, would have surely torn her head from
her shoulders. Close behind Ashian saw the blade and shivered from
the shock of coming so close to such a deadly apparatus.

Myshia's voice was level and emotionless. "Capac -
your rifle."

Capac readily complied and unslung his rifle from his
shoulder with a little difficulty. Ashian lay between them, so he
passed it up to his awaiting hands. The latter took the slender
instrument of death and kept it moving forward, the barrel pointed
first at the place where he knew Myshia lay. If it accidentally
triggered in this small enclosed space the result would certainly
be disastrous. He handed it carefully to Myshia.

She braced herself against the cold walls, jamming
her elbows and knees as she prepared to strike, ignoring the
whipping tendrils of her long hair, the deadly fan within arms
reach. She drew back, settled her hands about the butt of the hard
steel of the rifle, then suddenly lashed forward, driving the
weapon like a lance. Metal clashed with metal and the gun was
nearly wrenched from her hands. She held tight, knowing that if she
let go she would have suffered multiple bruises as the butt spun by
the blades of the fan. Twisting painfully her fingers involuntarily
tightened upon the trigger.

The blast almost ruptured her eardrums, the shockwave
seemingly shattering everything in its path. Myshia kept her head
low as she heard small pieces of shrapnel whiz past, the noise
lashing like physical blows.

The fan spewed a thick cloud of smoke. The rifle had
been jammed hard against the engine mountings and the bullet tore a
path through the gears, bending and snapping them into something
unrecognisable. With a dying wheeze the fan spun slowly to a stop,
the humming of the engine replaced by a terrible ringing in their
ears.

Myshia kicked through the damaged blades and squeezed
through, dropping to the ground with feline grace. Sensing the
openness around her she rolled to her feet, insectile eyes
adjusting to the newfound light and space as Capac and Ashian
followed close at her heels.

The Sunlord moved quickly but not quickly enough. The
knife strapped to her thigh was in her hand and flashing silver
through the air, striking deeply into the Sunlord's chest.

Ashian blinked. "Look out!"

She ducked as something skimmed her head and crashed
into the far wall. She turned and saw Capac's knife wedged between
the plates of a small flying metallic disk. The strange robotic
disk would have sliced Myshia's head from her shoulders had not
Capac's thrown knife knocked it off course and slammed it against
the wall.

With fingers moving faster than he would have dared
believe Ashian drew the stubby pistol from his belt. The panic of
anticipation was past, the sweat no longer making his palms
slippery, his thoughts now were lucid. There would be no
retribution from Abas for killing machines, he knew. He brought the
sight to bear and shot repeatedly as several humanoid robots
lurched forward. He shot at them repeatedly until they stumbled,
aiming to take out knee joints, having learned the futility of
shooting at the chest or head plate of a droid and now concentrated
on the weaker sections.

Movement in the room lessened as the robots fell
inert to the ground. They were obviously not designed for attack
and judging by the way they moved they were simply industry
workers, set about attacking by Avatar as a last resort.

At last when all of their enemy had fallen they had
time to look where they had stumbled. Ashian's eyes caught on the
pooling blood about the huge carcass of the Sunlord, its silk-like
clothes soaked red and face pressed downwards into the cold slabs
of the operating room. He quickly averted his eyes and lowered the
hot pistol, smoke drifting lazily from the barrel.

A groaning snapped his mind back into gear. He raced
across the room, skirting the slippery blood pool, and was brought
face to face with a tall naked and white man strapped to a bed. It
was Shaun, his face shadowed with stubble and beaded with
sweat.

Capac sawed through the tough bonds with his
retrieved knife, his muscles working against the springy resilient
material until they gave way. As the two worked to free their human
ally Myshia moved heavy pieces of machinery in front of the door,
jamming it closed as best she was able.

Shaun coughed and brought a hand to his head as soon
as he was dragged into a sitting position, his legs hanging over
the edge of the narrow hard bed, opening his eyes slowly. He tried
to speak but gagged and almost lost consciousness again. Feeling
painful irritation at the back of his throat and he hastily untaped
the plastic feeder pipe and pulled it from his mouth like a huge
worm.

He blinked and the small natives drew into focus,
their exoskeleton like skin still covered in a thick layer of
grease. "Another I owe you, eh?" he asked groggily.

The natives spoke in quick birdlike whistles -
evidently the sight of him withdrawing a thirty centimetre long
plastic tube from his lungs gave them cause for concern. Shaun
tossed away the pipe, ignoring the ticking in his throat it had
left.

"I'm okay," he reassured them, pulling the black
plastic suckers that measured his pulse from his chest. Wincing
slightly, he unwrapped the sticky tape bound about his wrist and
withdrew the long needle that had sucked his blood.

The little one who had a ridge across his forehead
that looked uncannily like a crease of worry brought forth a pile
of clothing that he had scavenged from a nearby locker. Shaun
laughed as he realised he was stark naked and was probably scaring
the natives with his alien anatomy.

He moved slowly at first to slip into the blue
helicasuit that bore the Hartrias emblem. It was probably a medical
assistant's lab coat, but would do to cloak his nudity. He drew up
the zip and immediately felt warmer, not realising until that
instant how cold he had been.

"We'd better clear out of here," he said, feeling
blood begin to flow once more.

The natives looked puzzled and buzzed amongst
themselves in high tones. Shaun realised that his captors must have
taken his translator bug, and he could no longer understand the
natives' tongue. He knew there was no time to ask about how they
had found him. There was only the immediate future to be dealt
with.

He hunkered down beside the body of the Hartrias
officer rolled the corpse face up, revealing that the Hartrias had
a blaster in its hand, a dead finger in the trigger compartment.
Shaun prised the dead officer's large six fingered hands free and
took the blaster, assessing it as he stood. Its silver, gleaming
surface was wide barrelled through the middle, narrowing to a fine
opening towards the muzzle. It must be laser, he thought.

One of the natives placed a pair of boots before
Shaun. Glancing down Shaun realised that they were his own! The
little currach must have found where all of his clothes were
thrown. As Shaun pulled on his boots and strapped the sides he felt
something press against his foot. Removing his boot, he recognised
the small cylinder tucked down the side - it was the cartridge he
had taken from the Flailer pistol.