Read The Ascendant Stars Online
Authors: Michael Cobley
The Ascendant Stars (51 page)
Astonishingly, the Knight was still receiving data from the hyperspace scanner, a device he had managed to lower gradually into the warpwell nearly a day ago. Since then it had showed the presence of some kind of mass far, far below, either something large or a large, dense formation of smaller objects. Now, post-demolition, there was little change.
The Knight stirred from the natural rock platform amongst
the high crags, carefully, stealthily wending his way down on suspensors. As he did he sent a signal to all units for a status update and was pleasantly surprised at the number of responders and the number that were combat-ready. He mapped out several patrol zones and sentry points near the well and signalled the assignments.
On his way to the half-demolished promontory he glided over a steep ravine at the head of which were the burning wrecks of two Brolturan heavy flyers, sheets of flame lighting up the rocky defile, whirling sparks rising as the rain came down. There were a few bodies, Sendrukan and some from the Spiralist races, but everyone else seemed to have fled.
The Knight was less than a hundred metres from the ruin of Giant’s Shoulder, from the silver-blue glow now shining powerfully up from amid the rubble, when a priority signal came through from the scanning device in the well. Amazement turned to exhilaration. All of the hopes and plans, struggles and reversals had led him to this point. He came to a halt and increased his altitude with his suspensors, noticing that the warpwell was getting brighter, its silver-blue glow becoming harsher, more actinic, while taking on a more defined, conelike shape thrusting up to pierce the cloud layer.
Then the signal from the hyperspace scanner cut out. A moment later a dark object flew up out of the well, followed by another two, no, three, outriders of the Legion. They slowed to circle the radiant cone below the cloud cover. The Knight’s few remaining static sensors and mobile probes sent back images of three black-carapaced cyborgs bristling with hooked spines, their effectuators equipped with elaborate cutters, drills and pincers. The Knight couldn’t be sure about their type but he guessed that they might be modified shock-scouts. Their hull markings were basic white-on-black yet the characters were unfamiliar to him. That did not prevent him from sending a welcome signal.
There was no reply, but the three outriders stopped circling and swooped down in his direction. The closer they came, the more he saw how patched and repaired they were, the black colour masking mendings made with unmatched materials. They drew near, hovering, all three spread out.
>Relic< said one.
>Antique< said another.
>A behinder< said the third, who went on >Speak, old one … speak your oldness<
the Knight said, now uneasy.
>Great Legion needs only one leader< the third outrider said >the Great King!<
Below, more Legion cyborgs had been emerging and spiralling upwards. The Knight noticed that the warpwell had expanded and that part of its rim now overhung the rock flanks of what remained of Giant’s Shoulder. Some strange force, however, was distorting the surrounding rock and earth, compacting the polychromatic supporting mass that melded the wider well into the surrounding stone. Then he realised why the warpwell had grown when he saw what was rising out of it. It was nothing less than an amalgamation of hundreds, probably thousands of Legion cyborgs, their fused carapaces clearly visible beneath the crisscross webbing of welded metal spars and rods. Roughly 80 metres across and perhaps 120 long, it had a curve-backed profile and was ringed with heavy weapon barrels, muzzles and launcher ports.
The Knight was assailed by despair even as his thoughts spun with speculation. Confinement in the crushing, lightless cold of that hyperspace prison for millennia must have put the Legion of Avatars under horrific pressure. In the end, the principles of convergence could not withstand the savage demands of that grim captivity – who knows what cycles of conflict and adaptation they went through to reach this point?
>Behold Great King< said the third cyborg. >Enemies all
around, enemies above, enemies below. This world will be eaten, other worlds of legend will be eaten. Stars of legend will burn, will make the night into day for ever< It moved in the Knight’s direction, drill-tipped tentacles outstretched. >You are old one, you are old parts! Be thankful, your thinking flesh will be eaten by Great King<
And it attacked, lunging forward. The Knight destroyed it with the beam cannons that were fitted to his underhull. Undeterred, the other two cyborgs rushed him in a pincer movement while howling gibberish over the comm channel. Behind them, a swarm of about thirty peeled off from the thousands now swirling about the Great King and swooped towards him.
Feeling the weight of an immense sadness, he dealt with the other two and prepared to meet the oncoming madness, and his doom.
From the wide misty valley where Robert escaped being crushed by the gargantuan, half-seen wagon, they climbed flights of ancient, cracked stairs to a grassy plateau. In the distance mountains reared like a barrier while much closer a semi-overgrown paved path led from the head of the stairs off to the left in a rising incline, disappearing into hilly woods.
‘Do you hear that?’ said Reski Emantes, hovering on near-silent rotors.
‘No, I … wait … ’ Robert cocked his head, trying to scan with his ears. ‘Hmm, yes, faintly.’ Barely audible, he could just make out a regular thudding.
‘Coming from along that pathway, as well.’ The drone tilted and glided along at head height. Robert shrugged and followed.
Only minutes after crossing into the trees, the paved path faded away in the undergrowth.
‘Damn, but I was walking on it just moments ago,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to backtrack … ’
‘Normally I would have something devastatingly cutting to say on the subject of Human senses,’ the drone said. ‘But it would appear that my own are proving equally feeble.’
Robert gave the drone a considering look. After they were separated at the river, Reski Emantes had reappeared to rescue him from the clutches of grotesque Vor-like humanoids. The drone now looked as if it had been remodelled with pre-atomic-age materials and techniques. Riveted seams, propellers keeping it
aloft rather than suspensors, and a spring-loaded bolt-caster rather than a multi-targetable beam weapon.
‘Surely we can deduce a reasonable direction from the way we came,’ he said.
‘If the environment wasn’t the mutable thoughtscape of an ancient and powerful entity,’ the drone said, ‘that would be a reasonable suggestion.’
‘Well, look,’ he said, pointing at a bushy rise a dozen paces away. ‘We came over that higher ground which we reached by following the path so we should be going
this
way … ’
And when he turned round, the drone was gone, utterly, not a sign of it in any direction. He shouted its name but nothing came back from the surrounding woods.
Except for the crack of a twig breaking underfoot. Robert whirled round – and saw the face of his daughter, Rosa, staring at him for a single startled moment before she ducked out of sight and darted away.
Amazed, startled, fearful, he plunged forward after her, barging through bushes and undergrowth, shouting her name, then pausing abruptly to listen for the sound of her running. Then off in pursuit again. But doubt rose in his mind like common sense catching up with him. Why would she be here? Was it likely that the Godhead would know her image, or was it more probable that the thoughtscape was reacting to him, that its meta-quantal properties were reflecting back to him important landmarks of his own subconscious? It was a conundrum, this bizarre confrontation with the autonomous imagery from both his own and the Godhead’s subconscious.
But despite understanding this rational conjecture, he knew he would have to keep up the chase, to find out where he was being led, to see if she would say anything true.
Through the trees he tracked glimpses of her. She seemed to be wearing a pale blue two-piece with a hood, which was easily spotted amongst the wood’s darker colours. Not once did she pause to look back, yet she did not seem to be taking any precautions against being seen.
After more than five minutes of unrelenting pursuit she led him to where the trees thinned into a meadow dotted with lush bushes. On the other side of it, a sheer cliff face loomed, its heights veiled in low-hanging cloud. Crossing the meadow, Rosa broke into a run and seemed to be near the foot of the cliffs when she turned to the side and stepped down out of sight.
As Robert left the shadows of the woods behind the faint thudding sound from before sounded louder and clearer. He hurried towards where he last saw Rosa and saw that it was the head of a rack of worn stone steps winding down to a steep-sided gully. Rosa was visible at the foot of it, crouching as she moved along the gully and round a corner. Without hesitation Robert hurried downwards.
It was warm at the bottom, a rocky channel above which cliffs reared to either side. The air had a peculiar, sharp taint to it. The thudding sounded metallic, and was irregular, two or three impacts followed by three or four heavier ones, a cluster of lighter ones, then two louder ones. Only when he reached and rounded the corner were his questions answered, then hardly how he expected.
Half in and half out of a huge cave mouth was an immense heap of machines. Robert recognised bots, drones, droids, vehicles small and large, torn-up sections of larger craft, and domestic devices too, washing machines, lawn-cutters, automaids, entertainment consoles, all manner and all sizes of holoscreens, as well as industrial power tools, engines, road-menders and many others. A very big brick-red hand dragged a piece down off the pile and onto a black slab of some chipped, unreflective material where a fearsome, ridge-faced sledgehammer wielded by another big brick-red hand fell upon it repeatedly, crushing it flat. The compacted debris was then tossed into a large rusty hopper the contents of which were presumably tipped into the blast furnace whose hot bright maw gaped just within the cave. At the centre of it all was a brick-red giant, hairless, clad in tattered hide breeks, his snaggle-tooth mouth muttering and growling.
And there, on the other side of the A-sided framework that
cradled the hopper, was a pale-blue-clad form creeping along behind the small mounds of flattened wrecks that had missed their target.
Robert stared at the grotesque scene, the grumbling giant, the hammered machines, the hungry furnace.
What is this?
he wondered.
What is it doing in the Godhead’s subconscious?
There was no time to lose if he wanted to stay on Rosa’s trail. Crouching along at the foot of the cliffs, he hurried to the path Rosa had taken, slipping behind crushed, mangled metal while the red giant went about its hammering business. Except that he had gone barely a dozen wary steps when a deep gravelly voice said:
‘Halt! You have the stink of machines about you!’
Robert froze, wondering how he had been detected.
‘Because I have good ears, device-lover!’ said the giant. ‘And a good nose which tells me what you smell of!’
‘Why am I being stopped?’ Robert said from behind the heap of battered metal. ‘I saw someone else go past … ’
‘Them ladies are permitted to roam – s’orders. Intruders must be put to the test!’
‘Does this test involve any pressing, squeezing, crushing or even possibly hammering?’
‘You will submit to the test! All machines must be destroyed!’
‘I’m not a … ’
He gasped and flinched when something struck the side of the hopper assembly with such force that it tipped over, threatening to come down on him. But its centre of gravity pulled it back to crash down, crumpled sheets of debris spilling out. Robert turned and ran past the furnace, feeling the heat of it burning in his face, neck and hands.
A big slab of compacted metal slammed into the cave wall just a few feet before him. Sparks and splinters of stone sprayed in all directions and he felt something nick his forehead.
‘You dare! – you dare enter my hall! Machine-lover filth!’
Another crashing noise but further back for some reason. Then there was a whirring noise descending from above – it was the drone, Reski Emantes, looking even more retro than before.
‘I can see that you’re having lots of fun,’ it said.
‘Is that wood panelling on your upper casing? Most distinguished.’
‘It’s not what you would call robust. Look, Robert Horst, I know who you’ve been following and you need to catch up with them. When I cause the diversion, be ready to run … ’
‘Wait, what do you mean by “them”?’
Too late, the drone was already aloft and flying over to buzz around the red giant’s head. With deafening roars and hammer blows ringing in his ears, Robert scrambled past the furnace and made a dash for a low tunnel at the back of the cave. He slipped on loose gravel and almost stumbled but managed to keep his feet. Glancing back, he saw the giant holding the drone in one hand and bellowing incoherently at it for several seconds before slamming it down onto the black slab and hoisting that hammer up high …