played critical roles. That is why, for you and me, hiding somewhere in the brush is out of the question. There exists a small percentage chance that we will make the difference. Since this entire world will die if we fail, hiding does not significantly raise my chances of survival as an individual. Therefore, playing the odds, I find I must participate.”
Nina didn’t say anything as they rode onward for a time. Along the Sunward horizon, the sun was now bright and red, like a bleeding line that shone down from behind distant mountains. Soon, it would ride higher in the sky, and the world around them would become significantly warmer.
“Well?” Aldo asked. “No response at all?”
“You were right,” Nina said. “I hated every word.”
Aldo chuckled and they continued gliding over the coolest lands that could be used for farming on Ignis Glace. Here, peasants grew bluish lichen and large mushrooms with humped caps that resembled brown boulders. They guided their mounts through fields of the latter, heading Sunward toward a fate they could not know in advance.
For a full day, the battle for Lavender City raged in the houses and on the cobbled streets. Blood ran everywhere, making dark spills that in places ran to the gutters. It was as if the purple skies above had opened and rained gore.
Thousands of humans died, and they took hundreds of the Skaintz troops with them. Unfortunately, sustained now by a ready supply of fresh meat, the Imperial troops were being born as fast as they were destroyed. Like an army of seemingly endless ants, they could not be stopped by flame, bullet or sword. The portion of the city belonging to humanity shrank steadily with each passing hour.
Many neighborhoods were quiet now, and all of them were dark. Roving bands of trachs escorted by killbeasts stumped along the finely flowered avenues, seeking meat for the hungry maws in the great ship above. When they found fresh game, they captured it alive with minimal tissue damage. Placed upon the flat heaving back of a trach by impossibly strong claws, each mewling victim was borne back to waiting ships for processing. Trails of trachs carrying meat-creatures could be seen streaming slowly throughout the city and up the slopes to the waiting ships.
Duchess Embrak sat braiding her hair at the top of her tower. Outside at every window, snipers took pot- shots at the aliens when they came near. Soon, she knew the city would be lost entirely. She wondered why they had not yet blown the top of her tower into fragments-surely they had the power to do so. But they hadn’t used any heavy weaponry since the first day, when they destroyed the fortifications at each end of the valley. She supposed it was an effort to preserve human life. But she knew by now they did not stay their hands with the purpose of mercy. They did so to provide more captives. They wanted captives above all else. They were draining the city white, removing its populace one at a time. She suspected that the ones who died a clean death in combat were the most fortunate.
Throughout the assault on her city, she’d been in contact with other lords. There had been many nice- sounding well-wishers, but few promises of material aid. The Nexus officials were absent and presumed dead. The lords of Shadeton mumbled and disassembled, talking of logistics and the need to see to their own defenses. Occasionally, when she became passionate in her request for support, they brought up her own army, and asked where it might possibly be?
They gave her sour stares when she talked of hunting down rebel mechs and the like. She could hear their thoughts. She was well known for maintaining the best personal army on the planet. If she had mismanaged her own affairs-were they required to die for her mistakes?
Moreover, there was no love lost between her fiefdom and the others. They planned to let her take the brunt of the assault. Perhaps the aliens would burn out on her walls, like a wildfire. And if they didn’t, well then they would at least be done with hearing her overbearing voice at monthly council meetings.
Burning with rage, the Duchess stabbed at the screen until the connection was broken. She cursed and paced, seething. They were all fools. Could they not see they were next? These aliens, whatever else they were, were not easily sated. They would keep marching until the world was gone, devoured by their teeming numbers.
She went to an unlit window and looked out over her dark city. There were flashes of fire here and there, where sporadic resistance still continued. But most of the city was quiet. The end had to be near.
The Duchess looked next toward Nightside. Where was Aldo with her army? The last communique had said he was coming back. She wondered if it mattered. Perhaps, it would be better if they ran to the far side of the globe and forgot about this doomed place.
Twenty-Four
Ornth spent many long hours tinkering with the unfamiliar controls of the Great Machine. At first, he proceeded calmly, full of optimism. As time slipped by and fatigue grew, his mood shifted into that of panic, and eventually to despair.
Garth watched the proceedings with interest, making few comments. His hands reached out and adjusted controlling systems that were made of thick metal and apparently worked in an analog fashion-or if they were digital, they seemed analog due to the nature of the controls. Rather than tapping in numbers or symbols on screens, valves, wheels and screws were used. The entire system seemed to be built for use by larger beings than Garth, and his skinny arms strained to get enough torque to shift the massive, steaming equipment.
Finally, exhausted and frustrated, Ornth slumped himself over a knob as big as a dinner plate and gasped for air. Garth cried out in his mind, for the heated knob burnt his chest. Ornth couldn’t feel the scalding heat, and apparently didn’t care.
“You are burning us!”
What difference does it make? The systems are not functioning as they should.
Garth felt his bare chest turning red. In time, the skin would peel away. “Why damage this body thoughtlessly? It is the only hope you have.”
Finally, the Tulk reluctantly shifted his weight. He allowed Garth to slide to the floor, which consisted of a metal grate with hot vapors rushing up through the hexagonal grid. Warm gases fluffed his hair, but did nothing to dry the sweat running from his body. Still, the uncomfortable spot was an improvement, so Garth stopped his complaints.
You offer me nothing, Ornth said suddenly. No aid, no comfort. Only complaints. Are all your kind such recalcitrant mounts?
Garth was startled to be addressed in this fashion. Normally, he was the one to start up conversations inside their shared skull and was generally rebuked for doing so. If he annoyed Ornth sufficiently, he would be punished by heat or needles. He’d learned to keep quiet, and bide his time. Since they were not in immediate danger of death, he had been content with the absence of pain.
“You ask for my help?”
Are you not a technician? Do you not have experience with systems of this kind?
Garth almost told Ornth no, that these alien contrivances were utterly incomprehensible to him. But then, he had a better idea. “Of course I’m familiar with such equipment. It is my occupation.”
Then why have you offered me nothing?
“I feared discipline.”
Ornth made a choking cry with Garth’s mouth. You must help me. We must operate the Great Machine. It seems to be damaged. So many years have past-the power sources do not have the capacitance they should.
“Why must we operate this ancient device?”
You do not understand its significance? It is a weapon, a power that can reach out to the stars themselves. Weapons such as this allowed my people to defeat the Skaintz Imperium thousands of years in the past.
Garth did not answer immediately, he wanted to gain any advantage he could. Thoughtfully, he decided to feign curiosity. “Tell me more, so I may help you. I must understand what it is you wish me to repair.”
As I said, this world is not a world, it is artificial. It is vast, and this chamber controls some of the critical
