“Then, how does it function when active?” Uruk growled.
“I understand lines of force well, Field Master!” Cyr was relieved to have something useful to say. “I was charged as a cargo master when I was first made an engineer. These nodes are in line with gravitational fields. Their banks across the Iron Work act as a great grapnels with other such fields to subdue the Red Giant. The Dark Urge must have ordained this place open so that Lord Xuxuhr could follow her commands. Woe for my Lord. Praise to the Dark Urge that her wisdom brought General Anguhr here.”
Again the site rocked with Anguhr’s laughter.
‘Gin? Can you hear me?’ Zaria’s thoughts crackled as they entered Gin’s mind on ancient wavelengths.
‘Yes, Zaria.’ Gin responded over the same frequency. He filtered distortion, and scanned for other receivers tuned to intercept their covert communications. ‘It is almost odd to communicate this way in a physical form.’
‘Have you deciphered the demon language?’ Zaria asked.
‘Yes. The interrogation of the demon engineer provided some data for an educated deduction, with some historic extrapolations thrown in. It is indeed based on common code. I will transmit the translation standards, though I imagine our accents will need work. Can you tell me what this monstrous Anguhr finds so humorous?’
‘Freedom has a way of making one’s spirits buoyant.’ Zaria offered.
‘Freedom? I suppose he is when compared to our state.’ Gin watched the tiers of tireless demons streak by him.
‘I believe Anguhr enjoys a condition of freedom new to him.’ Zaria furthered. ‘It was either Xuxuhr or Anguhr that came here by the Dark Urge’s will, but not both. Xuxuhr was already entrenched when we arrived. Then Anguhr brought enough demons and weaponry to blast Xuxuhr from the Iron Work.’
‘I would have guessed Anguhr’s assault was a fail-safe by the Dark Urge in case Xuxuhr failed.’ Gin theorized.
‘If that were so, then why would Anguhr need to interrogate both our warriors and Xuxuhr’s demons?’ Zaria asked. ‘He is seeking information. He does not know why Xuxuhr was here.’
‘You are suggesting a General of Hell is acting on his own?’ Gin’s confusion amplified the tome of his transmission. ‘That frightens me more than the blades on Anguhr’s axe.’
‘A certain freedom of thought would be necessary to conduct successful campaigns against the powers crushed by Hell.’ Zaria’s tone was dry. ‘And thus a General would not be blind to a new universe where all the conquests bring an end to war.’
‘Do you think he is in rebellion?’ Gin asked, still amped.
‘Not completely. But he is acting on his own. With the right influence and the information I have, perhaps he can be the first General to stand against the tyranny of Hell.’
‘A bold plan, Zaria. The Dark Urge punishes even thoughts against it with annihilation.’
‘You and I know the tales, old friend. But Anguhr is young among the galaxy, and the Dark Urge has never been the light of truth.’
Gin paused. The idea of manipulating one of Hell’s Generals raced in his mind like the torrents of heat fanned over them by the demon’s wings.
‘I know you hold sway over python’s and butterflies back home, mother sunlight, but this scheming side of you I seldom see in Eden.’
‘You need to get out more, old friend.’
‘It appears your stratagem will soon have its chance, Zaria. Your potential fulcrum, the Destroyer, now heads our way.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Dark Urge called out. The Great Widow answered. She returned to the avatar chamber. Whatever occurred, she would endure. Or, she would die. It was a quantum state inside the box called Hell.
The Dark Urge entered. She looked the opposite of what her name would suggest. Her shape was of a human female carved to flawless detail from alabaster and made animate. Such a sculpture would be beautiful in any age and to nearly all types of eyes. What disturbed the Great Widow was her smile. It was joyful. If anything was impossible in the current age, the Great Widow considered it would be joy from the ruler of Hell. The Dark Urge turned to face the Great Widow. She slowly reached both her luminous white arms towards the giant spider. She froze.
Her smiled remained as her body lost its sheen and changed. The white, polished alabaster aged rapidly, but not like mineral or stone. It rusted as steel. The smooth alabaster surface became a rough, corroded surface. Still, she smiled, joyfully. Her lips and features became granular, and began to flake away. An inner orange flickered between thin fissures on the granular surface of her body. Waves of heat rose. Suddenly, her chest fell to the floor as a mass of ashes. The smile became a frown as flames overcame her face. The rest of her body collapsed into a mass of wood cinders.
The center of the hot mass began to shift. Small tentacles reached up through the black ash and hot orange pile. A cuttlefish slowly pulled itself from the burning debris. The small piles of displaced cinders became broken buildings and a field of craters. Long ruts appeared through them all as if cut by a massive whip. The cuttlefish crawled with great labor from the burning scene. When it reached the edge, an entire, shattered city lay behind it.
“I am dead,” the small cuttlefish said. Its eyes rolled to lock in a stare at the Great Widow.
“No, mistress. Xuxuhr is dead. You, his mother, cannot die.”
“I can be cut. I can be wounded. I can know pain.” The Dark Urge said in her cuttlefish form as flames from the city scene licked over her.
“I would stop your pain,” the Great Widow lowered her body toward the Dark Urge’s currently small form.
The Dark Urge slowly rolled her cuttlefish body away from the spider as if it was a dying act of self preservation.
“Mistress, now you wound me.”
“You tell the Generals my orders, spider, spider. And then they die.”
After the Dark Urge spoke, the burning city shook. The scene collapsed into a swarm of flaming locusts. They leapt into the air and formed a tornado of flame that rolled across the floor and incinerated the cuttlefish.
The Great Widow watched and wondered if the last comment was blame cast to her, or rebuke accepted by the Generals’ mother.
“Why?” The Dark Urge spoke from the whirl of fire.
“Well, mistress, it is a near impossibility to see all variables, from those as vast as galaxies, to the quanta, and then the arcane and ethereal. Even one random bit can cascade into a series of actions that cause what seemed likely events to become only potential, lost.”
“Random?” The Dark Urge’s fire whirl blazed hotter. “Are my plans, my calculations so inaccurate it permits the random?”
“Even in the mind of the almighty, such as you who define it more than anything else, there must be slight variance. Else all things be so perfect they mire in absolute zero. And then nothing, not thought nor quark would move.” The Great Widow moved back from the outer whips of fire. “In the calculations of the Generals, there is one among them that moves within variables so much that he alters the variables, themselves.”
“And yet he has never killed one of his kind. You have. This I know.”
“You are indeed almighty, mistress. What information comes into Hell comes into you.”
“And what occurs beyond me?” The tornado of flame became a quarried block dressed for a sculptor’s chisels. Yet this block was not marble or stone. It was a thick slab of skin. “What do you know?”
“I know everything.” The spider paused. “But of course, of what I know I only recall those facts I am certain you would permit to be true.”
“And what would you say to me now?” The Dark Urge asked, but in a knowing tone.
The Great Widow knew the question was a test by the Dark Urge. It was also a test of how well-ordered, and thus secret, she could keep her own thoughts.
“I tell you that one of your Generals acts to stop the events you calculated. The events, the variables, are not unchained. In time, soon, all th
reats will end.”
“In time. Time. In time I will kill everything if I must. I must always protect myself,” the Dark Urge said, and then vanished.
In time, the Great Widow thought to herself, there is hope.
Time. The demon Voltris thought it was the one limitation to power even the Dark Urge must know. He then quickly said: “All praise the Dark Urge.”
Voltris glanced again at the chronometer. Lord Xuxuhr had not contacted his ship when his own timetable dictated. The Dark Urge tasked Lord Xuxuhr personally with this mission. Thus, he had taken direct command of the raid. As Ship Master, Voltris vowed he would not fail his General. At the moment, sole command of the bulk of his General’s power rested with Voltris. On all campaigns, Lord Xuxuhr was always within reach of communications. Voltris was never free of his master’s chain, nor wanted to be. Even now the ship’s velocity conformed to the rigid timetable set by Lord Xuxuhr before he left with his personal shock force and Akhad. Now, the chain of command felt snapped. Voltris felt alone and uncertain.
Voltris fingered the massive link fragment that hung on a much smaller chain around his neck. It was a link given to him by his General, the Ravager. Deep within the fragment’s microscopic fissures was the blood and tissue of all the enemies Lord Xuxuhr had slain with that length of chain before it was recast. The captive Ignitaurs toiled deep within the ship. Voltris had only seen them when bound and dragged below decks upon capture. At first he thought they were extravagant food. Later he learned his Lord used them as secret chain smiths. Voltris thought that demons, recognized and tasked to make giant chains, could do a better job. Yet he never questioned his General. He worshiped the Ravager, yet did not want to become a meal of rage.
Voltris glanced at the demon standing guard at the access shaft connecting the bridge to the burning labyrinth of the ship’s passageways. Guards now stood at all intersections to defend its interiors. Not that many species could live long enough on board to commit any damage. Then Voltris thought of the Ignitaurs and sneered. Nevertheless, it seemed odd to place the ship on full alert so close to Hell. But Lord Xuxuhr’s tactics always brought victory. His commands would be followed without question.
Perhaps the mighty General killed even more with his chains. Whatever delayed Lord Xuxuhr involved himself and Akhad. Neither of Hell’s warriors sent messages on their personal wavelengths. There was no interference across real or ethereal channels. Voltris checked for distortions across both real and arcane spectra. He scanned for a transport ship’s mass at the ends of sensor range. Nothing registered. No communications flashed on a screen or in his brain. There was only the constant roll of red flames.
More crimson radiation raged outside from the Red Giant. It filled all visual space beyond the aegis at starboard. Voltris gripped his link fragment in his thorny fists. The colossal dreadnought was still under his command. Power to war with Hell itself—at least for a time—was his to control. Yet all Voltris wanted was the deep bark of his Lord threatening him across space. There was only silence. Without a General in direct command, Voltris knew control of the ship might become a point of question. Voltris knew many demons could sense time and mark its passage. Without strong, central command—Voltris realized there had never been a lack of a strong, central command.
Command, like combat, required effective tactics. Victory was control. He would win and hold control for his Lord. He would emulate the horde’s command under Ship and Field Masters. No demon could replace a General who linked demons to the Dark Urge. More immediately, if Voltris attempted to fill the vacuum of the throne it would light concern among recognized demons if not spark mutiny. He would maintain full control through horde loyalty. To quell any seditious rumbling, he would choose a lieutenant to link himself to the winged demons. This would bind the ship until Lord Xuxuhr returned. Voltris was certain his master would approve.
Praise be to the Dark Urge, Voltris thought.
More time elapsed. Voltris snarled.
“Master Voltris,” a guard spoke as he stepped onto the bridge. “Strike leader Triat requests to enter the bridge.”
“Allow him to enter, as if you could stop him.” Voltris nodded.
The hulking Triat soared onto the bridge. Voltris wondered what personal flight would be like.
“I appear as ordered!” Triat barked. “For whatever reason a pilot needs counsel from a warrior.”
“That last comment would never be uttered in the presence of Lord Xuxuhr! Do you think I will permit impudence while I command?” Voltris thrust his fist at Triat.
Triat glowered at the fist that stayed a mere thorn’s length from his snout. Triat would readily eat an underling challenging his dominion, and here he had done the same to Voltris who commanded by the will of their General.
“Of course, Voltris. You command.” Triat stepped back. “I will hurl myself against the main drive, if it pleases you.”
Voltris did not reply to the offer. His demon brain always searched for a means to kill, and Triat had just offered to kill himself for Voltris. He shook his head slightly and refocused on why he had brought Triat to the bridge.
“You will live, Triat.” Voltris said. “You rank bellow Akhad, but Akhad is gone with our Lord. So you will command the horde in his place until his return. I will command you.”
Triat’s eyes flared. The idea was strange but enticing. “And I will stand on the bridge?”
“Yes,” Voltris answered. “By the throne. We will control the ship until Xuxuhr returns in triumph.”
“He is overdue.” Triat said. He raised his jagged brows in a searching look at Voltris.
“He does as he pleases.” Voltris replied with no motion in his own face. “He is the Ravager.”
“He is.” Triat nodded. “And you are Ship Master. I obey your commands, Master Voltris!”
“Then: station.” Voltris motioned to the right side of the empty, massive throne. He turned to his controls and inwardly sighed relief.
Triat stepped back and stood at the throne’s right side. He noticed the nail scrapings and patches worn smooth by Akhad’s feet on the deck plate. He stepped to the side of those marks from respect and fear of his superior. He looked across the burning bridge. It was hallowed ground to demons and now, for a time, his post. Triat smiled. A demon’s grin of shark teeth and serpent eyes both gleamed with hunger and adoration of his new power.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Anguhr stood just beyond the orbits of the demons. He paused for a moment and looked down at his captives. Yet they were only slightly shorter than his colossal self. Gin eyed the blades of the General’s axe secured behind his back. The curved blades rose behind his shoulders like motionless, black wings. Gin wished he had wings, and was currently flying away with Zaria. Anguhr’s lieutenant, Uruk, stood at his right side and clasped his arms together. The demon folded his wings to rest across his back. The flying demons slowly constricted their circles. Anguhr stepped closer to Gin and Zaria as the living walls tightened.
Zaria mentally recited the formula to rearm the charges. Nothing happened within her fist. A sudden slap, and her sword and pouch disappeared into the swirl of demons. Other demons alit and walked into the points of the archers’ arrows with their rifle muzzles right between each set of the raptors’ eyes. Flying demons continued to form the swirling dome in tighter circles. Zaria’s surviving phalanx drew closer together.
‘Zaria, remember, they could have already eaten us!’ Gin’s transmission perfectly conveyed his fear.
‘They are toying with our resolve, old friend. I understand. Don’t worry, I have a plan.’
‘I am relieved.’ Gin replied on the wavelength of a sigh.
Demons slowly slid between the archers and pressed against Zaria and her warriors. Gun barrels and blades firmly parted the archers. High chirps sought Zaria’s direction.
“Obey me! Do not fire!” Zaria commanded aloud. Although she doubted a release of arrows would do no more than annoy their captors now.<
br />
Demons pressed closer. Fetid breath assaulted nostrils. Thorny demon bodies formed cells separating each member of Zaria’s forces. Grasping claws became restricting manacles. The flying demons suddenly soared away. Zaria and her cadre stood above the mire of demon jailers. Anguhr towered above them all.
The resonant growl of the General buffeted his prisoners. “Now, you will obey me.”
“I am Zaria. He is Gin. We are the leaders. You have no need to harm my warriors. Free them. They will not attack you.”
A low laugh echoed from under Anguhr’s helmet, and then one word. “No.”
“Are we to be your slaves?” At Zaria’s sides, demons struggled to restrain her arms and avoid having their fingers crushed between her own.
“Slaves?” Anguhr growled. “I am a warrior. I do not take slaves.”
“Only destroy whole planets.” Zaria said.
“Yes. As I will destroy yours.” Anguhr nodded.
“Then why do you need us?” Gin asked. He regretted his words and hoped Anguhr did not wonder himself and kill them.
“Lord Anguhr has no need of you!” Uruk barked. “He merely permits you to live a short time longer as you have fought well against Hell.”
Gin noticed that Zaria now looked beyond Anguhr. He saw what she focused on. Flying demons moved a long tube fixed with a heavy base low in the distance. They carried packs of large projectiles bearing narrow fins. Obviously the demons went to deploy a long-range weapon. He sighed.
Zaria quickly snapped her gaze back to Anguhr. Her eyes narrowed to confront his stare.
“Petty threats, General!” Zaria snapped. “You know we fought Xuxuhr for the grapnel node. You must also realize that by itself, the node is useless. We know what will make it part of a weapon of unequal power. Certainly, such power is of interest to the Destroyer.”
Anguhr’s burning eyes narrowed within the eye gaps in his helmet. He wondered how this alien knew his rank. He also wondered how the two alien leaders bore an appearance similar to his own. What might they be able to tell him beyond strategic importance? But gaining mission knowledge was paramount.
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