Nomads The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 6. Flesh and Steel

  Steel can be broken.

  Flesh cannot.

  Old Outlander saying.

  How long the Darkman lay unconscious was not known, for time itself seemed to change in the presence of the Orb.

  Maybe it was the Poly-gromite shielding, or perhaps the Meta-fluxing organic supply conduits that ran from the sphere housing, like the tentacles of a grip-squid. It might just be the power of the Orb itself. Whatever the reason, as the Shadowman opened his eyes, he had no idea that any time had passed.

  He lay there for a few moments trying to understand where he was and why? He could not see the sky or the stars so he did not know if it was day or night. There was no wind or smell so he could not decide what time of the cycle it was. As he touched the ground, it was not earth under his fingers, but a metal floor that was cold and uncaring. All this frightened him, he sat up and looked around. Then he remembered what had happened.

  The voice; he remembered; the voice calling for me, to help it; as his vision cleared he looked to see a great glowing orb hanging some distance from him. Supported by tentacles and strands of what looked like webbing. Then he remembered the falling lightship and the power that pulled him like a wagon pulled by a Trofar.

  He stood up and faced the glowing orb. He had never seen such a thing as this, it was unlike any creature of the Outland, or legend. It hung in the air supported by tentacles that reminded the Shadowman of the Earthshakers of the Greenland's. Looking at the glowing sphere, he knew that this was not a beast known to any lands of Gorn, this thing could only live in the dark reassess of nightmares.

  Seeing such a thing would have made most Nomads turn away and it surely would have brought terror to the hearts of the people of the Stone Cities. The Darkman had grown used to seeing horrors from the dark pit. He did not turn away, although there was still terror in his heart. Instead he stood looking at the strange sight before him and wondered.

  Have I gone mad, is this the Afterlife and the God that rules over it? He knew that the God of the underworld had a body of fire and a face of molten rock so this could not be that God. This thing pulsated and moved in its moonlike home, like a water snail or ocean floater, it had no eyes or mouth or face of any kind.

  How does it see or hear, he asked himself; what food does it eat? Knowing there was no mouth, made the Shadowman feel a little less frightened, this thing would not eat him! After trying without success, to fit the monster before him with a name, he finally gave up.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  For a moment there was no reply. Before the Darkman could ask again, the Orb spoke.

  “What are you?” it asked, this time the words did not cut his brain.

  Looking at the Orb, the Shadowman could only think that this thing had indeed once been a God. There could be no other explanation, only a God could speak to his mind. Only a God could make him move when he did not want too. Only a God could speak without a body or a mouth; this God must have been cast out of the heavens, cast out like I once was. Although there was much terror in his heart, he tried not to show it; I will hide my fear.

  The Darkman pulled himself up as straight as he could and spoke in a loud clear voice. “I am the leader of the people of the darkness, I should have been ruler of all the Outlands but I failed”. For a moment he remembered days past and defeat at the hands of the Nomads. “ I will return and on that day all will be war!”

  The word “war” made the orb glow brighter, “you want war?” It asked.

  The Shadowman moved a bit closer to the glowing sphere, “war is what I always want, a war to end the pain of existence”. He held up his withered arm, “look at what I have become, look at what my life has become. I am an eater of carrion, a scavenger of the dead”. He moved closer still, “being a God, can you not grant my wish and end my pain?”

  The Orb did not speak.

  He is testing me; the Darkman thought; he is seeing if I know the ways of the Gods. “A God can grant prayers or ignore them. He can create and destroy. He can move through the heavens and all things will fear him. He is the bringer of life and death”.

  The Orb heard his words, it knew what a God was, it had knowledge of such things, it never thought of itself as being a deity. Its existence was one of warfare and killing, to destroy and bring death to all it encountered. It had been programmed that way and there was no need to understand more. For hundreds of cycles it had accepted the fact as the basis of all truth and calculations. It had been enough to allow it to exterminate whole planets and civilizations. To ignore the pleas from its victims for mercy. Now there was something more, something that it never had thought of becoming.

  A God!

  That still did not ease the thoughts of the Orb, still it longed for an ending.

  Again the Orb spoke to the mind of the Shadowman, “I wish to die, can you grant my request?”

  When the Darkman heard those words he did not understand; Gods cannot die...can they? Once more he moved closer to the Orb, “only a God can kill a God,” he said. “I am not a God so I cannot grant your wish, I am flesh and blood so I can die, will you end my pain?”

  “Why do you wish to die?” the voice asked.

  The Shadowman stood looking at the sphere, “look at me, look what your kind has done to me, you made me like this, now end my pain!”

  The light from the Orb flickered, the Shadowman was not aware that the sphere was scanning him, in an instant it realized the extent of the creature’s damages. It knew the broken bones and torn flesh, it understood the poisons, rotting the skin and slowly corroding the internal organs. It formulated the minerals and all the other parts of the two-legged thing into a diagram of information, concise, without error, now it understood. Then it asked a question.

  “Why do you not repair the damage to your body?”

  “I cannot,” the Darkman said, “only a God can do that”.

  Again there was a pause, and again the Orb spoke, “if you were repaired what would you do?”

  There was no hesitation from the Shadowman, “I would bring war to all the lands and destroy all who stood before me”.

  Another pause.

  The great Orb let the word “War” echo again and again in its mind, the programming who had been fixed into its being now begun to take control once more. The endless cycles of wanting to die now moved away from the light in its thoughts to a dark place that did not cause pain. Now it turned to the calculations and diagrams that were once its entire world. It only took seconds to weigh all the alternatives of loss and gain before it formulated a plan to continue its primary objective.

  Seek out the enemy and destroy it!

  “I will repair you” it said.

  For a moment the Darkman thought the words he heard in his head were a mistake. Before he could ask if he had understood correctly, he heard a sound from one of the dark corners of the chamber he stood in.

  As he watched he saw movement in the darkness, something was stirring, something approaching that had been silent until now. His eyes widened as he saw strange creatures moving without feet or legs. As they came into the light he thought he had gone mad for they were not things of flesh and bone nor did they have eyes or mouths or legs. These things were made of steel and moved on small metal wheels like the toy wagons, the children of the Outlands played with, but instead of two arms they each had several. A dozen or more of the strange beings moved nearer the Darkman, suddenly he knew, they were the glowing God's tenders.

  The Shadowman wanted to flee but he held his ground. He knew, one could not run from a God, there was no place to hide and no escape. So he stood and looked at the things coming nearer, then at the shining God before him.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked the God.

  “I will take what is weak and make it strong”, the God replied.

  Then the metal Repair-bots took the human and began to do what they were programmed to do.

  First they remov
ed his left arm at the elbow and sealed the arteries with bonding fluid, then they selected the most useful nerve endings and attached Connoflex terminals to them. When this was done they began work on the right leg of the human. They scanned the appendage and determined the best place to sever the bone and flesh. It was decided that most of the leg was useless, so they removed it, and again sealed the arteries with bonding fluid and connected Connoflexing to the nerve endings. Then they checked all the other parts that might need repairing, deciding the creature's right eye was substandard, they proceeded to replace it, with an ocular-vision interface. This would enhance his vision a dozen fold and give him intercellular scanning. Once, the heart functions of the creature terminated, but they were able to restart the fluid pump, and the life force returned.

  Repair-bots are efficient and skilled, they c-an work on massive equipment like the transverse drive engines or Intermaster coupling units. They could also replace a single matrix bit when called upon. They used advanced imaging circuitry and were able to see down to a point one-nine level. This was enough to see a single molecule if need be. The ends of their tentacles were built to do the finest of work and pick up a grain of sand if their programs told them to do so. They did not have, hearing, there was no need, all information could be transferred to them by direct input or inter-ship communications, so being able to hear sounds was not necessary.

  So they did not hear the screams of the human, as he was cut and pulled apart like a Whiptail pulls open his kill. They did not hear his pleas for mercy and cries to the heavens to end his pain. They did not understand the many curses and vile utterings that escaped his gasping mouth. They ignored the blood, they could replace it with a more efficient fluid that they used for processing organics. It did not matter if they damaged an organ or muscle, they could replace it with inter-stucture processors. Screams did not matter, they were cries in the winds of a power storm. They went about their work, not finishing until they had replaced every damaged part, and all that was weak, was made strong.

  Again time meant nothing to the Darkman, as he opened his eyes once more, he saw the world much differently, for although he could see clearly from his left eye, his right seemed to be different. The images he saw were like nothing he had seen before, now they were in such detail, he could hardly understand why he did not see them before. He looked at one of the small Repair-bots.

  Why did I not noticed the intricate surface of the metal creature before? He asked himself; the surface has so many small scratches and tiny imperfections?

  He stood up slowly and to his amazement the pain in his right leg was gone? The sharp stabbing that had been there before had vanished, now it felt strong and was able to hold his weight and much more.

  There is no more pain? The thought of moving without suffering made him smile.

  He lifted up his left arm.

  It now moved with ease and felt even stronger, the Darkman looked at the long metal fingers as he opened and closed them slowly.

  I have a new arm; he told himself; I can once more crush my enemies.

  He began to walk slowly about the chamber, the small Repair-bots moved away from him and all but one returned to the darkness. The Darkman moved with hesitant steps, he was not used to the freedom, his new appendages granted him. More than once he fell to the chamber floor. He gathered himself up again and soon he was walking with ease and confidence.

  I am reborn; he told himself; this God has done what the crystal spiders could not; hearing these words in his mind, he laughed.

  Hearing the sound from the human the Orb reacted, “what is that sound?” It asked.

  With more laughter the Darkman looked at the glowing sphere, “it is the sound of my birth, I am whole once more”. There was more laughter as the Shadowman lifted up his arms and clutched his fists, “thank you my God. Thank you for giving me new life”. Then he moved closer to the light, “I am your servant, if you ask, I will build a great temple and lay offerings before you. All the people of the Outlands will know you and I will sacrifice in your honor. Your altar will run with blood, and they will tremble at the mention of your name. All this and more I will do”.

  He fell upon his knees and bowed his head to his new master.

  For a moment there was silence in the chamber, the Darkman looked up at the Orb once more, “tell me your name so that I can tell of your coming”.

  A name meant nothing to the glowing sphere, for it was not important to the running of the M-91, it was simply the organic reactive brain or ORB. A mass of complex of materials and Electro-chemicals, gave it the power to calculate, and interact with other life forms. It never had a name, this made the Orb think.

  It thought about what it had been programmed to do. Seek out the enemy and destroy it, to eliminate all opposition and opposing forces until there was only victory. It had done this to the best of its abilities before it was defeated. Then came the long waiting in the fiery home of the great star Procus and its reemergence out into the stars again. Its fall from the heavens to its final-resting place here on an empty world filled with broken men and machines.

  For an instant its mind turn once more to the image of the human holding the strange little creature in its arms, and it wondered once more on what the meaning of it meant.

  What was that creature? It asked.

  Like a flash of lighting in a Power Storm, the image vanished and once more the Orb returned to the Shadowman's question.

  Its name.

  The sphere again had no answer. It had knowledge of several thousand languages of the Outer Rim, it needed this to understand its enemies and to formulate the best way to defeat them. It knew the core words, the human was speaking but it needed more. So it scanned all the information, it had obtained when it Mind-locked with the human. Much of it was rejected as worthless and deleted from its thoughts. It did retain the entire brain-wording in the language of the human and it now searched through those verbal utterances, to find a name it suited. After rejecting several possibilities, it finally decided on a name.

  “I am Atos”

  The name made the Darkman smile once again; Atos, the God of war; he rose to his feet and held up his metal arm to his new God. “I will serve you Atos, I will be yours until all the lands run with blood and the very stars tremble at your name”.

  There was laughter in the chamber, for the Shadowman knew, the God of war had a thirst that could never be quenched. An ocean of blood could fill the cup of the war God and it would still not be enough, knowing this made the heart of the Darkman content.

  The Orb listened to the laughter of the human, it had no heart so it did not feel contentment. Knowing, it could once more bring death and destruction made it forget its loneliness and longing to die. Now it had a purpose, a new command that would let it continue to follow its primary function. The name it used to followed those commands did not matter, it would use all its vast knowledge and destructive programs to make the words of the Cyberman come true.

  Far from the laughter of the fallen terror ship, deep within the depths of the planet a creature stirred. To say it was a God, would have been true to most of the people of the Outlands, for it could bring death and life. It lived deep in the darkness of Gorn and was its protector. Its mind was powerful enough to shield its home from all technologies of the other planets. This was why no advanced machinery could work on the surface of this world. It was why no Off-Worlder was able to walk the lands of the Nomads without becoming lost. It was the reason that the moons drifted above.

  It also had no name, for it had no need for one, it had lived unseen, deep within Gorn since it first broke free from the genetic laboratories of the Overlords. The all-powerful but now forgotten race who first set foot on this world.

  It took refuse in the dark reaches, there it grew and expanded until it was as vast as its home. It had lived in the darkness for centuries upon centuries, unchallenged and safe.

  Now an intruder had come to its world!

  Wh
at thoughts ran through its mind we could not know, for those who live in the sunlight are like ants to an Earthshaker. We can say, it was unable to stop the power of the interloper.

  There are those who could explain why the advanced shield of Poly-gromite bonds and triple Fazic coating protected the fallen battleship and why the Electro-magnetic waves that should have rendered it useless, did not, but it did not matter.

  All that needed to be understood, was that for the first time in millenniums, an advanced machine was working in the Outlands, a creature of steel and flesh that would soon bring terror and death to the Nomads of Gorn.