by Al Shield
Shortly after being alerted to them visually his audio devices picked up a series of quick thumping noises, getting louder with each passing second. Ten kilometres and closing. His data bank attempted a comparison - the closest match it could find were the drake riders of the Eternal Night but still the repeated sound was still too quick to be beating of drake wings.
Five kilometres and closing. The 6 dots had grouped a little closer. His scanners picked up the signal for much metal and air dispersion but for some reason couldn’t penetrate any further.
Protocols dictated that he assume a defensive position proper scans could devise the nature of the enemy or until told otherwise so he braced himself and readed his inbuilt weapons for whatever emerged.
The echoing thumping sounds thundered around the base now, the sound bouncing off every wall but still no sign of what was behind them.
One kilometre and closing.
At that moment there was the sound of a door being blasted right off its hinges and Dar'kannag raced over, still protectively cradling his beloved in his arms.
‘Unit to me!’ He roared over the noise ‘Nex needs medical attention NOW!’
‘Cannot comply’ he calmly replied not turning to face him ‘Enemies inboun-’
His sentence was drowned out by the huge noise of the first of the six gunships that appeared within view that fired on him immediately. He had activated his flamer unit as soon as it had appeared but the range of the flames fell far short. The screaming whirl of a gatling gun joined the droning thrum of the rotor blades slicing through the air and the shells drilled great holes in his chest armour with some burning right through what little flesh in him remained, hurling him backwards violently against the warwagon.
‘Sh- sh- shutd....immm..nt.’ His speakers screeched before the red lights in his optic faded to black and he hunched over.
With Nex still shielded in his arms and surrounded by six hovering gunships with weapons trained on him, Dar'kannag had nowhere to go. Without any other choice save death, he slowly but carefully placed her gently on the ground and as much as it hurt him to do so, raised both hands up in surrender.
‘This is not over..’ he grunted to himself as more forces arrived on the scene.
CHAPTER NINE
‘So here we are now.’ Dar'kannag rumbled ‘You know our story to this point. Do tell, what becomes of us now?’
‘I am not at liberty to say.’ Omega replied.
‘You are not allowed to say or you simply don’t know?’ one of Dar'kannag’s eyes opened slightly wider.
‘I am not at liberty to say.’
‘At best guess, you will study us.’ He continued. ‘Your scribes will spend countless years exploring everything they possibly can, the questioning will not cease for some time. And yet..’ he licked his lips with his serpent like tongue ‘When you feel you have learnt all you can, you will undoubtedly have us killed and mounted like a trophy. It seems only fair after all that we have taken away from you, yes?’
‘If I had my way, I’d put a bullet in you now.’ Omega muttered under his breath.
‘I heard that little meat. I admire your tenacity.’
‘Good. My feelings haven’t changed. You’re an abomination and deserved to be destroyed.’
‘Well thankfully you don’t call the shots around here son!’ a voice boomed from the back of the large room. The near one hundred guards turned as one as focussed their weapons on the fat bald moustached man and his bearded bodyguard as they sauntered into the room. While the personal guard was heavily armed in body armour and clad in fatigues, the one who spoke wore a very expensive and well tailored suit. Omega noticed the presidential pin on the tie as the man got close.
‘Tell these idiots to point their toys somewhere else. I really don’t need one of these grunts to get excited and blow their load.’
‘Just who in the hell are you?’ Omega exclaimed.
‘The name is unimportant. All you need to know is that I’m in charge here.’
‘The hell you are!’
Out of the corner of his eye Omega noticed the bodyguard tightening his grip on the submachine gun he carried.
‘You haven’t got a choice son.’ He turned and waved to the window on the upper floor. Omega’s earpiece buzzed with instruction from the director. After a few moments of listening, he slowly nodded his head. With a venomous look he gave the order for his men to stand down begrudgingly.
‘Now that is more like it!’ The fat man beamed. ‘Now let’s take a look at our fine specimen here.’ He whistled out loud as he took in the sheer dimensions of the chained Dar'kannag. ‘My oh my, aren’t you a beauty. What a catch gentlemen, what a catch!’
‘And who might you be fat little worm?’
Deep down Omega was a little pleased that the bodyguard seemed to tense up when the mighty beast spoke. If it unnerved the man in the suit though, it didn’t show.
‘You can call me the boss if you like.’
‘If I like? You pathetic little creature. Dar'kannag makes his own decisions. No, your bulbous shape reminds me of a swamp runner egg. Therefore I shall call you egg.’
‘I don’t think I’m going to lik-’
‘Swamp runner eggs are delicious when cooked correctly...’ he interrupted, licking his lips again with feral glee.
‘Fascinating. Utterly fascinating. Oh we are going to have some fun with you, aren’t we creature?’
Dar'kannag turned his head to Omega ‘Meat, this egg is your superior?’
‘In a way...yes.’
‘I call the shots now’ the fat man explained.
That just made the beast chuckled.
‘You would last just a mere moment on the field of battle. Pathetic.’
Ignoring the insult, the man sniffed the air and turned to Omega.
‘It smells like fear and shit in here. I want you and your men out of this room, now.’
Omega just gave him an incredulous look.
‘After all the firepower it took just to corner this one, do you really think your trained bulldog over there is enough protection? You’re insane!’
‘I get that a lot. But you..’ he waved at Omega. ‘You’re old tech. You and this lot, you were cutting edge once. But you’re all last week's news. When you’re wrestling with a big fish, you bring in the big guns. And I just happen to have access to the biggest collection of them all!’
With his signal the double doors at the end of the room opened and twenty men marched in. Each was taller and wider than the average soldier on account of skeleton like machine they wore like armour. Thick steel sections painted matt black linked through great rope length cables of shielded wire and piston like hydraulics that hissed with each clanging step on the hard floor. Powerful spotter lights on each chest section blazed brightly as they marched in as one and grouped in formation. Faces under combat helmets stayed stoic as they took in the scene.
Omega had heard of these exoskeletons before but had never seen one up close. While they were bulky and cumbersome, they gave the wearer incredible lifting power and stability which explained the heavy duty weapons each soldier came to bare. Anti tank rifles, gatling guns and even some weapons Omega couldn’t even begin to identify were on show, shined to within an inch of their lives and ready to be locked on to their chained captive.
‘Now tell me I didn’t bring enough drinks to this shindig? I dare you.’ The fat man mocked.
‘I still don’t think this is wise. You’re going to need as many men as you can get.’
‘We don’t pay you to think son. Now gather up your little tea party and get going already. Go and recharge yourself or whatever you do in your downtime. We’ve got this under control.’
‘Meat stays.’ Dar'kannag spoke.
‘What?’
‘Meat stays.’
‘I don’t remember giving you a choice sunshine.’
‘Your demeanor is starting to bore me little egg. Given the two of you, I’d much prefer to deal w
ith him. Now either Meat stays or your inane questioning ends here.’ The words echoed around the chamber and the look he gave spoke volumes. The fat man thought it over and sighed.
‘Okay, have it your way. The rest of you lot...’ he waved his hand dramatically in the air ‘Go wipe your asses already, it reeks in here!’
There were some audible sighs of relief as the initial guard filed out slowly. Some that had worked closely with Omega in the past gave him a curt nod on their way out which he reciprocated.
The exo soldiers in turn took up positions around the room, covering the chained beast from as many angles as possible.
‘Now, where to start?’ The fat man rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘I know, how about you tell me about that wonderful vehicle of yours? What do you call it, the Wagon of War or something?’
WHILE IT WAS HOT IN the area around the slave forges, inside the temperatures were at almost unbearable levels. Dar'kannag was born to hot climates however and felt no discomfort as he and his fellow soldiers toured the facility. The hooded tracked construct that led the tour had its nervous system suppressed long ago in the process to become more machine and effective and also showed no signs of suffering, even under the heavy dark robes that covered it’s top flesh half.
The slaves who toiled away beating vast sheets of dark metal into shape certainly did. Prisoners of war of all shapes and sizes toiled away both day and night to churn out machines and weapons of war. Heat exhaustion was common and if the sufferer couldn’t rise again for the next gruelling day of work, the solution was simple - they were thrown into the forges. Plenty more free labour where that came from and some of the slave drivers even joked that the screams made the metal just that little bit stronger.
‘Look upon the effort of the mighty war machine and rejoice brothers! Is it truly not a sight that brings a tear of joy to an eye?’
Ch’aan looked at Dar'kannag and rolled his many eyes. The construct was originally a lowly Logi. Practically useless in battle and most other uses save for food stuffs or talking loudly. This one with it’s slow moving tracks and grating implanted personality was the furthest was a battle brother one could possibly be. Ch’aan wondered if there was a way he could convince Dar'kannag to pick it up and hurl it into a nearby forge when the tour was done.
‘The chosen here shape the metal. Make it good. Make it strong!’ it droned on. ‘It will take much to get through this fine work.’
They continued past the forges where the metals were poured and shaped and into the assembly area where the clang of hammers and the sizzle of metal fused filled the air. Here hundreds more slaves were clambering over more constructs of all shapes and sizes - troop carriers, mobile battering rams, spike throwers and defense turrets. But what the small group of soldiers were really keen to see was being worked on in the corner of the grand hall.
‘Behold!’ the construct wheeled to a stop. ‘What you have come by to see...The death rollers!’
The group marvelled at one at the fleet of newly assembled machines - each a blend of different hue of dark metals. A big chunky long metal body driven on four thick tires with space for a small group to travel in and plenty of storage for weapons in the back. Unadorned at this stage of construction they still looked imposing while stationary and Dar'kannag couldn’t wait to get a closer look.
‘I see no weapons.’ The hog faced Brorgullon grunted. Ch’aan held back his chuckle. Trust the brainless violent Astrez soldier to notice that first.
‘In due time my brother. We build the fleet first, then we arm them all.’ The construct explained.
‘What weapons?’ he grunted impatiently.
‘I want spikes!’ called another.
‘Yeah and a cannon up top!’ called a third.
‘I like things that go boom..’ Brorgullon echoed.
‘We are still in the testing phase good soldiers. We will discover what works well and what doesn’t soon enough. For now please note that your new vehicles are almost complete.’ The Logi said proudly. ‘Are they truly not magnificent?’
Dar'kannag ran his hand over a panel on the nearest one. It bulged ever so slightly in some areas and he could see the joins in the metal were incredibly crude and haphazardly done but there was an undeniable sense of strength in the structure. This thing was built to take damage and if it hit hard enough, cause enough of it as well. If it performed as strongly as it looked, then these vehicles could be quite the formidable asset on the battlefield. He couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel and try them out.
Training with the death rollers went as well as the commander of the small squad of recruits had expected. Of the fleet of twenty promised, only eighteen were delivered - the remaining two apparently unfit for use until further notice - more than likely poorly built by inattentive slaves. From there five more came with inherit problems - the incorrect sized gears, levers and cogs fitted meant some only moved at a crawl. One came without a complete linkage which meant no power from the heart made it to the wheels, one heart was dead on arrival. While slave labour was plentiful, quality was not. Brorgullen didn’t help matters when he got into a knife fight with the many armed Dizraan while arguing over which one had the most spikes and the commander took him out of the unit over concerns he would be a liability as a driver.
Some of the more random violence prone soldiers used their wagons as battering rams constantly and complained loudly when things became so battered, wheels would fail to turn. More fights broke out when testing races were held and sore losers offered a clenched fist over a handshake to the winner.
But Dar'kannag, piloting his wagon felt akin to a second skin. In no time he became adept to fast turning maneuvers, emergency braking and using his new vehicle as a mobile barrier retrieving the wounded from mock battlefields. During the many training sessions he wisely kept away from those with a crazed look of glee behind the wheel and therefore was rarely the attention of a hurtling high speed dark metal missile.
He was also one of the few who came to learn how it worked internally, how to check and replace the soul chambers when necessary and perform running repairs. He had never felt more alive than at high speed in his mighty chariot, in the thick of battle or by himself on a difficult mountain road.
So when the battles erupted constantly around the lands he felt quite at home, becoming incredibly reliable at transporting snipers, generals and battlefield specialists through hazardous conditions and retrieving the fallen from his unit. Or at least most of the parts of them.
He’d even managed to fish Ch’ann out of the Poison Swamp of Wheo Dros in time when a sorcerer's mana ball had blasted him and the wagon off the road. While Ch’ann’s heavy wagon was lost to the bottom of the fetid swamp he escaped without a scratch and was quite happy to see the sorcerer crushed under Dar'kannag’s wheels shortly after.
When the peace of ages finally arrived after years of bloody battles, Dar'kannag wasn’t really ready to let go of the beast and machine bond that he had forged over time. However it was Nex who provided the solution, learning of the great races that were kicking off soon. She even suggested the family involvement with the young K’Dian really finding form as a fledgling engineer and after his creation of Unit M and the inclusion of the new heart engine, the small team really started to make a name for themselves. Slowly but surely they rose through the ranks and in between races both father and son worked tirelessly on improvement. With each tweak and modification it moved more to high powered racing machine than weapon of war however given its glorious history, Dar'kannag never changed it’s original designation: War Wagon.
‘Christ O mighty, this thing doesn’t make a single lick of sense.’ Murphy spoke in his thick heavy Irish accent to no one in particular. His team of engineers had been tasked with studying the captured War Wagon and after finally getting some heavy duty jacks strong enough to open and hold up the bonnet he was trying to make heads and tails of the engine setup.
Especially the monstrous heart dripping in plu
gs and cables that was still beating at a steady rate even though the vehicle wasn’t currently running.
‘Now where do you think you find something like that?’ he mused.
‘And what are those things?’ his assistant Terry asked, pointing at the wispy forms floating around in the soul chambers.
‘Fucked if I know. And then again I’m not really sure I really want to know the real answer..’
On a basic level, it shared much in common with a typical human vehicle. A foot pedal seemed to urge the heart to beat faster, another locked the brakes. Switches near the steering wheel could disengage each wheel in turn although Murphy couldn’t understand the need to have less than two engaged at one time. How far where you going to get with just one wheel turning?
The seats were big, the drivers twice the size of the others and covered in an unknown tan coloured skin with the occasional battle mark appearing in places. The big thick wheels had a texture also like a sort of skin with imperfections and what looked like small hairs running across all surfaces.
The holding area in the back was full of conventional weaponry and a few strange weapons that looked like they were made out of bone. Under strict orders Murphy and his team weren’t allowed to touch the weapons, that was the armouries job to remove them safely once they’d concluded their initial inspection.
Good, he didn’t want to go anywhere near them - especially when there was so much more to discover here.
The different coloured and sized mounted crystals? What did they do? He assumed one must start the car and another to put the heart back into regular beat mode. The same questions applied to the vial of strange brown liquid embedded in the dash. A gauge for something? There were a couple of palm sized circles of black glass near the controls too. Would these light up as warnings or did they serve a different purpose?
