The Complete New Dominion Trilogy

by Drury, Matthew J.

  Chen turned and started triggering off random shots, aiming for the thing’s head. A moment later, Machiko was beside her, joining in the fray. Then, chests heaving, they finally reached the base of a tree trunk and hurled themselves up into it, climbing to a safe distance above ground level.

  Machiko bent over to catch her breath. She glanced sidelong at Chen, a look of tired exasperation coming over her features. “You take me to the loveliest places, Lora.”

  The deep forest was darkly verdant, secretive, menacing. What little sunlight broke the high barriers of branches and twisted vines was pale, milky in colour. The air, sticky and solid, created a wall of humidity. Glittering insects scurried underfoot, bizarre alien animals chattered and squealed in the foliage. In its primitive quality the place might have been a lost terrain, a point unmapped, untraveled - the end of the world.

  The two women made their way slowly along a narrow trail, pausing now and then to hack at an overhanging vine or slice at a dangling branch. After a couple of hours of discomfort, they moved into a large clearing. Machiko gasped, announcing in a hushed tone, “There it is!”

  Chen shuddered inwardly as a seething labyrinth of fabulous walls and towers and minarets loomed out of the trees above their heads. The effect was that of a titanic city of no architecture known to man or to human imagination, with vast aggregations of night-black masonry embodying monstrous perversions of geometrical laws. There were truncated cones, sometimes terraced or fluted, surmounted by tall cylindrical shafts here and there bulbously enlarged and often capped with tiers of thinnish scalloped disks; and strange beetling, table-like constructions suggesting piles of multitudinous rectangular slabs or circular plates or five-pointed stars with each one overlapping the one beneath. There were composite cones and pyramids either alone or surmounting cylinders or cubes or flatter truncated cones and pyramids, and occasional needle-like spires in curious clusters of five. All of these febrile structures seemed knit together by tubular bridges crossing from one to the other at various dizzy heights, and the implied scale of the whole was terrifying and oppressive in its sheer gigantism.

  Only the incredible, inhuman massiveness of these vast stone towers and ramparts had saved the frightful things from utter annihilation in the hundreds of thousands - perhaps millions - of years it had brooded there amid the colossal trees of the forest. This place could be no ordinary city, Chen thought. It must have formed the primary nucleus and centre of some archaic and unbelievable chapter of galactic history whose outward ramifications, recalled today only dimly in the most obscure and distorted Nommos legends, had vanished utterly amidst the chaos of terrene convulsions long before any modern sentient race had even evolved in the galaxy.

  Rising from the very centre of the city was the tallest and most impressive construction: a black-and-red apparition, a monstrous pyramidal ziggurat; it looked as if it were formed of cast iron. But metal it was not. Instead, the massive edifice had been built of great blocks of some volcanic stone. Vines and creepers clung jealously to it in many places. As they ground nearer, Chen saw that much of the stone was crumbling to fine powder. Fortunately the entrance was still visible, although the ten-metre-high curved archway was half collapsed and had filled the passageway with rubble to a height taller than two men.

  “It doesn’t look as if anything here has been disturbed for a million years,” Machiko murmured in awe. All her worries and uncertainties about the mission had been suddenly dissolved by the actual sight of the legendary temple.

  Chen’s eyes were moving rapidly, scanning the surroundings. Then she looked at Machiko, her eyes shining. “You realise, Machiko, that Xam Bahr isn’t here? He isn’t here! We’ve beaten him!”

  “Take it easy, Lora,” Machiko advised her cautiously. “We can’t be certain of that.”

  “I can. I’m certain.” Chen was already walking confidently toward the temple entrance. “He’s not here! There’s no sign of a ship, a shuttle, or anything else.”

  “We still have to find the Stone,” Machiko called out to her as she followed Chen to the entrance. But Lora’s enthusiasm was contagious. She found herself forgetting her fears and last-minute trepidations. Here was a city of the Xeilig, the legendary Gate Builders, the ‘Builders of the Road’, the original architects of Heaven’s Gate. According to Nommos mythology, they moved on from our part of space long ago. In fact, the Xeilig learned to ascend to a higher plane of existence when an ancient monster known as the ‘Asterite’ swept across the universe. Most of them died out, but those who learned to ascend shed their corporeal forms and gained a new sense of purpose - becoming the pantheon of gods in the Nommos’ polytheistic religion.

  Despite Chen’s assurance that they were alone here, they both kept a worried eye on the drifting fog. Anything imaginable and many things unimaginable could spring out of that cloaking haze at any minute. Reaching the entrance, they scrambled up over the rubble into the gaping embrasure. The floor beyond was of great slate slabs, and seemed to form the outlet of a long, high corridor with sculptured walls.

  The building which they had entered was one of great size and elaborateness, and gave them an impressive notion of the architecture of the ancient geologic past. The inner partitions were less massive than the outer walls, but on the lower levels were excellently preserved. Labyrinthine complexity, involving curiously irregular difference in floor levels, characterised the entire arrangement; the rooms they encountered were of all imaginable shapes and proportions, ranging from five-pointed stars to triangles and perfect cubes. The massiveness and gigantism of everything about them became curiously oppressive; and there was something vaguely but deeply inhuman in all the contours, dimensions, proportions, decorations, and constructional nuances of the archaic stonework. They soon realised, from what the carvings revealed, that this monstrous city was tens of millions of years old.

  Forest growth had penetrated inside. Lianas and other parasitic plants lay everywhere, extending their tenacious embrace into all corners of the building. They spiralled skyward on the cylindrical bodies of towering obsidian pillars. These unyielding supports boasted intricate carved patterns and designs, whose meaning none now alive could properly appreciate.

  “This place is so hauntingly familiar,” Chen said.

  Machiko nodded. “The underground palace you found on Deadworld, right?” Chen had told her that story many times, about the massive and ancient city beyond the Heaven’s Gate wormhole, and the experience she’d had there with Cristian Stefánsson…

  “These markings,” Chen continued. “They are the same language I saw there. The same language seen on Heaven’s Gate itself.”

  Each swimming in their own thoughts, the two women walked across a spacious floor toward the far side of what appeared to be a large ballroom, and the central, focal chamber of the entire city. A colossal statue was seated there against the dark wall. It represented a vaguely humanoid being seated on a carved throne. Leathery wings which might have been vestigial swept out in two awesome arcs to either side of the figure. Enormous claws thrust from feet and arms, the latter clinging to the ends of armrests on the throne. It had no face below slanted, accusing eyes, only a mass of Medusian, carved tentacles.

  “Lagai, god of the Xeilig,” Machiko whispered, without knowing why she was bothering to whisper. “It almost seems familiar, somehow.” She chuckled nervously. “That’s crazy, of course.” Then she was pointing excitedly, voice and hand trembling alike with the wonder of it. “It’s there. I knew it, I knew it!”

  In the centre of the grey stone chest of the statue lay a dimly pulsing light the hue of ruby. “The Easesash Stone,” Chen breathed softly.

  They moved closer, until they stood at face level with a pulsing, multifaceted crimson crystal as big as a human head. With trembling hands, Machiko reached out and caressed it. A twist and pull brought it out of its socket in the statue with unexpected ease. For a long moment she held the Stone in both hands, gazing deeply into a luminescence that w
as almost alive. Then she clutched it tightly to her bosom with both hands. “This is incredible,” she murmured. “Can you hear it?”

  Chen nodded. A garbled humming sound emerged from within the Stone, sounding almost like a spoken voice. “It’s unnerving,” she said, “and beautiful at the same time.”

  Machiko grinned, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “It looks and sounds almost identical to the Tak’Drayen Stone I found on Mars.”

  “The artefact you were sent to Daam K’Vosh for discovering…”

  Machiko nodded slowly. “I wonder if the Holy Church’s interest at the time was not merely to cover up the truth about the origins of Heaven’s Gate. I wonder if they knew about the existence of the Xeilig Ark even then. If so, my discovery would have been of great interest to Damarus, I’m sure.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Chen said, “Damarus was not omniscient, but he certainly had an esoteric knowledge of things that nobody else possessed…” She took deep breaths, astounded by the archaeological significance of their discovery. Her father would be so proud. Then a wave of urgency and dread suddenly overwhelmed her. “We should get back to the ship at once,” she said. “We cannot allow this to fall into the hands of the Empyreal Sun.”

  11

  199 ND

  Daam K’Vosh ARCHIPELAGO

  Machiko Famasika was lost in the suffering of her work, barely even aware of her surroundings. Her arms ached from the endless pounding of the hydraulic jack. Small bits of rock skipped off the cavern wall as she bored through, ricocheting off her protective goggles and stinging her exposed face and hands. Clouds of atomised dust filled the air, obscuring her vision, and the screeching whine of the jack filled the cavern, drowning out all other sounds as it burrowed centimetre by agonising centimetre into the thick vein of Megacyte woven into the rock before her.

  Impervious to both heat and energy, Megacyte was prized in the construction of armour, shielding and plasma-based weaponry by both commercial and military interests. Unfortunately, the very properties that made it so valuable also made it extremely difficult to mine. Plasma torches were virtually useless; it would take days to burn away even a small section of Megacyte-laced rock. The only effective way to mine it was through the brute force of hydraulic jacks pounding relentlessly away at a vein, chipping the Megacyte free bit by bit.

  Megacyte was one of the hardest materials in the galaxy. The force of the pounding quickly wore down the head of a jack, blunting it until it became almost useless. The dust clogged the hydraulic pistons, making them jam. Mining Megacyte was hard on the equipment… and even harder on the miners.

  Machiko had been hammering away for nearly six hours. The jack weighed more than thirty kilos, and the strain of keeping it raised and pressed against the rock face was taking its toll. Her arms were trembling from the exertion. Her lungs were gasping for air and choking on the clouds of fine mineral dust thrown up from the jack’s head. Even her teeth hurt: the rattling vibration felt as if it were shaking them loose from her gums. But the prisoners on Daam K’Vosh were treated based on how much Megacyte they brought back after a shift. If she quit now, another miner would jump in and start working the vein, taking a share of the reward. Machiko didn’t like to share.

  The whine of the jack’s motor took on a higher pitch, becoming a keening wail Machiko was all too familiar with. At twenty thousand revs-per-minute, the motor sucked in dust like a sponge. The only way to combat it was by regular cleaning and servicing, and the prison administration preferred to buy cheap equipment and replace it, rather than sinking unnecessary funds into maintenance. Machiko knew exactly what was going to happen next - and a second later, it did. The motor blew. The hydraulics seized with a horrible crunch, and a cloud of black smoke spit out the rear of the jack. Cursing her life, Machiko released her cramped finger from the trigger and tossed the spent piece of equipment to the floor.

  “Move aside, bitch,” a voice said.

  Murgh, one of the other prisoners, stepped up and tried to shoulder Machiko out of the way so he could work the vein with his own jack. Murgh had been working the mines for nearly twenty years, and it had turned his body into a mass of hard, knotted muscle. But Machiko had been working the mines for nine years herself, ever since she was twenty-two, and she was just as solid as the older man - if only a little smaller. She didn’t budge.

  “I’m not done here,” she said. “Jack died, that’s all. Hand me yours and I’ll keep at it for a while.”

  “You know the rules, woman. You stop working and someone else is allowed to move in.”

  Technically, Murgh was right. But nobody ever jumped another miner’s claim over an equipment malfunction. Not unless he was trying to pick a fight. Machiko took a quick look around. The chamber was empty except for the two of them, standing less than half a meter apart. Not a surprise; Machiko usually chose caverns far off the main tunnel network. It had to be more than mere coincidence that Murgh was here.

  Machiko had known Murgh for longer than she cared to remember. Back when she first started working the mines, she had taken a lot of abuse from the other prisoners, mainly for being a woman, but Murgh had been one of the main instigators, dishing out more than his fair share of teasing, insults, and the occasional slap across the face.

  Whoever worked the mines on Daam K’Vosh got tough, though. Half a dozen black eyes, countless bloody noses, and one broken jaw in the space of a month was all it took for Machiko’s bullies to decide they’d be happier if they left her alone. Yet every few months one of them tried again. Murgh had always been smart enough to keep his distance, until now.

  “I don’t see any of your friends here with you, old man,” Machiko said. “So back off my claim, and nobody gets hurt.”

  Murgh spat on the ground at Machiko’s feet. “Make me.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. “I’ve got work to do.” With one hand she grabbed the hydraulic jack from Murgh’s grasp. She put the other hand on his shoulder and shoved him away. Stumbling back, the large man caught his heel on a rock and fell roughly to the ground.

  He stood up with a snarl, his hands balling into fists. “Guess you need someone to beat the sense back into you!”

  Murgh was no fool, Machiko realised. She’d spent the last six hours working a hydraulic jack. She was covered in grime and the sweat was dripping off her face. Her shirt was drenched. Murgh’s uniform, on the other hand, was still relatively clean: no dust, no sweat stains. He must have been planning this all day, taking it easy and sitting back while Machiko wore herself out.

  But Machiko wasn’t about to back down from a fight. Throwing Murgh’s jack to the ground, she dropped into a crouch, feet wide and arms held out in front of her. Murgh charged forward, swinging his right fist in a vicious uppercut. She reached out and caught the punch with the open palm of her left hand, absorbing the force of the blow. Her right hand snapped forward and grabbed the underside of Murgh’s right wrist; as she pulled the older man forward, she ducked down and turned, driving her shoulder into his chest.

  Using her opponent’s own momentum against him, she straightened up and yanked hard on his wrist, flipping him up and over so that he crashed to the ground on his back. The fight should have ended right then; Machiko had a split second where she could have dropped her knee onto her opponent, driving the breath from his lungs and pinning him to the ground while she pounded him with her fists. But it didn’t happen. Her back, exhausted from hours of hefting the thirty-kilo jack, spasmed.

  The pain was agonising; instinctively she straightened up, clutching at the knotted lumbar muscles. It gave Murgh a chance to roll out of the way and get back to his feet.

  Somehow Machiko managed to drop into her fighting crouch again. Her back howled in protest, and she grimaced as red-hot daggers of pain shot through her body.

  Murgh saw the grimace and laughed. “Cramping up there, bitch? You should know better than to try and fight after a six-hour shift in the mines.” He ch
arged forward again. This time his hands weren’t fists, but claws grasping and grabbing at anything they could find, trying to nullify the younger woman by getting in close. Machiko tried to scramble out of the way, but her legs were too stiff and sore to get her clear. One hand grabbed her shirt, the other got hold of her belt as Murgh pulled both of them to the ground.

  They grappled together, wrestling on the hard, uneven stone of the cavern floor. Murgh had his face buried against her chest to protect it, keeping her from landing a solid blow. He still had a grip on her belt, but now his other hand was free and punching blindly up to where he guessed Machiko’s face would be. Machiko was forced to wrap her arms in and around Murgh’s own, interlocking them so neither of them could throw a punch.

  With their limbs pinned, strategy and technique meant little. The fight had become a test of strength and endurance, with the two combatants slowly wearing each other down. Machiko tried to roll Murgh over onto his back, but her weary body betrayed her. Her limbs were heavy and soft; she couldn’t get the leverage she needed. Instead it was Murgh who was able to twist and turn, wrenching one of his hands free while still keeping his face pressed tight against her bosom so it wouldn’t be exposed.

  Machiko wasn’t so lucky… her face was open and vulnerable. Murgh struck a blow with his free hand, but he didn’t hit with a closed fist. Instead he drove his thumb hard into her cheek, only a few centimetres from his real target. He struck again with the thumb, looking to gouge out one of his opponent’s eyes and leave her blind and writhing in pain. It took Machiko a second to realise what was happening; her tired mind had become as slow and clumsy as her body. She turned her face away just as the second blow landed, the thumb jamming painfully into the cartilage of her upper ear.

  Rage exploded inside Machiko: a burst of fiery passion that burned away the exhaustion and fatigue. Suddenly her mind was clear, and her body felt strong and rejuvenated. She turned her head in the opposite direction, exposing her face to the next incoming blow - and opened her mouth. She bit down hard, her timing perfect, and her teeth sank deep into the dirty flesh of Murgh’s probing thumb.