Tordan 1.0: Episode 1: Cyborg Warriors

by Immortal Angel

  Tordan 1.0

  Cyborg Warriors

  Immortal Angel

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Tordan 1.0

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Fallen Press, Ltd.

  Copyright © 2017

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  Other Works by Immortal Angel

  Angel Warrior: An Angel Warrior Romance

  The Complete Series

  Alien Rogue Warrior: An Alien Rogue Romance

  Episodes 1-5

  Alien Rogue Warrior: An Alien Rogue Romance

  Episodes 6-10

  Alien Invasion: A Warrior Prince Romance

  The Complete Series

  Alien Mating Frenzy: A SciFi Fantasy Romance

  Episodes 1-5

  Tales of Flouriant: A SciFi Erotic Romance

  Escape

  Imprisoned

  A Human Sacrifice: Star Squad Brides

  Episodes 1-5

  City of Disorder: A Vampire Succubus Romance

  Episodes 1-5

  A Touch of Death

  DEDICATION

  For my father.

  You said I could be anything I wanted to be,

  and then made me believe it.

  Because of you, I have wings.

  ͝ ͡ Immortal Angel ͡ ͝

  P.S. Yes, you still get the edited version.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  The only sound in the room was the tap…tap…tap of the general’s claw on the arm of the stone throne. That was exactly the way he liked it.

  Finally. I can hear myself think.

  His feline hearing was so acute, he could still faintly hear his slaves working the mine several caves below. The natives of this backward planet liked to call them cats. But he wasn’t a cat. He was an Ardak. A panthera sapiens. An upright walking, talking, growling, roaring, slicing, slaying humanoid-eating tiger that could run forty miles an hour and jump fifty feet with one leap.

  He’d conquered six other worlds before this one, slashing his way to the top with the razor-sharp tips of his fangs and the needle-like points of his claws.

  These pathetic humanoids never had a chance.

  Their pride in their five realms and their elves wielding magic had done nothing to stop his invasion.

  And finally, in the immediate vicinity, there was silence.

  It hadn’t been this way until recently. He’d had to beat, torture, and kill countless of the native humanoids in the past solar revolution of this tiny, insignificant planet around its tiny, insignificant sun to bring this blissful silence to the mountain.

  To my mountain.

  First, there had been the war cries, roaring from his troops – which could be heard for miles, the clanking of swords, and the high-pitched sounds of ray guns as they had conquered the people who had originally inhabited the Mountain Realm.

  It didn’t take long.

  Then there was the screaming and protesting as his forces had enslaved the survivors of the invasion.

  Finally, there had been the crying as the pathetic creatures couldn’t keep up with even the most basic workloads. He'd had to make examples of many of them so the others would work harder.

  And through it all, he’d had the same pounding, splitting headache.

  Through trial and error – although he had to admit there was rarely error – he had found that death was the only sure way to quiet these beings.

  But now, there was peace.

  Briefly.

  It would be short-lived. He still had a mission to complete.

  He could feel his tail start to thrash, his right eye began to tic with rage. He’d been here for just over a year, and still the crystal evaded him. The blank monitors of the command center mocked him.

  The mission should already be complete.

  If he’d had his entire force, the crystal — and the whole damn planet — would already be his. But although he had landed with 10,000 Ardaks, the king took half of them to fight other battles three days later.

  And then took the rest of his troops gradually over the next six months.

  Now, all he had left were 26 Ardaks, and 189 Cyborgs. His tail began to thrash again and he tried to contain it. Losing control of himself would make him look weak in front of the others

  There should have been over 800 Cyborgs. But less than one in four of the weak natives he captured from the mountain realm could withstand the excruciatingly painful process. Only those with an insatiable, unstoppable will to live.

  Tap…tap…tap…

  He snarled at the two kneeling commanders before him, their fangs bared in shame. Worthless. He began to recite the king’s words to them. “Find the Dravitian crystal for me, General Slash. It is so large it can power our entire fleet for decades. Don’t fail me, General Slash, and together our might will be unstoppable!”

  The general realized he had his fist in the air just as the king had – the great leader of the Ardaks who had entrusted this mission to him. The Dravitian crystal the king sent Slash to find was the largest they had ever detected. Finding it should have been easy. But it disappeared from his scanners the moment their troops landed on the planet.

  He turned back to his commanders. “This was our only mission. It’s why we were sent to this archaic, stinking planet.”

  The entire room dimmed. The sickening moment he’d been waiting for. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze going immediately to the power level of his fortress – where the crystal resided that used to power his ship. His body trembled with a rage so powerful he could control it no longer.

  There is not enough power left for us to leave this planet unless we find the crystal.

  And I’m not going to die here.

  His vision turned as red as the power warning lights that flickered on all around them. “You have failed,” he roared, the sound trembling the rock around them. “It’s time for two new commanders.”

  General Slash was on the first commander before the Ardak’s eyes could even widen with surprise, ripping out his throat and evading the dying soldier’s claws. The commander grabbed at his throat as blood sprayed outward, but it was pointless.

  Slash sprung from him to face the other commander. Striker. His death would be a shame, he was the first to volunteer at my side for this mission.

  Slash paused for a moment, his breath coming in heavy pants. He could smell the stench of the commander’s fear, and it made him nauseous.

  He knows his skills are no match for mine. Striker’s body shivered with dread, but he was too proud to run or to beg for his life.

  Slash respected that, despite himself.

  Striker met his gaze, his tone even. “After you kill me, remember, your last hope is the elf. I’m sure she knows something, but even Budut has been unable to break her.”

  Slash licked the blood from my fangs, tasting it. I had forgotten about the elven princess. He had captured her a year ago, trying to steal his crystal. And she’d been uncomfortably close to success.

  On second thought, maybe I won’t kill Striker. “Tell Fang he’s just been promoted. Find out what the elf knows. Then find the crystal. Do not fail me.”

  Striker nodded swiftly, decisively.

  “
And take that body with you.” He gestured at the bleeding corpse, then prowled across the floor toward the exit. A visit to the torture rooms might cheer me up.

  At the last moment, he turned back. “If the old elf won’t turn over the crystal, at least he will be as miserable as I am. You have one more day to break his daughter and find out what she knows. If not, I’m sending back her head.”

  Aielle awoke to the sound of the dirty tin tray being kicked under her door. She started, half waiting for the door to open. Although she knew it was feeding time, she’d been tortured too often not to prepare herself. Just in case.

  When she realized it was safe, she sprang forward with muscles that stiffened in protest, desperately trying to get to the water before it disappeared.

  But it was too late.

  The cup had already toppled, her water ration sloshing over the side, soaking into the stone floor below. She pressed her fingers against the wet stone and licked the moisture from her fingertips. It did little to curb the painful need for a real sip of water.

  It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

  But dirty drops of water are better than nothing.

  She continued pressing her fingers to the cold stone and licking her fingertips until she was sure there was nothing left. Because really, what else was there to do? She’d been locked inside that prison cell for over a year. Never eating enough food or water. Never seeing the outside.

  Occasionally, she heard the screams of other prisoners as they were tortured or killed. Or the snarls and roars of cats. That’s the only way she knew the outside still existed.

  Aielle sat back and looked to her tray. The only thing left was a thick mush that was crusted around the edges. She tried to wet her parched lips and tongue to eat it, but the lack of water day after day meant that every part of her was dry. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, her skin itched, and the dust in her cell made her cough in dry heaves. Scooping up a bite with her fingers, she grimaced. The bitter taste never varied, only the consistency. She preferred it to be soupy. There was more water content that way.

  Taking the gruel, she walked back the seven steps it took to get to the corner of the floor where she usually slept. Sitting down, she pondered the small sets of jagged notches she'd carved in the wall beside her as she slurped the gruel and water. The rest of the notches were near the solid metal door, where she'd begun carving them when she'd arrived. When I had hope.

  The notches beside her, though, those had been carved in a different frame of mind. After the torture had begun. When she couldn't make it to the door.

  I hate them.

  Despite her weakened state, she could feel the rage begin inside her again. The cats were smelly, vicious creatures, and now that they were making Cyborgs, they were turning even the people of Aurora against themselves.

  Aielle’s mother was killed in the invasion, and she had been captured trying to save the very people who now held her captive. After her mother died, they decided to try to steal the Ardak’s crystals, rather than use up the power of their own crystals fighting them.

  It should have been easy.

  Well, relatively easy.

  Actually, everyone had said it was a suicide mission, which was why she had fought with her father and brother before leaving, stubbornly refusing to listen to their pleas. In the end, she and a small team of seven warriors had set out on a secret and urgent mission to capture the Ardaks’ crystals – which had turned out to be just one tiny crystal and a few slivers.

  The had crystal sat in the center of the Ardak mission control room, and was the source of the Ardaks’ technological power. They had retrieved the crystal, even gotten out of the mountain. But somehow, the Ardaks had learned of their plan, and they were surrounded by the feral, tiger-like monsters as they fled.

  Aielle had never fought anything like them. Much taller than ordinary elves or men, they possessed fangs, claws, and enormous strength in addition to their red-bladed swords and ray guns. And they could cover enormous amounts of ground quickly. They were the most vicious, merciless warriors she had ever seen.

  She had watched all of her team fall one by one — the green fire in their eyes dying – until only two of them remained. Once they realized the Ardaks meant to capture them, she and Leithe had turned their guns on each other, trying to die with the others rather than being taken captive. But although her aim had been true and Leithe had died, Leithe had missed her completely.

  Then the Ardaks had shot Aielle with a beam of red energy that had knocked her unconscious.

  Aielle had awakened in this cell and hadn’t seen the outside since. Three hundred and seventy five long, painful days. Some more agonizing than others, to be sure.

  If we had been successful, the mountain people would be safe and we’d be home.

  Her fists clenched in helpless anger. They stole my mother, my planet, my freedom, and the freedom of everyone else on Aurora. And there’s not a starry thing I can do about it.

  Her Ardak captors had come in nicely at first, treating her almost as a visiting dignitary, attempting to befriend her and fool her into giving up the hidden entrances to Renwyn, or the location of Aurora’s largest crystal.

  But I won’t be the reason these monsters are able to defeat us. Even if it means my death.

  When she hadn’t talked, they had threatened. Then they turned to torture. But the cats hadn’t tortured her themselves.

  For that, they’d sent the Cyborgs.

  The wide scars on her arms and legs attested to their brutal treatment of her, and there were more on her back and the back of her legs that she had never seen. The whips had been the worst, their ends spiked with nails. She had not cried out or screamed in the beginning, not wanting to let them break her. But as the torture went on day after day, month after month, she began not to care. In the end, she had screamed until she had no voice left.

  There had been nothing to wrap the open wounds, her skin flayed apart and no magic left to heal it. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t died, but enough of her people’s magic must have remained in her to get her through the worst of it. Or her mother had intervened from the other side.

  I can’t believe the Cyborgs were once mountain people. They were warm, kind.

  Now they are monsters.

  But I swore never to tell them what I know, and I have been successful, at least in this.

  Even to this day, my people are safe. The Ardaks haven’t breached the shield surrounding my realm. Why else would they keep me?

  At least that’s what she told herself to hold on to hope in her darkest moments.

  The only other thoughts she held onto in her despair were thoughts of her father and brother. But they were riddled with guilt. I shouldn’t have left them that way. Shouldn’t have argued. Our last words to each other were terrible – and after all of it, I still haven’t avenged mother’s death. Even worse, I left them without someone to operate the crystal.

  Because something the Ardaks didn’t know, something they could never find out, was that she was the only elf who could wield that large of a crystal. Only the women could do crystal magic, and her line was the most powerful.

  And I am now the last of them.

  Her shoulders hunched in shame.

  And I let myself get captured.

  She curled up into a fetal position, half wishing for death to absolve her of her misery.

  But then she heard the dreaded scrape of the bar outside her cell. She heard that scrape in my nightmares far too often these days.

  I take it back. I don’t want to die by torture.

  Her entire body began to tremble with fear, and she couldn’t stop it.

  The door began to open.

  I am malfunctioning.

  Tordan slammed his fist angrily into the wall of the tunnel, feeling a surge of satisfaction as cracks appeared across the surface.

  Until a few months ago, he hadn’t cared about his enslaved existence. Or anything else, for that matter. But for
some reason, he’d been waking up.

  “Keep working. Keep moving. Never slow. Never stop.” The constant stream of commands in his mind were low in volume, but insistent. No matter the time, day or night. At first he and his fellow Cyborgs had almost gone mad from the relentless commands, but over time they became more like background noise.

  It must be the prisoner.

  Against all logic, he was starting to believe that there was something special about the prisoner in the last cell. Although I don’t know why I’m bothering with logic. Before the Ardaks had come, he wouldn’t have believed in aliens, or in technology advanced enough to travel through the stars.

  His thoughts turned to the prisoner. She had brought back his emotion, he was certain of it. The chip severely dampened a Cyborg’s emotions – it had made him feel dead. But as he’d interacted with her over the past few months, his ability to feel emotion had slowly returned.

  And it’s becoming stronger.

  I have to hide my anger.

  If I’m discovered, they will rechip me.

  That thought sent a shiver of terror through him. If they rechipped him, he would lose the rest of himself. The mind can only take so much. All that would remain would be the blank numbness, the lack of feeling. His only job to obey the voices in his head.

  But instead of thinking about himself, his mind went again to the female elf. A prisoner. A filthy, weak creature that he often had the task of guarding and feeding. At least that’s what the others said.