Page 27 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

Before long, we come to what appears to be a door, but it is circular, closed, with overlapping sheets of metal spiraling tightly. I almost walk into it, assuming it will open automatically.

I glance around for any consoles or controls, but there’s nothing. This ship wasn’t built for life, but for machines. “Does anyone know how to open this door?” I inquire, only to see people looking away, avoiding my gaze.

Aenarael tosses her long golden hair to one side, and moves up to inspect the door. “Allow me, Matriarch.” The eye slits on her warvisor glow silver as mist escapes her mask. The creaking sound of metal groaning against a great strain can be heard, as a tiny silver aura is wedged into the central spiral of metal sheets. I watch in wonder as Aenarael moves her hands apart, slowing as if they are pulling the metal sheets open. The silver aura expands and expands, forcing open the door inch by inch.

Aenarael breathes heavily, the effort clearly taxing her abilities, but before long the metal sheets are fully forced open, some bent and misshapen. “Well done, Aenarael,” I commend her, sensing the mixture of pride and worry flowing from her.

I move into the next room, my head darting from either side as I hold my breath, expecting some hidden danger to reveal itself. This room is much like the last, low ceiling and cramped, with strange metal walls that seem almost alive with pulsating pipes and tubes, but unlike the last room, this one is much longer.

“We will be attacked here,” Ecneius says, his voice full of fear as he holds a hand to his head. “A few service drones. No one dies.” A wave of fear, quickly followed by relief, washes over me, which is mirrored by the group.

Can this guy really read the future?It’s amazing to witness the ancient Klendathians and their godlike powers. It seems impossible, making me question if this vision is an actual event from history or some fanciful tale, like an action film back on Earth.

The sound of the others un-slinging their firearms over their shoulder prompts me to do the same. With trembling hands, I examine the white-colored gun, recognizing its trigger, clip and long muzzle. I never used guns back home, but this one looks much the same as the ones I’ve seen on TV. My heart thumps in my chest as I place my finger over the trigger, weapon at the ready... I think. “Be careful everyone,” I say, inching forward.

There’s not a whisper as we move forward along the cramped walkway, just the sound of muffled warvisor breaths and boots striking metal ground. This room is long, but I’m surprised when I cross halfway with no sign of danger, thinking Ecneius’ warnings might be the product of a frightened mind and overconfidence in his own abilities.

Someone coughs noisily, causing me to nearly shoot in a panic. I turn towards the offender, to see most of the others are also glaring at him with weapons drawn. He holds up his hands apologetically. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“Shush!” Aenarael hisses, sounding almost like a snake. Suddenly, my warvisor fills my senses with notifications of movement. Unfurling themselves out of the walls, large spider-like robots with a green central light and cutting arms skitter towards the group at speed.

“There!” I shout, pointing at one. But there’re many others joining, knowing we’re here now. The snap and bang of ballisticfire echoes out in the cramped room, causing me to wince at the sheer loudness. The flashes of the muzzle are extra bright, with the warvisors’ enhanced light mode engaged.

My mouth feels dry as I bring my rifle to my shoulder, aiming at one machine.Just a vision, Roxy, just a vision.I squeeze the trigger lightly, but am unprepared for the intense recoil as the weapon nearly jumps from my hand, which causes me to grip the trigger harder, causing more recoil. “Ahh!”It’s all I can do to hold on to the thing as the spark of my bullets careens from the floor to the ceiling.

To my amazement, I notice I’ve somehow hit and destroyed two of the machines in my uncontrolled burst. “Yes!” I roar out, watching them shatter into tiny pieces. The others are faring well, as we stand firm, huddled in a tight group, each side flashing with muzzle fire. The snap of bullets and the sound of metal breaking apart rings out.

I finally have my gun under control, wedging it into my shoulder tighter this time and firing short bursts into the skittering mass of machines. A smile crosses my lips, watching my shots break them apart, keeping us safe. There aren’t many left now, perhaps a couple dozen as they hurry crawling over the broken parts of their comrades. Despite their speed, the long distance of the room gives us enough time to whittle them down before they can reach us.

Knowing the danger has almost passed, I reach out with Machsin’s powers, probing for some consciousness or thoughts from the machines, that maybe I can influence, but there’s nothing, only cold unfeeling metal. Then, as suddenly as it started, there’re no more of the creepy arachnoid machines. I take a deep breath, happy to see none are hurt. “Good work, everyone!” I shout.

Some laugh and cheer, while others solemnly reload their weapons or inspect their suits for damage. “As I predicted,”Ecneius says, puffing out his chest. “See how absurd it is that the consulate never listened to me?”

Aenarael shakes her head. “It’s hardly a predication, if you’re using your psionic gifts!” She exclaims.

A laugh escapes me, still feeling giddy from our victory. “Yeah, that’s like predicting the ending of a book you’ve read before.”

Ecneius scoffs, “You cannot comprehend the magnitude of mental and psionic power it takes to process and reinterpret the infinite possibilities of the universe. If you endured but a fraction of the strain, your feeble minds would be frayed into pieces.” He turns to look at me. “Oh, with all due respect, Matriarch, I intend no offence, of course.” He bows deeply.

“None taken,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’ll know we’re here now, so let’s get moving.”

I turn to continue walking through the room, as I carefully step over the remains of the machines. Fearing they might spring back to life or reassemble themselves or something equally horrible; I glance at Ecneius to see if he looks worried. But he’s casually checking his weapon while walking at a steady pace, not too concerned. I sense Dagdorix’s party getting closer now, maybe a few rooms away.I wonder if Krogoth is among them?The thought brings a smile to my face.

Towards the end of the room is a split path, yet to my surprise it’s not left or right, but up or down, both leading toward the other party, giving no sign which path is correct. “Ecneius?” I ask, hoping for his guidance.

Ecneius rubs his chin, noticing the dilemma. “Interesting.” He taps his foot as gold mist escapes from his mask. “Up leads to their engines, and down leads to a hanger, where we’ll find Dagdorix.”

“Surely by knocking out their engines, victory will be ours?” Aenarael chimes in her voice, full of excitement.

“Hah! You prove once again Exarcha your lack of foresight,” Ecneius says, folding his arms. “We’ll find only death in the engine rooms,” he pauses briefly, a hand to his head. “The hanger... It’s the only thread that can still bring victory.”

I take a step down.

“Victory sounds good to me.”

Chapter 10

Krogoth

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