Page 24 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

“I’m not aware of anyone by that name,” red-hair says, with a quick glance around. “But Patriarch, time is of the essence. We must strike now, before all is lost.”

This vision must be some kind of test, or a glimpse into our ancient history. They look to me as some kind of leader. If I playthe part, surely Pebbles and our union will be blessed by the Gods. “What’s the situation?” I ask, determined to lead this rag-tag bunch of weaklings.

“Patriarch?” Red-hair asks, concern lacing his voice, before he turns to another Klendathian with long blue hair, who’s even smaller and slimmer. “Exarcha Dranuxia, can you examine the Patriarch? I fear the temporal displacement has interfered with his recollection.”

“At once, Exarch,” Dranuxia says, her voice soft, yet strange like the other one.

A female?If only the environment wasn’t so toxic, I could look upon a real Klendathian female for the first time since my childhood. She approaches quickly, waving her hands over me, which pulsates with a strange green glow. I flinch back at the strangeness of it. “Relax Dagdorix, you expended a lot of psionic power, teleporting us.”Dagdorix? Teleporting? Surely such a thing is impossible? And such blasphemy to be named after a God. Who would be so arrogant?

But I dare not ask more questions that seem obvious to them, fearing they may dismiss me as deranged. “You are completely healthy,” she says quietly, before turning back to Red-hair “Exarch Arawnoth, there is nothing physically wrong with him, but no one’s ever created a temporal displacement of this size before so who’s to say what the side effects might be?” She shrugs.

I’m Dagdorix. Red-hair is Arawnoth, and she is Dranuxia? All names of the Gods. My heart thumps in my chest, realization dawning on me. I observe my surroundings once again, noticing the strange alien machine technology. This must be the last battle against the Machine Gods, as told in our stories and murals. But rather than the majestic heroic titans immortalized in stone, they stand as confused weaklings.Do we worship thesepeople?I push the troublesome thoughts from my mind. Now is not the time.

“Where are the others?” someone from the group asks.

Arawnoth looks around. “Matriarch Machsin, and the others, are not present?” He asks, worry in this voice.

“They must be somewhere else on the mastership, if they made it at all,” Dranuxia says, looking at me, as if I know the answer.

“Then all is lost. Without her, we cannot locate the Void Bringer,” Arawnoth laments his shoulders, sagging.

My pulse rises witnessing his defeatist attitude. Such negativity must be purged lest it infect the other warriors crushing their will to fight. I grip Arawnoth by his silly looking collar. “Nothing is lost. We haven’t even engaged the enemy yet you sulk like a beaten borack. Grab your balls and follow me.”

“Yes... Patriarch... at once,” he stammers out, if not for the mask, I think there’d be tears leaking from his eyes.

I head along the tunnel walkway, watching like an arrohawk for any movement from the thousands of potential hiding places within the walls. My warvisor's range is extremely limited, not able to penetrate beyond the walls. The Machine God must have devised a way to blunt their effectiveness.

Thankfully, the others follow closely behind. I do not know where I’m going, but waiting here will not help; unfortunately this Void Bringer is not going to kill itself. Contacting Machsin is the number one priority, if she can lead the way and provide some reinforcements, so much the better. I glare back at my ‘warriors’ ruefully.Hopefully, her warriors are of better quality.

Suddenly, the clanking of metal on metal draws my attention. “Incoming!” I shout, feeling my breaths quicken.What foes will the legendary Machine God send?My warvisor floods my senses. There are hundreds, no thousands, of non-life entitiesemerging from networks of tiny tunnels embedded within the walls, like insects from a hive.

“Engage,” I roar, firing my strange ballistic weapon at the tinkling mass. The walkway erupts into the snaps and bangs of primitive projectiles being launched at high speeds towards the robots. The skittering eight-legged machines, while small, move with impressive speed, low to the ground. They scurry carrying a single green optic platform and two forelimbs. One looks to be a cutting device while the other has strong pincers.

Our attacks are effective, seeing the bullets shred and rip off limbs and crush their optics. I’m relieved to see they don’t possess advanced shields. But at this rate, we’ll be overrun quickly.

“Keep moving! Keep moving!” I roar over the carnage. A conflagration erupts amongst the horde of drones, which I can barely take my eyes off, as it dances and weaves along the walls as if it has a mind of its own. Breaking my trance, I look around to see Arawnoth with his hands outstretched, glowing red and moving as if directing the inferno.

What in the void?But I barely have time to think, as I push the warriors past me, urging them to keep running down the tunnel, with any luck, towards an exit and away from the creeping death. “Go, go!” I shout. My warriors fall into a pattern of firing and moving, firing and moving. It’s effective, but still not enough.

More and more machines creep out of the crevices. It seems for every one destroyed, another two take its place.We’ll have to seal them in here or we’ll be chased down like helpless prey.I fire off a quick burst from my weapon, smiling with satisfaction at seeing my target explode into a shower of broken pieces.

I quickly pick out another target and pull the trigger. Panic grips my chest, as the only sound is the clacking of my weapon’s empty chamber. Turning the weapon over, I quickly pull and haul at it, trying to figure out where the ammunition clip goesand where the release mechanism is. “Useless thing!” I shout in frustration.

In my distraction, I fail to notice I’m the straggler; the others, having taken my advice, are rushing further down the walkway deeper into the tunnel. Relief washes over me to see in the distance some kind of circular door that looks somewhat like an Iris. I rush to catch up, clutching my rifle around the nozzle like it’s some kind of strange club.

I can hear the machine’s needle-like legs scraping close by. The whistles of bullets zooming past my head tells me all I need to know. First, that the machines are right behind me and second, my warriors are a bunch of trigger-happy novices. I dash with my head down to join the rest of the group as we huddle pressed against the door. “Get that door open!” I roar.

The machines are upon us. I can see their sparking green eyes gleaming in the darkness. My eyes mist purple as I feel the Rush building in me, my blood boils and muscles tense. I try to extend my claws, but horrified, realize I cannot feel them. Where my claws should be, is only a hollow, lacking. A phantom of something lost.

Roaring, I rally to my surprise by bringing my club-like rifle down on top of the nearest machine. It smashes to pieces as my rifle suffers huge dents. But I hardly notice, as I leap towards the next opponent and swipe it off the walkway to crash back down against the tunnel walls. Moving feels awkward and strange, almost as if I’m stuck in a dream, only able to drift.It’s this body!Soft and untested, it lacks the strength and speed that a true Klendathian possesses.

My novel club is no more, smashed to bits on the enemy. I discard the broken nozzle to roll away from a sparking cutting tool of a machine to pick up a piece of broken robot leg as my new weapon. Other Klendathians have joined the fray using whatever is at hand to crush and break the machines. Somedishonor us all by shying away, pressing hard and desperately, in a huddled frightened mass against the locked door.

We’re all going to die if we don’t get that door open!I’m already covered in many searing cuts. Others have already fallen, brave but awkward as they attack. Machines crawl up their legs, piling over one another in a frenzied rush to scorch and crush us. I watch as a war brother is dragged screaming, his cries of pain drowned by the swarm of machines over the walkway, plunging to his inevitable demise.

I fight as best I can with the skill and experience from centuries of battles, but this body lacks the strength and endurance I’m used to. Already I’m huffing and gasping for breath, lacking even my claws for defense. Swatting away another few machines over the walkway as they scramble over the top of some poor soul. I witness a grisly scene below. Lifeless eyes stare upward as he lies sliced open from groin to neck.

A scorching pain shoots through my mind, as a robot clamps onto my ankle and burns a hole into my leg forcing me to the ground. I bash the thing to pieces in my furious agony, but before I can attempt to rise more machines come to take its place, rushing over to crawl on top of me. Dozens of brutal needles of pain pierce my mind as I feel them cutting into me, killing me.

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