SDIV - Chapter Nine Pt1

Chapter Nine

Ruined City
Zone II

Inspector Burton watched the two strange creatures through his gunsights as they crossed over onto the paved road. He had seen the portal open, the strange vegetation beyond and he knew it was some type of demon-spawned witchcraft.

One of the two was wearing normal clothes, in some vain attempt to fit in, but had a strange mutation attached to its neck, with another head lolling down. The second of them was dressed in a baggy jerkin, spotted with a strange variegated pattern, and ambled by its side.

“Just a little bit closer,” he said encouragingly, under his breath, “that’s right.”

He looked up to make sure that his men were in position; this war had seemed to last forever, they were constantly repelling attacks from a mixture of Tauran forces. This, however, was quite new, a change to the typical bombardment followed by assault. They had long ago lost their armour and were reduced to hand weapons and the one or two explosive charges that still remained.

Burton had tried to raise Command by communicator, but it seemed that they were isolated here. He had picked up a rag-tag band of men, from different worlds and different regiments as the fight had continued, in fact the mixture of units had called his attention a number of times. However, he believed in the command structure and as such his blind faith in their judgement kept him from taking the matter further.

Raising his hand he signalled to his Sargeant, the highest ranker apart from himself, and saw the man pat the top of the soldier’s helmet in front of him. He had already chosen his best man, Burns their sniper, to deal with this potential threat. Two clean shots and it would be over, he thought, just before the rocket screamed into view, barrelling directly for his position

*

“Well, it seems pretty quiet,” said Cornelius, squinting at the nearest building, “I think whatever fighting took place here was a while ago.”

He had hardly finished his sentence when the first salvo of rockets slammed into the building, sending chunks of material high into the air. Butt thought he saw a body mixed amongst them, but was unsure and covered his head to protect himself from the falling debris.

At that moment Clari decided to demonstrate her preoccupation, her scorching breath whistling past his ear.

“You …” he started, leaning forward to chastise her, and in so doing, saved his life.

The sniper had a clear shot, or so he thought; at the last minute his target had jerked violently and instead of the head shot he had taken, the slight movement caused the laser to score off the top of the creature’s head. Cursing, Burns took aim again and it was then the second load of rockets struck.

“F**k!” cursed Butt, diving to the floor, his head burning. The round had parted his hair cleanly, leaving a stripe of burned flesh where his mohican had once stood proudly. He rolled back and forth in agony and screamed for Kam to get down; the dazed Taartun stood open-mouthed, marvelling at the display of violence all around.

Cornelius grabbed his sleeve and dragged him down as a horde of screaming Taurans rounded the corner.

*

Groggily the Inspector climbed to his feet, the remnants of his command strewn all around. He saw the Sargeant waving at him and signalled back, speaking into his communicator.

“Get ready!” he spat, “They’ll be coming soon!”

Almost on cue, the Tauran forces attacked, storming their position. Rapidly Burton gave his commands and a volley of fire blasted forth. He had forgotten about the other two creatures as a more pressing problem appeared.

*

“Over there!” shouted Butt, indicating a recently created pile of rubble and set off at a flat run for the cover. By now, Kam seemed to have realised that his life was in danger and soon overhauled the gasping Cornelius.

Sliding to a halt, Cornelius ripped out his pistol and took aim, the distorted features of the Taurans leaving no room for misinterpretation of their intent. He snapped off a couple of shots, the first one missing, but the second striking directly into the open mouth of one of the mutants.

However, as firepower went, they were vastly outgunned and a trio of Tauran troopers split off from the pack and raced towards them.

“We’re going to die!” he muttered as they came closer.

“Speak for yourself!” snarled Kam, using the rubble as a launching pad for a tremendous leap. Sword in hand, he vaulted over the first attacker, and with his weapon held firmly in both hands, used his momentum to slam into the other two. His attack obviously surprised them, knocking them unceremoniously to the floor. Kam stamped down hard onto the first’s neck with the heel of his boot, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone. He pivoted and slashed outwards, his blade ringing against the crude club in the second Tauran’s hand. The shock of the strike caused it to lose its grip and without a visible pause in his movement, Kam buried his blade to the hilt in its chest, wrenching the weapon out as he had been taught, in order to widen the wound.

Looking back he watched Butt scurrying backwards, trying mightily to avoid the serrated weapon in his attacker’s hand. He saw the little man raise his pistol, holding it against the stomach of his attacker. There was a flash, a roar of pain and the Tauran arched upwards. By now Kam had covered the distance between them and punched his sword into the Tauran’s back. Once, twice and a third time he struck until all signs of resistance disappeared.

Butt picked up one of the discarded rifles from the floor and scurried back behind the barricade. Shaking his head, Kam followed; Butt had to be better than this or else they were in serious trouble.

*

The Inspector knew he had a problem; he was the last of his squad, had one ugly spit-drooling face pressed into his, was bleeding from numerous wounds and more of the abominations had arrived. Therefore he took a decision.

Screaming, “For the Prelate!” he braced his legs against the floor, took a firm grasp on the Tauran’s tunic and heaved it backwards. His pumping legs propelled both him and it out of the second storey window, straight down to the welcoming floor below them.

It seemed as though his prayer was answered as the flailing inter-tangled pair crashed down onto a group of Taurans passing below. Their fall was broken and the Inspector rolled away, in pain, but alive.

That was when his luck changed, he felt the weight of a heavy boot pressed into his chest and looked up into a horribly disfigured excuse for a face. Sunlight glinted off the blood encrusted blade as the axe was raised above him and by now even he had stopped in his pleading for divine intervention.

As the weapon began to descend there was a sharp crack, the creature’s eye socket exploded outwards and he was suddenly free again. He closed his eyes momentarily, giving thanks for such intervention and apologising for his lack of faith. When he opened them, he saw the grinning face of Butt above him, his anti-mohican cut, adding even more to his strangeness.

“Thought you might need a hand,” he said, holding out what appeared to be a normal human appendage, “what do you say?”

“Tauran scum!”, roared the Inspector, kicking his foot upwards, straight between the unfortunate Butt’s legs. As Cornelius collapsed, his mouth opened in a silent scream, Kam brought his sword hilt down on top of Burton’s head. He then grabbed a handful of Butt’s shirt and dragged him back behind their shelter, muttering to himself in disgust.

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SDIV - Chapter Eight Part 2

Spaceport
Kermadec Island
Macaulay
Disputed Zone


“Get them on board Sargeant.”

Johns had discarded his armour, swapping the suit for a worn green uniform. His men moved their volunteers on board, a mixture of green troops and veterans. He had chosen his people personally, no mistakes would be forgiven on this voyage. The second most powerful man on Macaulay breathed in deeply, slapped his Sargeant on the shoulder and laughed loudly. This was more like it. Viker could stay here with his new-found pleasure and sycophants, Johns craved war. A growl bubbled at the back of his throat, a familiar sound he thought gone forever. Perhaps things were finally beginning to look up. As he heard the ramp lifting , he wondered where Alana was, and what she was doing. He could have done with her by his side.

Flagship
Unknown Location

“So, how does this work?”

Shan looked puzzled. Each of the screens was extremely complex, a mix of virtual holographic technology, hard screen and table-top map-ware. The planet was divided into zones which contained their own habitat and microclimate. Troops were highlighted in one colour, non-combatants in another. Information scrolled on disposition, weapons, life signs, aptitude, power bonuses and risk.

“Games begin simply, usually in one zone. Players then can draft in further troops depending upon strict rules. You can see here how a game develops.”

The Ori flicked his fingers over a virtual keyboard, setting in motion a simulation of a Game.

“This is one of the most famous of Games. It decimated a world, causing the financial ruin of two houses and the virtual annihilation of breeding stock. It is how my family ultimately decided that they were the only true exponents and deserved to own and run the Game as they wished to do so.”

"You lost then,” laughed Shan, “how appropriate.” He waved his hand around the Control Room,

“Now, show me how...”

“We’ve already stated...aargh!”

“Not listening. This is now my Game. I want to play right now.”

His finger hovered over a rune, “What does this one do?”

“No!” screamed the Ori as the signal was sent.

*

Within the bowels of the Flagship, relays clicked and whined as nine non-descript pods began a short journey. Fluid was drained in the process, electronic stimuli shuddering through eight slumbering bodies. The ninth held a being who merely smiled, flexing wrinkled appendages and baring teeth in anticipation. Soon, it would be time to live again.

Alana stirred, chemicals rapidly being evacuated from her body as her enhanced metabolism kicked in. As she woke, so too did her suit, her HUD flickering into solidity and feeding data directly to her starved senses. Before she could formulate a plan the pods rocked to a stop, energy build-up causing them to oscillate in anticipation. With a huge surge they were expelled from the ship, curving away slightly, before heading for the planet’s surface.

Fold Space
Unknown Location

Johns checked the read out again, they had been travelling for what seemed an eternity, but time was deceptive within the vortex of folded space. He knew where they were going, his senses still attuned to his ex-squad member. Whatever Viker had conjured, Alana somehow called to him. His initial thought was to follow the Construct’s destructive trail, but deep down he knew it was wrong. Those on board with him believed more in Johns than they did in their once angelic Lord. He trusted them to do the right thing and he knew that following Alana and her people was important.

“How much longer, Sir?”

It was a valid question and he knew one all shared.

“Soon,” he said, “very soon.”

SDIV - Chapter Eight Part 1

Flagship
Unknown Location

Mechanical interlocking transit ways moved the drop pods along. They snaked their way to the allocated bay, set aside for them. Above each of the reserved slots a rune flashed brightly in a pale green light, until the pod docked. With an escape of steam and a resounding clunk, each individual pod bedded into its receiver, actuating relays which initiated the stasis rods waiting calmly for their charges. Thin sleeves of metal moved smoothly out, mating with the recessed plugs in the outer shell of the pod’s casing. Fluid hissed through the new couplings, filling an inner series of veins and maintaining the pod’s charges at an optimum level.

Seven of the eight pods acted as expected, the eighth waited a moment, gurgling in protest before it too showed green lights across the board. Inside the eighth pod Alana dreamed, her body jerking in feverish activity.

Red eyes glinted from the shadows near to the new arrivals. A wrinkled hand reached out and caressed Alana’s pod, soon it was followed by a hunched figure who withdrew a tool from inside its outer garment. Shrill, warbling sound broke into the monotone repetition of functioning equipment. One more pod moved into place, making the group nine, yet not registering as such on the main console. With a chuckle the tool was replaced and the figure climbed inside his own temporary tomb, calm in the knowledge that he would be accompanying the new arrivals on their next journey. That, or his alarms would be triggered and he would be shunted aside, to waken once more. He had done this many times before.

Kermadec Island
Macaulay
Disputed Zone

Viker yawned. He changed his mind like the wind, and had decided that it was necessary to stay a little longer. More people had flocked in from outlying regions and he ruthlessly culled them; the young and virile were segregated, mostly, and indoctrinated into his army of followers. Others were used as target practice or to satisfy the burgeoning excesses of chosen officers. Only Johns remained aloof, working hard to mould the new soldiery into an effective fighting force. At times, Viker wondered who he was doing it for, but his old mentor showed nothing but faith and belief in his Lord. More fool him.

Languidly, Viker rose from his makeshift throne, stretching his wings and scratching his crotch. He spat, ignoring where his spittle would land. No-one would raise a voice in protest. A line of stone-faced guards waited for him outside the room, falling in behind as he sauntered in search of some amusement.

“My Lord!”

“What now, Johns?” he asked.

“We have word of the Beast.”

For a moment, the only beast that Viker could think about was that which curled hidden within him, but then he remembered having coined the name for the possessed Construct.

“What of it?”

“It has halted. Spindle appears to be its destination.”

“Asmode’s Lair? How trite,” said Viker dismissively, “we received information on that location before our failed attempt to destroy it last time. What could it possibly want there?”

“I believe that we need to go and find out,” suggested Johns, awaiting his Lord’s displeasure.

“You go,” said Viker, “take some troops with you and find out what’s going on. I have work still to do here.”

“Yes, My Lord,” said Johns, “at once.”

With a wave of his hands, Viker quickly forgot about Johns; there were some new arrivals from the country and he was sure to find at least one buxom wench to satisfy him.

SDIV - Chapter Seven Part 2

Gingerly, Cornelius stepped around the remains of the mangled and shattered forms. Here and there he dispensed his own form of mercy, as he moved determinedly towards the vehicle and the Taartuns within it. A low moan wafted from beneath a pile of snapped branches near to the front of the twisted cockpit and he hastily picked up one of the typical Taartun swords from the ground nearby. Poking aside the splintered vegetation, he revealed a small man, dressed in the curiously checked garment he had seen all of the Clansmen wear. Butt prodded the man with the end of the blade and was rewarded with a startled shout.

Jumping backwards, he drew his new-found laser pistol, transferring the sword to his left hand.

“W-w-where am I?” asked the individual in a dazed fashion.

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask you,” replied Cornelius, watching as the man struggled to his feet, holding one hand against the fresh wound in his side. He saw him scan the underbrush, probably looking for a weapon of some sort.

“Enough of that!” snapped Cornelius, waving his pistol for effect.

To his surprise, the man seemed more concerned about the sword than his pistol, tensing his body as though about to attack. Butt quickly snapped off a shot, which whistled past the man’s ear, causing him to collapse backwards onto the floor.

“Who are you?” he queried in a state of shock, “Where did you come from?”

“The back of your vehicle, trussed up like some piece of prime meat!” snarled Cornelius, the pistol firmly pointed at the face in front of him, which only wore a vacant expression. Suddenly, he knew that somewhere a local village was missing an idiot and groaned in frustration.

“Never mind that, you can start by telling me your name and what you were doing here!” he barked, waiting expectantly.

“My name is Kam, Kam Macadam,” he said warily eyeing the pistol, “All I do is drive, they give us papers and we go where they say. Papers. Drive. Papers. Dri…”

“Enough!” shouted Cornelius, “You’re giving me a headache!”

“Are you one of them?” demanded Kam, readying himself as though expecting a further rebuke.

“I don’t think so,” said Cornelius, “whatever one of them is. I just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; the story of my life really.”

Suddenly from behind the remains of the vehicle came a crashing and snarling, followed by the roar of a pistol round.

“Run!” Butt screamed taking off for the uncertain cover of the rocks, not waiting to see if Kam was following. The Clansman hesitated until he saw an armoured body fly through the air, a steaming hole gaping in its chest as it slammed into the tree next to him.

*

“Where are we going!” gasped Kam as he ducked under a low hanging branch, trying desperately to keep up with Cornelius, who was travelling extremely rapidly.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going in the opposite direction to that pistol fire, and,” said Cornelius, pointedly,” as fast as my stubby, little legs will carry me!”

With that he put on an extra burst of speed and left Kam struggling behind.

The Clansman stopped for a moment, trying to figure out why he was following his strange new companion. Struck by rock and wood chips, as a shot impacted close by; he decided it didn’t really matter and set off in pursuit.

*

One minute he was running at top speed and the next he was laid flat on his back. It felt as though he had run straight into a rock wall, and his bleeding nose tended to agree with his idea. The weird thing was that there was absolutely nothing to be seen.

“What happened?” asked Kam, concern in his voice.

“I have absolutely no idea,” mumbled Cornelius from behind the hand he held cupped under his nose to catch the stream of blood pouring down.

“Boundary shield?” asked Kam, cautiously extending his hand until it struck the invisible boundary. “Did you do that?”

Cornelius looked at him in amazement and simply pointed at his nose and raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, probably not, eh?” asked the Clansman, unbuttoning his trousers, and seeing Cornelius’ astonishment, “I desperately need to go. I can’t wait!”

Kam hurriedly went about his business, spraying urine in a childishly careless fashion. The results were unexpected to say the least. Whatever the stream of liquid connected with did not appear to agree with the procedure and Kam howled in pain. An electrical discharge shot across the distance separating the unfortunate Clansman from the force wall, making his strange hair stand on end in a most frightening manner.

Cornelius stared at the cameo for a moment and then collapsed in laughter onto the floor. “That...” he said between gasps, “...is the best thing that’s happened in a long time!”

Kam found it impossible to talk, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, until he at last finished and fell to his knees. After a short respite, he too began to laugh, and just for a while, they forgot about their pursuers.

*

“Hey!” shouted Kam, “Have you seen this?”

Cornelius walked over to stand next to him and gaped in complete surprise. Now the force field had vanished, what it had been protecting became obvious. A perfectly straight line cut across the verdant vegetation and beyond it was the unmistakable streets of a city. One, whose very structure looked battered and torn, as though it had suffered an interminable bombardment.

Partially hidden behind a crumbling façade was the burnt out shell of a tank, rusted and twisted it must have lain there a very long time. The streets appeared deserted and there was little noise, except the whistling of a chill wind which they could even now begin to feel.

“I really don’t like this”, said Cornelius, “someone is playing with our heads.”

“Pardon?” asked Kam, confusedly, he sometimes found it hard to understand Butts’ terminology.

“You better have this,” said Cornelius, handing over the short sword, “I don’t think it’ll be of much use, but you just never know:”

Glancing back, he could see Clari, hovering in mid-air and staring worriedly along their back trail. Quickly making up his mind, Cornelius started forward, “Come on,” he said, “it looks like we really have no option.”

“Move!” he repeated to the still gawking Clansman, and set off towards the city, Kam eventually following behind.

SDIV - El Juego Chapter Seven

Unknown Location


Butt was sure he was going to die; he had been almost convinced of it waking up bound and gagged in the crate, positive in his assumption as the first shots were fired and now there was no doubt, as the turbulence of explosive impacts buffeted him.

His luck had been running out ever since he had borrowed the golden ticket, and right now it appeared to have reached rock bottom. With a vomit-inducing lurch his world went backwards, the crate smashing into what felt like a less than welcoming earth. Over and over it rolled, bouncing high into the air and slamming Cornelius generously into every one of the walls. With one final twist and slide, it came to a halt, the rear door parting in two and letting Cornelius see exactly what was going on; chaos, mayhem and blood-letting. Normally his kind of party, but not in his current predicament.

He could see the smoking ruin of what appeared to have been means of locomotion, bodies lay half-sprawled from the cockpit and a rough gaggle of men and women were making their way towards him. What he did not like, was the efficient way they handled the assault weapons in their hands, nor the uniforms they wore. Taartuns they were not.

The creature on his shoulder screamed a defiant challenge and Cornelius began to curse in frustration as he struggled to free himself.

*

She did not know why her Master remained bound on the floor, whilst enemies approached. His roars were loud, yet were made from a non-defendable prone position. Cocking her head to one side, she made a decision; someone needed to take him in hand. Delicately walking down his chest, she approached the ropes tied around his ankles, and dug her claws into the soft flesh of his thighs. With a yelp, Cornelius stopped struggling, and nodding in satisfaction, she flamed. It was a little indiscriminate in target, but served its purpose, although her Master seemed less than grateful. Scolding him, she prodded him onto his side and repeated the process, at last satisfied with her work.

*



“Crap!” swore Butt, as the unexpected burst of liquid fire sprayed over him, “Are you trying to kill me?”

There was of course no answer, Butt’s struggles and the corrosive offering combining to part his bonds. As sharp claws prodded at him, he turned to one side and steeled himself for more pain; in that he was not disappointed. One heave was all that was needed to wrench himself free, and gingerly rolling to his feet, he looked round for some weapon. A reassuring weight settled around his neck, and Cornelius stroked one hand against the creature’s head.

“I”, he said, “have the perfect name for you … Clari; just the right mixture of bile and affection.”

Purring softly, Clari nuzzled him, and then stared greedily out at the oncoming enemies. With her Master, death and destruction were always near.


*

Carefully, Butt inched his way out of the crate, making no sudden moves with which to startle the soldiers garbed as Church warriors. A shrill whistling sound seemed to signal something, as the soldiers threw themselves down onto the ground. Cornelius was puzzled, but only for a moment, as a barrage of missiles streaked down, striking the earth around him. It seemed as though the floor bucked upwards, tossing him in the air, before slamming him down to the ground. He hugged the dirt, his fingers scrabbling for non-existent purchase, and Clari warbled her joy.

No doubt the barrage lasted for a moment, but time seemed to extend itself, yet eventually it was over. Gingerly, Cornelius pulled himself to his feet, the sounds of injured and dying men permeating the air. Yet, Cornelius just was not feeling in a charitable mood. He scrambled across to where shrill moans indicated one of the soldiers lay, moving round behind a cluster of rocks. One of the explosive rounds must have landed close by, as the man lay propped against a rock, both hands pressed tightly against his stomach, whilst blood pumped rhythmically from the stump of his leg, sheared off just above his knee. No sympathy crossed Cornelius’ mind, this would have been his fate, if the fortunate counter-attack had not been successful. He actually was not feeling favourable to either side; collateral damage had been a given with their individual tactics.

A rifle was close by the man, yet he never moved, as Cornelius picked it up, checking its charge and functionality. A pistol was also clipped to the man’s belt, as was a wicked-looking knife.

Gasping in pain, the soldier now saw Cornelius and turned to him pleadingly.

“Help … me…” he prayed.

“Sure,” said Butt, raising the rifle and firing once.

Audiobook Review Blog

After some musing, I decided that there are plenty of both dead tree and eBook reviews done. What seems to be less well covered is that of Audiobooks. Now this I don't like as I am a huge fan of this medium. Particularly when I am driving long distance, exercising or just trying to de-stress, on goes the well-known mp4 device and I lose myself. Not too much, but just enough.

There are some great FREE audiobooks, as well as some good stuff read by well-known actors. There are also popular paper books which really don't work in this medium. So, I have decided that my www.gerardawhitfield.blogspot.com BLOG will be dedicated to the audio version. Of course, there could be exceptions, but that's the plan.

I have reviewed a couple already and am just just finishing a series by Abigail Hilton, which will be next on my list. A Clue is that The Prophet of Panamindorah by Abigail Hilton is doing the necessary for me right now.

Watch this space...