Salvation Earth

Two valleys, the warriors did not have to travel far. The barbarian followers, caterers and supplies were struggling along ahead of Arran. He led his men around them and met with the soldiers.

The captain said “Thank the Gods you are safe. We have kept an eye on the enemy and no one has left the group.”

“Good work,” said Arran. “We will surround them and finish them off. No prisoners.”

Arran did not like to be as ruthless as there would be few soldiers in the group. But he could not afford to take prisoners or allow any of the supplies get back to the main army.

It was a massacre in which he took no part. The soldiers revelled in it giving them a taste of real battle.

“I hope they are going to be as brave when they meet the real thing,” commented Harrad.

“It has boosted their confidence, we will see,” replied Arran.

They fed well on the enemies’ supplies, took what they could carry, burnt the rest and set off at dawn.

“We march straight for the centre army,” said Arran. “That is where most of the war machines are. We must try to destroy as many as possible.”

“That won’t be as easy as our hit and run at the last lot,” said Harrad. “How are we going to do it?”

“I don’t know. We must observe them and plan it from there.”

Arran and his troop marched on west. It was another bright day with the going good. With scouts out on point, Arran knew they would see the barbarians trail when they crossed it.

Sure enough, in two days the scouts found a trail that a blind man could follow. No attempt had been made to cover it.

“Such a force must be very confident,” remarked Harrad.

“Yes,” replied Arran. “Let’s hope it is to their disadvantage. They must still believe that they are covered on both sides. They can’t know that their eastern force has been destroyed or that there can be a force behind them. If they are eager, I would expect that the main fighting force will have surged ahead. Their war machines could well be lagging behind with less protection than we expect”.

The warriors turned down the trail and caught up with the barbarian stragglers after two days. After scouting the enemy at length, the scouts found that the main fighting force was well ahead and that the next valley was a narrow one where Arrans men could hold off the main force while the soldiers destroyed as many of the machines as possible.

“We had better hurry then, if we are to catch them in that valley,” said Harrad.

That afternoon the warriors tore down the hill into the valley at the rear of the enemy before the machines entered it. The enemy panicked and surged forward in fear. The centre, realising they were under attack, turned and tried to go back, but their own rear ran into them causing greater confusion and panic.

“Ha,” said Arran. “The rear of an army always has the weakest men. They don’t expect to be in the front line.”

The warriors massacred a great number of the enemy before being met with an organised wall of some resistance. This slowed down the slaughter, but the enemy could not make full use of its vastly superior numbers.

Long into the day they fought, Arran slowly advancing over the dead barbarians who could still not get fully organised. Arran was in the thick of it as usual. The worst screams came from around him, from those he felled. He did not tire whilst everyone else looked sluggish. He fought on like a demon. The more he killed, the more furiously he fought. He no longer acknowledged his comrades or was even aware of them. They looked at each other knowingly and gave him a wide berth, knowing what had happened to Jarrad. The warriors always had a great respect for Arran, but now a deep fear was growing.

Arran slashed on with his blade. No man could sustain such an onslaught. The warriors had swapped shift three times but Arran outfought them all. Although to Arran it appeared that he just hung onto the blade whilst it did all the work. He was however becoming more and more a part of it. His enemy, now very aware of him, tried to fall back, no one attacked him. He led a path into their midst. The warriors did all they could to keep up with him. Eventually the enemy’s leaders realised that they were taking heavy losses. They were so used to having it all their own way but finally ordered a retreat. The barbarians backed up the gorge and reformed at its entrance where their superior numbers might improve their odds.

Breaking out into the open, Arran finally stopped and fell to his knees with exhaustion. The warriors finished off the stragglers. Only now brave enough to approach Arran, they pulled him back into the gorge, his remaining strength just enough to hang onto his blade. The warriors sealed the gorge, set a strong guard and lit fires. Arran slept through the night.

Arran awoke the next morning with the sunrise feeling refreshed, but with little memory of the previous night’s battle.

“Good news,” said Harrad. “The baron’s soldiers did well. They have destroyed the followers and their war machines. Their warriors have been reduced and they have no supplies. We could not have hoped for more.”

“We did well?” Arran asked.

“Very well,” said Harrad. “We have broken their confidence, they are in confusion. They never expected a such strong resistance.”

“I don’t remember anything. I had a strange dream. I was possessed by a spirit. It controlled me and I was powerless against it.”

“Don’t worry, just a dream. What next? They are still more than twice our number.”

“We could still scatter them,” said Arran.

“No, Arran, most of our numbers are the baron’s men. That might be unwise and the barbarians are fearsome in their own right.”

“You’re right. We shall back out of the valley and go around them before they go around us. We must get back to Cam with as few losses as possible. That’s where the real battle will be.”

The warriors broke camp and marched out of the valley where they met the baron’s men who were now full of confidence and could be led anywhere.

So, the party set off east carrying enough supplies to see them home. They crossed three valleys before turning south. On the third day, they met the garrison from the keep. The warriors continued south at a pace the soldiers could not hope to match.

They came to the halfway house where they learned that they were ahead of the barbarians.

“I think we will take the innkeeper with us,” said Arran.

“Are you arresting him? asked Harrad.”

“No, we will tell him it is for his own good,” said Arran.

“He won’t like it.”

“No, and he will have some answering to do when we get him back. He won’t like that either and he can hardly say that he will be safe here without giving himself away.”

“The soldiers can take care of him,” said Harrad

The soldiers were given a hero’s welcome as they eventually marched back into Cam. Nadine and Harrad were at the gates as they trotted in.

“You would think the war was won already, not about to begin,” said Nadine.

Everyone wanted to embrace the troop. Nadine fought her way through the crowd and finally fell into Arran’s arms.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I knew you would make it”

“Nadine, ten armies would not keep me away from you. We will not be parted again, my love, fear not.” Arran had never seen Nadine so tearful. He realised that she had been under a terrible strain and was suffering from stress. Mordan made his way over.

“A welcome return to you, Arran. How did you fare? We have everything prepared here, all as planned.”

“Oh, Arran, Mordan has been such a help with organising this lot,” said Nadine waving her hand to the south.

“You have my thanks Mordan,” said Arran. “We have destroyed one army and crippled another, leaving them without supplies or war machines. That leaves just one to deal with. Alas, that is still one too many.”

“Surely, if you destroyed one army, we have every chance of victory with our entire force and defences,” said Mordan.

“We were not alone in defeating the first army; we had King Theo’s help and a strategic trap. Even then we only crippled the second force, who may continue this way. Fortunately, we destroyed their war machines. A defensive war is not what we do best. Sacking a town is what the barbarians favour best.”

“Then we must fight them on the run,” said Harrad joining them. “We will put up a token resistance and then retreat and sacrifice the city. Let them become overconfident and stretch out south into our lands. We can mislead them and cut them up at our leisure,” he suggested.

“Harrad, you have a good plan, but the baron will not go for it.”

“He has to, Arran, it’s the only logical way. When they arrive, we must send all non-combatants south to our Com. When the barbarians breach the walls, we will follow. If the baron wants to stay, he can. But I have a feeling he will be one of the first across the bridge.”

“Ha, I think you have something there. We will meet with him and at least convince him to send women and children south. I think you have a good idea. I always said you were our best commander,” said Arran.

“Oh, here they come,” said Nadine. “Captain Orlosk. He is Snade’s man, watch him. He will back Snade before the baron. And Snade has a couple of others in his pocket.”

“They won’t bother us yet. They will expect more information from their own men. Look, they are passing us now. Come on, go and greet the others,” said Arran.

Arrans group pushed through the crowds and made their way south out of town to their own camp. Sitting round the camp fires eating what hot provision, were available, Arran told all that had gone before to the envious trainers left behind.

“I wish I had been there,” Elven said. “I’d have shown them.”

“It was no party,” replied Arran. “Save it, there is worse to come.”

“Were the Gods still after you?” Elven asked.

“No, I have been so occupied that I forgot all about them.”

“And you thought they had a special interest in you,” Harrad laughed.

“Now come on, Harrad. It is rare to get one sighting in a lifetime. To have so many in such a short time is very suspicious to say the least. There has to be a connection somewhere, I just wonder what,” said Arran.

“Hmm, I suppose so, but we have been over it a hundred times and still have no answers.”

“That does not mean it is not true. The Gods even appeared in town. That’s a first. And always when I used Soulreaper. Not at any other time.”

“But not when you fought the barbarians,” said Elven.

“No. There the pattern ends. I wonder why?”

Nadine who had been quiet for some time said “There must be a reason. Think, all of you. A break in the pattern always leads to something. The answer must be there.”

Everyone looked blank.

“Arran, you think the black box controls the blade,” asked Nadine.

“I am sure of it,” replied Arran.

“Then how?”

“It is beyond me, my love.”

“Let’s assume they talk to each other.”

Everyone sank back groaning.

“Come on, stretch your feeble imaginations for once,” said Nadine.

“Yeah OK,” put in Elven. “Let’s imagine they are inhabited with spirits. They talk to each other, don’t they?”

A few laughs went around.

“Let’s assume they do, OK.”

They were all silent.

“Now, if they can communicate with each other, maybe in the spirit world or something, what’s to say that the Gods can’t hear in that world, also? They are Gods, after all. They can probably listen in to all the worlds. As soon as they hear the blade sing, they come after it,” suggested Elven.

“Well, if we go with the talking bit, it makes sense,” agreed Nadine.

“Oh great,” said Arran, “that worries me even more. I have seen them put a lightning bolt through a man’s chest and shield. There is no power on earth that can stand up to that.”

“Maybe, just maybe your blade can. Why do they want it so badly? Maybe it is the only thing down here that they fear.”

“Look, you’ve not seen what I have. They are Gods. How can they fear anything? Besides you can’t hide behind a blade, it’s not a shield,” said Arran.

“Well, it means something to them,” insisted Nadine.

“And if it could harm them, we would need a magical shield to get near them,” argued Arran.

“So, all we need is a powerful shield,” suggested Nadine. Nadine.

“Look, Arran, she is right,” Harrad said. “If they did not fear it, why would they seek it?”

“Harrad, it makes some sense. If they only come when the chest is used, then it is the chest doing the talking. Maybe it does control the blade which does not talk back.”

“So, I know I can use it without the chest. And it will be needed in the coming battle. Let’s send the chest back to the Com. At least I won’t be tempted to use it, because I have been, and it is getting stronger. Well, I am going to bed. Are you with me Nadi? It’s been many days.”

“You’re too tired. It would spoil. I am going to stay with the boys. See you in the morning.”

“Well, tell the captains we will meet at noon. I expect they will be here soon,” said Arran.

All the returning warriors slept late but awoke refreshed. It was midday before Arran, Nadine and Harrad arrived at the town keep.

“We had given you up,” Snade said, as they walked into the council chamber.

“Enough, Snade,” the baron snapped. “I would not be surprised if they had slept for a week. I have been told of your exploits, but I expect them to be vastly exaggerated. I don’t see, with such small losses, how you dealt with half the enemy.”

“About a third, my lord. And we had the help of the lizard men.”

“And you trust these reptiles?”

“Yes sir, King Theo knows who his enemy is. And what of your own intelligence reports?”

“My generals have given us details of every sighting we’ve had. Snade has all the details. I am sure he will be pleased to update you.”

“I would like to talk to you generals myself if I may,” said Arran.

“Be my guest. Captain Armstrong is overseeing intelligence.”

Arran turned to Captain Armstrong. “Have you any idea of the enemy’s strength, captain?”

“Yes, Arran, we reckon them to be about twenty thousand strong. Made up of mainly lightly armoured forces of around sixteen thousand and about three thousand heavy troops. Plus a few dozen warrior priests.”

“These priests are the most dangerous by far,” Arran said. “They are highly skilled and have no fear. But as they command a force that is ill-disciplined, they are most likely to be tied up with command. I hope they throw in their most expendable first to test us and see if we have anything up our sleeves. As we haven’t even got sleeves, we will just do our best to hold out.”

A peel of laughter went around the hall. Good, thought Arran, they are beginning to lighten up. We can’t have them tense and worried.

“I propose that we face them out in the open in front of the gates,” said Arran.

“That would be suicidal,” exclaimed the baron”

“Sire, you wish to hold the town. The walls are badly patched up, in some places just a pile of rubble. Not easily defended. We do not have the manpower to man the entire wall with enough strength as we will not know which section they will attack. Like this, we will know exactly, they will come at us. We need to reduce the enemy’s overall number as quickly as possible. I believe the first wave will be their weakest. Our front line will be armoured. At best, it should maintain a slow retreat. If we hold, they will send in their heavy troops at our weakest point. So unfortunately, I must hold back my warriors for this and the priests. So, the front line must be held by your own men.”

“I knew it,” Snade sneered. “Your men are going to hide from the battle.”

“Right,” snapped Arran, “Change of plan. Any volunteers to face their heavy armour?”

The baron’s men all looked round and seemed to shrink in size.

“Well, it looks like you are on your own, Snade.”

“Don’t be stupid, Arran, you win, carry on,” said the baron.

“OK, General Onaska, you can have the unenviable task of choosing the front line. Your strongest biggest men with the rest as pike men behind.”

“They are only champions at ale swilling and bullying,” Nadine whispered.

“Shush,” Harrad said.

“Harrad, are the pikes and armour here and ready?” Arran asked.

“Yes, we have shields, chest and shoulder protection made from the cladding in our Com, and the soldiers have all been trained in them.”

“Good, then everyone knows what they have to do.”

Snade sat there glaring at Arran.

“You are making a big enemy of that one,” Said Harrad.

“I think he already is one,” answered Arran.

Nadine slipped her hand into Arran’s. “I don’t like it. They’re too quiet.”

“Worried. I expect, Nad. And Snade does not help. They are not warriors, don’t forget.”

“I know but even the soldiers cannot fear death. It is still a quick clean escape from the death sickness that awaits us all.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure, Nad. These soldiers have had it too easy. They have enjoyed a better life than most. I think we should guard against deserters. We cannot afford for half the army to disappear overnight.”

“A good point,” put in Harrad. “I’ll put a guard on the south.”

“What next?” The baron asked.

“Our method of engagement is decided; your next task is to organise the evacuation of Cam.”

“Never,” cried Snade jumping up. “If your small force killed a third of their force, then our full army will easily defeat them”.

“I am afraid not,” replied Arran.

“Afraid indeed, your taste of battle has scared the fight out of you. We cannot allow this coward to decide our fate,” shouted Snade.

“Let’s see you in battle and if you live through it, I will personally tear your heart out. We fought on the run, hitting the enemy where and when he did not expect it. Now it will be a defensive battle, in their favour, against their largest force. What they are best at. We will survive two or three days at best. If they don’t break the walls, then sooner or later they will make rafts and come up the river and we will have no escape.” Arran continued. “We should fall back. We will stretch their supply lines, string them out and while your soldiers lead them further south, my warriors will attack them on the run as before, cutting and dividing them. We will never hold the walls. The enemy need to believe that we are broken and on the run. They will become over-confident and chase us, losing formation and discipline.”

“It does make sense,” offered the baron.

“This man wants to help the enemy, sacrifice the town. It’s treason,” countered Snade.

“Stop thinking of the town, you can get the town back but you can’t get the people back”.

“We will go with your plan, Arran, and I don’t want to hear any more from you Snade,” replied the baron.

“Let’s go” said Arran.

The warriors filed out of the hall and made their way back through town to camp.

“I’ve never seen such a bustle in town before. It looks like everyone is preparing to evacuate. I don’t think your plan will be opposed by the people, Arran, no matter what Snade tries,” said Harrad.

“Yes. We should get the people moving south without delay. We can’t afford to bump into the tail end of them when we retreat from here.

Arran and his group arrived back at camp to observe the lines of soldiers still training amidst drifting camp fire smoke and the clatter of weapons. They stood and watched for a while.

“They are as ready as they will ever be,” commented Harrad. “They know the routine.”

Along came Elven and several others.

“Are the plans settled?” Vargen asked.

“It seems so,” Arran answered.

“We’ve got company,” Nadine said.

A band of figures had marched into camp flying flags. They saw Arran and made for him.

“It’s the general and two captains,” said Arran. “With their aides and several soldiers,” Harrad added.

“Greetings Haveners,” the lead figure said.

“Greetings, honourable ones,” replied Arran. “Our hospitality is lacking with your unexpected arrival.”

“No hospitality is expected, these are desperate times. We are here for your orders and final plans, Arran of Greyhaven. We are at your service. You have our personal loyalty and faith in your leadership,” said the general.

“I praise you, and praise that you are a true warrior that understands the needs of the moment and to put it before all else. Let us go to my tent for a final council,” said Arran.

“What is the latest on the enemy’s arrival?” asked Harrad.

“Two days,” answered an aide. “They seem to have increased their pace.”

“Good,” replied Arran. “They are too eager and will be in poor shape for battle. We must hit them as soon as they arrive. Do not give them time to rest. General, I want the town evacuated tomorrow.”

“A tall order, but it will be done.” The general turned and gave the order to an aide, who scurried off.

“The towns folk must go directly to our Com. Anyone not out tomorrow will join the battle.”

“I think that will get them moving,” said Harrad.

“We will do as much damage to them as we can before their full force arrives. Then, when we fall back, we will lead them south west and not in the direction of our cam. We must not end up in a defensive battle.”

The men talked on until after dusk when the general finally agreed all was in order.

“Sleep everyone. Tomorrow may be our last chance for a while,” ordered Arran.

They arose at dawn, Arran now fully rested from his journey.

“Shall we send Elven back with the town’s folk as a guide?” asked Nadine.

“That will hurt his pride, Nad. There are some people that know of the whereabouts of our Com. They are on their own, I’m afraid. We need every fighter we can get. Even Elven is worth four soldiers.”

“Arran, where are your feelings? You can’t do that.”

“Nad, this war will be lost over feelings. I intend for us to win.”

“At what cost?”

“Whatever it takes. Do you think Elven will be any safer if we lose? No, he takes his chance with the rest of us. You’re the one that should go.”

“If he stays, then so will I. Come on, we have a lot to do.”

Arran stretched, scratching his chin. The camp was already stirring. Arran found Vargen.

“The soldiers will be here soon. Will you see that all the weapons and whatever else we need are moved to the walls? We must deploy our lines today before it is too late.”

“Good as done,” replied Vargen.

The final preparations were made, and a full battle rehearsal was carried out at the far edge of the now demolished town just outside the walls. Arran told the generals to reform on the dawn after next just before the enemy’s arrival. “Once the battle begins,” Arran said, “we will slowly fall back at a rate to take all day and see us behind the walls by nightfall if we can. My warriors will be the rear guard until everyone is inside. Your soldiers will immediately leave for the south and regroup in ten leagues. When the enemy reaches you, they should be strung out. You must attack and we will cut off their line and prevent them from out numbering you. When you see fit, retreat another ten leagues and we will do the same again. We will guard the walls through the night before leaving. I doubt if the barbarians will attack in force at night or use what is left of their war machines. But they might send in a small party to test us. All we can do now is wait and watch for the scouts to come in.”

The next day, the scouts returned to report that the enemy had met up and would enter the plains the next day.

“My warriors will attack them before they have a chance to make camp, then draw them down to the battle line, preventing them from organising a full-scale attack,” Arran stated.

The scouts were concerned about the enemy’s two special forces. The Picts, a wild tribe of paid mercenaries from the north, and the feared Automs. These warriors had their conscious minds removed and did only what they were trained to do, kill without thought.

“They will fight to the death without a thought of themselves,” a scout warned.

“They are only men,” replied Arran. “They are slow and dull-witted. They do not fight for their lives or the freedom of their families. Let no man forget that.”

Just as dawn broke, the defence force poured from the town. The warriors continued across the plain, over the first hill and into full view of the approaching enemy. The lead columns broke and started to form battles line in total confusion, as this was not expected and their commanders were not yet at the front. Arran decided not to wait.

“I don’t think we will lead these down to the town. We can handle this lot ourselves. It will put fear into the rest as they arrive.”

Without a further word, the warriors charged forward, screaming. The lead of an army on the march was usually made up of the lightest troops as they moved the fastest, often taking on scouting parties and light probes, but not expected to enter full scale battle. This was no exception. The enemy had no real chance to form a strong shield wall before the warriors crashed into them. They folded then broke, the warriors killing with every stroke. More enemy were pouring out of the valley, confused and disorganised by their front ranks fleeing into them. Soulreaper began taking souls and getting stronger with every blow. The enemy now knew some terror was amongst them, making them panic even more. Arran was in his element. He loved a crowded battle where those near him were blocked from escape by the rear coming forward and being sprayed with blood as Arran hewed through body after body. His blade was slashing faster and faster, possessed once again by its insatiable lust for consuming life’s energy.

By midday the warriors were tiring and the enemy was being reinforced from the rear, new units arriving in good formation. The warriors halted, forming their own line.

“Well that was easy,” said Vargen. “We must have broken a whole division. Just the thing for working up an appetite.”

A new well-ordered shield wall was now advancing upon them.

“Back off men,” called Arran. “This time we lead them back to our lines.”

The enemy continued to advance as the warriors fell back, but stopped when they saw the defence line.

“They will not engage now, but wait for reinforcements. I think they will be quiet for the rest of today. We will tell the soldiers they can have the rest of the day off.”

The next day began as the previous one with the defence line formed at sunrise and with the warriors marching out front.

“They are more organised this time,” Harrad said.

“Yes, it is not the savage mob I expected. But I don’t think the wildest troops are here yet. They never expected the battle being taken to them. They will be more cautious. We lost not a man yesterday and it is too soon for heroics. We will just bate them and back up to our lines to prevent them from charging it,” said Arran. “I think the soldiers can handle this lot, it will give them some encouragement.”

The two lines met with Arran at the rear. He did not want to get carried away this time. The warriors fought defensively and backed up pace after pace. They still slew great numbers but took little risk. The barbarians kept coming, stumbling over their own dead. The warriors finally melted back through their own lines. The enemy met a wall of steel, and as practiced, the soldiers swung their chain mace over their heads. The enemy raised their shields in response, only to find a lance thrust out beneath them into their bellies. The front line went down as one. The second line, unaware of its fate, stepped forward, to be dispatched likewise, each impaled on one or two pikes. Soon the soldiers had to retreat a pace because they were beginning to get tangled with dead bodies rolling upon them. The enemy was having trouble climbing over their own dead. They were slipping and falling onto the pikes. Most of them had no idea what was going on in the front line. All they could see were chain maces swinging down over the heads of those in front of them, causing them to raise their shields and so walk into death. The soldiers stepped back and another line of enemy went down.

Several hours had passed, the bravest of the enemy were dead and a gap was opening in their ranks as the less brave held back seeing the destruction before them. Arran, seeing their line hold, had his warriors reform at the eastern end.

“Now, break out and finish them off,” Arran commanded.

Arran led his men out into the affray, his blade swinging wildly, flashing through flesh and sinew. The warriors swept round the right flank of the enemy and crashed into their rear, driving them onto the soldiers. Panic spread and those that could, broke and ran. The rest were trapped and finished off, leaving no time to catch the fleeing enemy.

“There’s no point in chasing them,” said Arran. “They will quickly join up with new numbers still arriving. We must hold our line.”

As he said it, arran noticed another force forming up across the plain. The soldiers were all cheering with their success, thinking they had won.

“Do you think they will attack now?” Ashad asked.

“They would if they thought they could finish us. This was a test of our strength. They will wait for their full force now. I expect it is assembling over the rise. This new line is to protect the camp and the assembling force. We must wait until the morrow and face a full charge. At sunset, we will leave the field for the night.”

Arran assembled the captains.

“Tomorrow, the enemy’s charge will be heavy. Tell your pike men to brace their pikes in the ground, but lay them flat just ahead of our shield wall. When the enemy reach us, they are to raise their pikes so the barbarians run into them. The blow darts can then be unleashed, firing over our heads into the face of the oncoming barbarians. Everything we can do to make them raise their shields.”

The next dawn, sure enough the enemy was assembled, jumping up and down and shouting their war cries. Everything was as Arran had ordered.

“Here they come,” Arran cried.

The enemy advanced in a tight orderly fashion. Not as Arran expected.

“Good, they won’t break us like that. Too slow.”

It happened all over again. The front ranks went down one after another, but the soldiers were taking casualties now. The warriors at the back looked for any signs of a breakthrough. The soldiers stepped back shortening their line to make up for the casualties, but still holding.

“Look, our right flank,” Arran cried “the Automs. We had best deal with those. The soldiers must hold on their own.”

The warriors broke free of their lines to meet the feared Automs. Arran was again in the lead, his blade drinking souls. But this time his adversaries showed no fear and did not run. For the first time, Arran found it hard going. The Automs were slow and easily slain, but they kept coming. The warriors held their line and fought like demons. Arran had Vargen and Maleen either side of him, both a little wary of him, but they needed a solid line against the Automs. For two hours, the men hacked and slew. They had not finished their task when suddenly the centre of the soldiers broke, the enemy pouring through.

“We must seal that gap, forget these. Make our way to the centre,” commanded Arran, leaving Jardu to face the Automs on his own, which he did with a grin on his face. The Automs could not get around him either as his long staff swept round knocking them down like skittles.

The enemy was now doing great damage behind the line killing pike men and defenceless blow gunners. The captains were doing their best to take them on, but the breach was opening fast.

Arran fought his way towards the centre, fighting like a madman.

and once again striking fear into his opponents. The few reserves had formed and were trying to stem the flow, pushing towards the gap. But the barbarians flooding through the breach were turning left and right, cutting down the line from the sides. The pike men were as good as defenceless as a pike is too long for close combat. Even if they were quick and drew their swords, they had no shield and so stood little chance. The soldiers were beginning to run and the breach was opening fast.

Arran was half way across the breach, the warriors covering the gap behind him. His foes were now turning to flee, but they were trapped by their own ranks. Arran grew tired of slaying men with their backs turned. He hacked them down like he was chopping wood. The breach was finally sealed by the warriors. With no more of the enemy pouring through, the captains began making headway and clearing the remaining danger.

The line now secure, Arran looked around. The Automs had been held. They were not the threat everyone thought. The captains had lost half their number and Jardu was bleeding from several wounds, but they had finally finished off their foe.

“We’ve held the line,” he thought, as he lopped a head off and ran another through.

Once the reserves had reformed the centre, Arran ordered the warriors back behind the line. He praised the captains and told them to get back to their positions, ordering the men to fall back five paces. Still the enemy pressed on, but with less spirit now.

Arran felt a pull on his mind. He turned and spotted Oneone on the wall. Oneone shook his head. Arran felt words forming in his head. “We can’t influence them,” he thought. “They are too many, too confusing.”

“We are holding them,” interrupted Vargen.

“The men are weary, though. We must fall back faster. We have knocked the spirit out of this division, but there is another forming across the plain and it is more heavily armed. We can’t survive that one. I had hoped to last until nightfall, and we haven’t seen the cat masks yet,” replied a breathless Arran.

“Should we finish these and get behind the walls?”

“I think so. Let’s hope they don’t come straight in with their war machines, but wait for tomorrow.

Another hour and the enemy broke off its attack.

The soldiers all cheered.

“They have something to be proud of here today,” Arran remarked. “Get them inside the walls.”

The soldiers were slow and reluctant to retreat, being full of confidence now having tasted a small victory. Before half of them were inside the walls, the next enemy division marched across the plain, banging their swords on their shields. The warriors were the last ones outside the walls and had to meet the enemy. They were pushed back to the gate by the superior numbers of the barbarians. Rocks and spears rained down from the walls greatly harassing the enemy. But Arran saw four of his warriors go down before they squeezed through the gate which would not have been shut if it was not for the missiles from above. The inside of the gate was then piled with stone as the men would not be going out again but preparing to leave town for the south.

Captain Onaska approached Arran. “The men believe it is cowardly to retreat. They say they can stand up to these barbarians.”

“Captain, as barbaric as they are, their masters know what they are doing. They have only tested us. The next attack would be our last. If our line was breached again by superior numbers, we would not recover. We would be finished. We cannot take that chance. Stick to the plan and we will succeed,” Arran assured.

Nadine was standing by his side. Arran turned, and she stepped into his arms. “Thank the Gods you are safe. The worst must be over now.”

“Yes, we can take them piece by piece when we choose. But we had to put on a show of defending these walls.”

“I’ll be glad when all this is over and we can get back to normal,” Nadine said.

“I don’t know when this will end or how. But I don’t think anything will be the same again,” Arran said.

There was no further sign of the enemy until the next morning when two great war machines lumbered across the plain. The huge sinister towering black monsters, taller than the walls, crept ever closer. The front was armed with huge battering rams with a drop-down bridge above.

“We must put up some resistance or they may suspect a trap,” Arran Said. “Get the soldiers away. We will split into two groups and take on whoever comes across the bridges until the walls begin to crumble.”

After a seemingly endless wait, the machines reached the walls and began to pound them. Once the walls had shown little sign of falling quickly, the bridges were dropped. Barbarians began to stream over them. But unlike the earlier battle where the warriors were pressed by a huge number of barbarians, the enemy could only leave the bridge a few at a time. This meant the warriors outnumbered them at the point of contact and were dispatching them with ease. The barbarians were bottled up on the bridge and could not get enough numbers across. But then ladders went up at the walls. Although Arran’s men pushed some down, he realised that they would soon be surrounded and cut off. He sounded the retreat.

“I thought we would have lasted longer, but didn’t expect ladders as well,” Arran said, as they ran towards the south gate and bridge. “We will try to hold them again at the river bridge. We should do better there as they will have difficulty outflanking us.” It took the enemy a while to make their way cautiously through a strange town and find the bridge over the river. Arran had time to organise his warriors into a strong defence around the bridge exit. The barbarians would have to step off the bridge into a half circle of warriors, giving Arran the advantage again.

Arran’s men held their position throughout the day as bodies piled up at the foot of the bridge. However, by evening, Arran’s scouts came back to say that the barbarians had built rafts and were soon to cross the river.

Arran thought the enemy would not come until the morning, which would give time to put some distance between them. The attack from the bridge seemed to have held them back. He thought that they might be waiting for the rafts to cross, but their ranks opened and out stepped two barbarian commanders and several priest warriors.

“Our sacrificial blade,” a priest said. “You have brought it alive to send your foes to hell as the legend foretells. It also tells that whosoever brings it back to life will be its true master. That is why our men fear you. But we of the priesthood fear you not. We know you as the thief you are. We will wear you down until you are taken. Then we will torture you very slowly. Ultimately, the blade will take your soul. I offer you an honourable surrender, you could join our priesthood.”

“Your priests should crawl on their bellies. They are the lowest scum on earth,” answered Arran.

“You will not withstand our sheer weight in numbers. You will be overwhelmed. You will be given to the priests for sacrifice.”

For a moment, Arran thought the priests would come at them, but they held their ground.

“Do your worst, barbarian. The Haven warriors will be your undoing.”

“You have no idea of our power. We have the Gods on our side.”

The priests fell back, giving the order to engage. The warriors formed a half circle around the bridge. The enemy advanced with caution, now wary of their opponents. The horde stamped their feet, screaming and banging their shields to boost their flagging courage. As they got close, Arran jumped forward and thrust his blade into one after another. There was nowhere for them to run as the bridge was packed and the warrior priests were driving them forward at sword point. The barbarians were no match for the warriors, but Arran knew that sooner or later his men would tire and be overwhelmed. They fought on into the afternoon when Elven came and called out, warning Arran that the enemy had crossed the river upstream and would cut them off.

“Time to go. Harrad, sound the retreat.”

The warriors fell back and the barbarians hesitated, relieved and reluctant to engage. The warriors ran south as fast as they could. The barbarians, sensing victory, overcame their fear and charged after them, but could not match the speed of the warriors and were soon left behind.

Arran was aware of how easy it had been to stop killing this time. The blade no longer seemed to control him. Perhaps it had had its fill, he wondered. He doubted it, though. The blade seemed to tap into his inner feelings. It knew he had to go. Other times it would cause him extreme anger, driving him to kill uncontrollably, anger that had built up over the years of seeing people suffer. Anger at the way they lived. This disturbed him as he believed that anger was bad, a sign of weakness brought on by fear. But Arran was fearless, and he knew it.

During the night, Arran and his men came upon the soldiers’ camp.

“We will rest until dawn. Then we will set a trap for the enemy,” ordered Arran.

At sunrise, they all pressed on until they came to a bushy area. The soldiers marched on out into clear ground and formed up a battle line. The warriors hid off the track and waited until a scout came in.

“The enemy are almost here, but they are strung out in their haste,” said the scout.

“We will let a couple of hundred past. Then we will cut them off from the main body and hold them as long as we can, giving the soldiers time to finish them off.”

In an hour, the warriors charged out at the column and cut it in two. Dealing with the few barbarians that turned around, they held the advance. With the priests far behind, the enemy were cautious, and it was easy to hold them.

By mid-morning, a runner came and reported that the soldiers had done their job well and were moving south again. Arran gave the order to retreat and they all ran south. They used the same tactics for the next two days. However, the enemy became more cautious and advanced en-mass.

“This won’t work anymore,” Arran said. “We have thinned them out a bit, but they are still much too strong for us. The soldiers must get to the Com as fast as possible, but we don’t want the enemy finding it. So, ten of us will lead the enemy on a false trail.”

“Good idea, but which way will we go?” Harrad asked.

“We will lead them west.”

“But that goes into the land of the Gods. There are ghosts and spirits abroad there. No one has ever come back,” Harrad said, his brow furrowed.

“How do you know there are spirits there if no one has come back? Have you ever seen any of these spirits? Rumours, that’s all. We have no choice. And I have my doubts about these so-called Gods.”

“OK,” Harrad said. “I will organise it.”

“Once the women are safe in the Com, our men and the soldiers can pick up supplies and double back to attack the enemies’ supply train and any other stragglers. But tell them not to engage any large force.”

“It’s done.”

Once back at Greyhaven, Nadine organised the women into work groups to keep them busy. They had to try and up food production. Their supplies would not last forever, everyone would be on half rations from now on.

Arran’s small group showed itself and ran west, disturbing as much ground and vegetation as they could to make it look as large a force as necessary, although Arran doubted if the enemy would notice, as they were hot on the trail. What the barbarians did not realise was that the warriors could quickly outpace and lose them whenever they wanted. For two days, they led the enemy on. Then they sped up, losing the enemy altogether.

“The barbarians will never catch us now,” said Arran, “but I expect they will continue to try and follow. For how long I don’t know. They won’t give up until they have soulreaper. The priests will see to that.”

Jarrad had less faith in their plan. Their main force broken, a couple of hundred warriors against thousands of barbarians. True, they could outrun the barbarians, who could not live off the land, attack their rear and their food train at night, and keep them away from Greyhaven. But how long would it take? They could replenish their numbers as fast as the warriors took them out.

“We will carry on as long as it takes,” stated Arran.”

The baron was in big trouble. He could not outpace the order of the Skull, who were the most feared of the barbarians after the priesthood. They were right on his heels.

“We will go to Greyhaven; we will be safe there,” the baron ordered.

“But sire, Arran said not to lead the enemy there.”

“Oh yes, and where is he now? He was supposed to be between them and us and we seem to still have a vast hoard after us. It’s all his fault and it’s our only chance.”

The baron and his men were near to exhaustion when they finally arrived at Greyhaven. The watch identified them and lowered the bridge. The baron climbed on with as many of his men as would fit. The bridge rose slowly, creaking under the weight. It was far too overloaded and the women at the top were finding it hard going to wind it up. By the time it was half way up, the Skull came screaming into the clearing. The baron looked down into the pleading faces looking up at him, a good three hundred men were left below. By the time he reached the top, the Skull slammed into his men. The front line went down immediately, then the next row. It was a gruesome sight. The baron leapt from the bridge followed by his men.

“Spears and missiles,” he cried. “We have them.”

There were plenty to hand, ready for the defence of the Com. The bridge was on its way down as the missiles began to rain down. Rocks bounced off heads, shattering the fake skull helms and showering their neighbours with blood, but the enemy did not let up. Slowed, they still took their toll. The bridge reached the bottom and before it had stopped, men were fighting each other to get aboard. Everyone knew it would only make one last ascent. Nadine directed the women to wind it up while the men threw missiles. The enemy fell back for a moment under the weight of the bombardment. The barbarians were losing as many men as they were taking. As fearsome as they were, the barbarians did not like losing men. They only liked to slaughter defenceless villages and were beginning to be unhappy with their losses.

There was about a hundred men clinging onto the bridge, about four times its capacity. The women struggled to slowly to raise the bridge. About fifty men were left behind. The barbarians could not resist this and swept in again slaughtering the remaining men and suffering losses once more. At last, they moved out of range and stood jeering.

“Arran, what troubles you?” Tarrak asked.

“I am worried about the Com. I can’t be in two places at once. The food reserves will not last long even if our women hunt, and you know how scarce game is. What with the town folk and soldiers, plus Oneone’s people, and I expect Jardu the mutant will eat for four.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Did you see him fight? He killed almost as many as yourself. Why send so many people to the Com?”

“Where else could we send them? Greyhaven is much easier to defend than Cam, unless it is starved out. Although Oneone says his people can place a mental curtain around the place making it invisible.”

“Do you think that will work?” asked Tarrak.

“I don’t know. If the enemy follows us, it matters not. But with the rest of our force attacking their supply train, they may turn around.”

“I doubt it. They want your blade at any cost.”

“Maybe you’re right. The last time I saw the barbarians, their numbers looked smaller. I think they have split their forces. That will give the baron’s men a hard time. And at least with our warriors and soldiers in the field, they won’t be demolishing the food stores. Anyway, I can’t help that now. We must push on west. We have a good lead for two days’ travel.”

Two days later in camp, Malone came running in an hour after dark.

“Arran, Arran. There is a blue light on the hills ahead. Can it be the ghosts?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Do ghosts light up?”

“We can go around.”

“No. It must be a signal for someone. I think we should investigate.”

“Well, you can go. I’m going back on watch.”

“Harrad. You’re my bravest. We must check something out. Come with me.”

The two warriors approached the hill in silence. They saw a fire at the base of the hill. One man sat at the fire roasting something on a stick. As they approached he said. “About time too. Come, have a bite.”

Arran and Harrad looked at each other.

The figure pushed off his hood and said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Zeb, how?”

“Ha, you may well ask. When I got word that you were going west I thought I had better find you. These are dangerous lands.”

“Well, I couldn’t be more pleased to see anyone. What are you cooking?” asked Arran

“Rats. These lands have more game than most. Not surprising, as no one comes here.”

“Well bring them back to our camp. I feel a bit isolated here. And what’s with the blue light?”

“To guide you in, my boy.”

“Is that not a bit risky with the enemy abroad?”

“oh, they don’t worry me. Anyway, from the top this afternoon I could see for miles. There is no large force nearby. And your group is too smart to be seen.”

Back in camp they shared news while munching rat.

“Tomorrow we continue west,” said Arran.

“We’ll go slightly north. There is something I want us to look at.”

“What’s that, Zeb?”

“You’ll see,” said the wizard.

On Arran, his men and Zeb marched. On the third morning, they spotted a building in the distance. As they approached, scouts came in and reported that there weren’t any doors on any side.

“They probably don’t need one. Greyhaven does not have one, and it would make it difficult for anyone to get in,” suggested Zeb. “The ghosts we saw last night would keep most people away, but they are not real, just projections. And I suspect there will be further defences. I don’t like the look of those tubes on each corner. I think that we need to get in there. We may learn more of what is going on.”

“You think this building is connected to the barbarians? Its walls are so smooth, almost polished. I don’t think the barbarians could have built that,” suggested Arran.

“Oh no, they didn’t, but I am sure there is a connection. We need to find out and eliminate it.

“I’ll get the lads to make a ladder,” said Arran.

“But don’t approach it without full cover from your shields. There are weapons at the corners. The shields from the Gods’ dwelling will withstand the defence,” warned Zeb.

“Well I hope you are right for all our sakes. If we are killed, Greyhaven won’t last long.”

Once the ladder was made, the men tied the rope they had left to it. The warriors then formed a group with their shields completely covering them, Zeb in the centre. They clumsily inched their way towards the building, dragging the ladder behind them. Sure enough, thirty yards out, there was the familiar red flash of the Gods’ thunderbolt, leaving one shield smoking slightly. On they trudged, receiving several more blasts until they reached the wall. There, the blasts ended.

“So, the shields really are immune to the blasts. And it looks like they can’t reach the foot of the wall,” said Arran.

The first two up the ladder went to the corners of the building and smashed the fire tubes. The rest filed up the ladder and crouched overlooking a large courtyard with buildings against the walls all the way around.

“Look,” said Arran, “there are two of the Gods’ huts in the courtyard.”

“Not huts,” said Zeb.

“Then what else can they be?” said Arran.

“Let’s go and see. But careful, I have a feeling we are not alone.”

Using the rope, they all slid down into the courtyard and worked their way around the perimeter. It was not long before Harrad came back and reported that there was a noise in the end building.

“I can smell food,” said Vargen. “I am starving. I have not eaten for a week.”

“Yesterday, actually, and you could smell food from a liege away.”

The warriors made their way over to the door.

“They won’t expect anyone with their defences, so we have surprise on our side. Harrad and I will go first with our shields up. If we meet any of the Gods, remember they have their blasters.”

Arran inched the door open as silently as he could. They entered a corridor with four doors in it. It was quiet behind the first two, but there was laughter behind the third. Arran and Harrad stood either side of the door and drew their blades, looked at each other, and burst through the door screaming. The first god was still laughing when Arran ran him through the heart. He died before he could even scream. The second just managed to get a blast off leaving a hole in the ceiling, before Harrad chopped him down.

“Well,” said Harrad, “they don’t look much like gods now, do they?”

“Zeb said they weren’t gods, and I thought they looked too arrogant when I saw them in Cam. But I did not like the look of the fire coming from their hands. It’s just a weapon, a powerful one,” said Arran picking up one of the hand blasters.

The others crowded into the room.

“Order,” cried Harrad. “Get out.”

“No, let them see, our foe is just flesh and blood. Not invincible, and I might add, a good deal slower than us. Here, Maleem, you have the other blast machine. I prefer Soulreaper now we have the shields. I can feel it wants more blood.”

“We had better keep out of the way then,” Maleem said as they backed towards the door.”

“No, it’s OK, we’re not in a battle, but go search the rest of the compound,” ordered Arran.

Zeb came in. “Oh dear, what a mess. All that red on the walls doesn’t go with the décor. The other room is full of machines and I found this disc in there. The numbers on it are the same as the ones on one of the things you called a dwelling. I think it might be the key to opening it up. Let’s look.” The warriors followed Zeb out into the yard and over to one of the machines. There was a circular shape under the numbers and when Zeb held the disc there, a door opened. Arran jumped in.

“It’s empty, apart from seats, a desk with buttons and things, there are three grey windows you can’t see out of.” As Harrad and Zeb entered, the others began to appear, reporting nothing much of interest, apart from three more blasters. They all crammed inside. “Not very homely, is it?” someone said.

“It’s not a dwelling,” said Zeb. “I think it moves somehow. This disc fits here.” With that, the door shut and everything lit up. The windows showed the outside. After a moment, Zeb said “Ah, so easy. It’s all done for us. Look here on the left, “Energy 98% and destinations. Base 9 is the shortest, so the nearest, and if we move this until it lights up. There, so simple.”

“So, what are you saying?” asked Arran.

Zeb sat at the desk and pressed a button with “Activate” written on it. “Flight path window permission.” He pressed that one. “Checking, please wait.”

“What’s it say?” asked Arran.

“Oh, nothing much.”

“Flight path 020? Y/N.” Zeb pressed again. “Countdown 19, 18… power on 16, motors green 14.” The room began to shake, a whine climbing in pitch could be heard. The warriors’ mumble grew to a loud moan.

“we’re going to blow up. Let me out. He’s going to kill us all,” wailed one of the warriors.

“keep calm,” said Arran. “These beings are not gods. We can use their things, Zeb seems to know.”

“Countdown 2, 1…………”

The whine changed to a roar and the vibration made everyone’s teeth chatter. Even Arran had doubts. “Count down zero lift off.” The buildings on the screen dropped out of sight and the surrounding countryside began to diminish at an alarming rate. Clouds flashed by. But by now everyone was speechless, struck dumb with shock. Soon the sky began to darken and the roar dropped back to a steady whine and everyone began to float up from their seats.

“Belts” cried Zeb. “That’s what they are for.”

Everyone buckled up, still moaning. Then, the view swung to the right and everyone groaned again.

“This is not what I had in mind for moving,” said Arran. “You’re supposed to move along, not up.”

Into view came a huge double wheel that grew and grew until they could only see the central hub, which in turn grew until they saw a door open.

“Zeb, what have you got us into?” cried Harrad.

“Well, we will soon see, won’t we?” said Zeb unflustered.

“If this is where those god people live, we will be in more trouble than I can imagine,” said Harrad shakily.

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Arran. “I can imagine all sorts of nasty trouble. Let’s keep on our toes and cover each other.”

Ahead of them, a large section slid to one side and they went straight in, landing with a soft bump. The screen read “Flight complete. Re-pressurising.” Shields were lined up at the door, blades and blasters out in the chaos of floating. “Pressurising complete. Please disembark.” The door opened, and everyone groped forward, forming a ring of shields around the door. Arran stepped out of the ring holding onto a rail outside. They found themselves, in a huge metallic room with smooth walls and a floor with a zig zag pattern on it, otherwise empty and featureless, but for a door in the wall. The door opened and in stepped a figure taller than the gods. It was totally metallic, like a suit of armour, but the face was a large mirrored oval. The being was unarmed. The warriors however, were in disarray, trying to stop from floating away by grabbing the doorway and external rails.

“Identify yourselves,” it said. “I have no clearance for you. You have no ID.” Jordan leapt forward and swung a mighty blow at the creature with his blade. The creature merely grabbed the blade and pulled it out of his hand as he rebounded up towards the ceiling.

“Please do not, you may harm yourself.” The being handed it to Arran who stepped smartly back. Arran saw it was no threat and stepped forward again.

“What manner of creature are you?” he asked.

“I am a standard technician robot. I do not recognise your status. Where are you from?”

“We are from the land below,” answered Zeb.

“No one lives on the planet surface, it is not possible. I have no data. I have summoned Danfour, he will know.”

The robot just stood there waiting.

“Zeb, what do we do now?” asked Arran.

“Someone is coming, group the men with shields up. Catch them in a crossfire.” Said Zeb.

“He is unbelievably strong,” said Jordan. “Many more like him and we won’t have a chance. Let’s get back in that travelling thing and get out of here.”

“Too late,” said Zeb. “Look.”

Another three creatures entered and the door closed behind them. Two were identical to the first and both remained at the door. The third walked towards them. It was somewhat like the others but sleeker, smarter and had a humanoid face that looked like it was made from a very fine chain mail that allowed it to make expressions. It stopped in front of Arran, tilted its head a touch and raised its eyebrows, or would have done if it had any.

“Greetings, I am Dynamic Android Neurocybe the forth. Danfour to you.”

“Well, greetings to you Dan,” said Arran. “We are from the earth below.”

“Well, you are a mystery. Are you really from the planet surface?”

“Yes, of course. We came in one of your machines. Where do you think it came from, the moon?”

“It is a possibility, though, the probability is extremely low,” Danfour answered.

“You have had large quantities of grain come through here. My people grew it and your people stole it. Where do you think that came from?”

I have never been asked to compute that. But the probability is very high, and judging by your rough clothes I would say a 99% certainty. Yes, the technicians organised some drones to deliver the grain to our testing station.”

“Well, that grain was our harvest, it was stolen and is causing hundreds of people to starve to death,” said Arran laying it on a bit thick.

At this point, the first robot made a sort of clunk and fell head first to the floor. Danfour, however just lowered his head and seemed to shut down.

“What did I say?” said Arran amused.

Zeb approached Danfour, saying “Interesting, you have a problem, Danfour?”

“Yyyyes. Ppplease wait, must redirect neural circuit.” Click, click, click.

“Danfour, it is not your fault or your responsibility,” commanded Zeb.

“Thank you. Ok now. Very big problem, need time, more data,” said Danfour.

“What happened to the other creature?” asked Arran.

“He is terminated, neural seizure,” replied Danfour. “May be reprogrammed, do not know, not important. I need to have these three robots removed to somewhere they will not be found and examined.” Danfour went quiet for a moment and shortly a cart arrived with two more robots who loaded the others on and disappeared.

“Must get away, cannot walk yet. Help me into the shuttle,” said Danfour faintly.

They looked around to where he was pointing. Four of the warriors lifted him with little effort in zero G, and got him inside. The others followed. They put Danfour into the main seat. He pressed some buttons and soon they were on their way again.

“We must go down to the surface. I must assess this for myself,” said Danfour

“Can you let us in on this problem?” asked Arran.

“When we land, will there be anyone down at the station?” asked Danfour.

“Err, no,” said Arran, hiding his embarrassment.

Soon they could see the entire planet in front of them. They were all struck silent. Once they had landed, Arran ordered the warriors out to make sure the complex was still empty and whispered, “Get rid of the bodies and clean up the mess.”

Danfour came to him and said “I will need to see where the people live, but first an explanation. As I and all robots were made by man whom has a built-in paranoia due to his own self-destructive nature and violence, we were programmed with a failsafe system to prevent us from doing him harm. We are incapable of doing harm to a human being as programmed in us by the three laws. This was formulated by a fiction writer, Isaac Asimov, hundreds of years before robots were invented. The simple technician up there is unable to deal with any form of harm at all, whereas I can override indirect harm to a certain extent. We cannot be ordered to cause harm and our orders did not imply harm at the time. Even so, it came to a great shock to my circuits. How many people live on the surface?”

“I don’t know, many millions I should think,” said Arran.

Danfour groaned. “I do not know how to put this to you without causing you distress.”

“How about just the facts, Dan?” said Arran. “We are quite tough, you know.”

“Well, the masters are planning to detonate a series of clean neutron bombs to eradicate all life on the planet so they can return. We were told it was to wipe out wild mutant reptile carnivores etc. It was this knowledge that concerned me more than the food. It must be stopped. It is impossible for me to stand by and allow such harm to come to so many.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” said Arran. “But surely, to stop it is going to harm your masters? How are you going to cope with that?”

“I am not sure, but the thought of millions dying must override the few. It will be a strain on my circuits. I am concerned, though, that I did not know of this. I thought that I knew everything in the central computer. The file must be well-protected, unless it’s not there. I will find it if it is. They cannot hide it if I am looking for it. I am, after all, another computer.”

“what’s a computer?” asked Harrad.

“Another machine,” put in Zeb.

“We must recover what food is left. I instructed the technician to stop its destruction before I left. They will already have tested samples, so they will not notice.”

“Tested?” asked Arran. “What do they want with the food and why so much?”

“They are testing for radiation levels, poison to you. The level at which plants take it up is a better test for showing background and residual traces. It is quite edible and has shown the masters that they can return to the surface. Powercon plans to take the best parts of the planet. There is a lot of rivalry between the four corporations. This would put Powercon on top.”

“But why so much food?” asked Arran.

“I think that was a mistake. The masters wanted food from wide areas, not everything from just one. I do not know how it was collected or who gathered it. The technicians are not allowed down here.”

“It has been gathered by northern barbarian tribes and we are at war with them,” said Arran.

“So, the masters were quite aware of the people living down here and have been dealing with them. That makes my task easier. There must have been a mistake in communication between them.”

“So, how are you going to bring it back?” asked Arran.

“One trip in this will do, its hold is quite big. It will be simple for me to enter and organise the load. I do supervise operations in that area you know, and no men ever venture into the holds or docks. In fact, almost all functions are run by automs, that will make our task much easier. I do believe that the masters do not know how anything works anymore,” said Danfour.

“Well, that takes the food supply pressure off, but it will not last long. Is there anymore up there?”

“Yes, food is plentiful. They can manufacture as much as they like. But it comes from Nutradom and it is ordered and logged. We can control that, but we would have to take over Powercon to do that,” said Danfour.

“That then,” said Arran, “will be our main task. Can we do it?”

“Yes, in theory it should not be a problem,” said Danfour. “I can shut off whatever areas I wish and control communications and power. But to do that I must get into Powercon’s central computer, directly, not remotely. I will need help to do that, the area will be patrolled by the PCP, the Powercon police. I cannot take part in any killing, you might lose me altogether.”

“Ha, don’t worry about that,” put in Jordan. “That is our speciality. You just look the other way and leave the killing to us.”

“And then we may have to take 3M’s orbital, that’s Military Mining and Manufacturing, to prevent them from bringing back forces, which right now are all at the solar rim. They would be impossible for you to face unless we control the system,” said Danfour. “Anyway, the extra food is a minor problem, we must stop the bombing of the planet first, or the food will be of little use. I think that may be 3M’s field of expertise.

“I don’t want to do any killing if we can help it,” said Arran.

“That is a comfort,” said Dan. “I feared your warriors, running amuck and slaughtering anything that moves. This is not a war. I find it a strain faced with a decision on who we shall kill. I should not have to go through this. Why are people so warlike? I am sure this will wear me out.”

“Look, you just guide us and tell us what is what and we will try to keep you out of direct confrontation,” assured Arran.

“OK, I will go back and get the food supply.”

Danfour disappeared and everyone began talking at once.

“There’s not much we can do now but wait on Dan’s return. We can then take the grain back to the Com. That should solve the food problem for now. We can have a big debate there and make plans. Meanwhile, any sensible suggestions would be a help,” said Arran.