Barrington Bayley - Star Winds

“Yes, my liege-lord,” he repeated in a murmur, “I suggest we leave it for a while…”

Caban, what the hell has happened to you? he thought furiously to himself.

The homunculus had been growing for about ten weeks. Rachad came into his room one night and stared at it, biting his lower lip.

As far as he could judge the creature was fully matured. The facial features had taken final form several days previously, and a haughty, austere visage stared back at him through the side of the jar, the head, with its long bony nose, tilted ever so slightly on one side.

It was a marvel to Rachad how faithfully the development of the homunculus had followed the direction of his thoughts—the likeness to the original was uncanny. Yet still he had hung back, wanting to be sure. He would only get one chance.

Suddenly he made up his mind. The time for hesitation had to end sooner or later. It was do or die. And the present moment—the Aegis’s nighttime, its activity subdued, and when the laboratory staff had all retired—was most propitious for his purpose.

He stepped to his bed, bent, and drew from beneath it a large hammer. Standing again before the oversized cucurbit, he braced himself and swung the hammer with both hands.

The first blow starred the glass with cracks. The second shattered it and the cucurbit fell to pieces. A gush of water flowed forth, swilling around Rachad’s legs and flooding the floor of the small room.

And following the flood there stepped forth the man-sized homunculus. The fluid seemed to fall away from him to leave him perfectly dry, even dropping out of the fabric of his voluminous purple robe. He stepped hesitantly, looking frail, gazing around him with glazed eyes.

Rachad focused his thoughts. Say to me: I can speak, young Rachad .

The voice that came was distant, breathless, vague. “I can speak, young Rachad.”

A perfect imitation!

Rachad walked the creature up and down the room, still under thought control. To look at, it was hard to believe it was not a genuine human being.

He would have to move quickly. It was odds-on whether they would get to their destination before the homunculus collapsed.

“Come with me,” he ordered.

Stealthily they left the sleeping quarters, making for the entrance to the inner maze.

Low ceilings of soil and rock confined the noise of bustle as, in the underground tunnels, men readied themselves for a last stand.

Outside, Kerek ships were dropping from the sky like autumn leaves. Baron Matello closed his ears to the bitter arguments going on around him, getting Captain Zhorga to help him strap on his armor. He lifted up his two-handed sword, his favorite weapon, and ran the lamplight up and down it before sheathing it in its enormous scabbard.

Nearby, visible through the open door of the commandant’s section, a squad of men-at-arms were checking their bell-muzzled muskets. It was so cramped and crowded here. It would almost be good to get into the open once again, even though it was to face certain death. Sourly Matello glanced at the periscope at the far end of the chamber. The man who sat peering into it was one of a round-the-clock watch of six, and the presence of the niggling, useless duty had begun to grate on Matello’s nerves.

Suddenly the argument broke off and King Lutheron turned to Matello. “What do you say, Sir Goth? The Commandant here is trying to persuade me that now is the time to seek refuge with the Duke of Koss. It was you, I remember, who first raised the possibility.”

“There are too many of us, liege-lord,” Matello rumbled. “Koss would never let us in—even unarmed, we are enough to take over the Aegis, and he will let nothing interfere with his private wretchedness.” He paused to pull tight a large buckle, moving his arms to test his freedom of movement and grunting with satisfaction. “In a way I brought about this state of affairs, liege-lord—but I never thought the Kerek would descend on us like this. Rather, I thought they’d pass this star by—but there’s the Kerek for you, they seem able to sniff anything out, and it will only be a short time before they find us and dig us out of our hidey-hole. I say, make a sally against them while they are unprepared, then retreat back here and kill them by the droves as they try to reach us through the access tunnel. We’ll make a good, hard fight of it before they get us all.”

“That I agree with,” the camp commandant said, his face turning red with something like anger. “But the Duke of Koss might admit the King at least, if not the rest of us!”

“We would have to reveal the presence of our camp, which will put the duke in a strange frame of mind. Still, it is up to His Majesty to make that decision.”

“Give me a sword,” King Lutheron said. “I will fight with the rest of you.”

Matello nodded. “Come along, Zhorga, let’s inspect the men.”

At that moment a yell went up from the man at the periscope. “ Commandant! Come quickly!”

The officer lumbered to the instrument, bent and put his eyes to it. After only a second he straightened and turned to address the room in astonishment.

“The gates are opening!”

Matello blinked. He rushed to the periscope, nearly shouldering the commandant aside in his haste. What he saw through the eyepiece made him gasp.

The eyepiece communicated with a lens that, hidden in the shadow of a rock, kept watch on the Aegis. Two great doors were now edging slowly outward, giving a glimpse of geared machinery within.

“He’s done it!” he gasped hoarsely, turning back to the others. “The Aegis is open!”

Like him, everyone was paralyzed for a moment. Then Matello began to bellow wildly.

“Get moving, you curs! This is what we’ve been waiting for!” With his clenched fist he gestured at the commandant, his eyes bulging. “Drop the ramp! Sound the advance!”

The commandant snapped out an order, then strode to the two big levers that were set in grooves at the side of the chamber. As a trumpet began to sound he took them one by one in both hands and pulled them hard over.

The result was dramatic. The roof fell in, a section of ground overhead folding inward to form a ramp which showered dirt and dust directly into the post. Matello was first to leap up that ramp, his great sword in his hand, closely followed by Zhorga and others who had already arrived in answer to the trumpet’s summons.

He emerged scant yards from the Aegis gate. Matello raced for the widening gap. His broadsword flashed briefly in the fierce sun. Then he was inside, looking for young Caban.

But it was not Caban who had opened the Aegis. Matello found himself facing a large, nearly empty plaza, illuminated by soft ceiling lights. A line of pikemen, in the peculiar pied livery of Koss, stood behind a mass of timber that looked as if it had been newly chopped to pieces. A large adamant box-shield lay on top of the pile. Matello could easily guess that this had protected the wheeled mechanism which was now being worked by two more pikemen as the foot-thick doors continued to swing open.

The line of guards were standing stiffly at attention, the ends of their weapons planted firmly on the floor, and were making no response to Matello’s entrance. Then Matello saw Rachad, standing beside a gaunt, pale figure in a long purple robe.

He knew at once that this was the Duke of Koss. Though the figure looked ill and consumptive, he recognized him from a painting he had once seen of the former duke. Yes, this was the detested Koss’s son for sure.

Zhorga drew abreast of Matello. The two of them stared in puzzlement at the unexpected scene. Suddenly the duke swayed, his head drooped, and he fell in a graceful swoon to the floor.