Alien Caller (27 page)

“He has
delusions of being a warrior. When all he really is, is a washed
out, relic of a never was. A pale imitation of a true warrior. But
maybe a battle would be a good way to see him die, and rid him from
our lives.”

“A fight, a
fight, a fight …” The other voices chimed in, like a crowd of blood
thirsty ghouls. And suddenly he knew where he’d seen this light
show before. It was an arena, very like the one he’d been forced to
fight in before. And the crowd of raving psycho’s were gambling on
the outcomes. It was déjà vu.

“All right then
monkey. What say we send in some synthetics and have a little fun?
Would you enjoy that?” And he knew that the voice had expected this
very outcome from the instant the trap had been sprung. Maybe even
before. This was why he’d been lured here. To fight. To fight and
to die. It wasn’t even the first time it had happened, except that
this time he could see no way out, and it scared him.

“Let her
go!”

“Ohh I couldn’t
do that. Not until she’s fully recovered from your human disease.
But I could stop it for a while, perhaps, while you die piece by
piece. But the moment you die, she’s back to square one.” No sooner
had he said it, then David heard the sound of footsteps, lots of
footsteps, and he saw lots of yellow eyes staring back at him.
Small, round, oddly lifeless eyes. They surrounded him, just
outside the barrier and he knew they were to be his opponents.

“Let her go or
I don’t fight.” He played the only card he had, knowing even then
it wouldn’t be accepted. The bastard had all the cards against him.
A scream more terrible then all the rest rent the air and he
bellowed his rage in response. He was utterly helpless and he knew
it.

“You’ll fight
or you’ll hear her suffer. And the longer you fight, the longer she
stays pain free. But don’t imagine you can ever win. No warrior is
that strong. Ultimately, she’s ours, and you will die.” The voice
was so calm, so controlled and so utterly repulsive that he would
have killed him with his bare hands in a second. But he knew he
would not get the chance.

A sound behind
him was the first warning, and he spun in time to see an arm
swinging at him. A clawed arm, attached to one of the mechanical
monstrosities. It caught him in the shoulder, and flung him all the
way across the arena, while he felt the needle sharp claws tearing
unbelievably close to his carotid artery. He knew it was a miracle
he’d survived.

“Ah well
friends. Looks like a short match.” The bastard was laughing at
him, and David knew Cyrea’s torture would be beginning again soon.
This foul perversion enjoyed it. He scrambled to his feet,
desperate, barely noticing the blood that was seeping down his
neck. At least it wasn’t gushing. But it could be soon. He’d felt
the creature’s strength, seen its claws and its speed. He was in a
lot of trouble.

It moved
towards him, running like a steam train, and David ducked, using
his legs to trip it in the process. It was all he could think of in
the split seconds he had available, and it worked. The mechanical
man went down, briefly. But it got up again just as fast,
uninjured, and not breathing very heavily. Not actually breathing
at all.

Knowing his
life could end in the next few seconds, he studied it intently.
Built like a man, it had fur like a bear, and claws of something
that looked distinctly metallic. But it had no soul, no spirit, no
intelligence. It was just a killing machine.

It came at him
more cautiously the next time, looking at his position, studying
him as he studied it. Looking for a weakness. Then it struck, arms
moving like a scythe, and David barely got out of its way in time.
The wind from the strike brushed his face, and he knew if it had
hit, he would have been dead or badly injured. But it hadn’t. He
struck back with his full strength, a side kick into its kidneys,
or where they would be if it had any, and was rewarded with a
crunch as something within it broke. It flew to the far side of the
ring like a missile, surely injured, but it got up again, every bit
as fast as it had been before.

From out of
nowhere it leaped straight at him, a somersault of incredible
height and speed as it attacked him from above while he damn near
froze in shock. Nothing should be able to do that. But he blocked
it with both arms, taking the impact like a piece of metal being
pile driven into the ground. Somehow he survived and in the process
he managed to guide it head first into the steel floor. It was
another gut wrenching impact as the steel floor literally buckled,
and he knew he must have hurt it. But the tin man got up again, and
he also knew it wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

David acted,
knowing he had to take the fight to the enemy, and struck it in the
chest with one of his best kicks as it was still rising. It was a
perfectly executed blow and he watched it sail away to the far edge
of the light. Again he’d felt it crumbling under his foot, and
prayed it couldn’t possibly be able to take much more. He was right
as the tin man staggered to its feet finally looking half dead. A
few more selectively placed high kicks ensured that the little
monster finally didn’t get up again. Smoke started issuing from its
neck and a wave of relief ran through him. He knew he had won the
first round.

The sudden
noise of the assembled crowds, startled him. It shouldn’t have.
This was a cock fight and he remembered from the last time that
they always had a noisy crowd. They were both cheering and booing
him, which told him that the gambling had been busy, and he
wondered if many had bet on him. He wondered if he had any leverage
with them. They might be his only ally.

“Your thing is
dead. Now let her go.”

“You know the
rules. Fight until you die. Then she’s ours. But at least you get
to fight again.” He hated that man, that voice. But as if to
emphasize the futility of his position, Cyrea screamed again. A
heart wrenching, soul destroying shriek as something terrible was
done to her. He roared with rage and fear himself, hoping only that
she could hear and know he was coming. Somehow.

A noise, again
from behind told him that another of the mechanical monstrosities
was in the ring with him, and he threw himself to one side, knowing
it would attack from behind, without warning. He was only just
quick enough as it raced past him, straight into the barrier and
then turned back.

The new one was
better armed he noted with concern. It had a curved knife in one
hand, and another blade attached to its opposite knee. And it was
faster than the last. It came for him at horrific speed and he had
milliseconds to move, but the adrenaline powered him and he made it
while once again tripping the nightmare as it ran him down. Like
the last one, it got up, stared at him, and came at him more slowly
the second time, sizing him up for the kill. He knew he’d have only
one chance.

It struck, the
knife swinging at him in a vicious biting circle designed to
disembowel him. But he was expecting the move. What else did you do
with a knife? He caught the robot’s knife hand with both hands.
Spinning rapidly away from it, he broke the creature’s arm,
snapping it like a twig with his own adrenaline fuelled strength,
and then planted a kick in the back of its head. The creature went
down and he didn’t give it a chance to rise. Three more massive
kicks in the rear broke its back and it started making strange
noises as it collapsed in a heap. Then he jumped on its leg,
snapping the blade free from the knee, and breaking the leg clean
through in the process.

The crowd going
wild again was his signal that the creature was either deceased or
wrecked, and more money had swapped hands. But he knew he would be
given no time to rest, no time to find Cyrea. He was right. Three
or four deep breaths and he heard the familiar silence, and knew
another nightmare was in the ring with him. He dived to the side as
before, hoping they didn’t learn from each other, and was rewarded
with his life.

Creature three
was another armed robot, but this one with knives instead of hands,
and just as before, it was stronger and faster than the previous
one. He realized the pattern would continue. They would simply keep
getting more and more deadly until one finally killed him exactly
as the murderous voice had told him. Yet he could do nothing about
it, except fight.

It charged him
again, and he took advantage of its speed and momentum to propel it
into the floor. Another screaming explosion of metal on metal
followed, and the floor began to look much worse for the wear. But
three was also tougher than the other two, and the impact wasn’t
even a scratch to it.

Unlike the
others though, it didn’t approach more cautiously the second time,
it charged him even more quickly. But while that left him
scampering to get out of its way, it gave him the opportunity to
trip it into the floor again. Maybe the tin man might have a lot of
strengths, but thinking didn’t seem to be one of them.

A plan began
forming in the back of his mind as he saw the damage it inflicted
on the metal floor. It was actually slicing it like a hot knife
through butter. Those knives were sharp. But that was to his
advantage and all of a sudden he felt invigorated. Just when things
had looked hopeless, maybe there was a way out after all. Dangerous
and difficult, but still a hope.

He let it
charge him again and again, each time waiting until the last
instant to dive, barely getting out of the way of those wicked
looking knives, and then tripping it repeatedly. It was a
successful tactic if a dangerous one, and he took a number of minor
slices as it got too close. But it was worth it. All the time he
was really only interested in the damage it did to the floor, and
he knew there was hope even if it was slim. Three wasn’t a very big
machine, but such was its speed and the sharpness of its knives
that it was slowly tearing the floor apart. It had cut giant
grooves into the thick metal. He was just glad it wasn’t cutting
into him.

Eventually, as
he’d known it must, it began to slow and its knives became blunt.
Each time he tripped it the more lightly it impacted, and the less
damage it did to the floor. Three was running out of steam, and he
knew four would have to carry on its work. But he still used its
slow death to do the maximum amount of damage to the floor, and to
let himself recover as far as he could. The adrenaline burst was
already starting to wear off, once he knew he was relatively safe,
and as a result his aching limbs and devastated lungs were
beginning to make themselves known. He knew four would be faster
and more dangerous again. He had to be better too.

At the end
three was almost crawling and he knew it was finished. He destroyed
it very quickly, letting it amble past him like a drunk and then
catching its throat from behind. Arms around its neck he squeezed
as it struck hopelessly at him, and with a single massive heave
ripped its head completely out of its body. The tangle of wires and
fluids that stood out of its neck, apparently didn’t work as well
as the original head, and the metal corpse reeled away into the
barrier.

The crowd went
wild. But even as the cheering started he heard four come in and he
turned and dived. This time he had been given no chance to recover
or argue. His tormentor had surely guessed he was simply baiting
the robot while giving himself time to recover. But did he also
realise the damage it was doing to the floor was his potential
escape route? There was no time to wonder.

Four was a
nightmare. It was apparently a karate master and had four arms
moving in wicked combination while he had only two arms to block it
with. It was as big as him and probably much more powerful and with
a lot more moves. Four was the first to really hurt him, as for
every punch he blocked, another got through, and he quickly began
to despair. It was like fighting two incredible athletes in one
body, and all he could do was take it on in a battle of attrition.
He hurt it and it hurt him twice as much in return. But somehow he
found the strength to endure the beating.

Long years of
training, though never against anything like this thing, told him
to go inside, and he dived inside its arms and began hammering it
with both elbows and knees with everything he had. For a while it
was a tactic that seemed to be bringing rewards, even if it
wouldn’t go down. He felt its torso cracking under his continuing
assault. But then number four countered by catching him in a four
armed bear hug. He broke free with difficulty as his wounds were
already tiring him, and directed a kick at its pelvis as he left
its grasp. It was a good kick and the creature flew, but again it
got up easily. He realized that even with as many punches as he’d
gotten through he’d barely annoyed it. It knew it too.

He needed a new
plan. With four arms it knew it had the advantage in a straight out
boxing match, and it wasn’t silly enough to charge him. Four was
definitely a smarter machine than the others. Instead it stalked
him, sizing him up as prey while he backed off, trying to think his
way past it. Its only weakness he knew, assuming it wasn’t
armoured, was its back. He had to get behind it. The way through he
guessed had to be its legs.

No hesitation
given he charged it, pretending to go high and straight, and then
at the last ducked and kicked at its knees. Four was fast,
impossibly fast, but even it couldn’t instantly move the leg it had
its weight on, and he struck it cleanly, feeling the joint crack
under his foot. An excellent blow, even when it managed to get one
solid punch into his kidney. He was beyond pain by then and somehow
followed it up with a lightning strike at its retreating backside,
more bravado then actual effect, but very satisfying as he
propelled it into the barrier.