There was an urgent knocking on the door, and Tristao rushed in, his hair disheveled. “The cyborg fleet is headed this way, and we’ll be under attack in minutes,” he said, his voice urgent.
Mar-ee hid behind Talia. “Don’t let them take me!” she wailed. “They’re perverts! They will attempt to interface with my ports!”
Tristao grabbed Cora Lee’s arm. “All of you, we need to get you downstairs. Now.”
Chapter Eight
Far below the Wor-Lan skimmers was Treffon’s castle, smack in the middle of the Thorolf territory. It was located to the west of the city of Donnelle, the trading port that was a neutral zone between the Wor-Lan territory and Thorolf territory.
And above the Wor-Lan skimmers were the cyborgs. Ultimate cowards. The Vulfans held them in contempt for relying on weapons to wage war, rather than meeting face to face in the field of battle. However, that didn’t mean that the Vulfans were going to lie down like keeple-beasts and allow themselves to be slaughtered. Both the Wor-Lans and the Thorolfs had their top scientists constantly developing and refining new weapons to repel the threat of the cyborg attacks.
The skimmers, silvery discs that cut through the sky in a V-formation, sliced towards the Cyborg Destroyers. It was clear that the cyborg ships had been built by inhuman entities. They had none of the sleek, organic lines of the Ilyrian craft, and bristled with weaponry. Even had Lukan not known how pitiless the cyborgs were, he would have thought the hulking, gunmetal gray destroyers sinister.
Piloting the lead skimmer, he leaned hard on the controls, fighting the juddering of the craft as it fought for altitude in the thinning atmosphere high above the green-blue surface of Ilyria. The ships weren’t equipped to leave the atmosphere, but they would need to be as close as possible to the Cyborg Class 1 Destroyers when they deployed the plasma blasters. Simulations and ground tests said that the newly developed weapons would penetrate the deflector shields and thick hulls of the destroyers.
Lukan could only pray that they would.
It was a noble thing for a Vulfan to die in battle, but he felt a pang of regret and loss deep in his heart as he thought of Talia. The thought that he might never hold her in his arms was almost too much to bear.
But here and now, he had to defend his people from the cyborg threat.
Half a dozen Thorolf Predators, shield-shaped craft not much larger than the Wor-Lan skimmers, swooped and dived around the cyborg vessels, drawing their fire. They were fast and maneuverable, and Lukan admired the skill of their pilots. But they didn’t have the firepower to take the Destroyers down. As Lukan watched, one of the Predators rolled into a dive, smoke spiraling from its fuselage. As he pulled his skimmer up, the rest of the Wor-Lan craft followed him in smooth formation like a flock of swallows.
With one of the Predators dispensed with, the larger Cyborg Destroyer swiveled its turrets, redirecting its fire at the Thorolf stronghold. Laser fire splashed against the walls, knocking away great chunks of stone that went tumbling down the sides of the building.
A great black weight of rage sat in Lukan’s chest, threatening to choke him. Vulfan paws were useless for piloting a skimmer, but he felt his inner beast snarling against the inside of his skin, desperate to get out and protect its mate. Theydaredto attack his true mate. His Talia. They dared.
Poising his thumb over the button that would fire the plasma blasters, he waited until the last possible moment, until the skimmer was threatening to shake apart in the thin atmosphere and the cyborgs must surely think the formation was coming in for a suicide dive.
Then he fired his weapon and pulled hard on the controls, the belly of the skimmer almost scraping the thick metallic hide of the Destroyer as he swerved away. The other skimmers discharged their weapons and peeled away behind him, pulling in alongside his craft in a tight, spiraling formation.
For an agonizing moment, he thought it hadn’t worked. That the cyborg ships were too heavily engineered, and had simply absorbed the plasma blasts. Time slowed.
Then the massive hulks seemed to blast apart from within, breaking apart in a blinding supernova of white light that seared Lukan’s retinas. Chunks of burning fuselage tumbled towards the ground far below.
Lukan’s heart started to beat again.
* * * * *
Lukan strode up to the massive wooden double doors in front of the castle. He was alone – he’d insisted on it. He’d sent most of his fleet back to his own pack lands, with one skimmer waiting outside Thorolf territory to give him and Talia a ride back – if she was willing to go with him.
He felt impatience pulsing through his body. Talia was in there, and she should be with him.
It was four hours past moonrise, and the night sky was a deep purplish black with the planet’s two moons casting a white glow over the land. In the distance, plumes of smoke rose from the massive chunks of the defeated Cyborg Destroyers. Fire suppression crews would be travelling out to those spots to extinguish the flames.
Treffon’s castle was similar to the Wor-Lan castle – built with great twisting spires that mimicked the trees and mountains of their world, and studded with windows of colored glass.
Ten members of the Thorolf Guard stood in front of the castle doors, laser rifles resting on their shoulders. They stared suspiciously at Lukan. A Wor-Lan coming to Thorolf territory was unprecedented.
“I am Lukan Anders, Reginar of the Wor-Lans, and I request entry, and audience with the Reginar Treffon.”
“Say please,” a large, silver-haired guard sneered at him.
Lukan bristled and let out a howl of rage. Not only was this man insolent, he was standing between Lukan and Talia. His Talia. He had been denied her too long, and anyone else who tried to keep him from her was going to bleed, and then die.
He shifted, as pure fury flowed through his veins. He felt the satisfying crack and snap of his bones as they re-set themselves, the brutal thrust of his fangs piercing his gums. The smell of the guards’ anger and fear filled his nostrils.
The guards shifted as well, their laser rifles dropping to the ground. The Vulfans never used weapons when fighting with each other; it was considered the height of dishonor. They reserved their weapons for fighting with other species, and considered those species inferior for being so weak as to hide behind technology.
