Chapter 18
Bor Damon had been in command of the city's defenses since early morning. Most of the civilians had taken shelter in the vast pre-war catacombs beneath the city; all reservists were armed and in active service.
(An outraged Al Sharpton protested that the rights of African-American Castilians were being ignored by city authorities.)
Before afternoon, reports reached him of severe damage to the outer wall.
(Luciano Pavarotti leaned against it.)
The Pasko forces, which had unexpectedly and abruptly attacked under the command of Tharlos, had bombed out several turrets and were now on the verge of breaching through. Bor coolly ordered all his riflemen to move toward the critical point and stave off the intruders.
("How do you 'stave off' people?" - "You tell'em to 'Stay Off' your property.")
He had no knights ready but himself - and he had not been in armor for a long time. His only real fighter craft, the Sunray, was missing.
(But he had woodcraft, and indoor crafts, and Kraft's Thousand Island, and...)
Only one city lord had proven himself Bor's faithful ally when the attack came in the morning: Azuch Fache, but his broken bones were far from healed yet. Azuch was being rolled alongside Bor on a wheelchair pushed by Lachtfot, giving Bor constant strategic advice and moral support.
("You have my non-walking support all the wheelchaired way!")
Fache had transmitted an urgent call for reinforcements from his own city,
("Send more pizza! We're dying here!")
but it was being delayed until the next day and Damon City might fall during the night. While awaiting that much-needed support, Librian and Awonso manned the laser transmitter without pause, sending desperate requests for help to Yota and Orbes. From those two supposed allies, less than three hours' flight away, came only silence.
(Supposed silence.)
In the city cathedral, spared from enemy fire, high-priestess Inu and her female novices were praying for a divine intervention from the Goddess; they called for the spirit of the Singing King to boost their soldiers' courage.
"I have felt his presence," she told them, calm in the faith that would not be rocked by mere explosions.
([Feminine voice] "And it was THIS big!")
"He will come to us again. For it is written: are you lonesome in the darkest night, he will sing new life into you."
([Sings] "Are you lonesome to-night...")
In the castle's inner sanctum, Lady Osanna had armed herself with a rifle, readying herself for a last stand. Eveli stayed close to her. This was the first time in the girl's life that the city had been under attack, and she was terrified.
("I say, I am terrified!")
Also with them were Bor's sister Bwynn - and Andon Pasko, huddling down in a corner. He had never been a fighter, much less a man of courage or character.
([Whiny voice]"I'm a lover, not a fighter, baby!")
As Bor was ordering his men to the outer wall, an ensign peered out a narrow window with his binoculars.
("Hey! Check out that babe in the hot red dress!")
"It's the Sunray!" he suddenly shouted.
Bor and Azuch started, barely able to believe their ears.
("We do not believe in ears. We are Ear-theists.")
Bor Damon immediately ordered the signalmen to flag an urgent order to the gunners: FRIENDLY AIRCRAFT COMING IN.
("It's got a huge smiley face painted on!")
For a moment then, Bor hesitated, fearful of what outside contamination might be clinging to the Sunray and its passengers. But just for a moment.
(If they'd had Homeland Security, they would've blasted that suspect aircraft out of the aky right away!)
They witnessed how the Sunray fought enemy aircraft and turned the battle in their favor; they saw enemy artillery go up in smoke and flames; they felt the impact when a Pasko plane crashed into the castle gardens.
(They watched in awe the Morgan Fairchild catfight with Bo Derek on Fashion House.)
Bor Damon's pride swelled in his chest for those brief moments; his son had returned and proved himself a man.
(A man's man! A real manly-man! [Sings]"Macho, Macho Man...")
Then, Bor saw the pulses being fired from the Sunray's rear, and thought: Someone is rear gunner. It cannot be him. He must be dead.
("No, that cannot be Freddie Mercury gunning the rear!")
Breathing heavily, Bor hurried to the hangar above and entered the main hall.
(*GASP* - *WHEEZE*... *GASP* - *WHEEZE*...)
The place was bustling with activity; the huge steel-and-concrete ports rung vibrantly as enemy fire rained down on them.
("An umbrella! My kingdom for an umbrella!")
Gasping at the sight of Dohan, at the foot of the battered Sunray, he rushed toward him. And behind his son, he then saw Darc - alive and healthy. The man had cheated death again. The, raw, chilling fear of the unknown passed through Bor like a ghost's breath.
(Like an overwrought horror-story, like hell's clarions, like an early Stephen King novel...)
Could it be that Darc really was immortal, as the rumors were saying?
(Nope.)
The city lord stared past his approaching son, straight into Darc's face - and in that face he saw something his mind could not grasp, an enemy far more ominous than the fire that pounded at the castle.
Change.
([Intense voice] Small change.)
("It's just my pet poltergeist, don't stare! He doesn't bite...")
He took a deep breath and walked across to greet Azuch Fache, waving away the city lords' attempts to speak up.
("Talk to the hand!")
"Please, my lords - we have no time to explain now. You must get the Sunray back into battle, before the enemy can shoot into the hangar."
Bor nodded dazedly, and shouted orders to Surabot and the hangar personnel. Darc recognized who was pushing Azuch's wheelchair, and grinned at the robot.
"Are you surprised to see me, Lachtfot?"
"Nothing surprises a robot, Sir Darc. Welcome back."
([Robot voice] "That - is - to - say - I - welcome - your - back - not - you")
Darc nodded, and turned to Azuch Fache: "My lord, I want to help out. Can I borrow some of your body armor and guns?"
("And five hundred bucks? I'll pay you back next week.")
Azuch was stunned. The reincarnated Singing King, back from the dead, was asking to borrow his weapons!
He said, uncertainly: "Yes... but... I mean..."
("Spit it out, man!!")
Bor cut him off, white in the face: "No! As long as I am lord of this city, no upstart commoner is to soil a nobleman's suit of war! Dohan!"
("Get this upstart commoner a pair of clean diapers pronto!")
"Yes, father?"
"Arm yourself and head to the northern wall in the carrier. I take the Sunray. You take command of the troops there. Watch out for Pasko's new knights. Understand?"
"Yes, father."
"Now go!"
("Oh, and if you get injured, try no to bleed all over the carpet...")
Dohan ran off to his duties - relieved and somewhat surprised that their reunion had been so brief.
Bor turned to Darc: "And you... I could cut you down here and now."
("Execution style!")
Darc met Bor's furious eyes without fear - he had stared death in the eye twice.
"I don't think you should do that, my lord. Everyone thought I was gone. Seeing me fight would scare the enemy, and boost our fighting spirit. You know that I'm right. The church has shown me its support."
("The frickin' Pope guest-starred at my concert, man!")
Bor glowered at Darc, then at Lord Azuch Fache. Azuch nodded solemnly.
(Someone farted solemnly.)
Bor grunted: "So be it. Arm yourself and get into the carrier. If you die by enemy hand and not mine, so much the better."
("Speak up, man! You're grunting so I can't hear a word you're saying.")
Darc afforded himself to slap Bor's shoulder.
"Let's kick some Pasko butt," he said and hurried off to the armory.
Bor trembled - from fear or rage, he did not know which.
("ASS!!" he shouted after the departing figure. "It's 'Kick ASS!!'")
But he quickly regained his composure, ran up into the Sunray, and prepared for takeoff. Azuch Fache was left to oversee the castle defenses and the communications with their as-yet-absent allies.
"To the war room," he ordered Lachtfot.
("And get me Dr. Strangelove.")
([Sings] "Huh! Good God! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!")
For the city lords and their knights, it was their main reason for existence. For the city dwellers, it was just terror. And for Darc...
(... it was like a chronic bowel infection.)
The white-haired time traveler was sitting in the crowded troop carrier, all geared up in a shiny helmet, shoulder pads, and chest and back plates. He almost believed he was having a bad dream - that any moment he would wake up in a hospital bed - it would still be the year 1999, and he would still be dying.
(Or maybe he should just stop watching Life On Mars.)
The soldiers aboard the flying carrier were regarding Darc with great curiosity; next to him stood Dohan in a hunching position, once more clad in his mechanized armor. He pulled up his face visor; the flight would be over in seconds.
(A mad shoe bomber had just lit the fuse.)
"They expect you to say something," Dohan told Darc over the engine rumble.
"Like what? That the 'King' lives?"
("No, just say 'Something.'")
The irony in Darc's reply was 900 years past its time; it went unnoticed. "Yes! Hurry, we are almost there!"
Darc stood up, grabbing a ceiling rail to keep his balance.
He beat his shield with his rifle-butt, and yelled at the wide-eyed riflemen:
("SOMETHING!!")
"The King never dies! The King can be killed, but he never dies! Because... you cannot kill the music!" The soldiers roared with enthusiasm. Darc added, in English: "Now let's rock'n roll! Rock'n-roll!"
([Angry voice] "We're gonna rock, gonna rock around the clock tonight!")
He felt like a total fool.
(It's more than a feeling!)
But the soldiers - young and grown men - shouted "Ro-ken-rol! Ro-ken-rol!" in chorus. Darc noticed their enthusiasm, their increased preparedness to die for their city. He admired their courage - and hated himself, for urging them toward an early death. He had not, not yet by a far stretch, earned the right to call himself king of anything.
(King of Swing? King of the Ding-A-Ling? King Bling-Bling?)
The troop carrier touched down on an abandoned open place, and the passengers rushed across to the looming outer wall. The main force of riflemen scrambled up the sets of stairs that crisscrossed the sloping wall. From there, they spread out along the battlements, twenty meters above ground.
("I can see my house from here!")
The remaining group gathered with Dohan and Darc at the foot of the wall, taking cover behind nearby buildings and blocks - waiting for the expected enemy breakthrough.
(Someone stepped on the foot of the wall, and the wall howled with pain.)
With intervals of less than a minute, the ground shook as enemy explosives and concentrated laser fire ate through the massive layers of stone and concrete. High above their heads Bor entered the battle, fighting the remaining enemy aircraft; he could not offer any assistance.
("You have come to Urban Warfare Assistance. Please wait for one of our operators to take your call.")
Darc felt his teeth vibrate with each, increasingly powerful detonation. As always in a war, the waiting was the worst part - waiting for death, or a small opportunity for glory.
(Waiting for the inevitable posturing idiot to say "Mission Accomplished.")
"Why does the enemy not climb up the sloping wall, instead of breaking it up?" he asked a rifleman, a bearded fellow who probably had an ordinary occupation, a family hiding in the catacombs, and a single rifle to protect them with.
("The Enemy Trade Union refuses to climb until they get a 10% wage hike.")
"Ah, but we have traps, sirrah - electrified barbed-wire, spread all over the outside," the man replied. "They climb the walls, they get tangled up and die. Those rotten, treacherous bastards must breach the wall before their supplies run out, or it's curtains for them."
("Rotten, treacherous curtains.")
Another large explosion came, and a twenty meter wide top section of the outer wall began to collapse on itself.
A few minutes later, the battlements of the weakened wall section crumbled. The section cracked up into several house-sized pieces, pushing inward as the enemy launched more explosives from outside.
The riflemen on the surrounding battlements kept firing at the Pasko troops below - but the advancing enemy was well covered behind their reflecting shields. Only a few men on both sides were actually wounded by the blazing crossfire.
(Cable news reporters in their circling helicopters were shot down in the crossfire, and the soldiers cheered.)
("Launch a final round of Beach Volley!")
Collapsible towers rolled forward, ready to drop long gangplanks onto the breach in the fortress.
The enemy artillerymen loaded the pneumatic tubes with cylinders of explosive jet fuel, lit their fuses, and fired. Pressurized air charges shot the cylinders sixty meters through the air, and they exploded in deafening fireballs against the wall. And finally, the bottom half of the damaged wall collapsed; it crashed inward in a cloud of dust. The gangplanks were dropped in the rubble, and Pasko's troops charged through, roaring.
("LEGENDARY APACHE CHIEF!!")
Dozens of the attackers fell as Damon's riflemen greeted them with a merciless fusillade. But they pressed on desperately - no one wanted to stay out in the Wastelands for long, especially not until nightfall.
(Cos' after nightfall, you couldn't buy a decent bagel and coffee anywhere!)
A passing enemy craft suddenly screeched past the place,
("IIIIIH!!")
strafing the surrounding battlement, and several of Damon's riflemen fell. The enemy footsoldiers charged on. Dohan and his company would have to fight the invaders at point-blank range.
("Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes! I mean, the bloodshot whites... I mean, the corneas of... oh, forget it!")
A green and red latticework of laser-beams danced across the fields and streets, hitting soldiers, ricocheting off shields, cracking into houses.
(Crack houses? *Tee-hee!*)
In just minutes, a large contingent of enemies managed to cross the narrowest part of the open place and enter the city streets.
("What's a 'contingent'?" - "A bunch of continent people.")
([Stoned voice] Hey man, that's good smoke torch!)
He looked for Dohan - the armored knight was already away in some other corner of the nearby city block, leaving dead and fallen enemies in his wake.
(A so-called "drive-by joust.")
Several more Pasko soldiers fell on the cobblestone, but more and more managed to cross the open place and spread out in the narrow streets. The combat went from wild shooting to hand-to-hand fights with swords, bayonets and spears.
(Britney - the most gruesome weapon of all!)
Forced to leave his cover, Darc scrambled for a two-story house, lasers bouncing off his helmet, and darted into an open door. He slammed it shut, overturned a cupboard in front of the entrance, and headed up the nearest narrow staircase.
("You come back here and clean up this mess right now, young man!")
From an upstairs window, he might have a chance of taking out a few enemies...
When he reached the top of the stairs, something solid smashed against his helmet. He stumbled to the floor and rolled around on his back, with his rifle ready to shoot the attacker. It was a woman who had ambushed him - she stared down at him, holding a broomstick in her hands.
([Feminine voice] "See this? This is my BROOMSTICK!")
The raven-haired woman gasped: "Don't shoot! I thought you were the enemy!"
She helped Darc to his feet; his head was aching, but fear kept him alert.
"Get into the catacombs with the others, lady! What are you doing up here?"
("An axe-wielding maniac in a hockey mask came after me, so I went to the safest place...")
"I was delayed," she blurted out - her guilty face was concealing something, but Darc had no time for questioning.
(Let that be a lesson to you, kids: guilty concealing faces will always blurt out.)
He squatted at a window, opened a pane slightly ajar, and began to aim at the scene outside.
(Scene I, Act I of Lars Noren's Salome.)
"Is there a way to reach the shelters without going out the front door?" he asked, not looking back.
("Use the secret back door. The password is 'Joshua.'")
He fired, missed, fired again, missed, hit a Pasko trooper, and ducked when several pulses flashed past his head. "Get down!"
([Funky voice]) "Get up! Stay on the scene! I'm like sex machine!"
The woman, though frightened, was not dumb - she ducked on her knees and hands before he told her to.
"Too late now anyway," she said desperately. "The shelters are sealed off until the battle is over! Oh Goddess, we're going to die!"
(The power of Negative Thinking!)
Darc ignored her, and moved over to another room where he could get a better view.
("Room service? I'd like a better room, with a view of the sea.")
From a window, he suddenly glimpsed Dohan - flying past above his head.
("Maverick!!")
DARC AGES (c)A.R.Yngve 1995, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved. May not be copied without permission.
______________
A.R.Yngve
The MSTing Of
DARC AGES
Book One
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(When people started playing with laser pointers, the Renaissance festival went out of control.)
Darc's legs were a bit unsteady as he approached Bor Damon - more because of the air battle, than because Bor was staring at Darc as if he had seen a ghost.
War.
Sir Tharlos Pasko, standing behind one of his huge grenade launchers, ordered a final volley.
Darc took cover behind his shield and helmet, and fired a few random shots into the haze at the foot of the outer breach. He couldn't quite see what he hit; the enemy used smoke torches to weaken the aim and impact of the defense.
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