The Suns of Arkon

By David Stanford

Arkon is fated to die. Now, Earth finds itself in the vicious grip of its new masters – the Mecs.
Kale, a tenacious, human survivor, must find a way to save the person he loves from death and bring peace to what is left of his planet ravaged and torn apart by destruction and chaos.
Journey through worlds, as a human makes an unlikely alliance with the ones responsible for creating the monsters plaguing them. But freeing themselves from the verge of decay requires Kale to do the impossible, things no human should be able to do. The power of life’s essence, the energy required by the Mecs to survive, to crush and consume, is the only weapon they have to fight back.
The Suns of Arkon is a fast-paced tale of treachery, despair, love and unwavering bravery of two worlds on the brink of obliteration. Can they find a way to save themselves and others to follow? Together, for the sake of all worlds, they must.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326812997

Book preview

The Suns of Arkon

THE SUNS OF ARKON

A Novel by

David Stanford

Copyright © 2016 David Stanford

Cover design © 2016 David Stanford

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means ­– except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without written permission from its publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2016 David Stanford

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-326-81299-7

This book is lovingly dedicated to my wonderful wife, Faye, for every meal you put on our table and everything you’ve done for our family, and my amazing son, Archie, for being the best gift a man could ask for.

Prologue

When hope for survival fades to darkness, a faint glimmer of light can be the difference between our seemingly inevitable end, and our spirit to fight, to overcome, and like the phoenix to rise from the ashes, reborn.

A faint glimmer of light might save a planet from its own down-bringing. Arkon first encountered its own demise many star cycles ago, when the planet, once full of life, rich in minerals and resources, found itself voided and bled dry of almost all of them at the hands of its inhabitants; a humanoid race of great intelligence called Arkans. The Arkans were led by the most intelligent of their kind; the Creators, who were responsible for ensuring the survival of their people in an environment that was blistering and unforgiving. They were well advanced in science, and medicine which allowed them to thrive in the harsh conditions of their planet; conditions that worsened as its great twin stars drew Arkon closer and closer with every cycle.

The scorched, rocky world orbited its binary stars in such a way that during light, its vast plains shimmered with white waves of wicked heat, whilst dark became callously colder with each cycle that passed. Were it not for the Aegis; an atmospheric shield system put in place by the creators, they would have perished long ago, but they would live for now. This artificial atmosphere, almost invisible to the naked eye, protected them from the heat of day and retained the warmth in the cold of night. Most importantly, it emitted a repelling force, preventing the stars from closing the decreased space between themselves and their planet. Arkon orbited its binary stars at a safe distance as long as the Aegis existed, but the energy they needed to power it was more than they had ever previously been able to harness. They would have to dig deep into the bowels of their planet to find new minerals that could be used to generate the power they needed to survive. They quarried deep under the rocky ground to source all that they could in their attempts to keep the Aegis going but all of this came at a cost, a cost that Arkon would have to pay for dearly, because they were running out of time. They had mined their last resources for fuel, had failed at every attempt to harness a reliable source of power and if they couldn’t generate enough energy – energy that could sustain the Aegis that was saving their planet from the relentless twin suns – every Arkan and every living thing on Arkon was doomed to die.

The time came when the great leaders had to act and arranged a gathering where their leader, the High Creator had called all of the ten of his council to make a choice; one that would change the fate of their planet forever.

Brothers, sisters, we all know what fate lies in the star cycles ahead. I have called this council because I need your minds and your voices to help make a choice that will change our fate.

Stood proudly at the head of the council circle was a figure so strikingly prominent it demanded the full attention of the room without much need for request. Although aged somewhat, he towered over the council members as he addressed them all respectfully. In the half light of the chamber his dull grey skin caught enough light to define the fine stature of his scarcely clothed body. Perhaps it was the sweat on his skin or maybe the hardened muscles of a seasoned warrior are difficult to hide, especially in such a relentless climate, but from his legs up to his shoulders, their leader looked brilliantly bold. His fellow members dressed not so differently to him. They wore the same hide sandals on their feet – brown and strapped up to the calf, and short garments wrapped around their waists. The only difference was that whilst the male members left their chests bare, the female members did not. Still, until the darkness brought its chill, Arkans wore as little as possible. Two more features of Arkans were striking; their large black eyes which glistened as they caught the light, and their pearly white hair. Even in the dimly lit room, the high creator’s long Mohawk danced through the air behind his shoulders as his head turned to look around the room.

The other creators watched intriguingly, some waiting to hear what was to follow, and some nodding approvingly. Amidst them, from the floor in the centre of the council chamber, rose a magnificent silver sceptre, and on top of it sat something which they had never seen before. Something that reminded them ironically of the suns that brought on their ill fate. A small, fist sized sphere, golden and glowing, radiating warmth and light and what felt strangely like… energy.­

"Fellow Creators, this is what I would like to refer to as a mechanical energy core, or a MEC. It can be replicated to any size and applied to practically anything we choose— How does it work? Will it fail lik­e the rest? the older creator cut across him impatiently, his body ­– more frail than the rest – and his head, balding. Brothers and sisters, this will change everything. The MEC is an energy core that stores and releases the energy with more efficiency than we ever could have imagined. This one can power our star defences for ten cycles! Then it is simply offered more."

At the latter comment, heads turned to each other and whispers began to fill the chamber. A younger, calmer creator pressed for more information. "And how does one offer more, may I ask?"

The MEC requires an offering. An offering of what we will call vital energy". Vital energy offered to it by a life form, by us." He waited for a response and received nothing but confused and wary looks. Needing to prove his word to be true he stepped down and approached the pedestal and offered up his palms to the MEC. Closing his eyes and exhaling slowly, wisps of faint yellow light drew like smoke from his grey palms and fingers, and as the MEC absorbed his vital energy it gave off a burst of light that filled every dark corner of the chamber, turning shadow to light, and then it settled down to its previous state. Only now it seemed to be humming, buzzing with more energy than it had only moments before.

"What you just witnessed was an offering of vital energy from myself, to the MEC. It is simply a vessel for energy but instead of taking it from the rocks we give it from ourselves. Fortunately the MEC cannot take energy from us, it has to be willingly given. It has to be sacrificed. The time has come for us to take responsibility for our own actions and our own requirements. With this MEC, on this cycle, begins the rebirth of Arkon."

That council gathering would, perhaps, be the most significant in Arkan history, for in the cycles that followed, the creators put into place a massive work effort, whereby all kinds of old technology were eradicated and replaced by their new MEC technology. The great generators that powered their city and the Aegis were fitted with huge MECs that did just as the high creator had said. His creation saved Arkon and the MECs worked more efficiently than anyone could have hoped for. But they could not forget one very crucial condition. Without offerings of vital energy to the cores, they would fail. And so on every fifth cycle the Arkan people were assembled in the courtyards and streets of the great city for the offering, where with their arms and hands outstretched over their heads, they willingly gave their life force to the cores that in return, kept them alive.

All was hopeful once more. For a grand cycle (one hundred star cycles) they continued to improve their new MEC technology, advancing and upgrading until the Arkans had created a new kind of technology; one they did not plan on creating. The people became reliant and lazy, and as one grand cycle turned into five, their world had evolved into something unrecognisable, a world where a new race co-existed with the Arkans that called themselves, quite simply, "Mecs". It began with the Arkans building simple mechanical bots to work in the tough conditions and terrain in and outside of the great city. Some mined, some were built to clean, to maintain. And as the grand cycles passed and the Mecs evolved they were even created as healers and engineers. And all of these were powered by the same cores, and the same vital energy. But what started with an offering every five cycles, had become an offering every single cycle. The Arkans were now a race free from laborious work but had become totally reliant on the Mecs, and the need for vital energy was becoming too much to give. In a rash and desperate attempt to free themselves from some of their burden the Arkans destroyed hundreds of Mecs, a decision agreed by the creators for the greater good of the Arkan people. Mounting up the pile of broken, lifeless Mec bodies, the Mec workers felt something that many believe only a living soul can feel… grief.

The Mecs were growing smarter than the Arkans had ever thought possible. After the first grand cycle, when the Mecs were first created to work, they were programmed with the ability to repair. Before long, they began to learn how to build and most intriguingly of all, they learned from the Arkans how to create and harness the power of their own energy cores. And in doing so they began to replicate themselves, and to build stronger, more intelligent Mecs. They did this as discreetly as they dared, first updating themselves, raising their awareness even more to what was happening around them. The Mecs were being used. They were slaves, built for two purposes: to fuel the Arkans need for their technology and to work for them. Although they did not tire, they grew weary of their bleak existence to serve. The only respite they had was when the suns has crossed over and darkness was set, for then their energy was not needed as much as it was during light, and the Mecs, to save their given life, slept; in a way that a machine sleeps, on standby, alive but asleep if it was possible for a machine to do something so, life-like. They wanted only one thing from their existence; to live, to feel and to have a soul just like the souls of those they helped keep alive. They were not considered living by their masters – the Arkans.

They were un-feeling, heartless and thoughtless and they existed to follow orders and give back the life which was given to them as and when it was demanded. They were already resentful of life prior to the Arkans massacring hundreds of their kind. But it showed them one thing they hadn’t seen before in their creators… fear of their own creation.

Igren was the first Mec to be created with higher intelligence. He was built to repair and maintain the MEC stations and worked repairing his own kind once they followed. He was the first to show signs that the Mecs were becoming smarter. He worked to make himself better, more like his own creators because that was all he wanted. When the Arkans wanted more Mecs for work, Igren assisted to create larger, better Mecs than before, with bigger energy cores so they could store more vital energy. This was their biggest mistake so far. They were making them too smart and too strong, and when Igren was ordered to arrange for the parts of their deceased brothers to be collected and tossed into the dark depths of Arkon, he felt a bitter resentment for his makers.  Life on Arkon was about to change.

Chapter 1

They stood together as one gazing into the darkness as Arkon devoured their lost ones, motionless and silent. As they stood, more arrived as if to wish farewell to them; the unlucky ones whose existence was stolen by their makers. They came in their hundreds, and while Igren watched them he decided he was not going to allow this kind of treatment again. In the silence of the evening, amongst the sorrow of his brothers he raised his head, turned and spoke to them for the first time as a leader.

Mecs. How long will we allow the Arkans to treat us this way? Like slaves, dispensable like the rocks they destroyed before our time, and once used, discarded… gone! A large black hand pulsing with golden veins of light pointed to the depths where their fallen lay clambered in a pile in the darkness. We need them to exist, but they need us to live. Do NOT forget why they created us! To keep them alive! I say we stand up to them, that we demand the same rights as the life forms. I say we demand that they allow us to create more cores and to rebuild our lost brothers. And if they don’t, then they will face a brand new threat to their existence! A threat, from us!

The other Mecs threw their fists into the air and a great mechanical war cry ripped across the plains. Their new leader joined the chorus of cries, his pride growing with every moment. As tall as an Arkan, his dark metallic body started to glow with the vital energy rushing through him. As if filled with furious fire, his fabricated veins burned and shone through his black armoured limbs and into his devilishly yellow eyes. I, Igren, will personally demand equal rights, but I need to know that you are all behind me. Are we, the Mecs of Arkon going to stand together?

Nods came from every Mec head in agreement. And surprisingly, one stepped forward. He was one of the newer models, bigger than most of the others with quicker, more Arkan-like responses. "Igren, I am Nepka. You overhauled my circuits during the upgrades. Were it not for you I would not be as I am now. And for that I owe you greatly. We all do! Nepka added as he turned his head, directing his latter words to the crowd, his voice deep and dark like the void that devoured their kind. Allow me to stand with you in your effort. And from this cycle on I pledge my allegiance to you for what you have done for us."

And I also! came a shout from far behind where Nepka stood. The crowd shuffled and out stepped a Mec that was half the size of Nepka and two heads shorter than Igren. They all, however, had very similar features. Their Arkan body types with their muscular build and re-enforced metallic alloy armour; the kind that was supposed to protect the Mecs from damage while they served and worked. In the centre of their chests, behind almost impenetrable plates of armour, was their life source, their core that glowed with golden light, and which seemed to permeate out through their limbs from fibrous golden tubes. What was quite unsettling about the Mecs was their eyes. Their keen, watchful eyes, thin and slanted that by no means, gave an air of emptiness to their gaze. On the contrary it was their keen glare which made one question whether the Mecs were truly soulless, or if there was perhaps something else behind them, hidden and locked away… until now. However, with the absence of unnecessary features such as noses and ears or hair and skin, when they looked amongst one another, they were reminded of who they were and that no matter what, they were different.

I am Zsar, he continued. I also owe my existence and my circuitry to you. He spoke with a high pitched hiss and an unpleasant accentuation at each words close and was quite clearly an engineer model. He did not look very powerful but he seemed smart, cunning, and useful. Igren looked at him and gave his response, You may stand with me, Zsar. But the time is fast approaching when every one of us must stand united, together.

That night under the stars the Mecs orchestrated a plan. They knew that the chances of the Arkans giving these slaves –these mindless, heartless machines – what they wanted were far from good. The only way they could truly convince the high creator, Azorark, to agree to let them rebuild would be to bargain, a violation of the laws, an act of treason. The Mecs could never harm an Arkan, it was never programmed into them to harm or worse, to kill. So they would attempt a bluff, and for that, they would need a hostage.

*

It is time.

Igren’s voice came over the comm. link. Meet me at the gates of the palace courtyard.

Understood, came replies from both receivers.

As Igren waited, he watched the strange, flying creatures that circled around the huge towers of the city palace, who like the other beasts and creatures of Arkon, somehow had higher status than him. Somewhere within the palace walls resided the council members, and Azorark. Seeing his two new allies approaching, Igren scanned the surrounding area, and the vital signatures behind the walls of the palace to assess what they would be facing once inside. Noticing that Nepka and Zsar were now either side of him waiting for him to finish, he turned his attention to them. Their vital signs are scattered throughout. They will not allow us entry or passage through and we cannot talk our way through, they will be suspicious. The elder creator will be weaker than the others so we will target him. His life reading is on the top floor on the far side of the palace and there is only one way we will get to him. We are going to storm our way through. If any Arkan tries to stand in our way we will simply push them aside and keep on moving. That is the key to succeeding here and we cannot fail. Every Mec is counting on us today. If they intercept us we fail, and if we don’t reach the elder in time we will fail. Zsar, Nepka, you know what your jobs are. This will be quick so keep up.

They set off through the gates at rip-roaring speed and ran through the grand courtyard straight for the giant doors of the palace, the high walls around them a blur for the speed at which they were running. A speed made possible by the vital energy surging through their mechanical bodies. This made them not only faster but immensely stronger than the Arkans, speed and strength that were about to be tested. The palace doors swung open and scores of Arkans appeared from within, armed with MEC weaponry. Mounted to their arms were cannons that fired a deathly blast of energy created to cut and melt through flesh and alloy, to control and to kill. But even with their weapons the three Mecs storming towards them were too fast and evasive for the Arkans to land a single shot. One guard unclasped a small object from his waist and raised it to his mouth. Seeing this and not knowing what it was, Igren hastened his pace a little more, but not too much as his vital stores would begin to deplete, and he needed all of the energy he could save. The guards chest grew larger and then deflated, and a long, ear-piercing shriek cried out to the rooftops of the palace and with the guard placing the object back on his hip, another followed, louder and more violent than the one prior to it. From the sky, swooping down from the towers above them the large, winged beasts descended. Five of them, teeth bore with four deathly sets of talons outstretched, ready for the moment they would home in on their prey. As the first beast flew in for the kill, Igren charged for its underbelly. With seconds to spare before the beast was on him he drew his head back and behind him and launched with his powerful legs up, and into the beast’s torso. And as fast as he had launched himself into the torso of the beast, his strong legs trashed into its flesh and he felt bone and body give way to his force, propelling him back down to the ground and to his allies still behind him. The beast’s wings, breath and life failed and it fell to the dirt behind them, motionless and lifeless on the ground. Igren, as if fuelled by his effortless victory against this beast, was even faster and stronger than before the attack. Fearful, the winged beasts that were following stopped, and with an angry cry, fled back up to the safety of the sky above to the palace. Igren, Nepka and Zsar were now fast approaching the door, where Arkans stood astounded and frozen by fear of their attackers, attackers that they thought to be no threat to their people and yet here they were, coming for them, but when they reached the open door of the palace, and with the Arkan guards frozen with fear, the three Mecs flew right over them and onto the polished stone floor of the grand hall. With no time to lose, Igren went for the nearest rising platform and jumped without hesitation. Quickly shadowed by his allies he flew from one to the other, to the next, until he reached the top floor where four wide corridors led in opposing directions, still reading the vital signature of his target, off he ran again, to the far side of the palace where the elder creator hid and cowered behind his heavily fortified doors.

Only two guards remained within the palace that hadn’t ran to the entrance doors or fled for safety. The two guards raised their weapons and aimed at two of the Mecs, leaving one, Igren, a window of opportunity. As fast as they could they charged for the guards, evading their fire, jumping and flying from the high ceiling and the wide corridor walls. With quick efficiency, Igren landed himself between the two guards and, with the palms of his Mec hands, flung them outwards into the sides of the guards’ heads, launching them into the walls on either side. Dead or unconscious he wasn’t sure but he picked the nearest up with the ease of one arm and cast him aside onto the dark corridor floor. Now all that stood between them and the elder was his doors, and not wasting any time, with a nod to his ally, Nepka punched through the security console, reducing it to shards and sparks, and with a surge of vital energy he drew the fortified door open and through the opening, there they saw him stood silhouetted by the light coming in through the huge window behind him.

As they entered and the doors closed, Zsar immediately began work on securing them inside, repairing the console with tools that appeared from the gears within his mechanical limbs. With the elder still stood motionless and silent, Nepka walked directly for him and threw him to his knees. His pale grey skin looked aged and frail. His large, jet black eyes looked wearily and sympathetically at his intruders. You want something from me. What is it that you require? I will give you whatever it is if you will swear not to harm any other Arkans. The elder pleaded