6. Kal’va

Distant weapon fire called me back to the world sooner than I'd expected. Tal'ia's absence had left me with little to do but study the chattering of the humans' machines, so I made the best of this time while I waited for her return. I'd hoped to learn more of their language from the primitive and easily decoded radio transmissions.

Pure luck that I was listening when the new arrivals opened fire. I leaped to my feet, trying to track Tal'ia through the sudden chaos, and froze in place. The directives my Makers built into me told me to stay and guard the sleeping dead. That was the task they'd made me for, the very purpose of my being. Or it had been.

No longer. My mate needed me, and I would go to her. If the attackers tried to harm the dead, I would stop them. If they dared threaten her, I would slaughter them all.

I pulled myself into the darkness beyond the hole in the crypt's ceiling. Muting the glow of my crystals, I blended into the shadows, trying to get a feel for the building I should know perfectly. The damage was disorienting; air flowed in the wrong direction, too fast here, too slow there, and cracks in the walls severed vital nanocircuits.

I remembered this place as it had been at my burial—light, welcoming, a palace for the sleeping dead. Now, none of that remained. Did the dead still lie here for me to watch over? If so, they weren't speaking. The murmurings of a thousand dreamers should have filled these halls on every channel. Instead, all I heard was static and error codes.

Rage burned in my heart, demanding a target. The intruders weren't the ones who'd done this, but they were the closest outlet for my fury, and they had threatened my mate. Perhaps murdered her. I extended my diamond claws and straightened up to go forth and hunt her foes.

Tal'ia skidded around the corner, freezing as her light struck me. I stopped dead too, stunned by her sudden appearance. Staring down the corridor at each other, neither of us was willing to move and break the spell.

All my brain managed to supply was an overwhelmed garble of thoughts. No coherent thought survived the chaotic mix of emotions washing over me in a torrent. That she was alive and had taken no serious injuries filled me with relief. That someone had attacked, had cut and bruised her, added rage to the mix. And her beauty, her face streaked with dust, torn clothing allowing tantalizing glimpses of the curves below, made my soul burn with joy. Beautiful, wild, and fierce, she made it hard to think of anything else.

We might have stood there forever, had movement behind her not caught my eye. Without a conscious thought my hand came up and a heavy lump of metal slapped into my palm. The throw was well-aimed, and if I hadn't caught it, the hammer would have struck my temple. Red light flared in my arm crystals, hyperwaves pulling golden sand from the wall channels and shaping it into darts flying toward my attacker.

"No!" One of the first human words I'd learned, hearing it from Tal'ia's lips stopped me in my tracks. I released my hold on the darts, and they burst into a harmless rain of sand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Jules?" Tal'ia's shout contained words I didn't know, but the tone and target were clear. "He's our only hope."

The dark-haired female stammered something, terror in her eyes. I recognized her as the human who had ‘rescued' Tal'ia from me—my mate's friend, but perhaps my enemy.

I growled, low and intense. The second female responded with a squeak and a clatter as she dropped an armful of tools. Echoes faded into the distance—followed by a faint sound of movement nearby. My head snapped up at that, teeth bared.

Intruders, perhaps those who'd tried to kill my mate. Not under her protection. Enemies I could fight. I ran toward my prey, glad for the simplicity of the hunt.

Finding the enemy was easy.Approaching them was harder. Unlike my mate and her companions, they were utterly indifferent to the damage they caused. Where she had been careful, slow, and respectful, these intruders made no effort to protect the sacred site they invaded. Systems failed as they advanced, shooting sculptures and throwing grenades into side chambers to clear them quickly.

When the tomb was new and whole, this would have merely been inconvenient and sacrilegious. The Makers' stone would hold long enough for guardians to reach and stop them. No permanent harm would have been done.

Millennia of accumulated damage limited my options. I was the last remaining guardian, the stone was cracked and broken, and the self-repair systems had failed. Even I was less effective than I had been. The Makers seared their tomb's layout into my mind, and now that mental map failed me. Collapsed tunnels, doors that would not open, floors that might no longer support my weight, all forced me to fight against my instincts as I searched for a way around. Worse, the ages had carved new paths through the maze, making it hard to track where the enemy might be.

The instincts my Makers gave me took this into account and would have me hang back, stay by the doors to the inner crypt and guard that at all costs. I snarled at the inbuilt commands. Tactically sound, they would place my newfound mate in danger.

So I did the unthinkable, ignoring the instructions that I'd known before I learned to walk. I pressed on, looking for my enemies rather than waiting for them.

The first I met coming around a corner, laser rifle at the ready. Despite that precaution, I was on him before he could squeeze the trigger, and my claws sliced through the armored pressure suit he wore like fog. His throat parted as easily, a bloody hiss the only sound he made as he fell.

He'd raced ahead of his companions, perhaps as a scout, perhaps aspiring to be first into battle. Those behind him were less vigilant, expecting him to provide a warning. When I burst into a chamber where three humans gathered, I took them all by surprise.

The first died under my claws before he knew I was there. The second leaped for cover, bringing his laser up. Fast reflexes, but not enough to avoid me—I severed his spine, and he landed in a heap.

The third fired before I reached him, shouting a warning as he sent a beam of light burning into my shoulder with a crack of superheated air that echoed from the stone walls. The Makers' crystals distributed the energy, absorbing some into my batteries and spreading the rest out. Enough got through to burn my skin and the muscle beneath, leaving a painful reminder that their primitive weapons weren't harmless.

The chance for stealth was over. The intruders' radio channels buzzed with commands at the sound of the shouted warning and laser fire. Good, I thought, sending some of the shooter's energy back as a blast of hyperwaves carrying a golden dart through the joint connecting his helmet with the rest of his suit.

Civilized weapons may not be deadlier than their primitive counterparts, but they are more elegant. His suit contained the blood as he dropped, first to his knees and then on his face.

"Hendrix, report." The command crackled over the attackers' open channel. "Hendrix? Miller? Takamoto? Logan?"

"I told you, man, I fucking told you so." Another voice, full of fear. Smarter than his colleagues, then. "This place is cursed. We shouldn't be here!"

"Letour, shut it. If you've got to panic, don't do it on an open channel."

I closed on the source of the transmissions, hoping that killing their leader would cause the rest to retreat. Better to kill them all, but I was alone in this fight, and I couldn't afford to take chances.

If survivors spread stories about a ‘curse,' so much the better.

The enemy pulled their group together, slowing their advance. No chance of them slipping past me to attack my mate while I got distracted. Perhaps that feeling of safety made me overconfident. Perhaps I was simply unlucky, but the laser blast that hit me in the side took me by surprise.

An unexpected gap in the wall beside me, all too easy to overlook, gave a human his opening. I had to commend his reactions and his aim. He only had a moment to make his shot, and he nailed it. I absorbed what I could, storage crystals glowing with energy, but the overspill cut deep.

Hyperwaves pulsing from my hand, I sent a wave of darts in his direction. His defensive reactions were as good as his aim, and my blast struck the wall behind him, golden sand scattering harmlessly. More laser fire came my way, and I ducked into cover to check my wound. Deep, but not life-threatening. I would heal, given time.

The gift of energy was welcome. My batteries thrummed with power, giving me options I'd lacked, and I took advantage of that. Limbs lengthened, claws grew. My mouth stretched forward, teeth extending, a biting maw rather than a mouth for speech or eating. Skin hardened into armor, muscles stretched and tightened.

The process took less time than the human needed to shout for help, and his cry turned to a scream as I bounded out of cover to attack. His reactions were excellent, but he wasn't ready for the speed of a warrior in warform, and his shot struck empty air.

He didn't get a second chance. A sweep of my claws struck the laser from his hands, a second sliced his neck open to the spine, and I was past him, rushing his companions as they tried to adjust to the change.

Hyperwaves danced at my command, lifting fallen stones and flinging them at my enemies. Sharp stone opened flesh, heavy stone smashed bones, and in the middle of it, I advanced like an angry god.

The humans were no cowards, but nor were they fools. Unprepared to meet resistance, they withdrew with discipline, sending enough fire my way to keep me busy as they moved from one piece of cover to the next, dragging their wounded with them. I followed, staying too close for them to set an ambush..

They fled up, out through a broken wall and onto the desolate sands beyond the tomb. I stopped in the opening and stared at the black desert that stretched to every horizon. When I last left the tomb, this was a beautiful place of repose. A stream running down from the mountains through verdant meadows, quiet birdsong all around, groves of trees providing shade for visitors. All gone now. The tomb was all that lived. A bitter irony, and a shocking sight.

It stopped me dead in my tracks, and that was almost the end of me. A laser, far more powerful than the hand-held weapons the raiders carried, stabbed past me to shatter rocks. Shards of superheated stone nicked my skin as I dove for cover, throwing up a cloud of sand to hide myself.

The spaceship fired again, turrets trying to track me. Fortunately, they were weapons intended for space combat—aiming at a single lifeform was not in the design specs, especially at such a short range.

It would only take one lucky shot to win them the battle. I could not risk it—my death would mean death to those I guarded. Killing the enemy mattered to me, but my oath was to defend the honored dead and my mate. With a curse, I returned to the shelter of the tomb's walls.