Antares watched the transmission from one of the fighters which had just broken through the planet’s atmosphere. Approaching the ground, the machines split up into smaller formations and encircled the fortress. Storm clouds surged in the sky, and hurricane winds hindered the precise manoeuvres of the light ships battling the wall of fire. Anti-aircraft guns hit some of them before they fired the first shot. Powerful lasers melted the plating on the fighters, and land batteries spit bullets ceaselessly, bringing down enemy vehicles one by one. However, the fighters that survived the cannonade got the defenders’ back, agilely avoiding hits and firing salute by salute. They circled over the ziggurat, then turned sharply and nosedived all of a sudden, swamping the land guns with hundreds of high explosive shells. Wrapped in wreaths of black smoke, blazes of flame spewed out of the battlements, and sherds of metal and stone soared into the sky.


    As the first wave broke the land defence, the landing carriers escorted by the heavily armed fighters, arrived over the storm-lashed desert.


    Few but severely damaged anti-aircraft guns defended the fortress with their remaining power. Several bullets traversed the sky before the barrels delivering them vanished in the infernal cloud. Some of the overloaded rebel carriers were not fast enough or easily manoeuvrable to flee from the stacks of lead sweeping in their direction. Tons of iron, scraped deeply or pierced inside and out, fell down in the pitchy smoke, trailing long streaks of flame, and slugged on the ground, scuffing up plumes of sulphuric dust.


    Pioneering corvettes landed on the secured area and lowered their gangways with a deep hiss. Ten-metre long tanks loomed out of their holds with a blast of their engines. Each machine bore the red flags with a golden bird, the coat of arms of the rebel unit from Jalandhara, hanging on long poles and tossed by the winds. Land carriers with assault troops ranged themselves right behind them. Heavily armoured vehicles assumed a V-shaped formation, making space for the monstrous Kehrian carrier.


    Ruby red machine in the shape of a prism descended unstably, with the fighters circling around it, guarding the valuable cargo inside it. As it approached the ground, the stabilisers scuffed up expanding dust clouds which, after a while, resembled a tornado with its size and force, carrying away even stones and lumps of rusted scraps. The ship sat on the levelled surface among the swirling wall of sand, unlink a container fixed to its underside and soared back in the air. As the container walls spread open, the armoured machine formation moved away, escorting a construction five times larger than them.


    Towering over them, the Kartikeya looked like a tank from a distance with a disproportionately long barrel. Its grey-brown armour, resembling stone, was embellished with carved arabesques and inscriptions which described the terror and destruction that this weapon carried in itself. Curls of steam from the atomic reactor’s cooling plumed out of an exhaust pipe as thick as the trunk of a centuries-old tree. Friezes, portraying figures battling with each other, covered a side skirt laid over the tracks. Obviously, carvings with images of the Simurgh on their armours were victorious.


    The six-stories high Kartikeya crumbled every stone and wreck under its tracks and splashed sulphuric slush around. A few Unions, who’d dared to climb on the battlements, shelled it with rocket-propelled grenades, though their defence remained as successful as hewing obsidian with a stick. Fifteen kilometres from the fortress, the metal monstrum positioned itself in front of the building, aiming for the gates of the fortified wall.


    The operating chamber in the Kartikeya’s guts appeared completely cut off from the external world. It was totally dark, and no sound from the battlefield reached inside. Only a monotonous sough of life-supporting apparatuses and tranquil breaths of six Technicians broke the silence. The Kehrians stood on circular platforms, facing the wall. The respirators gave them oxygen, and virtual reality goggles covered their eyes. They held their hands raised over their heads like entranced shamans who wanted to summon their Devi with a sorcerous mantra. Thick controlling gloves, linked with the board supercomputer let them pilot the Kartikeya precisely through the slightest of moves and gestures.


    Taking the mid place, the Technician Operator grimaced on hearing an automatic communication in his headphones.


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    “Distance to the target: fifteen…”


    “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Technician Cannoneer, ignore these data.”


    “Why?” asked Cannoneer, still standing motionlessly like a statue.


    “The weak point of these gates is right between the door leaves, near the ground. Fire there. Technician Kinaesthetician, hold the direction.”


    “Yes, sir,” answered Kinaesthetician and increased his pace on the round treadmill.


    Operator sharpened the view in his goggles. He relaxed his muscles, seeing that everything was going as planned.


    The machine rolled towards the fortress, leaving behind deep and wide trails. Dozens of bullets shelled by the anti-aircrafts and lasers ships cut through the ginger clouds. Resembling a crashing horde of furious bulls, the smaller tanks and armoured vehicles covered Kartikeya at the front and on the sides. Time and again, blazing buds grew out of the cracked ground like poisonous blooms. Sometimes they met with the rashly driven machines, turning them into jagged, burning piles of scrap.


    “Kinaesthetician! Stop!” Operator heard the words in his headphones. It was a Technician Navigator’s scream.


    Kinaesthetician answered something, but a wave of interference and static filled every channel. An explosion in the old mine, used against the largest war machine, shook the entire vehicle. Three Kehrians lost their balance and slipped off the platforms. Operator grabbed a bunch of cables hanging from the ceiling and with a hope that he would break through the interferences, he yelled into the microphone with all his force,


    “Communicatee! Tell them to transfer all the power to the reactor and disconnect the rest of the power supply!”


    “Tech… don’t und… at…” screeched the voice in the communicator.


    “Supply!” repeated Operator, clenching his fingers on the cables,


    “Reactor!”


    He heard only an inarticulate noise as his answer.


    “The computer is overloaded! Transfer all to Operator,” ordered Communicatee. He unfolded a control panel in front of his eyes with a wide swing of his glove. He moved his eye and activated several orders, then he blinked to confirm them. Another wave of interference reached his senses. A pulsing pain swept over his head, and a high-pitched squeak resounded in his ears. For a while, he thought he would lose consciousness, but he kept his balance.


    Operator shook his head, striving to get rid of the dull hum in his head.


    “Anyone… anyone read me?”


    He entered the communication settings and checked the channels. All counters showed zero. At that moment, a stabbing pain shocked his nerves as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. The tingling in his entire body along with the most severe headache he’d ever experienced in his life, overwhelmed him. He could not inhale the dense air in his petrified lungs. He wanted to scream but instead of that, he bent down and started coughing.


    The Kehrian felt an alien presence, creeping into his brain awareness. It reminded him of nothing known. It was like a parasite which could devour the brain of its host within a few minutes. It initially cut his memories away to make way for further expansion and settled in his mind, intercepting every part of the host’s identity, piece by piece.


    “Turn it off!” screamed the Kehrian, dropping his head and hanging on to the wires like a crucified criminal.


    In the last flash of his consciousness, he grabbed the cable connecting his brain to the board computer. Despite having no sensation in his hands, he tugged hard. Pain shot his nerves as he yanked the plug out of his head, but he bounced back and ripped the virtual reality goggles off his face.


    “Operator, go back!” yelled Technician Communicatee, “you need to offload the system or the reactor will break down!”


    “This damned machine won’t take my mind!” growled Operator and jumped off the platform.


    He did not remember where he was, but a red diode above the door seemed like a sign to him. He tugged on the door handle and rushed into the narrow corridor. He saw the shocked faces of the other Kehrians operating the stuff as if he were looking through the water surface. Because of the engine rumble and reactor heat, the Technician felt like he was going to stumble and drop on the grated floor. Leaning against the metal railings, he hurtled to the ground floor. He tripped on the last step, but he still ran. The Kehrian gripped the handle of the wide hatch and began pushing. The door did not move. He punched the metal desperately and only after a while, he noticed a little screen on the wall with a displayed hand contour. He put his palm on the reader. The gate slid open, letting palls of sand inside. Ignoring the Kehrians calling him, he leapt outside.


    “What are we gonna do?” asked Technician Cannoneer with dread and uncertainty in his voice.


    “Kinaesthetician, hold on. We’ll transfer the overload to you,” said the serving henceforth as a commander Communicatee. “Cannoneer, fire! Now! No matter what, fire!”


    The monstrous barrel belched out a bullet. It rammed under the armoured gate, scuffing up a dense sand circle and chipping the brick surfaces off the walls. The gate seemed just scratched from a distance, but a wide crack between the gate leaves and a shallow crater under them loomed up from the dust.