Fiction: Group 3
Inside the base the exquisite marble tiles were stained with blood, and the silence was thick and
claustrophobic.
***
The red sails slowly trundled on. The captain felt a prickle of unease as the ship neared the lights.
Leaving the helmsman in charge, he disappeared below deck. He walked down to the hold and he felt guilty
at every footstep. He slowly creaked the door open and scanned the room. The cargo was the one thing that
seemed perfectly fine.
As his footsteps receded down the hallway, one of the boxes rattled.
***
It was Cal who noticed the cars.
“Sep,” he cried, clutching her arm, “look at the forest!”
September followed his gaze and saw the telltale flash of purple.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no.”
***
The captain of the
Eye
hadn’t seen the purple; nor had he seen the massacre in the hotel base; nor
had he seen the
Enigma Drift
. He thought that everything was perfectly fine, though he could not shake off
the feeling that something was wrong. He was delivering the very latest of the Machines to the League’s
Lion Base, and the lights on the wall were signalling him in. He had been sent word of only one signalman,
but surely another one was just a mistake.
***
In the hotel the real signalman was dead.
***
In the hold of the
Eye
, the Machines were beginning to come alive. Their brains were ticking
away and they began to shift, itching to get out of their six-inch thick containers.
Six-inch metal was no match for the Machines and they knew it. The time had almost come. The
League would be horrified to know what their own robots were planning, but it had been foolhardy to
attempt to outwit a Machine.
***
They were on the deck now; their containers were lying in shattered pieces on the floor of the
hold and their eyes glinted with the prospect of killing. The Mortals below them were scurrying about, pure
terror etched on their faces. Their faces impassive, the Machines swung their claws at the Mortals, as blood
spilled onto the deck like red paint and clouded the sea below. The bodies, gashed and bleeding, were tossed
overboard, swept up in the waves and lost forever. The captain backed away, consumed with a cold fear that
ate away at his heart. As the Machines turned towards him, he leapt off the boat and the blood-drenched
sea tossed him onto the rocks, his final cry ricocheting around the secluded bay, as the Machines, gloating,
swung the boat around.
A tremendous splintering crash. Metallic screams. The sheathing of claws. Cal and September raced
outside and below them they saw the
Eye
, torn apart by the shark-like jaws of the rocks. The planks fell
apart, ripped in two, and the metal containers of the machines fell with a clang into the ocean below.
September gasped. She was so used to death she was not frightened of it, but the sight of
the
Machines made her suddenly feel cold, despite the suffocating tropical heat.
Nine-foot-tall robots, their spidery legs whirring menacingly, swam to the shore. They gripped
the rocks and climbed up the wall; snatching the terrified lights and snapping the sentries’ necks; marching
into the forest, up the hill, into the Scourge: hundreds of robots on a killing spree.
September and Cal didn’t hesitate. Instantly the airship’s engines kicked in and it whirred away,
speeding towards the forest. The spidery Machines charged, overpowering the Scourge, and soon a vicious
battle was underway.
The
Enigma Drift
hung above them. Inside the cabin Cal felt his bravery draining away, but
September stood upright, her hand hovering over the fateful button.
She turned to face him. “Ready?” she whispered.
Neither the Machines nor the Scourge soldiers noticed the airship sweeping over them until it was
too late.
***
Far away, the lights of Hong-Kong were beginning to come on, and the sky was turning to a
dusky grey. As the people began to wake up and the city came alive again, a tiny glass orb fell from an
