Questor Ro crouched inside the Harbour Tower and applied a little oil to the gears and wheels of the Sunfire. Three Avatar soldiers waited with him, and further back ten Vagar labourers awaited orders to remove the machine once it was discharged. The tower was constructed of heavy stone blocks and seemed safe enough, especially here on the ground floor. But Ro had no idea what weaponry would be brought to bear on it. With a soft cloth he wiped excess oil from the gears and idly polished the long bronze tube. The weapon had been aligned with the small window, but there was only a narrow field of fire. Ro moved to the window and stared out across the bay. From here he could see all eight golden ships. But they were at least a half-mile from him. Could they loose their weapons from that distance? Ro did not know.
The Sunfire had been kept in the Museum for almost ninety years. Ro had been present when such a weapon had last been used, against the warships of the Khasli. They had been destroyed utterly. As indeed had the Khasli themselves during the Fourteen Year War. We are the Khasli now, he thought. Ro struggled to remember the delay between shots, as the crystals repowered. But he could not. All he knew was that once fired the weapon needed some minutes to recharge.
Calling the soldiers forward Ro re-sighted the tube, covering the mouth of the bay. With a long rule he checked its positioning, needing it to be parallel to the floor. It was out by a hair’s breadth. Mentally he calculated the effect this might have over a range of 400 yards. Sweat trickled from his temples. Ro was not a warrior and had little experience with the weapon. But then, apart from Rael, neither did any other Avatar in Egaru. The Sunfires had not been needed in almost 200 years. Zhi-bows had been more than adequate against the tribes. Moving to the rear of the weapon he raised the sight, a thin arm of bronze to which was attached a circle of gold. This he lined up with the short spike at the far end of the tube.
His mouth was dry and he requested a cup of water. One of the soldiers filled a cup from a pottery jug. Ro sipped the liquid and flicked his gaze to the hourglass. The coloured sand was trickling slowly through. Not long now, he thought.
Three of the golden ships began to move, heading across the bay towards Pagaru. Four others began to glide towards the harbour. There was something about their movements which filled Ro with fear. Serene and assured, they radiated strength of purpose and enormous confidence. This is what it was like for the Khasli who faced us centuries ago, thought Ro. He shuddered inwardly. And activated the Sunfire. As the charge built up the machine began to hum. Ro could feel its vibration. This small movement in the weapon made the coming battle suddenly real. Ro felt panic welling within him.
You are an Avatar, he told himself sternly. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it clear with the oily cloth.
‘You want us on the roof, Questor?’ asked one of the soldiers.
‘No. Remain here. If we can, we must carry the Sunfire clear. It is too valuable to be lost in only one action.’
Ro crouched down behind the sights. Once we were truly gods, he thought. We strode the earth like giants. We brought law and knowledge to primitive peoples. We taught them the secrets of agriculture and building.
And we made them slaves …
The first of the golden ships was slowly moving into his line of fire.
Slaves. In doing so we made slaves of ourselves, he thought. Slaves to tradition, slaves to our past.
Ro pulled the firing lever.
Nothing happened. He swore softly, his fingers flicking open the control chest. One of the crystals had slipped from its niche. He pushed it back and closed the lid. The first ship had moved on, but a second was closing. A series of dull thumping sounds came from outside, followed by a whooshing of disturbed air. Then three powerful explosions rocked the foundations of the building.