I tried to lie still in my little sniper’s nest on the ruined tower. As I waited sportingly for Abdul to finish his prayers, the Blurring’s stock numbed my aching shoulder. With no mosques on Sunstrewn, Abdul was making do as he fell to his knees for the fourth and last rakat in prayer on the tumbling shell of an apartment block.

His wizened frame barely filling my scope, the ex-Planetary Trooper looked fairly battered. Unshaven, he stiffly righted himself in his suit. “One of us will rest soon enough,” I whispered to the ragged wind.

I rubbed the red belly and ivory trunk of the tiny elephantine figurine perched on my shoulder pad and offered a silent prayer to Lord Ganesha, remover of obstacles, granter of wisdom for victory. Absentmindedly, I reached to twirl my wispy moustache only to be denied by my filtered helmet.

Bitter rivals, we bounded between undesignated planets, asteroids and constellations hunting after untapped sources for rare elements, minerals, even radionuclide residue from supernova explosions. We, the scavengers of this epoch, foraged the universe for literally anything that could be processed by the spacemining companies, planting beacons to mark our claims.

Yet in all the wide universe, we met with unwarranted frequency, repeating the fatal conflict of our two martial races. This detritus of millennia seemed to warp the very fabric of space and time to see us war again in an ageless duel painted across the gilded stars.

So when we came across the desiccated planet dominated by a massive sun in the binary system along the Appian Way, we both knew where to go. There was only one arena fit for us. By unspoken volition, we landed our cruisers close to the grand bazaar marked on my locator.

The bazaar streets must have once thronged with forgotten sentients crying their wares, smacking with anticipation a thousand different currencies and thumbing a myriad of unthinkable materials. All drawn to the largest metropolis this nameless civilization had ever seen.

Yet the ruins unnerved me. The tight warren of alleys brooded. At regular intervals, milky beads were interspersed with blue rocks on the terracotta walls.  Their shimmering light in the dusty ruins haunting, a host of blinded eyes boring into me.

The tightbeam transmitter startled me. “You ready yet?” Abdul drawled. “I’ve beaten you twice in this system already. Do yourself a favor. Leave now, I don’t have to make this a hat-trick.”

“You cheated last time with that blackjack break, my vice was already on you,” I volunteered thoughtlessly. Momentarily stunned by my stupidity, I struggled to catch myself and get him scoped before it was too late.

I barely heard the whine of Abdul’s pressure ramjets as he became airborne. Knowing he was about to crash down like a meteor, I rippled off the tower with flickering glowburners. My bones rattled as I tore through the thin, ragged air. My warning receiver crowed with alarm at Abdul’s infrared signature. I plunged headlong into the narrow, cobbled streets, hoping to lose him in the desiccated decay.

“This looks a good place,” Abdul observed, alluding to the massive red dirt square we were skating through. “Or you could just forfeit this one time and spare me the trouble of lugging you back to your damned cruiser again.”

Angling for a lucky shot, Abdul’s Blurring pulsated behind me. The honor of the Rashtra beckoned. The ground rushed upwards as my reverse thruster engaged. Dried twigs snapped under supercharged heat as my trident, trilling with energy, came to the fore and I staked my ground out with feet planted wide.

Against the background of barren terracotta terraces blasted by sand, the familiar star and crescent shone brightly through the luminescent green of Abdul’s armor as his scimitar rose in greeting. His long face was bland and impassive. There was no jeering now, just cold precision. Charging toward me, Abdul leapt to one side, the glowing green scimitar poised to plunge from on high.

But I was a lion drawn from the host of Kali herself. I brought my trident down in an overhanded stab with a powered leap. Contact was harder than I had expected and Abdul hobbled away on the balls of his feet.

I didn’t have time to savor the drawing of first blood. The wind had been picking up when he kicked the ground hard; dead plant material and dust blinded me. That was all the opportunity he needed. I heard the rasping ramjet’s motion and imagined him leaping up between alternating balconies ready to dive from on high….

And so it continued for the better part of a Sunstrewn afternoon. I refused to be beaten to a pulp and to awake in an unfamiliar port, screaming in the knowledge that I was beaten again. I gradually grew in confidence. I had the measure of my opponent, but he landed a steady set of blows to match my strikes.

But my arms pinched now despite the circulatory padding, and the old doubts sprouted like angry, hissing ghosts. Could this ritual still be justified? Surely in another incarnation we might have been friends, partners, even?

Did we still need to fight? Our debt of pain had been paid to one another long ago. Would anyone in the universe care if we stopped, or would we always be condemned to mime the mad dance of our ancestors who had left a shattered Asian subcontinent on Terra behind but not their senseless vendetta?

Sunstrewn’s smaller secondary sun had already set by the time we reached the northern end of the browning square. Our weapons, jet units, and suits were weakened after their prolonged battering.

I am not sure what claimed Abdul’s boot. Perhaps the powered jumps or the shock waves from our weapons. Or maybe they were just mining boots, unsuited for combat, and had broken.

He raised his hand for a pause. Trident leveled, I abided. “Can you fix it?”

Bending down in examination, Abdul observed. “No, the crosslink’s cracked.”

I sighed. With no clear victor, it would have to be a draw. So we set off northwest through the city, toward the cruisers, walking languidly as Abdul tinkered with the boot.

During the fight, I had heard a faint echoing but was unable to pinpoint the source. But now suddenly it deepened into a reverberating crescendo churning through the paved stones.  

The dead city began to crumble around us. Ancient terracotta plazas and towers swayed violently, raining debris down and covering us with a fine dust. Cracks appeared in the buildings as an angry sea of sand burst out, pooling around our feet.

“What’s going on?” Abdul nervously looked around, “Is this you? A trap to finally beat me?” 

I was angry, thirsty, and batted away the insinuation, “I don’t have anything to do with this. You chose the place, remember?! Why don’t you tell me what this is?” It had to be an earthquake. Our weapons, procured with such difficulty and expense, clattered on the ground as we ran from our arena.

This hunt, the passion of my lifetime, was consumed by the wordless terror of dying on Sunstrewn, my fate unknown, with only my bitter enemy as companion and to bear witness. “We have to get back to the cruisers. You can keep this accursed planet!” I screamed in alarm.

 “My jet unit is empty, not even enough for a short hop. What about you, can you make it?” Abdul asked in agitation. Perhaps he thought I could piggyback, but was tempted to leave him behind. 

“No need to worry old friend, all dry as well,” I said. The thought that at least we would both die together seemed to soothe Abdul as he compartmentalized and took matters in hand.

“We’re too slow and heavy. Drop auxiliaries!” Abdul said in a flat tone of command. Taking his lead, I obeyed the grizzled warrior wordlessly. Off fell the panoply of war, heavy shoulder pads, Abdul’s green-tinged armour and hollow jet units. Even my beloved Ganesha was left behind in our haste. Nothing left but our filtered helmets.

Ages of dust and debris were cast away as the tremors revealed the secrets of the ancient city. The treacherous soil gave way to a jagged pathway disgorging pebbles and dust ripping to the east. We clung to the grooved path in desperation, stone shards biting deep. Thankfully, Abdul remained nimble despite his missing boot.

We had lost speed and it wasn’t his fault. Without automatic, minute thrusts from our suits, we were simply too slow, and unaccustomed to moving on our own power. The rumbling grew more ominous to our horrified ears. The earthquake seemed ready to engulf and swallow us.

I felt a rough rap on my shoulder. For a brief, delirious second, I thought the god of death, Lord Yama, had come for me. Amid the cacophony, however, it was only my enemy’s head that bobbed up: “Hold up a second.”

“Are you insane? How can we stop in this hellstorm?”

Abdul ignored me, glancing around furtively. “I don’t think the Richter magnitude is moving at all. It’s pretty stable on my sensor, check yours.” He pointed to his wrist.

He was right, of course. The quake had beaten out an unbelievably precise 7.5 magnitude on the modified Richter scale. “Impossible with Sunstrewn’s geoprofile,” I mumbled. “I don’t know much about tectonics, but how’s that possible?” Abdul issued a low, unsettling howl. It had dawned on us both. “It’s an artificial earthquake!”

Who was trying to trap us? My mind thumbed through possibilities. Was it rival scavengers, or maybe a spacemining firm which had decided they didn’t want to pay either of us?

Now that we were assured that the topsoil of the square would hold for the most part given the predictable tremor pattern, we maintained a much better pace despite Abdul’s missing boot. It seemed a forlorn hope; surely someone this thorough would have sabotaged our cruisers by now.

But as if suddenly buffered, the sharp jolts began to subside. Perhaps the infernal device had malfunctioned. Not daring to stop, I let loose a shrill yelp of joy, looking back at Abdul. He looked at me elatedly. We were nearly at the square’s edge, I felt we could just wiggle out of this one.

The short, sharp, cracking sound engulfed us like a wave. But very little dust was kicked up by the explosion and for a second I thought the prime detonator had failed. It was only when I tried to move a few steps that the true scale of disaster became clear. The secondary electromagnetic pulse of the bomb had fried every crosslink unit in our suits, rendering us practically immobilized.

We could still walk, but barely. At least, I offered a brief prayer of thanks to Rama that our filters didn’t need any power source, but we were beaten by our unseen foes.

As the night drew wistfully in, our minds continued to race. Abdul’s musings had grown elaborate. “What if there’s no one home?” Abdul speculated. “If it’s a completely automated defence mechanism? All we can do then is starve, waiting for someone long gone.”

 “How long do you think we can keep this up?” I asked.

Abdul’s head bobbed thoughtfully, “Well, our filters still work. If I can get over looking at your ugly mug….”

“No,” my finger cut across accusingly, “I mean this… This pointless war only we care about. Chasing each other across galaxies, waiting for our brittle bones to crack. Why fight after all this?”

“Because of them,” Abdul whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. His eyes flickered with fire. Was he afraid our captors would overhear us?

“Who?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“Our ancestors, you dolt. Can’t you feel them all around us?” Abdul’s head whirled. “Always pressed up against your flesh. Rank upon rank of men stronger, better than you. They’re the ones who make sure we’ll fight.”

But all thoughts of avenging the distant slaughter of my ancestors on the plains of the Ganges had shrivelled in Sunstrewn’s desiccated air. “Abdul, don’t you think they ever wanted to stop? Look, our ancestors on Earth were neighbours before all else.”  

I lurched forward unheeding as Abdul stole a sideway glance. “They had so much in common in the beginning, even a single tongue. They traded, prospered, even loved. The genestealer sequences, the hunterkillers, the nuclear bombs; they all came later.” Steeling myself at Abdul’s rapt silence, I finished, “I can no longer fight you in their name.”

Abdul’s sneer grated as a rough knife dragged on stone. “Perhaps we could join forces then? Think of it, the sheer potential. I mean we could take on an entire system together, right? Oh, how we would look, sitting together in a disreputable bar angling for a contract.” His eyebrows arched mockingly.

At this, I wanted to rend what little hair was left on my head in great tufts. In fury, I seethed at his obstinate pride, and wallowed in self-loathing. He was my mirror-image and I hated him for it.

Yet as the night deepened around us, Abdul’s silence yawned like a chasm. A thief crept into his heart. It was not my imagination when I felt an unfamiliar glint in his eye, as if he mulled over something previously imponderable, a truth manifest and plain as the pillars of his faith. Yet I was still taken aback when Abdul’s back dipped forward and he stood motionless in a half-bow.

Was it out of pity or foreboding? Abdul spoke in a clipped, formal tone I had never heard before. “I lay down a new compact to you. I will… I am honored to fight beside you against whatever fate throws against us. Fight with me against our enemy tomorrow and I will forever cherish our alliance.”

Too briefly, I felt a burst of relief, joy even. But like me, Abdul had grasped the essential futility of his gesture. He quickly turned his back as if in shame. His noble words rang hollow against our reality. And then we had nothing left to do. We nudged away from each other. Spirits flagging, we could merely feel miserable and tired in our suits waiting for the dawn.

I was shaken out of my drowsiness by Abdul. “Look, over there, movement in the city. They’re so close!” he exclaimed. I swiped the dust away from my faceplate and squinted but the autofocus was broken. I looked to where he pointed; a long alley snaking up to the square between crumbling plazas.

Abdul shouted in joy, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s him, my contractor. I can’t believe it, they’ve come to rescue us. My beacon, the damned beacon. It must have gone off.” He bounced up and down, flapping his arms as best he could without power. I took up the wild motion as the two of us screamed like madmen. Who could blame us? From a distance, the bulky shapes really had resembled a spacemine team weighed down with survey and exploratory appendages.

 “That’s quite a rescue party. At least twenty?” I observed. Abdul looked at me quizzically and back again. Indeed the procession that came onto the blazing square seemed larger still.

Light glared down harshly as Sunstrewn’s two suns drew to zenith. No longer were our visitors cast in obscurity. Abdul drew out a slight sigh. “Unhumans,” he said, girding himself. But the true horror of the moment was not intended for him.

For a moment, my hands clasped together involuntarily in worshipful greeting. The four hands of the Unhumans were empty. Possessing no goad or broken paw, they strode on their hind legs towards us with a savage, raw purpose. Glistening trunks writhed with serpentine flicks.

Lamentably, the eyes of the inhabitants of this forsaken planet bore none of the benevolence of the blessed Lord who had always guided me. As if striding out of a purana, the misshapen children of Sunstrewn, all of the imaginable avatars of Ganesha, advanced toward us. Abdul hollered out greetings in a dozen tongues, to no visible response.

They drifted toward us like smoke, swift and silent. I felt a terrible vice tighten as the circle of unblinking eyes formed. To my left, the wall parted as an alabaster Ganesha gingerly ambled forward. Thick hide, rough and worn, spoke for his age.

“What do you want?” Enraged, Abdul hollered like a madman. “Why have you trapped us?”

            I winced at the warbling but clear speech of ‘Ghost’ as I named him. “It was the master’s plan. I am but his emissary.”

 “Well, where does this master of yours hide?” snarled Abdul.  Trunk swaying, the pale figure turned away from us. “His time is nearly over now.” 

 “If he is injured, please let us try to help him.” I clutched at my side, searching for the medkit pouch.

Ghost’s enormous eyes seemed filled with desperate misery as his head tilted. “The master is beyond life or death.”

 “The master was so desperate.” Ghost paused as wind swelled his trunk, taking in the torn façade of his city. “And to use the Earthbreaker, knowing the calibrations were off. So much destruction to be sure. He must see you now.”

 Two shorter Ganeshas, with magnificent and luxuriant tusks, shouldered past their brethren to stand beside us, gesturing to fit us with bulky suits. Once worn, the black armor fitted wonderfully, merging impossibly with our helmets. “Well, maybe I’m Cinderella after all,” muttered Abdul as his new boots sealed in.

 Impatient, the Unhumans goaded us forward with fleshy trunks. Bleary with exhaustion, I only stopped walking when their infernal twittering abruptly ceased. My head tilted up to see acrid smoke from our cruisers burning nearby, wafting over a dusty red-draped pavilion where the master sat precariously close to the edge.

  For a long time, the ancient Duty-Droid branded with the mark of a certain Nero Impex silently examined us as its old sensors whirred. But then without a word, it tottered off.  As if relieved from duty, it left us to Ghost.

  How does one describe the evil rising in those deep caverns that Ghost took us through? Dimly lit subterranean crèches overflowing with pygmy Ganeshas denied puberty by chemicals suffusing the noxious air. Their nightmarish heads drooping with the weight of tusks never rising above the dirt.

   Pity the damned few allowed to mature; self-aware slaves at the whim of an insane robot. I gasped when I first saw it. Open pits piled high with the bones and tusks of their siblings. And yet in all his long life, Ghost had yet to witness a ship arriving to collect this precious cargo. Idly, I wondered how much his tusks might weigh. Ivory was still fashionable and lucrative in some quarters, and I noticed Abdul’s eyes narrow in calculation. Perhaps he also hoped for escape with this ivory motherlode in tow.

  I suspected that Sunstrewn was a hastily abandoned site, to harvest and cultivate ivory from Ganesha tusks for illegal trading.  So while the colony had died, livestock and a robot had survived. Uncaring of the colonist’s absence, countless docile broods had been butchered in heedless oblivion.

Under a lilac sky, Godhead looked on in silent judgement as we stepped out of the ivory graveyard. Two Ganeshas strode forward and unfurled rough jute-like mats for our inspection. Their wares clanged at our feet. Obsidian weapons lay jagged and ugly. Ghost rummaged through the arsenal for a while before he pointed a cruelly curved sword skyward.

A sharp wave rippled through the mob as trunks flailed in affirmation. The jarring laugh shook me. The Unhumans took up Abdul’s horrible cackle. “I think earlier the machine was waiting for a winner. It only trapped us when it realized we had stopped fighting,” Abdul paused as he reflected on the harsh truth. “These brutes want us to kill each other.” 

Ghost’s head dipped in silence. As if on cue, the others fell silent. “To lose is to gain. The victor of the coming battle will command our fates as master.”

Oddly, we didn’t resist. Maybe the implied threat of the Unhumans overpowered all reason. Perhaps the scavenger in each of us was tempted by the ivory treasure and hoped to somehow escape with it. But, more than anything, Sunstrewn felt like a sealed letter torn open to deliver our fate.

As the universe ordained, I would war with my mortal enemy. “Best for it to be to this way,” murmured Abdul, looking at me squarely, “to fight against a worthy opponent.”

There was no doubt that the broad spear would find its way to me. Yet I was still astonished as it bounded with energy against Abdul’s long obsidian sword. Vows were forgotten as each man clung desperately to the thread of life.

Now there was none of the courtesy and ceremony which had traditionally attended our ritualistic combat. The first vicious thrust was not unexpected and I batted it away with ease. A flurry of move and countermove ensued and I was taken aback by the ferocity of the deadly djinn before me. I tried to slide forward with quick probes but the whirlwind was too much.

My heart sank as shrieking blades sang in agony. Abdul was better; he had always been. As he slashed in terrible harmony, the inevitable happened. I had desperately sidestepped to escape his wrath only to trip on the uneven terrain with my spear falling agonizingly far.

Walking in mincing steps, Abdul loomed over me. The baleful sword glowed with Sunstrewn’s furious light. Yet he stayed his tired hand. Suddenly, Abdul’s shuttered face broke into a beaming smile. His eyes lashed out at Ghost.

“The game is over. I will not shed blood this day unless you get in our way.”  The sword dangled from his swollen fingers towards the sandy ground. Propped up on a battered shoulder, I stared in stunned silence. He lunged to drag me up, “Come brother. Let us show our ancestors how desperate and thirsty men fight.”

Mercy was the ultimate transgression in the machine’s code. For something never shown them, the Unhumans could never tolerate or accept it. The flash of the snub-nosed barrel tore the fragile universe apart. A ragged warning remained caught in my parched throat as Ghost staggered backward from his firearm’s recoil.

A massive hole gaped in Abdul’s chest. I clung to him, frantic to keep his life from slipping out. Abdul’s deep-set eyes stared sightlessly at the indescribably beautiful violet shafts of Sunstrewn’s suns, bathing him in intense, almost holy light. My enemy, held fast in my arms, died at last.

I could barely breathe and the thin air had nothing to do with it. Red rage tore through my body. Ghost and his mob stood passively.

“So I am master of all I survey?”

Soothingly, Ghost whispered, “It is so. We are yours now.” I gestured to the rest. “Do they understand me?”

“Of course. They are all well trained for their appointed task. They will do as you will.”

The mad gods had taken me to my undeserved prize. Their twittering ceased abruptly as I approached the threshold of the robot’s tattered pavilion. I stared round at the glazed eyes of my beholden, the spear still warm to grip. “Kill him. Now!” I intoned simply as I pointed it roughly towards Ghost.

            With buoyant initiative, they ploughed through the weapons brought for the duel. Ghost barely sighed as the obsidian blades tore through his body. A resigned despondency writ on his withered features, Abdul’s killer slid to the ground.

The momentary, vengeful satisfaction faded as my thoughts drifted to the burden of my faith. Had I been reincarnated in the Dark Age, the Kali Yuga, for my faith to be mocked in this way? How would I know? I was no priest.

 But part of me knew I was being despondent and small-minded.  My path had always been interwoven with the one who had ultimately saved me. I was not another soldier lost to a futile, forgotten war. Abdul’s sacrifice had saved me. Somehow I would be the one to break these unfortunate creatures out of this hellish cycle of existence just as he had done for us. How else could I truly honour my friend? What better legacy could there be than this?

The expectant stare of my subjects boring through me, I took a hesitant step towards the throne.