The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “That’s it then,” said one of the cadets. “With the star charts gone, we’ll never find home...”

  They were losing their morale and with it their much-needed adrenaline. Thankfully the captain stepped in because this was not his thing.

  “When Central Parliament doesn’t hear from us they will send ships to investigate. We just need to hold these bastards off and survive. Do you hear me? We will survive.”

  Roland mockingly gave her a thumbs-up. In his experience, all the words in the galaxy couldn’t get you out of a gunfight. To her credit, they seemed to respond well. A few pats on the back and whispers of encouragement and they were ready to go again.

  “We have a problem,” said Roland. “We’re close to the bridge and when they see it’s empty, they will double back.” He had already seen the solution to his problem. “The armoury is two levels below us. We’re going through the emergency access hatch.” He pointed to the white tube that cut through the height of the room at the back. It was lined in broken red bars from top to bottom with Emergency Hatch stamped across a rectangular panel. “Hopefully they don’t know about them yet, but we still need to move fast.”

  Captain Fey was already pulling the manual lever to open the tube. Once accessed, the entire tube lit up to reveal a ladder on the far side. Roland inspected both ways before climbing in and descending.

  On his way down he heard the sounds of combat in the corridors around them. The next level down read as LAB 4. He had no idea what it was and he didn’t really care, it was the sounds inside that concerned him; heavy boots stomping around as they ransacked the contents of the lab. He tapped the foot above him who did the same until everyone had stopped. Pushing out from the ladder he looked up, placing a finger to his mouth and pointing to the door. If they could go undetected they only had to reach the next floor.

  The tube door gave a thunk, right before it opened.

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the alien intruder roughly grabbed Roland’s tactical vest and pulled him into LAB 4. Hoping to give them extra time he threw himself off the ladder as he was pulled. His added momentum caused the both of them to tumble across a table knocking off glass vials and electronic equipment.

  Once both had crashed to the floor, Roland leaned round to see the emergency hatch. One of the cadets was staring at him, unsure what they should do.

  “Keep going! Don’t stop!”

  A four-fingered hand gripped his throat. The pressure of his attacker’s knee dropped onto his chest pinning him to the floor. His instincts kicked in as his muscle memory responded. Using all his strength he quickly brought his left hand to the alien’s wrist and his right hand to the alien’s elbow. Without stopping the pincer motion, he pushed both hands until the arm snapped. The alien collapsed onto him until Roland brought his elbow up into the padded material under the helmet. Gripping its throat, the alien stumbled backwards taking the pressure off his chest, everything below the elbow was swinging unnaturally. Not letting up, Roland grabbed the side of the helmet and forced it into the side of the counter. One quick release of the LX under his arm ended the struggle. He stopped for a moment, panting to regain his breath.

  Looking back to the hatch he could see it was empty. He felt relief, knowing he was no longer responsible for them. Responsibility was like a bad jacket, it just didn’t fit right. An idea occurred to him without his excess baggage. If he could get back to the hangar and reach the shuttle he had intended to pilot, he might be able to find his way home. The Hammer would have uploaded the coordinates to the nearest relay ready for their departure. If he could reach the relay he should technically be able to find the next one and so on until he reached Earth.

  It made sense; there was no way they were going to win against these odds. Normally he preferred a fight with the odds stacked against him but, without alcohol, the odds were all too clear. He had done his duty by at least saving the captain, screw the commodore. This way he could come back with real forces and have himself a proper fight. That’s what he told himself at least. He would most likely find the first bar he came across and never leave. He’d made up his mind though.

  Leaving LAB 4 he made his way down the corridor. He had to descend two levels to find his way back to the hangar and he didn’t fancy getting pulled out of another hatch. Meeting no resistance he entered a nearby lift and keyed in the hangar. He retrieved the SM72 from his back and checked the number on top. The number seventy confirmed it was fully loaded and ready to go.

  A few seconds in and the lift shook, the lights flickering before the sound of grating metal penetrated the walls. It came to a stop halfway down the next level.

  I could kill for a drink right now.

  It amused him that those words were very true.

  He would have to climb out on this level and find another way down. He wasn’t sure what had caused the breakdown but it was obvious that fighting had broken out all over the ship now. Pulling the doors aside with his fingers he cracked it open an inch checking the other side. The floor was at chest level now, causing him to throw his gun out before climbing out after it. There was blood on the wall at the nearest intersection. Unfortunately, the bloody handprint next to it had five digits. More evidence of them losing this fight.

  Before committing himself to the next corner he stepped back, taking cover behind two vertical pipes. He heard them before he saw them. The captain’s voice gave them away as she directed the bridge crew to the armoury. He remained hidden choosing to stick with his own mission; getting the hell out of there.

  Roland recalled the layout of the ship and was impressed he could remember almost every floor. To double-check, he brought up the map on his wrist touchpad. He was right, there was another lift on the second right up ahead. He moved off in the direction of the lift when he heard another noise; screaming. It came from the direction the bridge crew had gone. Intermingled with the screams were the sounds of gunfire and a distinct energy weapon. Roland tried to block it out and told himself to stay put; the lift was almost on his level.

  Son of a bitch...

  He didn’t know exactly why, but he was now backtracking to the corner he had spotted them from. This whole scenario would have been different if the Arc-bar didn’t sell alcohol that could only last an hour. If he was still good and drunk he would probably be on that shuttle right now. Roland couldn’t quite convince himself of that though. The reality was closer to him being locked up in the brig for telling the captain to go space herself.

  Turning the last corner to their location he heard the familiar organic sound of the green gel. Several screams were cut instantly short as they had most likely been solidified. Peeking round he saw the remains of the bridge crew hiding in doorways and shooting wildly down the corridor. He counted seven intruders at the other end making steady progression. The captain’s photon weapon had obviously given the aliens caution after what Roland did to their first landing party. Sadly, the captain was a crap shot. Even when she aimed, it missed them by a couple of feet. Further down he saw the green goo had solidified over three of the crew. He surmised that the intruders must have the goo weaponised in some sort of grenade.

  He turned away, considering his options again. The lift would probably be there by now.

  “They’re advancing!” one of the crew shouted.

  Roland decided to stop thinking and just react. While he had been thinking about heading back to the lift, another part of his brain had already planned his attack. He broke the corner in a run drawing his dual LX side-arms as he did. With the left pistol, he kept his finger down on the trigger, causing the red flashes of charged photons to create an almost single beam. He was more conservative with the right, choosing his individual targets.

  The invaders dived for cover as the photon particles went everywhere. His right pistol hit the intended target in the neck almost severing the head. Roland looked up to see the thick black line on the ceiling; he had been waiting for that. Roland’s left pistol suddenly c
ut out with the levels on the side flashing a warning. Avoiding the retaliating fire, he slid across the last couple of metres with his feet out in front of him. The motion was smooth and calculated. Before pushing back up, he flung the left pistol down the corridor towards the invading group like a grenade. Now back on his feet, he wasted no time shoving his elbow into the shatter-glass, hitting the emergency door control. The resulting thud came from the black line in the ceiling as the two-feet thick blast door closed shut. Three seconds later they all heard the LX 14-02 reach critical level and release its charged payload at once. The explosion boomed against the blast door but it showed no signs of stress.

  Captain Fey was the first to come out of cover. “Thank you, Commander.” She wiped the sweat from her head. “What is that stuff?” She pointed in the general direction of where the green goo had encompassed four of the crew.

  Roland wondered if they had been killed in the blast or whether the goo had protected them. “It looks like they want most of us alive.” He returned his weapon to its housing on his thigh. “We still need to get to the armoury, it won’t take them long to find a way around the blast door.”

  Taking notice of the bridge crew, he saw a young man, a lieutenant from the insignia on his uniform, accessing a terminal on the wall.

  “Can you find the Commodore, Lieutenant?” the captain asked.

  The young lieutenant flicked his eyes to the corner of the screen, activating the command module. They were wasting time. They should forget about the commodore and the chain of command - right now was about survival. Counting the heads he knew they wouldn’t all fit in the shuttle, let alone with that fat bastard of a commodore. Roland considered just walking away now, while they were crowded around the monitor.

  “Inquiry. Location: Commodore Landis.”

  The screen responded with an image of a corridor filled with smoke and bullet holes. Amongst the dead bodies strewn on the floor, the monitor highlighted in red a larger body slumped against a wall. Next to it the word, DECEASED, was flashing.

  “Guess that makes you the boss.” Roland checked his vest to take in an inventory.

  He had one tungsten grenade left, two shock grenades and his belt had two fully loaded magazines. The barrel of the LX on his thigh felt hot to the touch. He would need to leave it a while to cool down; he only had one left now.

  Roland pushed the lieutenant to the side. “Let me see that.” He took over the monitor, flicking the image to the hangar bay.

  The camera was high on the wall looking down from one of the corners. He expected to see chaos and fighting, the way he had left it earlier. There had been at least a hundred soldiers flood into the hangar when the invaders arrived. The view was very different now. The human survivors were being marched at gunpoint into the alien vessels.

  This was bad. There was no way he could reach the shuttle now. He had been planning on using the fight as a distraction to escape. There were few options left to them now and he was running through them, working out consequences in his mind. They could go for the armoury and hope to maintain a foothold there. That sounded good until he ran the whole scenario through and couldn’t reach a viable ending. Even if they made it, how long would they last? There was no food or water in the armoury, meaning they would have to leave their foothold to find supplies. If the aliens continued their assault, the armoury would eventually run out of ammo and who knew what other tech the invaders possessed? It would only be a matter of time before they controlled the ship and then killing them would be easy; all they would have to do is switch off the life support.

  They would have to move around to survive and that wouldn’t work; there are only so many places you can go on a ship in space. Thanks to being sober he had already ruled out a frontal assault on the hangar. The last scenario that came to mind was a familiar one.

  Callisto.

  The second largest moon orbiting Jupiter and home to the most secure bank in both solar systems. The bank had been built into one of Callisto’s many craters on the surface. Shaped like an ancient wagon wheel, the installation spread out across the crater with the vaults in each arm. Central Parliament hadn’t wanted the news to get out that its most secure bank had been taken over by the latest group of separatists.

  Hence the need for Roland North.

  It was his job to regain control of the bank quickly and quietly and remove all threats to Parliament. He had run through multiple scenarios to gain entry to the bank and found it truly was impenetrable. It had been an inside man that allowed for the separatists to take over in the first place, and he didn’t have one. Like now he could only see one option for moving forward.

  At the time he had deliberately made no attempts to subvert the proximity alarms landing his ship on one of the arms. The automated turrets had only taken five seconds to cycle round and blow the craft apart. Of course, he had already left the ship and was being pulled in by Callisto’s gravity in free fall. Using Mem-jelly to break his fall, he landed on his back in the bubble of blue jelly and pulled himself free as it began to decay, allowing him to float above the moon’s surface. The Mem-jelly could only be used with a breather on, as it would suffocate the person within before they could break free.

  The trick was making it look like a real attack. Planting charges under the main hub, he continued to detonate knowing it wouldn’t be strong enough to breach the hull. A minute later three armed men in vac suits and suction boots surrounded him. As far as they were concerned it was a botched rescue attempt and he would add to the hostages.

  The only scenario left to him had worked. It was ultimately a risk but he had to rely on his training to get him through. His instructors had always told him that it didn’t matter how many guns or grenades he had, he was the weapon. The separatists had taken him inside the very place they were trying to keep secure- from people like him. As he had then, Roland saw this as the only option left to him. He would have to allow them to capture him and hope he could figure something out on the other side. Then there was the matter of the bridge crew and the captain. He knew they wouldn’t be confident enough to go through with his plan.

  So he wouldn’t give them the choice.

  As predicted, the sound of heavy boots was audible down the corridor. The sneaky bastards had already found a way around the blast door. No doubt the fire-fight had attracted more of the invaders. The bridge crew became antsy again as they checked the level of ammo left in their sidearms.

  Moving away from the monitor, he stood at the corner of the corridor with the crew and the blast door to his back. He quietly removed the shock grenade from his vest and set it to its highest setting again. They were mostly used for scrambling electronics but on the highest setting, it would render a human being unconscious for about an hour. He just hoped they would be found in that time. He let the canister roll from his hand, coming to a stop in the middle of the bridge crew. Captain Fey looked to Roland with shock, unable to comprehend his course of action. Before she could react the grenade flashed once stunning every one of them, attacking their central nervous system.

  Roland felt the implant in the frontal lobe of his brain fight the onslaught of electrical attack. It was designed to wake him up after ten seconds should he ever be knocked unconscious. The surgical procedure was standard for everyone in his specific line of work. He was aware however that a stun grenade would temporarily short-circuit the microscopic device, stopping him from waking up so soon. The pain in his forehead was blinding, with an intensely sharp pain burrowing into his temples. Five agonisingly long seconds later he joined the bridge crew on the floor as a numbing darkness swallowed him whole.

  8

  Their second day aboard the Valoran turned into quite a painful one, for Kalian. Whether it was to take her mind off recent events or focus her thoughts he wasn’t sure. It was impossible to tell the difference between day and night on a starship, but judging from how tired Kalian felt, when Li’ara woke him up on the second day, he guessed it to be early mor
ning. She had insisted that they begin training immediately if they were to even hope of surviving whatever came next. He had to admit it, his life had taken a violent turn since he was forced out of his lecture theatre.

  In just her undersuit, with her boots taken off, she had cleared away space in the middle of his cabin. Being as spacious as it was, that didn’t take too long. He sat on the edge of his bed in just his trousers hoping to God that aliens had decaf. His thoughts were hard to keep hold of as Li’ara began stretching the various muscle groups in her body. Li’ara was attractive and he was sure no man could deny it, but the tight undersuit made it a lot harder to concentrate.

  “Are you ready?” She ominously cracked the knuckles in her right hand.

  “Ready for what?” Kalian was pretty sure he knew the answer but he was just stalling for time.

  He had taken part in hand-to-hand combat before in his teens while experimenting with different ways to sharpen his focus and gain control over his thing; he didn’t like the idea of hitting Li’ara though.

  “I had one last order before the UDC...” She looked away for a moment, stretching her arm as a distraction from where that sentence was going. “...I will protect you to the best of my abilities, Kalian. But I don’t know what’s out there, I don’t know what’s coming and I might not always be there when I’m needed. I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I didn’t train you some self-defence.” She reached down and touched her toes. “We’ve got just under a week and I intend to make sure you can at least throw a punch.”

  Kalian could empathise with her situation. Li’ara had lost everything and was now clinging to the last piece of normality she had left- her orders. Between them, they had no idea what kind of life they could make now. Their whole culture had vanished in a single day. Nobody knew how many survivors there were if any. For all they knew, they could be the last man and woman in the galaxy. He tried not to let that thought get away from itself.