The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  This Conclave they were about to enter was a completely new society, with its own rules and laws, not to mention all the new species. How were they expected to fit in or adjust? Even when he was presented to the Highclave he had no idea what was expected of him. He couldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know from their centuries of studying humans. Telarrek had promised to meet up with him again on this long journey, and he would be sure to ask him more questions.

  “Attack me.” Li’ara stood perfectly still with her arms by her side.

  Kalian could tell from her stony expression she was being serious. He stood up from the bed and quickly stretched his shoulder joints, flexing his chest muscles. He noticed Li’ara’s brief attention but she remained silent. He bit back a smile and just lunged at her with an unplanned attack. He pulled his punch afraid of hurting her too much; his mistake.

  Like a snake striking its prey, Li’ara reacted with deadly speed pushing Kalian’s fist wildly off target. Without stopping, she landed the edge of her open hand onto the carotid artery in his neck, causing his head to spasm around her hand. In the same motion, she used his momentum against him by wrapping her right hand around the back of his head and spinning him, only to force his face down on the floor. To finish the move, she dropped knee-first onto his back, pinning him.

  To Kalian, it had been a dizzying blur of pain and humiliation. If he hadn’t had the air forcibly removed from his lungs he would have verbally expressed his discomfort.

  “Again.” Li’ara pushed off his back and resumed her previous position. “This time I’ll attack you...”

  Kalian slowly rose to his feet rubbing his injured neck.

  “Kalian.” She waited until his full attention was on her. “I am going to attack you and I will not hold back. It will hurt, you need to know that.”

  Why was she telling him this? Was she trying to unnerve him and put him off? Either way, he felt the rush of adrenaline at the thought of the coming attack. He braced himself, unsure of what she might do next. His fight or flight response was battling with itself, should he evade or fight back? Feeling the pain in his back, he decided to fight back.

  Li’ara moved with the same whiplash speed as she stepped within arm’s length. His reaction was instinctive but also out of his control. He raised his hands in a clumsy attempt to defend himself from the expected pain of Li’ara’s blows. Before she could land a single hit, Kalian felt a shiver pass through his spine and into his hands, making his arm hair stand on end. He felt the sensation leave through his hand at the same moment Li’ara flew across the room.

  Tumbling end over end, she rolled into the sofa on the other side of the room. Kalian couldn’t move. What had he done? How had he done it? He stood in shock as Li’ara used the sofa as support to stand up. Her copper hair fell over her face like a mop.

  “I knew it...” She flicked her head back to remove the hair. Li’ara didn’t appear to have suffered any injury, though she did sit on the sofa rather than walk back over.

  “I’m so sorry...” he didn’t know what to say. This thing was starting to get out of control.

  To his surprise, Li’ara sat there with a smile on her face. “Don’t be. I was hoping something like that might happen.”

  Now he knew why she had been psyching him out. She wanted him to be aware of the pain he was about to experience. He thought back to their conversation about the night his parents died. His body was responding to a threat in a way he couldn’t explain.

  “How did I do that?”

  He looked down at his hands as if some answer might be found there. They appeared like normal hands, no marks or abnormalities, but he had definitely felt the sensation resonate from them. He kept flicking his fingers trying to shake off the tingling feeling.

  “I have no idea, but you need practice.” She strained her neck to the side as if it pained her.

  Practise?

  How could he practise what he didn’t understand? How could he practise something that was instinct?

  Kalian and Li’ara spent the next two days running through the same daily routines. She would wake him early and practise hand-to-hand combat. They would always start slow moving through different routines, allowing Kalian to learn the attack and defensive stances without Li’ara being flung across the room. After becoming more proficient they would increase the speed and eventually flow into sparring without predetermined moves. It allowed him to eventually experience pain in a threatening situation and learn to hold back.

  It was hard at first. Every time he perceived a threat he could feel the tingling sensation build in his spine, eager to be unleashed. He couldn’t be sure but at one point he thought he had blocked one of Li’ara’s blows without actually touching her. When she landed a hit he often felt the shiver flow through to his palms ready to be pushed out. He didn’t manage to hold it in every time but he was learning the feel of control.

  They would do this until Ilyseal arrived with food for lunch. Though hesitant to begin with, they soon loved the food she brought. It reminded them both of steak, though the animal certainly wasn’t a cow. Ilyseal had told them it was a species similar to deer whose origin was Nova Prime. Being a tint of orange Kalian wasn’t convinced it was edible, but it soon grew on him. After lunch, Li’ara had a different idea of how to exercise his apparent abilities. Kalian wasn’t always fond of what happened next. Using various ornaments and the occasional boot, Li’ara would throw the different objects directly at his head.

  They soon learned that his reaction would vary depending upon his perception. Through this, he was able to gain some measure of control, however tenuous. If he felt the object posed a serious threat, he could repel it with the same shiver that ran through his hands. After being hit in the head multiple times he finally learned to recreate the feeling, now that he knew where it came from. After the hours of practice, Li’ara would leave to check on the Fathom and have a shower. She suggested he spent the time in a form of meditation to try and learn a greater control. He often gave up in preference of reading his Datapad and looking at images of Earth. He threw the pad away in frustration, however. What good was it to look at a dead planet and read about a history that no longer matters? History was supposed to influence the future, to provide a learning curve for the generations to come. Now it was just another blackhole in space.

  Kalian had told Li’ara everything Telarrek had explained on the observation deck. This subject held a lot of their concentration. They constantly speculated at the origins of The Wall and what it could mean. They exhausted all avenues of what Kalian’s DNA could allude to and whether that was responsible for his abilities. They avoided the topic of what their future would hold for them and the human race, whatever was left of it. Most frustratingly though, neither of them could fathom why they had been attacked in the first place.

  It was on the third night that Telarrek arrived unannounced while they were eating the Novaarian equivalent of a salad, though Kalian found it a bit tart for his liking, not to mention the fact that the leaves constantly moved on his plate. Saying very little, he told them he wanted to show them something. It was either that or they both remained in his cabin to finish the night off with more sparring, and neither of them wanted to give up the chance of asking Telarrek questions. On their way out he reflected on the last three days of practising. He was impressed with his newfound measure of control as well as learning to fight. He was still no match for Li’ara though.

  After descending the vertical walkway, they were presented with two of the sleek hover bikes he constantly saw flying above his head. Standing next to one was a Novaarian they had never seen before.

  “This is Namek.” Telarrek gestured to the guarding Novaarian.

  He was similar to Telarrek though the freckles around his eyes were red rather than blue. Like other Novaarians he wore the purple dress wear with the multicoloured armour plating. One exception he found, however, was the milky white tendrils that sprouted from above all Nov
aarian mouths. Namek’s facial hair, as it were, hung low beneath his jaw like a moustache; Kalian found himself wondering if they cut these tendrils but he couldn’t help but imagine it to be painful.

  “Namek will control your sled, Lieutenant Commander. I will take Kalian. But do not worry; we are going to the same place.” Telarrek gestured for Kalian to take his place on the long bench of the sled as he himself sat in the front.

  The controls reminded him of a bike with the handles extending horizontally from the main console. He peered round Telarrek to see the different readouts but was dismayed that he still couldn’t translate the Novaarian language. Li’ara had been able to translate whole sentences now.

  He looked over as she took her own place behind Namek. A hum emanated from the cylindrical thrusters at the back as the sled slowly rose higher into the huge ship.

  “It’s just Li’ara.” Everyone turned to her as she spoke over the rising hum. “I’m the Lieutenant Commander of nothing, so it’s just Li’ara now.”

  Telarrek paused a moment as he considered her words. His response was a short bow before both sleds accelerated away. It was the first time he had heard Li’ara say anything like that. It made sense in a sad way. There were no more ranks or orders to be given. She was most likely the last UDC soldier alive. He empathised with her pain in the matter; it must have been especially difficult to say that in front of them, to make it all the more real. He would speak to her about it later.

  The sled ride was exhilarating. Both Novaarians controlled the hover machines with great skill as they navigated corners and other oncoming sleds at speed. They flew through different sections of the Valoran that opened up from the arcing corridors into giant domes with multiple levels, all connected by bridges. The ship’s size would never cease to astound them. The activity below was constant, though Kalian couldn’t figure out what they were all doing. Everywhere they looked, Novaarians were busy using various touch-holographic equipment and floating consoles that appeared to follow them. He liked the consistent theme of plant life, however, throughout the ship.

  After flying for nearly fifteen minutes, the sleds set down in front of the largest circular door they had seen so far. Like the other doors on board, this one was cut down the middle with an S-shaped divide. This larger door, however, had three horizontal bars spread across the width. Telarrek’s handprint was all that was required. The bars slid into concealment within the walls and the door parted in half, releasing a small hiss.

  The sight would have been more breathtaking if either of the humans knew what they were looking at. Telarrek took the lead as Namek remained with the sleds. Once past the door, it closed behind them with three distinct clicks as the bars locked into place. The size of the room made every other part of the Valoran appear small in comparison. They were confronted by a metallic sphere the size of a football field. At least he assumed it was a sphere from the portion he could see. It was covered in smaller circles raised against the surface, each one big enough to fit a fully grown man inside. The sphere itself sat inside a pit like a golf ball resting on a T.

  Massive cables connected the top hemisphere to multiple points across the room, disappearing into the walls. These dark cables were ribbed in metallic rings the same silver as the sphere. The base was surrounded by the same holographic console as the one Telarrek had used in the observatory. The room itself was domeshaped to match the giant sphere it housed.

  It was eerily silent. For such a large piece of machinery, it made no sound. They followed Telarrek deeper into the dome before he turned to them.

  “This is a Starrillium...”

  Kalian felt like he had heard the word before but couldn’t place it. Li’ara’s expression showed a similar thought.

  “This is Valoran.” Both humans remained confused. “You wondered how our ships travel through subspace without locating a star first- this is how.” His upper arm made a sweeping effect as he took in the sphere.

  “This is your engine?” Li’ara asked.

  Telarrek seemed to chew over the question. “Of sorts. A Starrillium is the heart of all Conclave ships, at least ones large enough to house them. Intrinium will always require the magnetic fields generated by a star. That will never change as we cannot alter its nature. Instead, we create the stars. This particular star is called Valoran.”

  Kalian and Li’ara looked at one another somewhere between shock and awe. Kalian wasn’t sure he had understood Telarrek’s words. Was he saying this giant sphere housed a star?

  “That’s why you don’t need an actual star,” Kalian said, “You charge the Solarcite from that.” He pointed to the god-like machinery in front of them.

  “The shell harnesses all magnetic fields given off by Valoran and channels them into the main engines for Intrinium ignition.” As he explained, his long finger followed the path of the nearest large cable.

  “How did you even birth a star, not to mention keeping it so small?” Li’ara asked.

  Telarrek let off a guttural chuckle. “If I knew that I wouldn’t need my engineers. Most of what you see is required to harness the magnetic fields, but great measures are taken to ensure our protection from the radiation and of course the heat.”

  They slowly began the long journey around the star’s circumference, taking in the magnificence of such technology.

  “Telarrek,” Kalian knew he could never run out of questions. “When we reach the Highclave in a few days, what exactly is expected of us?” He couldn’t maintain eye contact with the Novaarian through straining his neck.

  “They will have questions for you; no doubt some will be about your space travel in reference to Naveen. I imagine some of the species may be a little... suspicious of you. And of course, there will be the matter of Alpha NL-2204.”

  Kalian’s emotions were mixed on the subject of the terraforming planet. He was elated to think of survivors but he couldn’t help the bad feeling that they might be in danger. If these Laronians didn’t kill them, then this new enemy certainly would.

  “Any word on them?” Li’ara looked as doubtful as he did.

  “I am afraid we will not learn more on the matter until we arrive at the Conclave. But do not be concerned, I am confident the Highclave will see to their safety as we have to yours. I imagine the main topic of discussion will be your invitation into the Conclave itself. Your numbers are sadly few now, but it cannot be denied that you are an intelligent race, regardless of how you discovered faster than light travel.”

  “Will they give us a new home? A planet?” Kalian hadn’t quite got his head around the size of this Conclave and how much of space it consumed. It didn’t seem unreasonable to think that they would have a few planets that weren’t being used; Alpha NL-2204 was an example.

  “I cannot speak on their behalf, but once we have shared all our knowledge on your kind I am sure they will do what is best.”

  Li’ara didn’t look so confident about Telarrek’s appraisal. She just didn’t like the idea of having her fate in someone else’s hands, especially alien hands.

  “Before you sleep tonight, Ilyseal will bring you both a data module. I suggest you spend the remainder of the journey learning everything you can about the Conclave and our various cultures.”

  They took one last look at the Starrillium before making to leave. Kalian couldn’t believe how close he was to an actual star, to think if the shell ever cracked. Even an inch would melt everything inside the dome within seconds. He couldn’t help but think of the dangers of having an imprisoned star for an engine, regardless of its size.

  The last three days had been boring as shit. Not to mention crowded and smelly. Along with nearly a thousand other people, Roland North had been stuck in what they guessed to be some kind of cargo hold. Despite the boredom, they had managed to learn a few key facts about the current situation. Via ventilation shafts either side of the hold, they had managed to make contact with the other prisoners in what must have been more cargo holds. As big as the ship wa
s, it clearly wasn’t designed to hold seven thousand prisoners. The fact that they hadn’t been stopped from communicating with each other told Roland that they weren’t considered to be threats; he could use that.

  The walkway above them lined the square hold with two bridges across the centre. It was always occupied by at least twenty alien guards. Humans had always known aliens existed thanks to Charon, but it didn’t make the reality of them any less disturbing. There had been no communication from them and they never removed their headgear. The only contact they had was from six machines that hovered into the hold every day with water and some kind of sludge that reminded him of porridge. After the first two days of nobody eating the sludge, it eventually became pretty appetising. At the end of the third day, there had been none left.

  With no beds or furniture of any kind, people were camping wherever they could fit, some using each other’s limbs as pillows. He looked down the side of the wall to see Captain Fey occupying the top right corner of the hold, along with what he had learned to be some of the leading scientists and engineers from the planet. It was hard to miss them with the augmented soldier towering over the edge of the group. His muscles were more like tumours with worms under the surface.

  This group had naturally formed a leadership role within the masses. Not that there was much to lead, he surmised. There was nothing for them to do except theorise and plot their escape, which he had already assessed to be futile.

  Roland didn’t care that no one wanted to listen to him, he couldn’t blame them really; he still remembered what happened after he woke up. As the colours of reality seeped back into his vision he remembered someone close by shouting to the captain. His head was still pounding from the shock grenade and he was a little embarrassed at being the last to wake up. While he was still disorientated by the surroundings, and the mass of people huddled around him, Captain Fey strode through the throng until she was practically on top of him.