The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  They crossed the atrium, keeping a close eye on the employees that ran for cover. It seemed the door had crushed the only guard on its way into the room. The twitching legs of a Shay could be seen poking out from underneath. The panel next to the row of Translifts indicated that they were on the sixty-fifth floor.

  “We need to get up to level 202.” Esabelle waved her fake Novattoo across the scanner to call the lift. Thankfully they hadn’t been deactivated with the holo-skin.

  “That Translift won’t get you there,” Ch’len explained. “Any level past 101 can only be accessed by an executive lift on the ninety-ninth floor.”

  “Let me guess. It’s heavily guarded?” Roland pulled both of his Tri-rollers from their holsters.

  Ch’len laughed, “If I were you, I’d worry about the guards between you and that lift. Speaking of which-”

  “There are eight coming up in the Translift.” Esabelle could feel the exotic biology of their alien bodies. Each one a part of the universe and yet separate in the only way an organic being can be. She didn’t believe that. It was a teaching of the Terran that all life was part of the universe, but one’s own intelligent sense of self-made them apart from it. As if being able to comprehend the universe put her, or anyone else, above it. She always found it to be a strange teaching for a Terran, considering they could actually see that every being is connected to the cosmic soup of the universe. It was the greatest example of Terran humility combined with their bloated egos.

  She believed that when anyone died their energy simply took on a different role in the galaxy. And she was ok with that. It certainly made what she was about to do next a lot easier. The air crackled around her hands as the air distorted with every colour of the spectrum. Two organic plasma balls bloomed in her palms. She quickly ended the reaction when Roland put his hand on her arm.

  “Wait a minute! Are you sure about this? Those aren’t Protocorps mercs in there. If we start killing Conclave security in swathes, there’s gonna be consequences.”

  Esabelle couldn’t believe the words of warning coming from the bounty hunter. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “Well, it would make my life a lot easier if I didn’t have to hide my good looks on every planet.”

  “You think that if we kill some guards, the Highclave won’t grant humanity membership?” Esabelle could feel the power inside her desperate to be unleashed.

  “I don’t think it’ll help!”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” She purposefully looked at his raised weapons. His plan didn’t seem much different from hers.

  “You’ve got all those powers and you can’t think of a better way to incapacitate some guards?”

  “Big word from the Neanderthal.”

  “You’re lucky you’ve got all those powers.” Roland waved his Tri-roller in mock threat.

  “What’s a Neanderthal?” Ch’len asked.

  “Shut up, Len!” they both retorted.

  It was that same moment the Translift gently pinged, signifying its arrival.

  The guards inside didn’t even have a chance to raise their weapons before Esabelle attacked. Using one hand she presented them with her palm and created a light brighter than any star. It was the same principle as creating an organic ball of plasma, except she simply focused on the light emission instead of the heat. Roland couldn’t help but shield his own eyes at the intensity. Esabelle stepped to the side, making a sweeping motion with her arm as she did. The contents of the lift were evacuated in a flood of bodies as all eight guards were telekinetically forced out. Each one clattered across the floor, tumbling over one another in a heap of red bodies and armour. Most of them were still covering their eyes from the light, which had no doubt burned out their retinas.

  With Roland still trying to blink out the pretty colours in his vision, Esabelle grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into the Translift. She verbally commanded the lift to take them to level ninety-nine.

  “A little warning next time!” Roland massaged his eyes with a deep rub.

  Esabelle smiled at his discomfort before sending a concentrated burst of electromagnetism into the lift speakers, ending the pleasant music on constant repeat. Her mind wandered for a minute as she thought back to the lower levels of Clave Tower. She had seen something, someone. They were mixed into the crowd but clear to see as the static figure in dark rags and a hood, concealing their identity. It wasn’t one of Revus’ men; she had known where they were at all times. This was someone else. Before Roland had interrupted her, she thought she had almost felt a connection and dreamed to hope, but the figure had disappeared.

  “You’ve got a problem.” Ch’len’s warning came only a second before the Translift stopped moving at level seventy-two. “Thanks to your unique DNA they can track you anywhere in the building. From the looks of it, they’ve only stopped your lift, but guards are being relocated to your floor.”

  “Doesn’t the chupachup ever have good news?” Esabelle tried other options on the terminal.

  “Hey!” Roland sounded disrespected. “He’s my chupachup.” They both ignored the angered response from the Ch’kara.

  Esabelle slammed the unresponsive terminal with her palm. “It’s dead.” Esabelle pushed her awareness out to get a feel for their surroundings. She was shocked to find the level of oxygen depleting with every breath as the air was quickly being replaced with carbon dioxide.

  “They’ve shut off the air,” Ch’len confirmed over the comm. “If you’re quite finished insulting me, perhaps you could find a way out of that death trap?”

  “Can’t you override any of their systems?” Roland was detaching something from his belt.

  “I’m trying,” Ch’len replied. “Hacking into their cameras is one thing, but it seems the entire building is being directly run by the main AI construct. Every time the Rackham circumvents one system, it disables its own control and switches to a backup. And if it is the main AI controlling it, there’s probably no end of backups just waiting to take over.”

  “Then we go up.” Roland gestured to the emergency panel above Esabelle’s head. He continued to place what she now recognised to be some kind of homemade bomb, directly across the parting on the door. Without clearance from security, the emergency panel refused to budge for her. With a flick of her fingers, the servo-motors inside were disconnected and the panel slid aside with a little telekinetic push.

  “We should probably go before they decide to open this door.” Roland was all gentleman-like and climbed up first.

  “I thought you were against killing the Conclave personnel?”

  “It’s designed to blow inwards. A few might get a little frazzled but the lift will take the brunt of it, so you might want to get out of there.”

  With the agility and grace a human could only wish for, Esabelle climbed onto the Translift roof. Using anti-gravity technology, the lifts were flying by in every direction at great speed. Some traversed parallel to their own while others travelled horizontally, disappearing through corresponding holes in the wall. Esabelle quickly counted the floors and found the door they required above.

  “They’re almost at your location.” Ch’len’s words were just audible over his constant eating.

  Esabelle peered over the lip of the Translift and saw another one on its way up. She didn’t have time to explain her plan to Roland.

  “Do you trust me?” She ignored his cautious expression and wrapped her right arm around his waist. At the same time, she altered the polarity of her body, making herself the perfect magnet for the passing Translift. Roland’s yelp was engulfed by the sound of rushing air as the pair suddenly flew upwards with half of Esabelle’s body stuck to the side of the adjacent lift. She simultaneously kept a telekinetic cocoon around her joints so her arm wouldn’t be ripped from its socket.

  When the lift stopped, three floors beneath their intended level, they both climbed on top and made for the ladder built into the wall. Roland had to jump for it at the last second be
fore the lift descended again.

  “No boom?” Esabelle had expected the explosion.

  “They’re standing outside. From the looks of it they have scanners,” Ch’len offered. “They’re not stupid.”

  Roland hung onto the ladder with one hand, while using his other to operate the flexi-screen built into the sleeve of his jacket. “Plan B it is...” The ladder shook as the lift below exploded. The top half was blown completely off, incinerated instantly, causing the chamber to fill with black smoke and ash.

  Esabelle used her telekinesis to part the doors as they reached level ninety-nine. She could feel the Shay guard on the other side, waiting for them, his pheromones permeated with fear.

  Roland reacted first, however, firing a bolt of brilliant blue Intrinium into the Shay’s chest. Esabelle hopped onto the level as the Shay staggered and fell, disappearing through the smoke.

  “Where to from here, Len?” Roland asked.

  Esabelle could see the military training in the way Roland moved and assessed his surroundings. He may be a degenerate, but there was no disguising his background.

  When the bounty hunter had first entered the Gommarian, during the attack at Corvus, Esabelle had reviewed his file downloaded from the UDC database. When the Gomar had first arrived at Earth, she had been instructed to jam all communications and scan all available data. There had been no firewall strong enough to keep her out in that single scan, and in so doing she had everything ever recorded about the agent, Roland North. She had, of course, kept this to herself; she saw no reason why everyone needed to know his business. Esabelle felt sorry for him in a way. He had fallen into a dark hole in his morally questionable line of work and became reliant on alcohol to get him through every mission. She recalled the last mission he had been assigned as an agent of the Earth government.

  It had not gone well.

  Esabelle looked at him for a moment and wondered if his actions on Europa kept him awake at night. In that regard she was thankful her abilities allowed her to forgo sleep. She could be kept awake for eternity if she was forced to see all the Terran and humans she had been party to killing.

  “You need to take a left and then it’s down the corridor on the second right. But I’m sure the superhuman has already told you it’s heavily guarded. I think they know where you’re going.”

  “His description is pretty accurate, actually,” Esabelle quipped.

  “Well then perhaps you should take point, superhuman.” Roland nodded to the corner on the left.

  Esabelle led them around the next corner, pushing her awareness out through the walls as they walked. She could feel the cluster of biological molecules mixed in with the sophisticated technology that made up the group of Shay guards.

  “You might want to cover your ears.” She could feel the explosive device in her mind, every particle mapped out like blueprints. She used telekinesis to turn the switch on the top of the grenade without even seeing the group of guards.

  The explosion burst into the corridor, causing a concussive wave to tear through the walls and ceiling. The whole corridor flickered like something out of a nightmare with body parts littering the floor. Roland didn’t look amused.

  “I did warn you...”

  “You’ll forgive me if I can’t hear you anymore!” Roland rotated his jaw while poking his ear.

  Esabelle’s eardrums were already repairing themselves at her command.

  “Okay, I’ve managed to take control of the executive Translift. But I have no idea how long it’s going to last so you need to hurry and get up there fast!” Ch’len sounded distressed but Esabelle assumed it was more to do with his shortage of food than their dire situation.

  Kubrackk sat forward to get a better picture out the viewport. The Blade had docked in the bay of Galactic Groceries, two kilometres away from Protocorps Headquarters. The hanging towers were swarming with emergency responders and security patrol ships above. He hadn’t seen this much excitement inside Clave Tower since the Gomar attacked the Highclave. Whatever was going on in there was serious. With all the new security measures put in place, they were sure to clamp down fast on any internal attack, especially on something as big as Protocorps. Kubrackk couldn’t imagine what had driven the humans to launch an assault on them.

  “Typical humans, crazy as they are ugly...” he commented.

  Spelnar was sitting at the station behind him, going through the local news feeds. The Trillik still had spots of Lole’s blood on his arms and face. It had taken him two hours to clear up the mess. The Tularon’s body was now stored in a secret compartment in the cargo bay, ready to be disposed of when they weren’t within a parsec of the nearest patrol ship.

  “It’s weird, boss. There’s nothing on any feed about what’s going on. Not a single report.” Spelnar had yet to make eye contact with Kubrackk since the shooting. The Novaarian browsed through the array on the main console and checked for himself. He couldn’t believe that an attack on one of the biggest corporations wasn’t being reported on by every channel.

  “Well they’ve either been told not to report on it, and I can’t imagine who has the power to command that, or something is redirecting the flow of information and they don’t even know this is happening. But that’s even less likely.” There was nothing powerful enough to control the flow of information in Clave Tower. “Get Revus back on the line and see if he knows anything.”

  Kubrackk was loath to speak with the Brenine again. Shooting Lole had felt good, but Revus deserved a hole in the head as well, if not more. He chastised himself for not taking better precautions with his crew. He should have suspected Revus would have something on him; he had his fingers in everything and everyone who passed through that bar of his. There were other Bounty Clave associations he preferred to visit himself, free of prying eyes.

  “I can’t.” Kubrackk could hear the worry in Spelnar’s voice. Lole’s death had apparently sent quite the message. “The link won’t connect.” His nimble fingers danced across the console. “We can’t receive any transmissions either. The entire array is down!”

  Kubrackk rolled his eyes, “Then why aren’t you outside fixing it?”

  “It’s not us. I checked it back on Shandar. The whole area has gone dark.”

  Kubrackk didn’t like the sound of that. What could disrupt all the communications on such a large scale inside the tower? He looked out again to see patrol ships taking up positions next to every bridge connecting to the central building.

  “How in a Raalak’s pit are we going to get in there now?” the Novaarian growled. North was going to get away again, he knew it.

  “There’s a delivery bay on the other side, part of the main building,” Spelnar explained. “We’d need authentic authorisation to pass through but...” The Trillik went quiet.

  “But what?” Kubrackk demanded. If there was a way in, he would take it.

  “I don’t have the software required to pull off that kind of job. Getting through the perimeter checks was easy compared to the level of security Protocorps uses. I mean come on, that building houses the central AI They use more security than the Highclave.”

  “So what you’re saying, Spelnar, is that you’re of no more use to me?” Kubrackk rested his hand lightly on the handle of his Quad-roller.

  “But I know a guy, right here in the tower!” Spelnar was halfway out of his seat already, his twin tail sticking tight to his body.

  “Get it done or don’t bother coming back!” Returning to the view, the scarred Novaarian sat back in his head-rest and watched the pandemonium play out. He’d be damned if he’d let Conclave security get to his prey first.

  Elondrasa looked out as the surrounding windows began to dim, simulating the setting sun in an environment that never experienced a sunrise or set. The Highclave private meeting chamber was situated beneath the Clave Spire, where all public meetings were held. The one-way glass revealed the true magnificence of the capital around them; the great lakes and parks with trees fro
m every world lining the walkways. The splendour of the artificial interior was a true testament to what their races could achieve together.

  Marvelling at their creation, she lost track of Nu-marn’s words. He had been voicing his concerns again about allowing the humans access to the Trantax relic. She knew he must be feeling the pressure from his own private backers in Protocorps; they were close to finalising the deal to take over the project on behalf of the government. It was a good idea, she agreed - the injection of money from the private sector would only speed up the research into the ancient cube.

  “Protocorps will have to wait, Nu-marn.” Even sitting down, Brokk towered over them in his seat, designed especially for a quadruped. “Until an agreement is struck, that site is under Highclave control. You were outvoted on the matter, move on.”

  Elondrasa tried to hide the smile creeping up her face; the Raalak was hard to argue with.

  “I agree with, Brokk,” Lordina added. “The relic is ours for now. What I do not agree with is giving two humans such free rein. Especially Kalian Gaines. He is dangerous.”

  “There is a connection between the relic and the Terran,” Ch’lac replied. “They were able to unlock the secrets of The Wall; they may shed light on the cube as well.”

  “This is pointless,” Elondrasa stated. “The humans are already on Trantax IV. They are being closely monitored by Ambassador Telarrek and the entire planet is being guarded by the Nova.”

  “We all saw the events that took place on Naveen,” the Shay continued his protest. “Do you really think the Nova could withstand an attack if the Terran throws a tantrum? Look outside for goodness sake! The capital is still undergoing repairs from the damage they caused.”