The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “Let them fight over who gets the Rackham. Something tells me Revus won’t win. And by succeeding in this endeavour, we will be opening lucrative doors to work for The Laronian. The contracts he gives us will be worth ten times anything the Bounty Clave can offer us.” Kubrackk gave the Trillik a hard look. “You’re going to walk in there with me, Spelnar. And you’re going to look like the toughest, meanest bastard there is. Got it?”

  Spelnar’s attention was split between Kubrackk and something that had caught his eye on the street below. He was about to scold the stupid Trillik, before realising that Spelnar wasn’t the only one staring. Kubrackk leaned further over the rail, magnetised by the four humans walking freely through the streets of the Spiral Arc. They were not just any four humans, but four very important humans. On the far side, strolling through the crowd in his long animal-hide jacket was Roland North.

  “It’s him!” Spelnar shouted. Thankfully, his voice was drowned out by the music blaring out of every doorway between them and the humans. Kubrackk continued to watch from his lofty vantage, pulling his wide-brim hat down to shadow his scarred face. His long fingers slowly reached for the handle of his Quad-roller, strapped to his chest.

  It would be so easy...

  He quickly retracted his hand as reality set in. Every person in the Conclave knew the face of the other human, standing next to Roland North. Kalian Gaines was one of the Gomar or the Terran, or whatever they were. He couldn’t remember the exact details of the story, spun by the Highclave, regarding the Conclave’s current squatters. He hadn’t been as obsessed with the celebrity-humans like the rest of the Conclave had been, and still were if the gawkers were anything to go by. The humans were small and weak, with an engineered gene-pool that made them inferior to their makers. Unlike them, Kalian Gaines was an actual threat. He wasn’t sure if the leader of the humans was from their world, or in fact from the other side of the galaxy. He recalled the images of Naveen and decided it was irrelevant. Kalian’s evolved state put his biology an order of magnitude above Kubrackk’s.

  A low growl rumbled from Kubrackk’s throat as he took a step back from the rail. The woman walking next to Kalian was the new companion of Roland North. He had seen, first hand, the extraordinary things she could do. His prey was finally within striking distance and he was powerless to act.

  “Why are they here?” Spelnar voiced Kubrackk’s own question.

  From their direction, it would appear that they were going to see The Laronian. But why? Shouldn’t they all be on the Gommarian or at the very least in custody after the attack on Protocorps? Kubrackk couldn’t believe the universe had brought the two of them together on the same planet at the same time. The Novaarian had been bounty hunting for centuries and never stumbled across his prey.

  Looking around, it was clear how much attention they were gaining. Everyone had stopped to stare at the humans strolling through the Ninx district. Kubrackk could imagine what they were all thinking; were the humans now members of the Conclave and they had missed the latest News cycle? Are they moments away from dying at the hands of the dangerous and unpredictable humans? Should they greet them or give them a wide berth? It seemed most were going for the latter and staying away.

  Kubrackk broke away from the rail and blended back into the crowd, keeping parallel with the humans below. Spelnar followed behind as they moved through the upper streets, glancing between the on-lookers to keep track of them. No one tried to stop the humans or make any kind of contact, but he noticed almost everyone was using some form of holo-communication device to spread the word.

  “What do we do now, boss?” Spelnar’s question went unanswered while Kubrackk weighed their options.

  Attacking Roland now was suicide; his friends would defend him immediately, and that would only end one way for the two of them. Following them into the club would be too risky since Roland would recognise him if they were forced together in a confined space. Waiting outside wouldn’t work either, he reasoned. This was bound to bring down Vallara’s security force as well as the Conclave when word finally got around. There was only one path left to take, though it would require patience on his part.

  “The Rackham must be close by. Hack into the local security feed and track their movements back, until you find it.”

  “But they all run through The Laronian! If I break into the feed he will be alerted.” Spelnar stopped walking, his twin-tail once again wrapped around his leg. Kubrackk was forced to pull the Trillik into a nearby alley to hear him over the incessant music; his Novaarian hearing was inferior to Spelnar’s, though he would never admit it.

  A drunken Laronian came stumbling out of the shadows, his alcoholic stench reaching Kubrackk’s nostrils. He knocked over discarded bottles, using the wall to keep himself upright as he approached the bounty hunters like old friends. Before an unintelligible word could depart his blue lips, four strong Novaarian arms shot out, encompassing the Laronian’s head above and below. Kubrackk squeezed with all his rage, thinking about the injustice for all his hard work. He looked between his hands and saw the face of Roland North, his face twisted in agony as Kubrackk broke the skull and jaw simultaneously. Blood oozed out of the Laronian’s eyes and nose, running over the pale hands of the Novaarian.

  His senses returned and he released the disfigured head of the wandering drunkard, leaving him in a pile at his feet. Spelnar took a few cautious steps back, putting some distance between the two. Kubrackk quickly scanned the area, before scooping the Laronian up and tossing him in a nearby dumpster. Crime was rife in the Ninx district and the alley was free of surveillance. Given the proper resources, it would be easy for the authorities to identify Kubrackk as the killer with advanced DNA profilers created by the Ch’ket. Thankfully, a murder in the Ninx district was not a priority on anyone’s list, not that it mattered; it would just be another crime attributed to an already wanted fugitive in the bounty hunter trade.

  He fixed Spelnar with a dangerous glint in his swirling eyes. The Trillik quickly unpacked the gear out of the flat-pack on his back, unfolding various technical equipment and emitters.

  “I need access to a surveillance terminal to track their previous movements...”

  A satisfied, yet menacing, smirk crept across the Novaarian’s features.

  Kalian was almost overwhelmed by his senses as they strode through the busy streets of the Ninx district. The input was too much to take at times, forcing him to pull back and use his human senses alone. Everyone was watching them with fascination and a little fear it seemed. Kalian could literally see the electronic signals across the spectrum, beaming out of every communication device and broadcasting their location to the galaxy.

  The world around them was full of much more than what was merely presented in front of his human companions. Kalian looked at Li’ara and felt a moment of sadness, not because of their recent conversation, but because he knew she couldn’t see the wonder of the real universe. He could see that wonder in Esabelle’s eyes as she too took in the sights and sounds of the ever-moving universe of life. They could feel the planet spinning beneath their feet and the life force of the great forest below the Arc. The variety of exotic aliens surrounding them vibrated on an atomic level, with unique frequencies emanating from their complex minds. He could smell a thousand different perfumes mixed with alien pheromones and alcohol. Their individual scent was so unique that he could trace each one to its owner or even track them for miles. It was times like this when he remembered that it wasn’t just his mind or his body that was more evolved, but his senses too. Without thinking it through, Kalian enhanced all of his senses at once. The taste of salt and copper filled his mouth with what he knew was sweat and blood, but he couldn’t trace the origin as the sound of laughter, sex and death came from every direction across the entire Arc. The different smells became toxic, bringing with them a feeling of nausea. His skin felt irritated by the breeze with its constant bombardment of molecules.

  Kalian looked up in a physi
cal effort to shut it all out. He filtered out the pollution of light to see the heavens above and felt a quiet calm take over. He could see the nebulas and stars laid out across the sky as if painted by a god upon a black canvas.

  He desperately wanted to share it all with Li’ara, to show her the magnificence of the world they lived in. But he couldn’t, and never would. A part of him didn’t care, reasoning that it wasn’t required to have a relationship with her. Another part now knew that she didn’t want to share it with him.

  He lost his train of thought again, as the environment offered up more information. His awareness pulsed out of his mind and collated all the data in fractions of a second, displaying it through his occipital lobe. Most of the inhabitants were in possession of some kind of augmentation, biological or artificial. He could see the adrenal glands of a Laronian had been enhanced to allow for better control of stress and the manipulation of his own metabolism, an augmentation that came naturally to Kalian and Esabelle. Several Raalakians had their muscles reinforced with strands of Callic-diamond while most had an overall augmentation of the mind, with artificial inserts to allow for more memory or quick thinking. Kalian noticed that most of the Shay had the same insert in their brains, no doubt an upgrade to help with the integration of their numerous mechanical augmentations.

  The Conclave was certainly a culture that had grown tired of its slow rate of evolution, favouring enhancements of their own making and imagination. He wasn’t sure if there was a single individual in the entire district that wasn’t enhanced in some way.

  As the crowd continued to part for them, The Laronian’s club, Nightfall, came into view. The sleek-looking club was windowless with a domed exterior that rose out of sight above them. The queue outside dominated the walkway, though it was better described as a mob. Two Raalakians barred the entrance with their combined width, an impenetrable wall of rock. Four guns rested in holsters on the quadruped hips, while their massive arms remained tightly folded against their marble chests.

  Standing at almost half their height was an Atari male in a fine blue suit, to match the club. His pink skin glistened with what Kalian could see was some kind of lotion designed to make the person look as if they wore the stars themselves. His yellow, wide-set eyes darted from the person in front of him to the orange hologram that emitted from the device, surgically moulded into his palm. The hologram was clearly a list of people permitted into Nightfall. A list they would not be on.

  He met Esabelle’s eyes in a brief moment of doubt, only to be reinforced by her confident nod. He knew what to do.

  The crowd became oddly silent as the humans approached, tripping over one another to give them space. Their actions were seamless as Kalian telekinetically collapsed the trachea of both Raalakians, while Roland grabbed the Atari by the jacket and forced him past the bouncers. The Raalakians fell to their knees, gripping their throats in panic before passing out. Beyond the entrance was a corridor coated in neon blue and green lights with sofas lining the walls.

  “Where’s The Laronian?” Roland was so close to the Atari’s face that he was covering him in spit.

  “This is V-Vallara,” the Atari stuttered. “There are l-l-lots of Laronians h-h-here...” Without the bouncers, the doorman was quite terrified; though not nearly enough to incur the wrath of his boss, apparently.

  Roland planted his hand flat against the Atari’s face and pushed him away, onto the nearest sofa. Quickly scrambling to his feet, the Atari ran for the door with one last terrified look back. Kalian focused his hearing and heard him alerting The Laronian’s forces inside the club. He welcomed the rush of adrenaline as his brain processed his fight or flight response. It was hard to hide the smile at the thought that he could now do both with a very literal sense.

  They continued to the double doors at the end of the hallway, where Kalian felt the minds of four Laronian guards, running towards them on the other side. One of them favoured his left leg, evidence of some injury he had yet to take care of with a Medder. Two of them wore a holster around their thigh with a sidearm in each, while the other two preferred knives. Their approach wasn’t uniformed or rehearsed, demonstrating a lack of professional training. They were grunts in a criminal organisation of thugs.

  The doors parted with the four guards set on bringing Kalian down first. Having already played the fight out in his mind three times, his response felt more like muscle memory to a choreographed dance. While throwing aside the first jab of a knife, Kalian lashed out with a foot to the already injured right knee. The joint popped out of place with a sound only Esabelle and he could hear above the Laronian’s scream. In the same fluid movement, he bent the alien wrist, causing the knife to fall in the exact place he had predicted. He ducked another knife while catching the falling blade before throwing it with perfect accuracy into the hand of the guard at the back. Unfortunately for him, his hand was now pinned to his leg, through the handle of the gun he was drawing.

  Kalian launched back up, using the knife-wielding Laronian as leverage, jumping over his shoulder and kicking the third guard in the face, with enough force to fracture his skull. The last guard was disorientated by the use of his own body in the nimble acrobatics. He barely had enough time to register the series of blows that Kalian landed across his body and head, before dropping to the floor.

  The entire fight had taken less than ten seconds.

  Without stopping to catch his breath, Kalian strode through the open portal knowing his friends were close behind. Nightfall pulsed like a beating heart, with music blasting out in waves across the club. A large circular bar consumed the centre of the club, illuminated by more neon blue against the low lighting of the dance floor. It was lined with every kind of drink and staffed mostly by Novaarians, who managed several drinks at once between their four hands. The DJ occupied the top of the bar, surrounded by orange holographs to help the Nix create the music. It seemed to be an odd job for a Nix, but Kalian had to admit that he had only ever met Xydrandil.

  Above all of them were several platforms, just big enough to fit a dancer on each. Some had female Laronians dancing seductively around a pole while others had male Laronians flexing their muscles. There were members of every species on exhibit in some fashion, each showing off a unique trait of their kind. It was as if a club had been blended with a museum of the bizarre. It was also the first time Kalian had seen the anti-gravity walkways used by Novaarians. The vertical strips lined the walls at intervals between the pillars, leading off into other rooms and booths that were built into the club, out of sight.

  At the very top of the club, the ceiling was made entirely of hanging crystals. The tip of each crystal was set at a different length, giving the image of a natural formation. Rather than glisten in the light, the crystals shone from within as if lit from above.

  Depending on what species approached the bar, the floor would produce a different stool to accommodate the varying biology. Everywhere Kalian looked there were people dancing and drinking the night away, oblivious to their dramatic entrance. He stepped onto the main floor and was shocked to feel the hum of life below his feet. Swimming under the transparent floor was another world of creatures no human had ever seen before.

  From between the dancing bodies came the next wave of guards, pushing people to the ground as they made for the human group. The nine attackers were made up of Laronians with a few Atari and Revaneen backing them up. Thinking of Li’ara and Roland, Kalian was happy they would only be challenged by bipeds. From what little he knew of the Revaneen, Kalian was surprised by their willingness to defend The Laronian, a known criminal. Perhaps it was more of a testament to what The Laronian was capable of.

  With so many customers around, the thugs were less inclined to use their Intrinium based weapons, turning to blades and bats instead. Before the two groups collided, Kalian felt more activity above them. Running down the vertical walkways were even more of the crime lord’s thugs.

  “I’ve got them!” Esabelle shot off, leapi
ng over chairs and tables like a cat. She took to the change in gravity with ease, never slowing her charge towards her enemy.

  Roland was naturally the first to attack, using the nearest table to gain height before jumping onto two Laronians. Considering his combat abilities, it was a messy way to begin a fight, lending only to the idea that the bounty hunter just loved to fight. Li’ara, on the other hand, was more tactical with precise blows that incapacitated her opponent instantly. A fist to the throat here, a foot to the knee there and she was soon standing over three unconscious bodies.

  Kalian took the opportunity to be a little more graceful in his movements, incorporating different fighting techniques designed by the Terran. His moves were more about dodging and moving, waiting for the perfect counter-strike, while his opponents wore themselves out. He noticed the Revaneen had come only at him. Their fighting style was impressive and very fast, with incredible strength behind every blow. Kalian let a few punches and kicks through his defences in order to test his armour. He was always astonished at what he could do in the compact suit. It allowed for quick, elegant movements, while hardening to prevent damage to its wearer. He hadn’t been sure how well it would stand up after the incident with the Starrillium.

  To his right, Roland was using the environment in the only way he knew how. He smashed one Laronian across the face with a bottle, moments before driving the head of another into a table. He stopped hitting one thug to take a gulp of whatever drink was nearby, only to be wrestled to the floor by two others. Kalian wasn’t sure what to think about the bounty hunter’s laughter, as he was driven to the floor.

  Kalian deftly turned the closest Laronian with the nudge of an elbow, forcing him into the spinning kick from Li’ara. In turn, Kalian punched one of her attackers square in the chest, with some added telekinesis. The thug was launched across the club and into the bar, taking a line of alcoholic bottles with him.