by Galen Wolf
THE ALIEN LIBRARY
Galen Wolf
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First published in 2016 in Great Britain by White Rabbit Press
Copyright © Galen Wolf
The moral right of Galen Wolf to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE: Landing
CHAPTER TWO: Battling the Kissag
CHAPTER THREE: Time is Short
CHAPTER FOUR: A Sacrifice
CHAPTER FOUR: Entering the Labyrinth
CHAPTER FIVE: Vicious statues
CHAPTER SIX: The way down
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Room of Desire
CHAPTER EIGHT: Mehefin and Severan
CHAPTER NINE: The Place Where Thoughts Thicken
CHAPTER TEN: The Room of Things as They Really Are
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Severan's Memories
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Morah Shows Her Quality
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Gaijann gets a weapon
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Room of Things Reversed
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Fall
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Atorkh shows his mettle.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Morah considers murder
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Drowning in the Sea of Love
CHAPTER TWENTY: Torina makes friends
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Black snakes
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Demons
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The quest revealed
CHAPTER TWENTY- FOUR: Torina fights
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: The Count gets paid
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Morah falls
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Pitting wits against against flesh and gall
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: A garden of remembrance
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Reanimator
CHAPTER THIRTY: Nuclear demolition
CHAPTER ONE: Landing
Severan gazed out over the horizon. His red cyborg eye glittered like an alien insect in the dawn of the barren planet. His face was expressionless as he scanned for danger and, round his neck, a gold medallion caught the sun - on it was the image of a blindfolded figure holding a set of scales.
To his right, Gaijann the Assassin, black skinned with eyes green as malachite, admired the crackling plasma blade of his knife, then looked to his boss, waiting for the word.
The white sun was just up. Its platinum light splintered by the glistening orbital ring of quartz, amethyst and citrine, placed there long ago for no one knew what purpose.
Gaijann knew Severan wouldn't move until he had figured out the threat level. He watched the giant mercenary scan the sere landscape, taking in every dry rock and every stunted plant on the desiccated plain, watched his red eye scan every inch, from the landing place behind them to the pyramids in front.
An observation drone hovered at about 100 meters above them. The youth, Atorkh, checked the screens, recording heat signatures, movement, ultrasound, and every other emanation a living thing would give off. If anything moved in this place, the mercenaries would know.
"So?" asked their employer, the so-called 'Count' Owain ab yr Ynad Goch. Gaijann looked back past his four teammates to where the Count sat on a litter covered with satin and gold thread. Severan didn't answer.
Count Owain, in his kindness, had allowed his slaves to rest the litter on the dry earth. The four men stood sweating in the early desert sun, even though their white silk robes were cooler than the k-mesh armor worn by the mercenaries.
Gaijann figured there was nothing immediately to be done so he lazed back on the flat rock, his stealth cloak turned off. He switched his gaze from his vorpal knife to the shapely backside of his colleague Morah. It definitely had its charms.
Suddenly Morah turned her head and saw where he was looking. Her face twisted. Gaijann had the decency to look away. Smiling, he said to Severan, "We moving anytime soon?"
Atorkh barked, "Kissag scout ship about seven clicks west. Looks like an orbit-to-surface Hyena-class." He pointed into the bright sky.
"What the fuck are the Kissag doing here?" Gaijann said. "Can they even read?"
Behind them, Torina stood up from her prayers. "It's not for the Library that's for sure. They're hunters not readers." The hot breeze ruffled her short blond hair. She shielded her eyes from the white sun and gazed in the direction Atorkh was pointing. "Don't see them."
"They're there." Severan turned to ready his weapons.
"So what?" Morah said. She was all black — black hair, black lips, pale skin made up with an opalescent emulsion the color of a bad moon rising. Her eyes were white with red irises. Startling, but Gaijann guessed it was purely cosmetic - Morah was a demonologist - mistress of pact magic and he knew she liked to dress the part.
"Is it true the Kissag keep human females in pens as sex slaves?" Atorkh twiddled with his beard.
"It's true." Severan said tersely.
"Fucking lizards."
The dark skinned assassin looked up. "Technically men with lizard heads. DNA spliced freaks, escaped from zoos, started breeding, and took over their entire planet."
Morah rubbed sleep from her red and white eye. "I'm bored," she said. "Let's go."
Gaijann watched her. He liked the way her sharp canine teeth brushed her plump lips. "Severan's the boss. We wait for his order."
The Count cleared his throat. "I'm the boss."
Gaijann looked him over. The Count was dressed in a rich red coat with gold trim. An old-fashioned holster hung on a broad brown leather belt, and in that, an energy pistol.
Sitting on the litter next to him was his blonde daughter, dressed more like a fashion magazine's idea of a Desert Queen than for delving in the deep Libraries of Xaolin. She wore white trousers with knee length white leather boots. Her blouse was cut from puffed up white silk and her hood far too chic for the surroundings.
An awkward silence hung in the air after the Count made his pronouncement. Gaijann looked to Severan for a reaction but the big man didn't acknowledge the Count's comment. Instead, he merely checked and rechecked his gun. Eventually, appearing satisfied with it, he glanced at the Count. "I give the orders. You pay the bills. It's different."
Gaijann spotted a faint tic in the aristocrat's eye. The Count coughed and waved his hand. "As long as you bring me what I want."
Severan turned back to Atorkh. "Anything else on the scanner?"
Atorkh chewed at his fingernail. "I've got a cluster of Kissag life traces - about ten of them."
"Not a full hunting party then. Which way are they headed? Towards us or to the Library?"
The young man shook his head. "They're not committed. They maybe know we're here and are waiting to see what we do."
Severan gazed back in the direction of the Kissag ship, his cyborg eye red like a crystal rose, his natural eye blue, and cold as glass.
Atorkh said, "Yeah. And then a really weird, huge, but amorphous life signal from the library itself."
Gaijann checked out the entrance to the Library. It stood beneath the middle pyramid of a
group of three, a huge black dusty door in its front wall. Above the door the pyramids were so ancient and worn they looked like broken teeth.
"You think that the library is alive?" Torina stood slim and white in her cleric's robes.
"Nah, I mean - alive? The building?" Atorkh giggled. "I doubt it." Then his face became boyishly serious. "Something in it is though. Something big and squidgy."
"What does that mean?" The breeze blew Torina's white hair into her face and she impatiently brushed it away with her fingers.
"Dunno," Atorkh said. He touched his screen and his drone descended towards him like an obedient fly.
"Then why say it?" Morah's tongue licked the ends of her teeth as if testing their sharpness. Even when irritated she looked bored.
Atorkh flinched at her words.
Gaijann knew the boy was scared of the demonologist. Everyone should be. He gave a reassuring smile. "Okay, tech guy. Just let me know if anything is sneaking up on my ass." Then, noticing the cleric standing anxiously looking at the screen, he said, "Finished with your chat with the gods, Torina?"
Misinterpreting his attempt to put her at ease as sarcasm, she smiled sourly at the black man. "My bond with the divine keeps you alive and healed up." Then she made a movement with her hands, twisting them round in a sign of prayer to the rising sun. "The Queen of Disks protect us in our endeavor."
"And I'm grateful for your interventions with the unseen but all powerful." Gaijann grinned.
She smiled sourly at him. He guessed she still thought he was mocking her. But in truth, she was young and he felt protective. Then, with other things on his mind, making it look casual and unplanned, he leaned over and put his hand on Morah's shoulder. He knew he was chancing his luck. He felt her muscles through her suit. The witch glanced at his hand and he withdrew it. He smiled. "Was just thinking after all this is done, maybe me and you should go out and celebrate with the profits? Maybe visit your dungeon?"
"My dungeon?" she said, raising an elegant eyebrow.
"Thought you must have one." He teased her. He guessed she knew he was teasing, but she chose to smile. "You want to be my slave?"
"Well, we could discuss it."
She laughed out loud. The sound of laughter was startling in that barren waste. Then she ran a sharp black fingernail over his cheek. "I like a man with balls," she said.
"Don't most men have balls?"
"Not always - not when I've finished with them anyway."
He gave a mock wince. Flirting with Morah was like playing with knives, something to be done carefully. He stood back. "But it's not a no?"
Her black mouth half smiled. She was like a preying mantis sizing up a potential mate. "It's not a no," she said finally.
Behind them, Atorkh sniggered. This was the closest Gaijann had ever got to a positive response from Morah, despite weeks of effort. Atorkh's giggle developed into a guffaw and he turned away so they couldn't see him laughing. Gaijann narrowed his eyes.
Severan stood up. The party looked towards him and then began to check their straps and weapons.
Missing the signals, the Count said, "Are we ready yet?" He looked at Severan silhouetted against the sun's glare with his eyes narrowed, and his fingers drummed impatiently on his belt.
"Just wondering whether to kill the Kissag now or later." Severan looked out to where Atorkh had indicated they were.
"Leave them," said the Count. He paused. "If you kill these, they'll only send more from their Mothership. They probably don't even know we're here. We need to get into the Library urgently."
"They know we're here," Severan said. He raised his metallic green hand, another part of him replaced by alien engineers. The hand shimmered iridescently and flexed as if eager for the fight. Gaijann knew the thing was sentient, locked into Severan's body in a symbiotic relationship. It always seemed to him that his friend hardly noticed the cyborg limb's movements but he watched it ball into a fist. Then Severan shrugged. "The Kissag are a problem we'll have to deal with sooner or later. I always like to solve problems as they arise." The big man smiled at the Count.
Atorkh pulled on his straggly beard. "They're maybe just hunting on the planet." Atorkh's screens were folded and ready to go into his backpack.
"Nothing to hunt here," Morah complained. "The only native life is about the size of a rat; Kissag like bigger meat."
Atorkh avoided her gaze. "I dunno. Just guessing." He folded the screens and shouldered his pack. He had one drone still up, communicating directly to his suit's telemetry. He looked at Severan in a mixture of irritation and awe - like the giant was his father. Gaijann shook his head. He guessed Atorkh tried to make himself look older by sporting that wispy beard but it only made him look even more boyish.
Torina put on her pack, full of medical supplies and healing nanobots. She tightened the straps, sighed, and she too looked to her boss.
The Count's slaves appeared eager to move. They stood at the four corners of the litter, ready to pick it up. Even Morah abandoned her studied languor and looked prepared.
Everyone waited on Severan's word.
"Go," he said.
CHAPTER TWO: Battling the Kissag
They started to jog across the rocks and soil of the Planet Anubis and kicked up dirt with every step. The grit got in their eyes and their ears and between their teeth. If the Kissag hadn't been aware of them before there was no way they would miss the clouds of dust. Atorkh's drone glinted in the sun, way up. With every step, the pyramids of the alien library got closer, but the plain still stretched in front of them. The rock-strewn desert shimmered in the early heat haze. From above, the crystal rings of the planet cast pools of slowly moving light. The yellow and purple pooled and rotated like a stained glass window across the desert floor. Above, the crystal shards glittered in the sky, but the mercenaries didn't look up, instead, focusing their eyes on the huge door of the Library ahead.
Gaijann was on point. At a word from Severan, he broke into an effortless run, switching on his stealth field and disappearing into a blur. At the same word, Atorkh dropped back to rearguard position, his rifle in his hands, dust flicking up with every step of his heavy boots. He pulled down his visor.
Ahead of him, in the middle of the group in a combat zone, the Count was being conveyed on his litter. Atorkh called, "Do you really need that thing? It's not very practical if we get into a fight."
The Count ignored the youth, but his daughter Mehefin turned round. She had a white silk scarf over her mouth to keep out the dust. Her eyes were rainbow colored - blue with whorls of yellow and orange. Her blonde hair escaped from under her hood and wisps of it blew as she turned back to walk beside her father. And, as she looked over her shoulder at Atorkh, her expression was hard to read - pity maybe.
"I mean," Atorkh said to no one in particular, "I dunno, but how they gonna carry that thing through the library tunnels?"
"Be quiet," Severan called back from ahead.
Atorkh's mouth moved as if he was rehearsing a clever riposte, but he said nothing and instead looked to Morah and mouthed who the hell does he think he is? The witch's face was expressionless. She walked on, her calf length boots leaving tread marks in the dust.
The sun burned higher in the sky to the east, far whiter than the home star they were used to. This star was Wolf 489, a degenerate white dwarf in the constellation of Virgo. The light had a bleaching quality; everything was etiolated and stark. It was hot already and later it would be searing. Gaijann glanced left. There were low mountains far to the north but otherwise the only thing that broke the horizon was the pyramid complex housing the Library of Xaolin. They were only about a click away now.
"The Kissag are moving this way," Atorkh spoke into the neural net that linked the five mercenaries: Severan, Gaijann, Torina, Morah, and himself. Count Owain, his daughter Mehefin, and their slaves would hear nothing. That was Severan's decision; his team would have their own comms-net, their talk not to be shared with their employer and his daug
hter.
Gaijann looked ahead and saw the Kissag, still distant but fanning out in a combat formation. He reported back to Severan.
"Ignore them," the giant said. "Focus on getting to the library. And pick up the pace."
Morah scowled though she said nothing. She had not long joined Severan's party after an illustrious, if bloody, career as a lone operator. No one knew how long she would stay with the group and she had a track record of falling out with everyone. Gaijann felt the slight ripple of irritation on the net; the ice queen had let her feelings show. Though primarily for combat communication, a neural net didn't just send speech, it could also allow emotional tones through. Most people on nets turned down the gain on the emotion feed but Gaijann knew Morah liked to make her point, and her point was she was nobody's servant. If Severan even noticed her low-grade tantrum, he ignored it. Whatever, she thought of the order; she walked faster, just like he'd said. Severan had a reputation of being tough but fair. If you didn't do what he said, you left his party, but his party earned money and Morah liked money. It bought her things she wanted. Gaijann wondered what the hell those were.
Even though they were not privy to the comms, Owain's four slaves started to hurry as those around them went faster.
Gaijann stopped and looked back from his scouting position. He hissed, "Stop a sec," and they all halted. He saw Torina step up from behind a rock and he told her to get down. She was a good kid, but she had no idea of stealth and combat. She ducked but she was still an obvious target as she looked round scanning the sky. Gaijann saw her holster was unbuttoned with her hand ready to go for the pistol. He wondered whether she could actually hit anything with her weapon. Though fighting wasn't her job.
He also saw how the beautiful Mehefin chose to run alongside her father's litter, keeping pace with the slaves. Her scarf was away from her mouth. Her lips were a pale pink, her cheeks flawless. She ran gracefully like she was used to it. Gaijann guessed she exercised to keep her figure among the fleshpot luxuries of her home world - just to look good, not because she had anything useful to do with her body.