Michael Cobley - Humanity's Fire book 1

by Seeds of Earth

  ment for a comparatively minor data recovery job. Isn't

  that a good deal?'

  The Voth regarded him with one large, dark and

  doleful eye and a stubby hexagonal lens unit that jutted

  from the other socket. The biograft was part of a close-

  fitting headpiece which wrapped around the back of the

  skull and down around the hairy neck to join with an

  odd body harness. It looked brown and shiny and had

  beaded black tendrils running to the exoskeletal sheaths

  that enclosed the Voth's arms. Yolog sat in a small

  mobile chair whose metal framework spread out above

  his head, a fan of interfaced tool housings, extensors

  and component trays. The Voth seemed to be quadri-

  plegic and Kao Chih would have pondered further on

  this had his mind not been focused on the predicament

  at hand.

  'You are by far the most amusing Human I have ever

  met,' Yolog said, his expressive lips twitching into a

  half-smile. 'But this data recovery is not so minor - since

  my own processors are fully occupied recodifying droids

  for certain paying customers, I would have to rent time

  on the Tagreli hubway which would require authenti-

  cated fund transfer. I fear that I must decline your kind

  offer to become my publicity agent.'

  Despite his growing sense of desperation, Kao Chih

  maintained his unflappable, business-like exterior, com-

  plete with bright smile, even when the mech

  Drazuma-Ha* began displaying in its nimbus a message

  in Mandarin characters - Told you it wouldn't work -

  Told you it wouldn't work - Told you it wouldn't

  work - Told you it wouldn't. . .

  'Thank you for your kind consideration, honourable

  Yolog,' he said. 'Perhaps you could suggest an alterna-

  tive method of payment?'

  'I am not ungenerous, Human Kaachi,' said the Voth.

  'I would be prepared to accept payment in kind, such as

  any redundant or superfluous components from within

  your singular mech.'

  Kao-Chih stared at Drazuma-Ha*, expecting a

  scathing response suitable to their surroundings, Yolog's

  spare-parts store. It was a dingy hold full of shelves

  crowded with defunct bots and droids, casings, effector

  arms, power cores, and motility subassemblies, bins full

  of supply connectors, servos, processor nodes, handler

  units, and several wall racks on which a few large indus-

  trial bots hung. Gloomy, grimy and smelling heavily of

  oils, it was undoubtedly a droid graveyard.

  'I have no superfluous components,' Drazuma-Ha*

  said at last. 'The very notion is impolite.'

  'I would be prepared to pay very well,' the Voth said,

  his flesh-and-blood eye staring hungrily at the mech for

  a moment before snapping back to Kao Chih. 'I will be

  frank with you - the likes of such a machine have not

  been seen in this vicinity for centuries.' He addressed

  Drazuma-Ha*. 'Are you not a Strigida sentient drone of

  the Ninth Iteration, fabricated during the final period of

  the Salgaic Synerge?'

  'Broadly speaking, you are correct,' said the mech.

  'And broadly speaking, you are also lacking in cour-

  tesy.'

  Yolog gave an odd, harness-constricted shrug.

  'Courtesy also has its price.' He looked back at Kao

  Chih. 'A great shame - Strigida parts are highly sought

  after.'

  'Why?'

  'The Salgaic Synerge was one of several promising

  civilisations that were obliterated by the Uncog

  Fecundemic, a replicating machine horde which erupted

  from the Qarqol deepzone over ten thousand years ago.'

  Kao Chih was fascinated. 'I've never heard of this -

  what were they like?'

  'Oh, typical dumb-smart machines - they all looked

  the same, dark globes bristling with weapon spines, but

  they came in all sizes, some large enough to be consid-

  ered planetoids. They rampaged coreward for hundreds

  of lightyears, destroying every opposing force, effacing

  every inhabited world in their path until they reached

  the Huvuun Deepzone, where they unaccountably

  stopped. Every Uncog, whether in planetary orbit or

  traversing hyperspace or engaged in battle, simply

  halted as if switched off then began to disassemble,

  entire fleets of the things turning into vast clouds of

  debris. Unfortunately, they had by that time wiped out

  the Salgaic Synerge, the Interim Qudek, and a dozen

  other starfaring nations . . .'

  'An interesting history lesson,' said Drazuma-Ha*.

  'But scarcely helpful, since my components are not nego-

  tiable.'

  The Voth sighed.

  'Your options are limited, Human Kaachi. The only

  other medium of exchange that interests me would be

  unusual cultural artefacts. Might you possess such

  items?'

  Kao Chih's thoughts raced, in his mind rummaging

  through the personal effects in his holdall back on board

  the Castellan. Unwashed clothing, hygiene flims, indoor

  shoes, a woollen hat, a deck of cards (missing the Prince

  of Veils), some pens, a notepad, pictures of his family, a

  couple of book tabs (mostly adventure stories written by

  Pyre exiles), and ...

  He stopped and smiled.

  'Most honourable artisan Yolog - do you like music?'

  An hour and a half later, the three of them were seated in

  the cramped cockpit of Yolog's cargo shuttle as it flew

  towards the huge cluster of domes and esplanade docks

  that was Tagreli Openport. Positioned at the pilot con-

  sole, the Voth's head was bobbing in time to the music

  emanating from the audiobuds he had in his long-lobed

  ears. Removing one of them he turned to speak.

  'Hmm, yes, very good, Kaachi, very good indeed, a

  most intriguing range of styles and execution. Your

  species appears to have dedicated a great deal of thought

  and effort to this pastime, resulting in some fascinating,

  hmm, product.'

  'Do you have any favourites yet?' Kao Chih said.

  'I'm not so keen on that electroniki you recom-

  mended - very mannered and precise yet somehow

  bloodless - but this rokinrol is, ah, crude, harsh and

  fully alive, especially the Deep Purple, the Black Sabbath

  and the Led Zeppelin.'

  Kao Chih smiled and nodded. His wallet of music

  tabs had been a last-minute addition back on the

  Retributor, and had proved a wise one. After hearing a

  selection of compositions from various eras, Yolog's

  demeanour had changed markedly and he made an offer

  which covered the cost of his services and increased their

  store of hard currency.

  'I had thought that your preferences would be the

  other way round,' Kao Chih said.

  'Matters of taste are scarcely fathomable, friend

  Kaachi. Your electroniki is just the kind of thing my

  brother Yash would find irresistible, but not the rokin-

  rol. What is certain is that many of my contacts will be

  eager to obtain entire suites of music once they have<
br />
  heard a few samples.'

  The Voth replaced his audiobud and went back to

  monitoring the displays, head nodding, fingers tapping.

  Outside, the immensity of Tagreli Openport was loom-

  ing ever closer as Yolog guided the craft towards one of

  the main esplanade docks. Kao Chih leaned towards

  Drazuma-Ha* and in a low voice said:

  'Have you learned any more about this place? Are we

  safe?'

  Soon after the corrupt course data brought them

  here, the Castellan's comm system had managed to link

  into the local dataplex, but only at a low level. They

  knew they had arrived near Tagreli Openport but access

  to almost anything other than ad-chains, job agencies

  and product catalogues was restricted to secure idents.

  So while the mech tried to glean background informa-

  tion they posted a request for a data-recovery tech on

  one of the agency hireflows and Yolog responded not

  long after. The Voth's storage hold was part of an

  ancient, demilitarised Indroma troop transport, a gigan-

  tic hulk sitting in a parallel orbit to Tagreli's, along with

  several other decrepit vessels converted for warehousing,

  food production, manufacturing and even prisoner

  detention.

  'I have determined a few more details,' the mech said.

  'Tagreli Openport lies at the border of three nations,

  Sul, Weh-Alzi and Iroaroa, impoverished client states of

  the Sendrukan Hegemony. The port is tightly controlled

  by the Abstainers, a clan of very old Henkayans wholly

  dependent on a combination of mechanised life exten-

  sion and anti-agathic drugs. Tagreli operates ostensibly

  as a neutral port open to anyone, but the Abstainers

  know that the Hegemony is boss. And are we safe? -

  well, if someone was looking for us it would not be

  hard to find us. The sooner we conclude this commerce

  and leave the happier I will be.'

  Kao Chih nodded and looked round to see the bows

  of an immense grey-and-green ship filling most of the

  viewport. The vessel's entire forward section was long

  and straight with a rhomboid cross-section, its flat prow

  occupied by three large weapon ports, probably com-

  posite beam cannons, he guessed. The flanks were

  studded with more weapon clusters, domes and turret

  mounts; the mid-section flared to the aft, which was

  wide and Y-shaped, its corners tapering to three huge,

  rotating weapons carrels while the main drive tubes

  jutted from the stern. There was also battle damage,

  scorching, broken and melted shield antennae, and hull

  breaches around which repair drones and tekneers were

  gathered.

  'That's the Heshgemar-Kref,'' Yolog said. 'A

  Chastiser-class Hegemony battleship. It's just back from

  the Yamanon Domain, where it got into a skirmish or

  two with the remnants of the Dol-Das regime.'

  'What's that smaller ship?' Kao Chih said, pointing.

  As the Voth's shuttle progressed the battleship's other

  flank came into view, as did a second ship moored

  nearby at the esplanade end of the great open hangar.

  This one was roughly a tenth the size of the Heshgemar-

  Kref and was all sleek, dangerous lines, as if modelled

  after a sea or airborne predator, its long narrow hull

  lacking obvious weaponry and sensors while slender

  wings curved forward from the rear; the wings' leading

  edges were open for repairs, exposing the extendable

  weapon arrays. It was a lightly armoured vessel built for

  speed and aggressive manoeuvrability, and its livery was

  dark blue with silver highlights and a series of symbols

  along its dorsal line.

  'An Ezgara ship,' said Yolog. 'Ambusher-class,

  almost certainly assigned as escort to the battleship. The

  names of Ezgara vessels are seldom posted on the dock-

  flows but this one has eleven kill sigils on its hull, which

  means that it could be the Chaxothal, which was sup-

  posedly responsible for the destruction of the Dol-Das

  navy's flagship during the Yamanon liberation.'

  Kao Chih had known little about the liberation of the

  Yamanon Domain, beyond the fact that the invading

  coalition included Earthsphere and the Sendrukan

  Hegemony, and that the occupation had been dragging

  on for nearly four years. Since embarking on his mission

  to Darien, however, he had noticed many details, over-

  heard scraps of conversation in public places or reports

  on news channels, which gave the impression that the

  occupation was very unpopular and provoking a grass-

  roots insurgency rather than fostering peace and

  reconciliation.

  Then the shuttle's flightpath took it past the next

  open hangar and Kao Chih's eyes widened. The vessel

  moored there was gigantic, perhaps three or four times

  the size of the Hegemony battleship. In shape it was like

  a four-cornered, gleaming gold and red arrowhead set

  on its side, its edges curving in to join with a massively

  domed aft section, its surfaces bizarrely adorned with

  creatures and figures, symbols and lines of characters as

  well as great banners and flags. The bas-relief forms

  were worked into the warship's exterior features:

  mouths gaped around launch bays while beam weapons

  jutted from eye sockets. The entire hull was a fabulously

  baroque facade, as if enemies were to be awed into sub-

  mission by its relentless ornamentation.

  'Ah, yes, hmm, the Kbo-Maurz,' the Voth said. 'A

  Brolturan ship, which they call a Strategic Offensive

  Conveyor but it's really an ancient super-carrier built by

  the Ufan Oligarchs during their war with the Sarsheni-

  dominated Indroma nearly five hundred years ago.'

  'Impressive,' Kao Chih said.

  Yolog gave a little smile. 'Just so, and yet the flagship

  of the Yamanon navy was produced by the same yard

  around that time - it was a super-heavy carrier and was

  twice the size of that one.'

  Kao Chih blinked and looked at the Voth. 'And that

  Ezgara ship ... it's practically a boat in comparison.'

  'Yes, yes, but the Dol-Das regime was basically a

  gang of incompetents - a quarter of that flagship's

  weaponry was out of commission, fifteen of its seventy

  decks were sealed off due to disrepair, and just four out

  of its twelve launch bays had a full complement of close-

  support fighters. Rumour has it that the Cbaxotbal

  gained entrance to one of the disused bays and pro-

  ceeded to blast a tunnel through the ship's interior to the

  stern where it wrecked the drives and set a number of

  charges. Once the Ezgaran ship left the way it had come,

  the flagship was torn apart by several devastating explo-

  sions.'

  Teams of engineers worked all over the Kbo-Maurz's

  glittering hull, which slid out of sight as the Voth's shut-

  tle climbed towards a line of smaller hangars sitting on

  top of the big ones. But Yolog steered past them and

  through the slow traffic
of ships and pilot-tugs towards

  a tower around which other similar docks were spaced.

  Staring at this tower, Kao Chih took in the wider view

  and suddenly realised that Tagreli Openport had a

  spoked-wheel configuration with each of the six spokes

  ending in a secondary axis tower, and it was one of

  those that was their destination.

  Soon they were docking in what appeared to be an

  access shaft for automated garbage scows. Yolog's craft

  clamped itself to a recess in the shaft and a segmented

  transit tube swung out, neatly settling over the shuttle's

  airlock. Minutes later Kao Chih and an oddly quiet

  Drazuma-Ha* were following the Voth into what he

  called his 'business premises'. Ceiling arrays of coloured

  lights came up to reveal a showroom with rows of pris-

  tine-looking bots and droids. Wide double-doors led

  into a well-equipped workshop where machines

  hummed and odd-shaped displays showed strangely

  blurred strings of data flowing in patterns, coils and

  grids. Yolog blanked them with a gesture then moved

  smoothly over to a terminal with a large, convex oval

  screen.

  'If you please, Kaachi, your course data.'

  Kao Chih handed over a small memory crystal which

  was swiftly slotted into a curved console with silvery

  beadlike keys. Moments later datastreams began to flow

  down the screen, with an inset showing analysis results

  flowing left to right. Drazuma-Ha* was floating a few

  feet away and Kao Chih was letting his gaze wander

  around the workshop, the benches, the assembly rigs,

  and the ceiling-mounted scanners, when the mech

  spoke.

  'Yolog, this equipment appears to be malfunction-

  ing.'

  The machine was hanging before a large sloping cab-

  inet on which various lights and symbols were flickering.

  'It is only a battery-charging stall,' the Voth said

  without diverting his attention. 'Pay it no heed - the

  cut-out will shortly ...'

  A loud bang came from the cabinet and pieces of its

  shell and sparks burst outward, showering Drazuma-

  Ha*. The Voth cursed, turned from the silver keyboard

  and sped along to the cabinet, reaching out with one of

  his exo-supported arms to shut off the power.

  'My good clients, I am deeply sorry for this unfortu-

  nate accident,' Yolog said, moving in Drazuma-Ha*'s

  direction. 'Are you damaged, most valued machine? Do