The Alien Chronicles

by Hugh Howey

  Seralah got tired of looking at the entry logs and decided instead to focus on her own problem. Pulling up the search function, she typed: Academy of Sciences, Navreem, Kholorian.

  Nothing. Not even the most indiscriminate of content to link all three words. She removed both “Navreem” and “Academy of Sciences” in two subsequent searches, but once again, no results were found. Wondering whether the Kholorians made the newsnet at all, she entered “Kholorians” alone into the search bar, and this time great swaths of information flooded across the screen. They’d been busy offending people, she saw. But not the Reihus, and not the Academy of Sciences.

  What connected them? Why had they been there?

  Seralah began a new search process, this time focusing on the Academy and, in particular, news of their find. There was, notably, a lot of coverage on how “coincidental” it was that an artifact of unknown origin had been discovered upon the very moon where the Academy of Sciences was built. Several experts—all from other races, Seralah noted—questioned the true location of the object’s discovery. To Seralah, it was a laughable point, since she, herself, had been one of the scientists digging it out of the rock. To argue that they’d found it somewhere else, perhaps in someone else’s space, and taken it to the moon… that was just idiocy.

  She continued scanning, trying anything to remain alert as her eyes began to glaze over. The tandry worked for a bit, burning the back of her throat and boiling her belly. The crunch of a chrysalis helped too, at first. But the sumptuous goo in her mouth was too comforting, and soon, without much of a fight, she drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

  She was jolted awake much later to a darkened cabin, the lights having dimmed automatically as her mind had wandered through dreams. When she opened her eyes, the lights began to gradually re-illuminate her surroundings. She must’ve been awoken by the second Space Shot, she thought, stretching a little too far and wincing. Her injuries were far from healed.

  Behind her, the door clicked open and an attendant appeared, gathering up the leftover tandry and the discarded food tray.

  “Could I get another, please?” she murmured quietly.

  “I’m afraid service has closed. We’ll be docking in thirty minutes.”

  “Docking? Was that the third Space Shot?”

  “It was,” her attendant replied. “It’ll be good time, too; you’ll be wanting to head for treatment, no doubt.”

  Seralah looked at her hands and withdrew them quickly, noticing that the oozing had worsened and the cream-colored bandages were now quite discolored.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said quickly, reaching for her gloves and pulling them on as he left the room.

  How had she slept the entire journey?

  Seralah retrieved a small data chip from her bag and plugged it into the transport’s communications tab to download her search history, so she wouldn’t have to start all over again later. Then, gathering her things and leaving the tab on the table, she made her way out of the cabin, along the various corridors, and toward the passenger disembarking platform.

  The terminal was crowded, mostly with Reihus. To preempt any curious stares, Seralah rustled around in her bag again, this time drawing out a thin scarf and wrapping it around her head to shield her from prying eyes. Soon she was being whirled away from the great ship by a thin, train-like vessel.

  “Welcome to the Oridiane Cloud. Please report to security for bio-scans and station registration.”

  As Seralah stepped off the train, she looked up and saw two circular robotic sentries hovering above her, their metallic voices repeating their pre-programmed messages, their guns clearly pointed toward the entrance that organized those arriving into a tight funnel. It was unnerving to say the least, but she wasn’t entirely surprised; after all, a space station housing nearly seven million people, including diplomats, advisors, and stars from the galaxy’s major races, was the perfect place for an attack. It made her shudder; she wanted real ground beneath her feet.

  Trying not to dwell on the matter, she pushed forward and entered security, passed over her details, handed in her galactic registration card for safekeeping during her stay, and whirred through the security scanners. She had arrived at a place that both enthralled and terrified her.

  The Oridiane Cloud and its many secrets beckoned.

  Chapter 4

  The one thing Seralah hadn’t quite been ready for was the station’s vastness. Of course, it was home to millions of people, so it had to be large. But until she’d arrived, until she’d actually stood within the cloud itself for the first time, she’d quite underestimated both its size and the effect it would have upon her.

  Having navigated security with little problem, she found one of the arrival consoles and brought up the list of available accommodations. There were hundreds of options, too many to look through, so she just selected a Naranthi hostel that catered to several species. She liked the Naranthi—like the Reihus they were scholars, though proficient more in the arts than in science. But more importantly, they embraced others rather than viewing strangers with fear, wariness, or utter contempt.

  Once settled in a small suite equipped with a workstation, a terrace, and a sleeping hole—complete with natural fibers and hessian, she noted—Seralah clicked her data chip into the console and began her research once again. Almost immediately, something caught her eye: an article about a Naranthi academic who’d been murdered in his home. She couldn’t understand why his name—Saelin Gan—struck a chord with her until she retraced her steps and discovered that he’d been one of the most outspoken critics of the artifact find. She navigated to one of his debates and initiated playback, hovering over her console tensely.

  “How are we to believe that this find, this artifact, just happened to land in the heart of Reihus territory? And, not only that, but on the very moon on which their Academy of Sciences is based? We all know of these people’s furious protection of their technology, that they take great steps to mute news of their advancements; why should we not, therefore, believe they’d be as willing to claim a galactic find for themselves? Questions need to be addressed. How long have they known of this alien artifact? Why have they hidden it? Why, after leaks of its very existence, have the Oridiane Five still not had official and, I’d like to remind you all, mandatory galactic notification? Even if the nature of this artifact’s discovery has been spoken in truth, we must not forget that the Reihus have still flouted regulations by not adhering to the proper channels of historical and alien technological guidance! It is only with great persistence that I, and a handful of other scientists, have determined the artifact’s current location. We need Oridiane Five involvement immediately if we’re to safeguard…”

  Seralah had heard enough. It was true that she and her fellow Reihus kept discoveries, both technological and xenological, to themselves, but it was largely driven by the need to avoid meddling from ludicrous “academics” such as Saelin Gan. Still, she couldn’t avoid the fact that this was her only lead. The reports on the man’s death were clear: he’d been poisoned on the station as he’d sought an audience with the Five. There were no suspects, and the case, it seemed, was ready to join the depths of dusty unsolved mysteries. But Saelin, as he’d publicly admitted, had known the location of her artifact. And that had made him a target.

  There was no time to wait, and despite it being late by the station’s clock, Seralah was fully energized and ready for answers. Swiping away from the newsfeed, she brought up a map of her surroundings and began to sift through the many districts and levels of the Oridiane Cloud. Her ability to trace even the most ordinary of data back to its source had always been second nature, and she soon discovered that Dr. Gan hadn’t just been here for bureaucratic reasons—he and his family were station residents.

  Feeling a sense of urgency—perhaps because, from the moment she’d left the Navreem System, she’d become increasingly paranoid that the Kholorians had spotted her—Seralah freshened herself up, threw on h
er head scarf, and left the hotel for the lower levels. It seemed that life aboard the Oridiane Cloud never quieted; in fact, the corridors, plazas, and great sweeping bridges of the central area seemed even louder, busier, and more frenetic than before. With all the hustle and bustle, it took her an hour to arrive at her destination.

  The homes weren’t like anything she’d seen before. Even the most expensive space station sleeping holes in their systems didn’t have individual walkways, parcel ports, and landscaping, as these did. And each unit was quite obviously separate. The units were box-like and bulky, unpleasing architecturally, but they were set away from their neighbors nonetheless. As Seralah peered for the unit identifications and wandered over the coppery-colored bridge, illuminated from below by bright green lights, she saw that the footings of each accommodation weren’t usual either. In fact, upon closer inspection it was clear that the units were capable of space flight. Individual escape pods, she supposed, able to flee the scene of devastation should anything ever happen to the station.

  She pressed the door chime and waited, fully expecting to be disappointed. It was, therefore, a great surprise when a shadow appeared behind the door and she heard the latch click.

  “Hi, I’m Seralah Delekin from the Academy of Sciences. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I don’t suppose I could have a quick word? I—”

  “Do you know what time it is?” The bony face of a young man appeared, his Naranthi cheekbones at such an angle that his entire appearance seemed dangerously thin.

  “Yes, but this is urgent,” Seralah persisted, noting that the door hadn’t been fully opened. “I wanted to speak about your… father?”

  The instant anger upon the man’s face couldn’t be missed. “My father was a good man. Why can’t you damn Reihus just leave us in peace.”

  “Wait!” Seralah called. “There have been others?”

  “Your aptitude for pretence precedes you. Perhaps if you’d paid more care to trust and less to secrecy, my father would still be alive.” He shut the door before she could say another word, though his shadow didn’t move, and she envisioned him shaking with rage on the other side.

  “I know they’re about to close the case,” Seralah said quietly enough so it didn’t ring throughout the neighborhood, but loud enough for him to hear. “And I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible.”

  There was silence beyond the door, and Seralah watched the shadow intently for any signs of movement. Then, after ten or twenty seconds had passed, she heard the latch move again and the man’s face reappeared, an inquisitive and anguished look in his eyes.

  “Who?”

  “Kholorians.”

  “You better come in,” he replied quickly, dragging Seralah over the threshold and immediately relocking the multitude of locks on the doorway.

  “What do you know of the Kholorians’ involvement in your father’s death?” Seralah asked as she was led across to a small seating area. It was cool and dark inside the housing pod, and she felt at ease despite the situation.

  “You first,” the man replied, allowing her to sit but remaining upright himself, leaning against the edge of a large table.

  Seralah realized that if there was a time to lay her cards on the table, it was now. “The Kholorians blew up my lab and killed a friend and colleague,” she said. “They wanted the artifact I was working on, and your father was one of the only people to know of its exact whereabouts.”

  “I knew it.” The young man fumed. “I told him again and again his passion for disagreement would be his end. The Kholorians did kill him; of that I’m sure.”

  “Then why do the reports say the case is unsolved?”

  “Nobody wants to open up a dialogue about the Kholorians,” the young man replied, his anger replaced with resignation. “It was clear that their traditional explosive toxic dart was used, but the lot of them are stealth assassins—they left no other evidence. They’re too much trouble; the Five don’t want to get involved. And my father was the same to them: trouble. To the Five, it seems right to allow their troubles to annihilate each other.”

  “It does not seem right. Granton is dead!”

  “And I’m sorry about that. But there’s little I can do. We both know the truth, and that’s that. I suggest you leave it there; which is exactly what I told your colleagues.”

  She’d momentarily forgotten that other Reihus had been sniffing about. “What did these colleagues want?” Seralah asked, worried where the question might lead her.

  “They asked about Kholorian involvement, if he really knew where the artifact was held, that sort of thing. Do you have a data chip on you?”

  Seralah nodded and retrieved it from her pocket.

  “Here, I’ll give you exactly what I gave them—on the promise you’ll drop this whole matter and let my family rest.”

  Seralah nodded again and passed the chip to the young Naranthi. He transferred the data from the wall console.

  “My sister works for the Oridiane Cloud intelligence division,” he said. “It’s where my father got his unsubstantiated ‘evidence’ from. They’d been working on your little artifact; perhaps you could shift your attention to this mystery instead.”

  As Seralah left the man’s home, she felt rather confused about the ease with which he was able to let his father’s murder slide by. Granton wasn’t her family—he wasn’t even a close friend—but she couldn’t let it go. Yet now, with the data chip clenched tightly between her fingers, she knew the young Naranthi was right: there was a new mystery to attend to.

  But first she had to visit a medic. Her hands were no longer aching, but viciously stinging, and the wraps were so soaked she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else.

  When the bandages were unwrapped at the closest medical center, Seralah had to grit her teeth. When she could no longer bear it, she began to chatter uncontrollably, and finally she reached a stage where she had to scream for painkillers. She hadn’t wanted to dull her senses, but her burns had become so painful, they in themselves were now her main distraction.

  After being severely chastised for her lack of care, for the fact she’d traveled with such injuries, and for not having sought medical attention immediately, Seralah passed in her galactic registration card details for invoicing and left the clinic. However, rather than head for her hotel, which she already knew had limited research resources, Seralah found the nearest station terminal and searched out somewhere better equipped for her task.

  “Welcome to Biradi Solutions.”

  Seralah smiled as the gorgeous Binet woman behind the reception desk allowed her through the double-height doors and into an elegant lobby. The receptionist’s skin was pale, and as was the tradition for her race, she had bright tendrils of color snaking like veins across her skin. They glinted, moved even. Sometimes it was only with the smallest flicker, but they glittered nevertheless.

  “I need a lab,” Seralah said, smiling as she approached the desk. “Do you have anything available as this time of… the morning?” It was morning, she noted, though only just.

  “We’re always open, always available. Have you used Biradi Solutions before?” The woman’s light eyes shone despite the bright illumination around them, and Seralah found herself immediately captivated. She saw now why the Binet were known as the sirens of the galaxy.

  “We offer technological, biological, and geological laboratories at this facility, though you can browse our network grid to find suitable locations for other work,” the Binet beauty continued as Seralah shook her head. “We require fifty-percent down payments on biological and geological suite use, with a full disclosure statement signed and dated.”

  “I only need tech,” Seralah said, not wanting to run up a larger station bill than was totally necessary.

  “Would you like an HC?”

  “Oh,” Seralah replied, pondering for a moment. “Actually, yes. That would be fun.” Being able to bounce ideas back and forth with a holo-colleague might be helpful. />
  “Reihus environment, I presume?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The woman smiled as she took Seralah’s galactic registration number and added the details to her console. “Suite 7, Level 3. Technological damage or law breaking will result in automatic lock-in. To activate the HC, use the terminal to select your preferred language, race, et cetera, and press ‘Initiate.’”

  Seralah thanked the woman again and set off, hurrying down the long, thin, and tall corridor and stepping into the elevator. She ascended three levels, and was hunting for Suite 7 when a sudden and huge explosion caused her to leap against the wall in fright. Flames burst up on the other side of the glass window next to her, causing a siren to sound and the unmistakeable noise of oxygen deprivators to start. The flames and smoke cleared almost instantly, and she saw a man on the other side of the glass, dressed in a full-body protection suit, shaking his head. He noticed her, waved, shrugged his shoulders, and then continued his experiments as the siren fell silent and Seralah was left to hurry on to her own suite.

  Finally she found it, and she quickly stumbled into the room, locking the door behind her and breathing in deeply as she felt the fresh, cool breeze against her fur. It wasn’t the winds of homeworld—it didn’t have the same sweet smell—but it was good nonetheless.

  Drawing off her head scarf and hanging it over the edge of the chair, she moved curiously to the HC console. She’d never actually used a holo-colleague before; there was no need, particularly at the Academy. And on digs, she liked the quietness and the solitude. She certainly didn’t need a virtual helper echoing through the caverns she so often explored.

  The receptionist had already programmed in the appropriate languages, so there was little else to choose other than the species. Reihus, Naranthi, Karaida, Binet, Yeni—the Oridiane Five core races were there, alongside other various species well known throughout the galaxy. The Yeni, as much as Seralah had to respect their achievements despite their mobile difficulties, had a voice so shrill and grating to her ears she’d go mad. She considered Reihus for a moment, until thoughts of Granton surfaced. Instead, remembering her welcome to the establishment, she chose Binet—and then watched as a small, half-size holo flickered to life.