Intrinsic: Book One of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “These have never been translated?” He moved his fingers across the glyphs tracing their patterns.

  “No, we have studied them for thousands of cycles, but without any other source material there are not enough characters to form a key. These are the only markings of the language ever found. Cultures from all over the Conclave used to visit this sight; to see all that is left of our precursors. Now it is almost forgotten. We have studied everything we can from it. The rock is natural, though how it formed this way is part of the mystery. Naveen has been scanned to its core; there is nothing that should not be here.” Telarrek kept his eyes on Kalian’s hand.

  Kalian looked at Li’ara in despair. There was nothing they could do; he couldn’t translate the message thousands of years of study couldn’t. They would fail and the crew of the Valoran would die for nothing. His species would be hunted down and exterminated, possibly along with the Conclave, and Savrick and his people would never face the punishment. They looked around desperately searching for something, anything, which might help. In his mind he knew it was a futile attempt. As if they could find something the Novaarians had missed with all their advanced scanning technology.

  Li’ara ran her own hands across the surface of the rock and even placed it inside the print. She found nothing. The rock was quite simply, a rock. It held no secrets beyond the unreadable language, which could be a recipe for an alien soup for all they knew. A wasted hour went by as Namek climbed the rock looking for his own clues while Li’ara worked out some explosive calculations. Telarrek paced the flat side of The Wall with Kalian sitting in the shade of the Fathom. He rested his arms on his knees while staring at the strange hieroglyphs. If only he could see into the heart of it, to understand the point of writing a message in the rock, why this rock, why this moon?

  The desert heat was intense and unfamiliar to him. He had sat staring at the rocky protrusion for at least an hour with nothing to show for it except dehydration. He was momentarily overcome with dizziness, which he at first mistook for heatstroke, making him feel out of body. He had experienced the feeling before when he first woke up in the med lab on the Valoran. Rather than shun the feeling and push it back, he poured the energy he felt in his spine into the dizzy feeling.

  The reality of the universe shifted, or he did- he couldn’t be sure. The difference between him and the world around him blurred as the universe contracted.

  He felt everything as if it were all an extension of him. If he wanted to he knew he could quantify the grains of sand on the floor, or if he focused he could cloud his vision with the individual molecules that made up the atmosphere around him. Like glowing beacons he could see where his companions were despite his line of sight. The Novaarians were clearly different from Li’ara, who shone a bright gold when he thought of her. He could see the different waves her brain gave off in comparison to the shining purple of the Novaarians. He felt the pulse of their elongated hearts at forty beats per minute. How did he know that? He was aware of every bolt, panel, wire, pipe, fabric and liquid that made up the Fathom. If he wanted, he could pick apart any one of those things as easy as raising his own hand.

  He looked internally for a moment as he inspected his own body. The experience was profound as he felt the pressure of his arteries and motion of his blood. He could feel the individual cells passing through the walls of his capillaries and feeding his muscles and organs. Somehow he knew that, if he willed it, he could alter the balance of any function in his own body. He resisted the urge to stimulate his adrenal gland and give himself a rush of energy. He felt such an act would end this new ability.

  He pulled back his focus and saw The Wall in front of him. It was teaming with potential energy imbedded within the material of the rock surface. He pushed into the rock, taking a closer look. They were microscopic in size, impossible to see with the eye. The Wall was made up of trillions of what looked like mechanical insects, each one containing unlimited potential just waiting for their commands. He followed the flow of these micro computers noticing the dense population around the handprint. These tiny builders didn’t stop at the rock; Kalian could see them descend into the ground, forming a complex pattern beneath his feet.

  The revelation retracted reality until he felt himself looking through his normal eyes again. No one had noticed the trance and the deadpan stare he had been giving. He shot up from the ground, marching towards The Wall.

  “There’s something beneath us!” They all froze watching his advance. He knew his comment made no sense since years of scanning showed there was nothing underground. He stopped directly in front of the hieroglyphs and placed his outstretched hand into the imprint.

  It had taken only a day for the Valoran to reach the Trillik system. Roland stood between the two pilots at the head of the bridge, gazing out the expansive view port like a pirate captain of ancient times. Forty five thousand kilometres away the planet Corvus was just under half its orbit around the distant yellow star. It was predominantly green with small oceans and two ice caps at each pole. It wasn’t too dissimilar from Century, though Ilyseal told him Corvus was slightly smaller.

  From here he could only see two of its three golden moons, both of which had artificial rings that served as cities for the Trillik and any other species that decided to live here. He had yet to meet a Trillik although he may well have seen one at the Conclave and not known it. Just thinking about the Conclave reminded him of what they were up against. After a long day in the Observatory he had gone through all the data stored from the attack on Earth and Century.

  He tried to push the thought away but it was sat there like a holo board in his mind. His race had been pushed to the edge of extinction and their homes obliterated forever. But he just didn’t care. Was he so detached from his own kind that he didn’t care that they were all gone? Was it the drinking, the sex, the work? Humanity had taken on a grey pallor over his decades of servitude to a government that in truth he thought was quite tyrannical. But they paid him. Was that all he cared about, the money and the freedom to do as he liked?

  Absolutely!

  For the first time in a long time he felt excitement at the prospects before him. This Conclave offered new opportunities and freedom, not to mention the weaponry and wealth. Of course he had to survive the next two days in order to get there. After he had fulfilled his ridiculous promise to Captain Fey, he assured himself he would always be too drunk to listen to his conscience. With that in mind he set his thoughts to this new enemy.

  Their method of attack was savage and violent. With their technological capabilities they didn’t need to attack in person. If they could engineer weapons to destroy a star, they could easily slag a planet from orbit. Their reasons for attacking were as much a mystery to him as they were to everyone else, but he knew it was personal. You don’t rip dreadnoughts like the Centurion, and people apart with your bare hands, if you don’t enjoy it. Then there was the whole being able to rip things apart with their mind thing. They might look it, but they aren’t human.

  He didn’t usually let mysteries bother him. Central Parliament had a problem and they paid him to take care of it. He didn’t ask too many questions and they gave him wide parameters to work in. But he wanted to know what the deal was with Kalian Gaines. There was no doubting the connection between them and the kid, Roland had seen the armoured attacker fly off the hover-car back at the Conclave. Had that been Kalian?

  He turned from the view to face the seated pilots. They both wore head-gear that encompassed their entire face with the exception of their jaw. The multicoloured helmets were connected to a chunky console behind them via a multitude of thick wires and tubes. Ilyseal had explained it to be a virtual simulator. This gave the pilots a virtual world, allowing them to see the ship and its course more intimately. They were in constant connection to the bridge crew and one another. The details beyond that bored the shit out of him but he was interested in the virtual simulator. Humans had a similar technology but the constructs within c
ould not be physically touched. Ilyseal explained that the VS had a wide variety of usage within the Conclave. It was useful for teaching and training purposes, but was also a large part of the entertainment industry. He had a few ideas for entertainment with it himself.

  Leaving the pilots to their job he walked back across the long bridge to Ilyseal who was occupying a floating podium. He noticed the attention the bridge crew gave him as he strode by. He had declined to relieve himself of the weapons he had strapped to each thigh. They were going into combat and he wanted to be ready at a moment’s notice. He chuckled to himself thinking about the Mass Imploder Devices he had taken from the Fathom’s armoury; Li’ara would kill him for that. MID’s were great for creating mass destruction within a contained environment, the best kind of destruction.

  Arriving at the base of the podium, Ilyseal lowered her platform to see Roland. The holograms vanished around her as she stepped off with her red tendrils flowing behind her.

  “Greetings of peace, Roland.” He still found it hard hearing that voice come out of that head.

  “So what’s the plan now, we just sit and wait?”

  “Our long range scans have detected their passage through sub-space. Prior to that, it appears a smaller portion of the ship broke away and is on course for Nova Prime.” Her long fingers danced across the surface of her bracer. “The main ship will be here before the day is over. My tacticians and analysts are running scenarios through several virtual simulators. At present it is calculated that we will not survive the first sixteen minutes, regardless of our tactics.” So the ruse with extra Solarcite scars hadn’t worked and there was no foreseeable way they could win.

  “Can you show me these scenarios?” Roland pointed to the Observatory behind them. He had been sober for a few hours now and started to regret asking that question. He really wanted to get back to that bar and taste the rainbow of drinks it offered. Maybe if he had a drink he could think a little clearer?

  “A fresh perspective would be welcome, Roland.”

  Hold that thought...

  He followed her into the Observatory where she brought up the connected file to current ongoing scenarios. He could see that a hundred and sixty-two members of crew had been assigned to the task. They each ran virtual scenarios in which the Valoran came up against the colossal ship using the knowledge they had gained from the past three encounters. He manipulated the holographic column, sifting through the different images; all of them ended with the Valoran being destroyed by a mass boarding party, being rammed by the immense ship itself or another supernova. They knew the hull of the giant ship could withstand a miniature supernova since it had rammed the Conclave security vessel and survived. They weren’t sure what other fire power it was capable of since they had only demonstrated three forms of attack. It didn’t matter though, that was clearly all they needed.

  “My kind has not fought in a war several millennia, I am afraid. Our tactics may be out of date but my primary concern is my crew’s lack of experience with space combat. From our observations it was clear that humans have been in conflict for as long as you have inhabited your planet. Any advice you have will be most welcome, Roland.” It suddenly dawned on him that he was on a ship full of alien eggheads. How were they ever going to win against that ship? Fighting to him was like breathing now. But more than that, he was a survivor.

  He attempted to pull up the files holding the data on the attack at Century and the Conclave. To his frustration he could only understand about half of the words on the circular panel. Seeing his hesitation, Ilyseal pressed something on her bracer.

  “Verbal command has been activated.” She explained. He nodded in thanks.

  “Show me all data relating to the attacks on Century and the Conclave.” He wasn’t sure of his reasoning yet but he had a feeling these two attacks might hold the key. The attack on Earth had been something they couldn’t contend with, so why even bother. The image changed to the recorded attack on Century, and then split so half the column showed the attack on the Conclave. The encounter with both was brutal.

  “Do you have casualty reports yet?” He remembered the chaos and destruction Savrick’s people wrought inside Clave Tower.

  “Nine million dead, eleven million injured, forty seven thousand in critical condition and beyond the help of a Medder. Our sensors only detected eight hundred and twelve attackers. It is still hard to fathom how so few could do so much.” Ilyseal’s head bowed in what he assumed was alien sadness. He didn’t care; they were just numbers to him. He was just trying to get the measure of them. Whenever they attacked they dealt in high enough casualty rates to be considered genocide.

  He spent the next several hours poring over and slogging through every technical readout and scan of the giant ship. He found no weaknesses or pressure points along the hull, not even an airlock. He used his hands to constantly flick through the images and verbally change the shapes and sizes to get a better look. Eventually he found himself constantly rubbing his eyes due to the dark room and bright holograms. He paced round the column, trying to recall every mission he had ever done.

  Impenetrable...

  Ilyseal offered her own opinions but the program never ran to fruition. It became clear to Roland that the Novaarians were useless. If he left it to them they would all be dead by the end of the day. Another hour rolled by as he inspected reports of the aftermath to the destruction of the Conclave security ship. The scans showed minimal damage to the matte black hull even after a miniature supernova had detonated on its nose. He knew there was no way they could punch their way through.

  What interested him was their form of transport. During their attacks the giant ship opened circular ports across the hull. Through these he saw the hundreds of armoured bodies shoot out across the expanse to their intended target. They were the weapons. Having seen the weird stuff Savrick could do, it was clear at this point that the invisible shielding around each of them was self-projected, keeping them from harm on impact. What interested him more was the fact that these ports didn’t close after they left. That must be how they re-enter the ship when they’re finished. He watched as the Trident was torn apart from the inside in what they now knew was the use of telekinesis and some form of electrical attack.

  He studied the attack on the Conclave and witnessed the same thing. The ports remained open after their departure. He spent another hour closely examining the diameters of the green holes. It appeared that more than one armoured invader departed the ship through a single port. He changed tack and brought up all the information on the Novaarian landing crafts. It was the only thing small enough to fit with his plan, if it could be called a plan.

  “So we have no idea where the other humans are being kept?” He asked.

  “Our scans cannot penetrate the surface.” Ilyseal replied. That was going to be problematic. Even if they breached the interior, they had no idea where to start looking in the twenty-mile beast.

  “We’re going to need a team, the crazier the better.” He brought back the image of the ports.

  “A team for what?” Ilyseal tilted her head.

  “Magnify one of the ports.” The ship expanded as the image remained on the now gaping port. “If it follows any ship design then the hull is going to be the thickest part. If we can get through that, via one of these ports, then we can probably blow our way through any internal walls.” He scratched the stubble on his cheek.

  “That scenario has been completed. We know from its dimensions that we could fit one of our landing craft through it, but without more detailed scans we do not know where it would lead. The craft could be destroyed shortly after entry by simple impact. It has been theorised that a short range missile with a two hundred tetronic yield may breach the interior wall...” He had no idea what yield or missile type she was talking about but it sounded good.

  “So they arrive, big scary ship, they scan us to find any humans,” he pointed at himself while he ran through the scenario, “and then they fly
over here to do what they do best. We then fly out and board them through one of the open ports.” He had the sudden urge to drink a beer.

  “What about the eight hundred armoured beings onboard this ship?”

  Well shit...

  He forgot about the whole crew dying. He wasn’t used to dealing with such high collateral damage, except for that one time on Europa, Jupiter’s smallest moon. He pushed that thought away and focused on the problem. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his past mistakes.

  “Even if they destroy this ship, how will we rescue your people and prevent the eight hundred from returning to their ship and killing all of us.” Ilyseal folded both of her arms. Roland had no idea. So far none of them had been killed in their attacks, their armour was too good. He stood leaning on the ringed console, staring at the replays of both attacks. The image on the right flared as the massive ship rammed into the security vessel rupturing its Starrillium. The image hypnotised him as he slid his hand across the hologram, removing the attack on Century. He ran the private scenario through his head trying to work out the logistics.

  “The Valoran is bigger than that security ship, right; I mean your star engine thing is bigger?” He began to frantically shift the hologram studying the size of the blast.

  “The Valoran is three times the size of a Conclave Nebula class vessel, but its armaments have a greater yield.”

  “Tell your pilots to move us away from Corvus; I don’t think the Trillik are gonna like what I’ve got in mind.” A roguish smile lit up Roland’s face.

  Nothing happened. His hand fit perfectly into The Wall but it had no effect. Frustratingly he continued to push his hand into the print thinking he hadn’t applied the right pressure. This didn’t make any sense; he had seen those things in the rock. This had to be the key. Li’ara came over looking uncomfortable in her new undersuit. It had built-in temperature controls, making the desert feel like she was still in the ship; but it was still new. Her new armour was a dull matte black that didn’t reflect any sunlight.