Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  At the same time he couldn’t deny her logic regarding Roland. He had decades of experience in the field and would no doubt have more than a few tricks up his sleeve. The fact that he had succeeded in evading Conclave security for so long was impressive enough. Esabelle was a force of nature however, and that particular nature had been evolving and growing stronger for thousands of years. With that in mind Kalian reasoned that she was definitely the right choice to go out into the Conclave and bring back the reckless drunk.

  After a moment’s contemplation Captain Fey said, “Then it’s settled; the two of you will go to Ch’ket and Esabelle will find Roland.” She turned to Telarrek, “Bring my people back to me, Ambassador.” There was no missing the weight behind her words. Should this be some kind of trap set by the Highclave, he could easily imagine Captain Fey arriving on the doorstep of the Conclave’s capital planet, with a battle ready Gommarian.

  “Any ideas on where I should start?” Esabelle was referring to her search.

  “The nearest bar?” Li’ara offered with a wry smile.

  The group shared a laugh at the reasonable assessment. Kalian couldn’t help but feel Li’ara’s sarcastic wit had arisen after his mental intrusion on Naveen. Perhaps there was more of him imprinted on her than he first thought? Hopefully he would have a chance to talk to her on their way to Ch’ket.

  “Our spies believe he has accepted the bounty on a high ranking Shay within Protocorps. I can redirect the flow of that information, giving you some time,” Telarrek said.

  “Protocorps? What’s that?” Kalian asked.

  “They are the corporation behind the creation and maintenance of the Conclave A.I. It was this contribution to the Conclave that put them on the Highclave. That said, they are very powerful with far reaching influence. I believe it unwise to cross them,” the Novaarian explained.

  Kalian had read several data files on the Conclave A.I. since meeting the Terran version, ALF. Situated on the Conclave capital world, it was responsible for communication across the multitude of planets, as well as coordinating planetary defences and mapping the constant changes in galactic geography. It monitored all economic flow between the different species and maintained local traffic on every world. Over the millennia since its creation, the A.I. had become the keystone of this advanced civilisation.

  Kalian wondered if the other species chose to overlook the fact that the Shay had majority control of this keystone. It was easy to see how it could be missed since the A.I. offered a much easier life to every species. Having met ALF however, Kalian was well aware of how manipulating and powerful an artificial intelligence could be. Or in the Conclave’s case, how powerful its masters could be. ALF had described the A.I. as a stunted child after examining it himself. In comparison to ALF it was an infant, at least in age if not intelligence, but ALF had been referring to its stunted growth. The Shay kept the A.I. within the limits set by the Highclave, never allowing it to learn beyond what they wanted.

  “So he’s actually on the capital. Is he mad?” Captain Fey asked.

  “No, this particular Shay is currently on their home planet, Shandaar. I believe this would be the best place to begin your search, Esabelle.”

  With Telarrek’s last comment Esabelle gave a curt nod and made for the exit, only turning back to Kalian’s call.

  “Be safe...” It was all he could think to say.

  Who could stop me?

  Esabelle’s words were only heard in Kalian’s mind, though he recoiled for a second, not expecting the mental reply. They had only conversed this way once before and he found it to be too personal and intrusive. She had explained that it was common among friends and family within Terran culture, but it was still too alien for him.

  Shrugging it off, Kalian faced Li’ara and Telarrek again, “I take it we will be leaving immediately?” Telarrek bowed in acknowledgment of his question. “I just need to stop by my quarters and pick something up, before we go.” There was a small Terran device, given to him by ALF, which he felt safer having on him.

  Kalian was certainly intrigued as to the reason for this secret meeting, but he couldn’t help but feel a worrying itch in the back of his mind for Esabelle. She was going off into the Conclave on her own and, thanks to Roland who knows what situation. He impressed reason upon himself and focused on the individual he was concerned for. She was right in so far as assuming there was no force available to the Conclave that could stop her, but Roland had an air of chaos that stuck to him like glue. Again, Kalian tried to look at the situation logically, how much trouble could one man really create?

  Chapter Two

  Krono Towers wasn’t so much an apartment block as a fortress, with its own private security firm, automated defences and an alarm system connected to local planetary security. The latter was rarely required however; with the first being the worst kind of mercenary and the second having no stun setting. Such were the steps taken by Protocorps to secure their fat-cat board members.

  Like all the buildings of worth, the Krono Towers were situated in high orbit around Shandar, each floating complex connected to the next via extensive bridges, encompassing the entire planet like a world-size net of floating buildings. With each descending level the inhabitants were gradually held in lower regard, until finally the poorest occupied the structures within the atmosphere itself.

  The planet’s appearance was a constant swirl of thick white clouds in a never ending global storm. The surface had never been seen since the planet’s natural habitat had been abandoned before the Shay entered the Conclave. They told of an older generation who had poisoned their world under an unhealthy industry, devoted to their love of all things artificial. Having now corrected their industry - by using other planets they considered to be of little worth - they refused to leave their home world. The only way to navigate through the atmospheric level was by allowing the A.I. to take control, ensuring all local traffic avoided mid-air collisions with one another and the multitude of floating buildings.

  The Krono occupied the planet’s top tier in the shape of an upright tuning fork, four miles from top to bottom. Like every other complex, the exterior was matte black giving the planet a uniform appearance against the white backdrop. In a way, Shandar’s impression was the perfect reflection of the Shay, with its combination of an organic world coupled with the exterior technology. Almost every Shay, regardless of wealth, had some form of robotic augmentation, whether interior or exterior - so obsessed were they with the advancements and possibilities offered to them by physical and neurological alteration.

  Such were the reasons for Roland North’s first visit to Shandar three months ago. Using every backdoor deal, he had finally found a surgeon willing to operate on his unique human physiology. He now possessed reinforced joints around his knees, shoulders and every rib on his right side. After a painful encounter with an angry Gomar he had been forced to seek out the augments. The new parts, made from Callic-diamond plating, were the same materials used for bolstering the hull on all Conclave security ships. The neurological implant had taken a little longer to become accustomed to, however. Situated in the Cerebrum, the sophisticated webbing was dispersed across all four lobes with a wireless connection specific to the Rackham’s navigational frequencies. With this he could control the ship from anywhere for back-up, or in most cases an escape route.

  That was three months ago. Now he was back for a very different reason. Roland sat back in the grubby throne-like chair of the cargo vessel, scrolling through the holograms pertaining to the stubby ship’s recent additions. The ship had been stolen a week ago when he first had the hair-brain idea to accomplish the current job.

  He really needed to stop making plans when he was off his face.

  Ch’len had seen to the vessel’s enhancements for him, using one of the many questionable connections the little Ch’kara had. Roland had to admit, the fat little shit had his uses; he seemed to know someone in every dark corner of the Conclave. His main reason for keepi
ng the sarcastic alien around was his connections with the Bounty Clave. Roland had been rejected from becoming a member due to the simple reason of not being a Conclave citizen - that and being a human made him too high profile for such a secretive organisation. With Ch’len he could receive all the bounties he needed, though the alien had insisted on accompanying him everywhere to ensure his cut.

  “Len!” Roland shouted down the comm in his ear.

  He didn’t like the look of the port side shielding; if this was going to work, and he wasn’t going to die in the process, everything had to be right.

  “Don’t call me that!” The Ch’kara’s voice yelled back angrily. It wasn’t that Roland refused to use his full name; it was just that he couldn’t be bothered to pronounce the ‘Ch’.

  “You said everything was in place. Why does the port side manifold have less armour? If I die you don’t get paid you little gas cloud!”

  “We didn’t have enough units to pay for it all!” Ch’len was sitting in the pilot’s chair in the Rackham’s substantial cockpit. Every word was just audible over the loud music Ch’len was playing through the Rackham’s internal speakers. “I’ve run the calculations - you’ll be fine. Just push it starboard more.”

  The way he added the last part didn’t fill Roland with confidence. Taking his mind off the flying death trap, he changed the hologram to the Krono building schematics. Whoever was paying the units for this bounty had to be someone on the inside, they knew too much. The miniature towers floated in red light where the top left tower became highlighted in blue, specifically apartment 21-LB on the nine hundred and first floor. Roland’s backer knew exactly where and when his target would be, and had access to the schematics he was now looking at.

  “Has there been any movement in or out?” Roland asked.

  “You could say that. An unidentified female Shay came and left two hours ago. Ral-vet hasn’t left though.” Ch’len was watching the real time footage of the security cameras outside Ral-vet’s apartment. The Rackham, being Terran in design, had the most sophisticated software, capable of cracking most Conclave forms of communication and monitoring equipment.

  Roland let out a dirty chuckle, “So Mr Tanek’s gettin’ himself some action, huh?”

  Ral-vet Tanek was apparently some overpaid bureaucrat who sat on the Protocorps board. Roland didn’t much care who or what he was, he had obviously pissed off the wrong people and now he had to die - it was that simple. It wouldn’t be surprising if it was someone else within Protocorps that had put out the hit. Unfortunately there was an addition to the contract, one of a technical nature. As well as killing the Shay, Roland also had to access his personal, and somewhat secure, mainframe housed within the apartment. Of course all of this was dependent on actually getting into Krono Towers.

  The structure’s inhabitants had biometric scans before entering. Since Roland didn’t possess either the retinas, DNA, hand print, voice verification or a Novattoo imprint that every Conclave member had on the inside of their wrist, he had been forced to think of another way in.

  “Is the hangar clear?” Roland didn’t want a massive amount of collateral damage.

  “Security just made a sweep through, but there’s no civvies,” Ch’len replied.

  Roland took a breath and one last swig from his cantina. “Closing the canopy now. See you on the other side.”

  Rising from the dirty chair, he made his way into the storage bay at the back of the ship. On his way he checked over his armaments attached to the different points on his body. He inspected each Tri-roller holstered either side of his thigh. The handles were translucent amber with a thick rectangular barrel containing two ports, one below the other, with a mid-section that reminded him of an ancient Earth revolver. The weapon held three Intrinium cores, each capable of a hundred shots. He spun them on his index fingers, thinking of himself as an old cowboy, before slotting them back into the holsters.

  Placing his hand on the small of his back, he felt the hilt of the Terran blade lying horizontally across his waist. He had configured the nanocelium to replicate a short blade for when things got up close and personal. The two grenades on his belt were set to the maximum setting for the most damage. The strap across his chest was fully stocked with Intrinium clips and various gadgets for hacking stubborn terminals and generally blowing shit up. He knocked his fist against his chest feeling the Callic-diamond armour under his shirt, before throwing on his long hide coat.

  Roland checked the black band around his left bicep, feeling the tiny spheres contained within. He had rigged the device so that after pulling the cord it would detonate all the gravity bombs at once, firing them in every direction. Finally, he examined the soles of his Laronian boots making certain the propulsion inserts were clipped securely.

  Standing flat against the storage bay wall, he fitted a breather to his face since there would be a brief window of time where the hangar re-sealed the breach after entry. Using one of the storage harnesses he tied himself in; it was about to get bumpy.

  Having already placed the ship on auto-pilot and overridden the security protocols, the cargo vessel would continue its predetermined flight straight into the hangar. The hangar was the weakest point on Krono Towers as the door wasn’t made to the same safety standards as the outer wall. With no access codes the door would refuse to open, but that’s where the extra armour came into play. Ch’len had used his ‘friends’ to retrofit the ship with overlaying plates of armour to take the impact of the hangar door. The new canopy was the thickest since that would take the brunt, but the port side was not so thick, apparently.

  The ship made a whine as everything not secured down immediately floated towards the back of the storage bay. The grav enforcers had gone offline as power was redirected to the thrusters. As well as being the best way to penetrate the building, it would also create a certain amount of chaos, and chaos he could work with.

  With no warning, the calm surroundings exploded violently as the lights cracked and shattered, the ship slammed into the door and Roland was shaken vigorously in his harness. Everything crashed into something while the outer walls of the vessel scraped through the hangar like a bullet passing through a sheet of metal. One last shudder told Roland the ship had reached the end of the hangar before his head whipped back, knocking him unconscious.

  Ten seconds later he opened his eyes - it was always ten seconds. The human Rem-plant, though less sophisticated, was always reliable when he was in trouble.

  He opened the hatch to see that the emergency shielding had already covered the jagged hole. The floor had been shredded to splinters along the crash trail. The only sound came from his breathing as it filtered through the mask. Bringing up his right arm, he activated the touch-pad built into his coat’s sleeve. It told him the oxygen levels were already rising back to breathable levels, and that and security had been alerted.

  “Their forces are splitting as expected,” Ch’len said over the comm. “Half are deploying to protect the apartment, and the other half is coming for you.”

  “I’m fine by the way...” Roland replied sarcastically.

  “You’re just a child, you’ll bounce back.” Roland knew Ch’len would be smiling to himself. The Ch’kara insisted Roland was only a child since he hadn’t even reached a hundred years old, and he knew it pissed the human off.

  “Thank you for your concern, Len.” He muted the comm for a moment to avoid hearing the tirade of abuse.

  Moving to the exit he ripped off the breather and lifted both Tri-rollers until they were either side of his head.

  Let’s skip to the good bit.

  The door opened before he could reach it, allowing three mercenaries to burst through, each wielding a two-handed repeater capable of firing a high explosive Intrinium round. One of them was easily recognisable as a Shay with completely robotic leg in the shape of a bird’s. The other two, concealed within their helmets, he guessed to be Laronian from their size and shape. Distracted by the converted c
argo ship buried in the wall, they had no time to realise they were already dead. Each shot struck the aliens in the head, reducing their visors into vapour - there was nothing left of their faces.

  Roland looked back at the broken ship, a smug grin on his stubbled face. Its original shape was now unrecognisable due to the reinforced armour welded onto every available space. What had been the cockpit was almost completely caved in where it hit the wall, smoke rising from various cracks and vents. He didn’t care how banged up it was, it wasn’t his ship after all, he was just smug about being alive.

  Leaving the hangar behind, he entered the plush corridor on Krono Towers’ eight hundred sixty-third floor. Terrified faces looked back at him from multiple doorways along the corridor, before quickly disappearing inside to the safety of their homes. Decorated in red and gold, the floors were polished wood and the walls were lined with tall mirrors and hanging chandeliers. Roland admired the style of living for a moment with a long whistle.

  “So this is how the other half lives...” His old job had kept him from putting down roots and experiencing anything other than being a ghost. In truth the Rackham was the first real home he ever had, and now he was forced to share it with that chubby little gas cloud. The methane contraption that kept the Ch’kara alive might not have a smell, but Ch’len definitely did.

  “Stop daydreaming and get your pasty human ass up there. Oh, and you’ve got incoming.”

  His last words were just audible as explosive rounds obliterated the wall next to Roland’s head. Fragments blew in every direction, showering him in debris as he ran down one side of the L-shaped corridor. He calculated less than ten seconds before they rounded the corner and continued their assault. These corridors made the perfect space for gravity bombs, and he was more than willing to oblige. Mid-sprint, Roland thrust his arm back, letting off a quick shot down the corridor and proving his timing to be accurate as the super-heated matter struck the first mercenary to round the corner. The Raalak took it straight in its thick neck, melting the rocky surface in less than a second until its head rolled from its giant body.