Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The expansive bay may well have been designed for cargo on the Gommarian, but on any other ship it would have been a colossal waste of space. The last count had over three thousand people still living in the central space where the Gomar had kept them hostage.

  Tents had been erected in every space available, with larger pavilions dotted at random intervals for social gatherings and storage. Esabelle had shown them how to use the nanocelium ports to replicate almost anything they desired. It had taken a while at first for people to even touch the fabric, having seen how it was made from microscopic machines. Thankfully, the majority of the population had been willing to try out the spacious rooms already built into the ship after Esabelle’s re-design.

  Garrett regained his composure after narrowly avoiding a group of children playing by the steps. He had never agreed with Central Parliament allowing the scientists and even some of the soldiers to bring their families along. The terraforming project was a very long process granted, but children just got under foot. Garrett had lost his mother on Titan when Savrick attacked. She was his only family, having never married or conceived children himself. He was content with his goodbyes before he left with the Arc fleet. He had never been close to his mother, but he took solace in knowing her death would have been instantaneous when the sun went supernova. It wasn’t that he was numb to her passing like some of those who had lost loved ones onboard; he was just impartial to her death. He tried not to dwell on the psychological implications of that thought process.

  He gripped his satchel a little tighter as he moved through the crowds, subconsciously avoiding any contact. He felt through the bag searching for the latest tool he had engineered from the nanocelium ports. If the council wouldn’t act, he would. He passed by one of the pavilions, taking in the strong smell of cooking meat, as he removed his hand-held Datapad provided by Esabelle. He had already planned out his route, locating the appropriate vents in the more secluded areas of the ship.

  He made a bee-line for the exit, breaking free from the muggy humidity and constant foot traffic. It took him half an hour before he reached his chosen destination, a corridor labelled M-11 on his Datapad. The corridor lit up as he entered exposing the bronze tinted walls and complete lack of aesthetic design. The vent was a simple three-foot square grid at the base of the wall to his left with six bolts securing it. He checked the surroundings before proceeding. He had chosen this corridor because of the absence of any adjoining rooms giving him more opportunity for secrecy.

  Garrett looked over the schematics one more time. He could see the location of the Starrillium was half a kilometre in front of him if he faced the vent. That meant the cube was in the chamber below. He noted that specific chamber was absent from the blueprints, but he had seen it for himself. Placing his satchel on the floor he retrieved the flashlight that attached to his wrist. His info-band projected the time in blue numbers against his forearm. He knew it was 21:05 Earth time and wondered why he even checked. He had no reason to keep to any time, he had no job onboard and measuring time by a star that no longer existed seemed redundant.

  As he crouched by the grate, a side-panel the size of his palm slid across to reveal the vent’s control menu. Garrett ordered the grate to open with the push of a button; forcing the nanocelium in the bars to retract back into the wall - the effect was like watching metal melt. He crawled in head first, shoving his bag in ahead of him. The tight space was no bother to him; he had racked up hundreds of hours crawling through caves and narrow rock passages on the multitude of excavations he had taken part in. He lost count of how many hours he had spent crawling through the caverns on Proteus, Neptune’s second largest moon.

  Crawling on his belly through the hot vent he continued to consult the map; any wrong turn would make back tracking very uncomfortable in such a tight space. He estimated at least forty minutes before he reached his prize.

  Commander Astill entered the bridge after what had to be the longest council meeting yet. He was actually relieved to dismiss Lieutenant Commander John Matthews.

  Matthews rose from the captain’s chair as his commanding officer approached. “Commander on deck.” The bridge crew rose to salute their commander until Astill told them otherwise.

  “At ease, carry on. Lieutenant Commander, how’s everything looking up here?” Astill asked, surveying the bridge crew. They were eleven hours into their shift by now; even he was due to be relieved by Captain Fey in an hour for the night shift.

  “Rodriguez is overseeing inspection of the Columbus, sir. Worth is liaising with the Novaarians trying to sort out translators for the new sixteen. Apart from that, all systems are operating at optimal levels...”

  Astill knew what Matthews was getting at - there was never much for them to do with the Gommarian being so self-efficient. “How are the newbie’s getting on?” the commander asked.

  “The Captain sat down with them personally before she started her shift yesterday, sir. Worth assigned a couple of our guys and liaised with Wynter to have a couple of civvies accompany them for the translators. Even though they were escorted here by the Conclave it turns out they never actually met one face-to-face. The Captain thought some extra human faces would help them with the transition. Long meeting?” Matthews checked his info-band and Astill glimpsed the time as well; 21:34 - it had been a long day.

  “Just the usual. They want to put together another exploratory team to check out quadrant three. We’re gonna need to assign them a security detail. Inform Lieutenant Hiroshi that he’s gonna have to volunteer a couple from his squad.”

  “Yes sir.” Matthews headed for the nearest console to complete his duties. Astill assumed the role of captain and placed himself in the padded chair, letting his head sink into the cushion. He closed his eyes momentarily, shutting out the rainbow of holographic colours. He tried not to think about his brother and sister and their families. From his last message through the relays he knew they had been vacationing together on Hawaii World, a smaller planet twice the size of Earth’s moon. It resided in the Century system, where half of the surface had been encapsulated in a habitat dome to recreate a Hawaiian paradise. He had wanted to visit the popular holiday resort himself when his current tour finished.

  He opened his eyes again, allowing the visual information to flood his mind in hopes of distraction. He looked on as Lieutenant Commander Ramone called Matthews over to review some new data flashing on the wall-length hologram, to the left of the bridge. He saw them pointing at different readouts with puzzled expressions and decided it would be a welcome distraction from his dark thoughts.

  “Is there a problem, Lieutenant Commander?” Astill crossed the bridge, passing the consoles and even walking through a transferring hologram that Rodriguez was sending to Worth.

  “Sir, internal sensors have flagged an unknown heat source just outside the Starrillium,” Ramone explained as a more intense scan was being made of the area. “It appears to be in the vents themselves. A refined scan confirms it to be human.”

  The wall hologram presented them with an image of a human outline crawling through the vents before shimmying down a vertical shaft. It clearly showed the person’s position in relation to the Starrillium above.

  “Who the hell would be crazy enough to crawl through the vents?” Matthews asked.

  That was when it clicked into place for Astill. The Starrillium wasn’t the intended destination for this particular crazy person.

  “Who’s on duty in that sector?” Astill looked to Matthews who quickly checked on a sub panel on the wall hologram.

  “Esposito and Clark are the closest to the Starrillium, sir.”

  “Re-direct them to the basement and inform them I’ll be there shortly. Matthews you have the Conn.” Astill made for the exit removing his sidearm to inspect the gauge. The nanocelium ports had security protocols embedded into the programming to only allow certain personnel to request weapons. Every request had to go through the captain first for her specific requisition
code. His weapon was set to stun with the nanocelium ammunition designed to attack the target’s nervous system. For this individual however, he was tempted to change the settings.

  Garrett dropped down the final shaft, hoping the grate wouldn’t melt away until he was standing on it. It didn’t. He half slid, half fell, continuing into the abyss below as the grate melted into the wall before he touched it. He shouted out in pain, lying in the foetal position as he nursed his right ankle. It was definitely twisted if not broken.

  The adrenaline began to wear off and Garrett remembered where he was as he caught his breath. He was immersed in complete darkness. The chamber had been disconnected from the ship’s systems, even the lighting and heat. He fumbled with the flashlight on his wrist searching for the button at the back. The beam cut through the black, illuminating the entire room in a dim glow around the column of light.

  The torch had come on over the top left corner of the cube a few metres away. Garrett could see the golden bronze reflected from the intricate pattern of hieroglyphics that ran in circles across the surface. He scrambled to his feet, using his good leg to push himself up; he could only apply the smallest of amount of pressure to his right leg. In the torchlight he could see his breath in front of him and felt the cold in his lungs.

  Looking around the chamber he could see the multitude of wires and tubes draped on the floor. Tracking them back he found they were all connected to the cube at random places on every side. He shone the torch to see the ports in the ceiling and walls where the tubes had once attached to the Gommarian. It was through these connections that it must have integrated with the massive ship and Esabelle herself. It was hard to believe that there was any kind of entity inside, Garrett decided; it must be some kind of intelligent machine.

  He limped closer to the cube, flinching in pain with every step. It was six feet in width and depth with sharp corners and edges. At this distance Garrett could see the damage it had taken before Savrick found it. The straight edges had cracks running off them with small craters pitted into the faces of the cube itself. The corner at the bottom to his right was completely missing with a jagged outline.

  He counted six interlacing circles of hieroglyphs on the side he was facing. He didn’t understand any of it. Some of the symbols didn’t even appear as if they came from the same alphabet; they were so different. He took a moment to examine the other sides, stepping over the many wires and tubes. The other three sides were similar in that they were adorned in hieroglyphic circles, though he noted not the same pattern. Some of the circles were wrapped around the thick cables, as if they represented potential entry points into the cube.

  He felt that very human urge to touch it. To feel it would reveal more of its secrets, surely. He turned back hesitantly, shining his torch on the locked door behind him. He would have to figure a way out of here later, after he had some answers. He focused his attention on the side facing the door - it had fewer cables than the others, making the surface easier to study. Garrett delayed touching it, deciding to use his visual augmentation first. He only used it sparingly now since the components needed to recharge the control panel on his temple had been lost when the human civilisation fell. Wynter had already put together a team of cyberbiologists, to try and retrofit some kind of Terran technology that would interface with the various augmentations in their population.

  He switched to infrared vision first, viewing the world in thermal imaging. His hand had an intense orange glow in front of his face as he wriggled his fingers to see the dark blue trace they left in the air. The cube was a dull blue against the black backdrop; it was colder than everything else. Garrett’s only conclusion was that the cube was either dead, if that term applied, or it was inactive. Captain Fey had relayed Esabelle’s account of how it had been disconnected from everything; it was possible that without any external connection, the cube was simply inert.

  He switched through several visions, checking for any radioactive or electrical output. There were no signs of activity on any level. Leaning in closer he magnified his inserts to examine the material of the cube itself.

  “What the hell...?” He had seen this type of metal before. At this magnification Garrett could see the individual nanites tightly fitted together like bricks in a wall. “You’re made of nanocelium.”

  His breath created condensation against the golden surface. He stopped his examination and turned off his inserts. He could hear something. There was a quiet tapping noise coming from inside the room. He stepped back, looking around the room for any activity but saw nothing. The sound became louder and he realised it was coming from inside the cube.

  Garrett took another step back, suddenly regretting his unsanctioned investigation. The noises changed with heavy clunks and metal on metal. The hieroglyphic circles began to spin independently like the cogs in a time-piece, each stopping at different intervals until the cube changed shape. There was now a hand-sized hole in the centre. It revealed nothing but darkness inside.

  Garrett took a breath for the first time since the noises began. He was frozen in place with his wrist stretched out to shine the torch. It was five minutes before he moved again, edging towards the cube. He bent down to look inside, but the torch couldn’t pierce the shadowed interior. Just before giving up, something glistened in the light. He looked again but couldn’t see it. There was something in there. He licked his lips considering his options; he couldn’t leave here without answers. Commander Astill would throw him in the brig for the rest of his life.

  Keeping the torch on the cube, he used his other hand and slowly inserted it into the circular hole. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitantly reached out with his fingers. The silent atmosphere was instantly broken by Garrett’s agonising screams. Something had shot through the flesh on his arm and hand, right up to his elbow. He immediately attempted to pull it out but was instead dragged into his shoulder. Black tendrils wormed out of the hole and forced themselves into the skin around his shoulder and digging into his back. Garrett’s screams intensified as he felt the muscle and bones tear and crack under the assault.

  The cube changed shape again, this time opening up from the hole, with the sides folding into each other. More tendrils shot out of the new openings, plunging into his legs and abdomen. He tried to pull away but slipped on the blood pooling beneath his feet. He screamed until he had no more air in his lungs. He was slowly dragged into the cube. His flashlight went out with the sound of shattering glass as a tendril wrapped around it and squeezed. The last thing he saw was the cube coming back together around him, entombing him in darkness and pain.

  Roland sat slumped in his command chair, his head resting against his hand. The blackness of sub-space stared back at him from the panoramic view-port of the Rackham. He stared back trying to contemplate the events that had occurred only a few hours ago. He had been stuck with his back to a corner more times than he cared to admit, but his training had prepared him to be resourceful and think on his feet. He relied on that training to get him through anything and everything. He wasn’t even unaccustomed to the occasional unorthodox escape or infiltration. But even for him the escape from Krono Towers was remarkably hard to fathom.

  “That wasn’t part of the plan, Roland!” Ch’len waddled onto the bridge to stand in front him. After the string of curses the Ch’kara had launched at him, this was the first thing he had said since Roland came back onboard. The little alien had spent the last few hours cleaning his clothes and washing off the food and drink. When Roland took control of the ship, changing its trajectory at high gee, the buffet Ch’len had laid out collided with him on the incline. At high speeds the artificial gravity couldn’t compensate, a fact Roland found highly amusing.

  “Well it was either that or burn up in atmo. What would you have done you fat little chupachup?”

  “It’s Ch’kara! And I wouldn’t have jumped out into space with some crazy woman! I’m still not sure how you survived!” Ch’len pulled out a st
rip of dry Dak meat from his overalls and devoured it.

  “You and me both...” Roland knew that Esabelle had cocooned them in some telekinetic field; it was the only way they could have survived the harshness of space. It was still the strangest memory, to actually fly through space without a suit or ship to protect them. Using his remote control he flew the Rackham up Krono Towers, passing them by as they plummeted towards Shandar. He then turned the ship around mid-flight and re-directed it back to the planet. The ship easily caught up with them, where it appeared to swallow the pair as the bay door opened at the mouth of the Rackham. Roland had been careful to match their speed so they didn’t both slam into the back of the cargo bay. It had been quite elegant really, apart from diving out of the luxury apartment in the first place.

  “Are we really going to the capital world?” Ch’len pulled out another strip of Dak meat.

  “Yep.” Roland brought up a small holographic display showing him Esabelle’s position in the ship. She was still in the temporary quarters on the port side of the vessel.

  “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t go there. There’s too much security for a human to just go walking around.” Ch’len went to his own station in front of Roland.

  “There’s something I have to check out, so we’re going. Can you get us some faces like we did on Vallara?” Roland put his feet up on the console, not wanting to dwell too much on the Laronian home world. That job had its consequences.

  “Of course I can, that’s not the point,” Ch’len spat back.

  “And the point is...?”

  “We’re bounty hunters, Roland! Not adventurers! Whatever you’ve got mixed up in with your human friend, I strongly suggest you drop it and we get back to making units. Speaking of which, we need to send that information you got from Ral-vet’s terminal to our client. We’re still owed fifty thousand units!”