Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Roland actually looked perturbed at the news, while Ch’len just looked pissed off.

  “You owe us a shit-load of money, old man!” Ch’len jumped at the hologram before Roland held him back.

  “You sent us after Ral-vet Tanek?” It appeared the bounty hunter was doing long multiplications in his head.

  “Yes, I would have sent you after Kel-var Tionis, the man at the top, but he was harder to track down. Unfortunately, by the time you had any information for me I had already left Naveen. I’ve been cut off from the Conclave network ever since. Perhaps it is now your turn to share?”

  “That’s gonna cost you!” Ch’len interrupted.

  “Shut up, Len!” It was bemusing that Roland and Esabelle said it together. There was the faintest of connections between the odd couple; he could feel it from his own encounter with Esabelle.

  “Ral-vet wouldn’t talk, even with a gun to his head,” Esabelle explained. “But his home array gave us what you were looking for. Show them.” Roland pulled out a small disc from his belt and left it to hover in mid-air. It continued to project the images taken from Ral-vet’s private server, showing them the schematics for the A.I.’s core.

  Kalian already knew what was coming from his shared experience with Esabelle.

  “What is this?” Uthor asked.

  ALF clearly knew what he was looking at as he circled the hologram. When it separated him from Kalian, his own holographic image became distorted.

  “It’s what that looked like before Professor Jones disturbed it.” Esabelle indicated the cube. “So we broke into Protocorps to get more information. It led us to Sal-dev Tanek, Ral-vet’s potential replacement on the board. His terminal gave us this...”

  The hologram changed to the old images of the first excavation team that found the cube. There was also an official photo of the cube housed inside the great chamber at the top of Protocorps’ HQ. There was no mistaking the likeness between all three cubes.

  “You’re saying that one of these, things, is controlling the central A.I.?” Uthor asked.

  Kalian could feel the wireless connection being made between the floating disc and Uthor’s arm pad.

  “No, she’s saying this is your central A.I.,” ALF clarified. “I knew it! There was no way they could make an A.I. so quickly and efficiently.”

  “So what’s the connection between Protocorps and these cubes?” Captain Fey kept a good distance from the relic in front of them. “Why are they working together?”

  “These images would show that one simply found the other, a coincidence perhaps.” ALF had no doubt run through a million scenarios already. “Why they would choose to work together remains a mystery, and to what end? It’s been installed on the capital for thousands of years and done nothing but help run a civilisation. This cube wiped out an entire race in less time...”

  Li’ara was carefully inspecting every inch of the compartmentalised cube, crouching on all fours to see under the folded outer sections.

  “It has the same Terran writing,” she announced. “Right here on the side, Evalan.” Kalian was impressed that she could remember the complex hieroglyphs of the Terran language.

  “What’s Evalan?” Roland asked.

  “We don’t know,” Esabelle replied. She already knew that conclusion from Kalian’s memories.

  ALF came up behind Kalian and spoke into his ear, “Do you just let anyone inside your head?”

  Kalian rolled his eyes at his old mentor’s concerns. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

  “Esabelle is correct,” ALF continued to the group. “I created the language and it means nothing to me. I would say the obvious conclusion is that it’s a name, but there were no planets, moons, habitats or people by that name. And yes, I realise there is a link between the cubes and the Terran, but I assure you, they were not created in my time.”

  “You expect me to believe you now, after so many lies?” Uthor stepped closer. “Protocorps helped bring our civilisation together. You show me pictures, though you cannot prove you stole them from Protocorps or Ral-vet Tanek. Now you spin tales of another threat to both our kinds, except it seems to me that these cubes and the technology they use is the same as the Terran. You may not have been around to witness their creation, but it is apparent that they were made by the Terran none the less. And by your very existence you are proof that artificial intelligence is achievable; who are you to judge the Shay’s ingenuity? I have seen nothing that proves you are not the threat my people should fear.” Uthor made a sweeping gaze of the party before him.

  “We know that Garrett Jones is a threat, High Charge,” Captain Fey said. “We should focus our efforts on him, together.”

  “Whether you think we are the threat or not, you cannot deny that whatever is controlling him is not of our design.” Kalian hoped to make the Raalak see sense. “Even if our ancestors did make these things, we had no part in it. From what we’ve seen he isn’t just lashing out, he has a purpose. He went straight for that cube and he knew exactly how to take out the Nova and me in one attack. Something or someone is guiding him with information he couldn’t have got from the Gommarian. Think about all the people who knew about the Trantax project and tell me Protocorps had no involvement.”

  Uthor looked away in silence, “They were lobbying for control over the site before we discovered the Terran hieroglyphs,” he admitted with some concern. “But it proves nothing of their guilt. Protocorps own several companies and museums that specialise in relics of all our species.”

  Kalian turned away, exasperated. How could he convince Uthor that they were malevolent in their machinations?

  “We know that the cubes play the long game,” ALF continued. “This cube took two hundred thousand years to wipe out the Terran and the humans. The cube inside your capital may well be playing a similar game. It may have no intention of striking now, but when it does it will have planned every eventuality.”

  “And that one isn’t broken,” Kalian added.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Roland kicked the fractured cube again.

  “No, I mean this one was broken before Savrick found it.” All eyes fell on Kalian. “Before Savrick died he... left a part of himself inside my mind. I have most of his memories.”

  Uthor looked very interested in this new development. It was another secret out of the bag, and not just for him. Everyone but Li’ara and Esabelle looked shocked.

  “The cube was damaged when it entered the Hadrok system. I think there was a battle taking place over the planet, before the creation of ALF. When it emerged from sub-space it was probably hit before crashing into the planet. Savrick knew it was influencing him but only to a point. It was too damaged to take him over completely like it has Garrett. I imagine taking over a human mind is easier than a Terran or a Gomar. I’m sure Garrett has no control over his actions the way Savrick did. But I am certain the thing inside him knows exactly what it’s doing.”

  “If the cube in the capital is not broken, imagine what it is capable of.” Telarrek’s expression was pleading to Uthor.

  “Or the one on Trantax IV...” ALF added ominously.

  “You offer your help but you have already shown that you are no match for Garrett Jones. He almost succeeded in killing you.” Uthor was as stubborn as his skin was thick. “It is the Highclave’s opinion that you should all remain under quarantine and this ship is to be confiscated. You have already shown the devastation just one of you can cause.” He eyed Esabelle with his observation.

  “Just let a small team of us go.” Li’ara stepped away from the cube, approaching Uthor. “Let us go and we can track Garrett down and bring him in. He tore through your men like they were nothing; why put them in more danger? Together, Kalian and Esabelle are stronger than him.”

  Kalian didn’t think he would ever hear Li’ara say that. For a moment it looked as though Uthor was actually considering it.

  “I would think it more dangerous to unleash all of you on the galaxy. We wil
l find Garrett and he will be put down, without your help. Now we will rendezvous with the Sentinel in the Ch’ket system and you will relinquish the A.I. to us. All those aboard will be given shelter on an isolated habitat around Ch’ket, while the Highclave decides what to do with you and this ship.”

  “What about the Gomar?” Esabelle asked. She didn’t show it but Kalian could feel the concern she felt towards their wellbeing. He couldn’t understand why though. Since day one she had insisted on their survival, even in Rem-storage. It was possible though that she still clung to that previous connection she had with them as the ship’s pilot.

  “They are the biggest threat I know of. The damage they can cause has already been demonstrated. They will be sent to a different facility until the Highclave decides what we do with them. Personally I’m thinking about dropping them into the nearest black hole.”

  With a brief glance, Kalian told Esabelle not to react in the way she wanted to. He could feel the molecules around her instinctively gathering to form a protective barrier. Her body was preparing for a fight.

  “I’m sure the crew and the subsequent population will cooperate fully with your proposal, High Charge.” ALF gave a small bow of the head.

  “You do not speak for these people,” Captain Fey was quick to add.

  “Sorry, old habits...” With that his image vanished as the emitters in Kalian’s waist switched off.

  “As a show of good faith we will comply fully. There will be no resistance,” Captain Fey continued. “I trust you will take this into account in your report to the Highclave?”

  “That I will, Captain. Though I cannot say how it will affect the outcome. Your admittance into membership of the Conclave is looking unlikely. You will now regroup with the rest of your people until we arrive at Ch’ket. As Ambassador to the humans, Telarrek, you are to accompany them to ensure a smooth transition.”

  Naydaalan and Ilyseal stepped closer to Telarrek to show their allegiance. Uthor strode out of the chamber with a small escort as the others were ushered from the room at gun point.

  Kalian looked across the room at Esabelle. They shared the same look of annoyance with the course they were now on. How could it be so hard to convince them of the coming threat with all their evidence? In their image, Savrick and his people had caused too much damage it seemed. They were irredeemable in the Conclave’s eyes, now. It was frustrating that they were now suffering for the simple likeness they shared in biology to the Gomar. For an enlightened civilisation they were very crude in their observations of two different people.

  You know we can’t let this happen.

  Esabelle’s voice rang clear in his mind. His first instinct was to push her out, keeping his mind his own. In their present circumstances it seemed there was no other choice. He expanded his mind and dipped into the frequencies that emanated from her head, feeling her thoughts fizz around his consciousness.

  I take it you have something else in mind?

  Without seeing her face, Kalian could feel the scheming smirk spreading across her face.

  Kubrackk regretfully entered the Abyss with Spelnar close on his heel. He hated that it had come to this. The club was practically empty in the late morning, with an empty dance floor and a deserted bar. Some of Revus’s goons occupied the tables, playing cards and placing bets on their Datapads.

  A bald Revaneen Kubrackk recognised as Lydagar got up from his table and put himself between them and the stairs, leading to Revus’s office. “And where d’ya think you’re goin’?”

  Kubrackk considered Lydagar to be a unique member of his race. The Revaneen were a people known for their honour in the ways of battle, as well as their belief in only telling the truth. Their skin was a beautiful combination of green and blue patterns that differed on every individual like a fingerprint. Their dark dreadlocks were tightly bound behind their back and never cut above the knees. They had evolved with rock-like skin across their knuckles and joints, making them formidable in combat. They were scholars, philosophers and the greatest of warriors, even rivalling the Raalakians in war.

  Lydagar was none of these things.

  Kubrackk looked down on the hairless biped, who had spent his entire life lying and cheating his way up the ladder to lick Revus’s boots. He had purposefully had the blue areas of his skin tattooed to match the green skin tone that he then had covered in intricate tattoos. His blue eyes looked Kubrackk up and down with no fear of the Novaarian’s superior height or weaponry.

  “Need to see Revus, so step aside before I put you aside, little man.” Kubrackk’s hand rested on the hilt of his knife at the base of his back. It was hidden from sight under his ragged poncho, but the movement was noted by the Revaneen.

  “Well nobody sees the boss unless they’re on the list and eh...” He pretended to look at an imaginary list on his arm pad. “You and your pet aren’t on it.”

  Spelnar snarled at the insult and let his hand fall onto his holstered gun.

  Kubrackk had heard enough from the little Revaneen. He pulled on the hilt of his knife, ready to bury it in his bald, green head.

  “Lydagar!” Revus shouted from his office.

  His meaning was interpreted by Lydagar, who stepped aside, slowly. After Kubrackk walked past he immediately put himself in front of Spelnar and put a hand to the Trillik’s chest. “Not you, grub.”

  Spelnar looked at Kubrackk who gave him a subtle nod in response. The Trillik wasn’t needed in this conversation anyway. He continued up the stairs and headed into Revus’ office, where the Brenine sat behind his wooden desk like some self-important politician. He was a powerful man, no doubt, but his reach only went so far. Now Kubrackk would put that to the test.

  “Kubrackk, it’s been too long since you visited this little watering hole of mine. It’s been nearly six months since your last bounty. You know membership comes with a price?”

  It was true, he hadn’t paid his membership for some time now, and Revus usually took the units out of his take of the bounty. “The Rackham will pay my fee for the next millennium.” Kubrackk took the measure of the two goons sitting on a long sofa to his left, with a third standing to his right, looking out over the club below. Their casual nature was a sign to the Novaarian that he wasn’t considered a threat, but if he tried something stupid, there were enough of them to take him down. No doubt Revus had more than one weapon hidden under his desk.

  “You think I want to go anywhere near the most wanted ship in the galaxy?” Revus tapped his desk and a holographic video played out, above the surface, of the Rackham during its daring escape from Conclave authorities.

  “Of course you do. That just proves why it’s so valuable. There’s no other ship that can attack Protocorps Headquarters in the heart of Clave Tower and successfully escape the entire solar system.” Kubrackk had called his bluff; it was clear to see on his pale face. Revus wanted that ship more than anything right now and Kubrackk was his ticket. “You want it, I can get it. I just need to know where he’s hiding.”

  Revus looked away and didn’t say anything for a minute. He tapped his fingers on the desk, contemplating something that Kubrackk guessed was worrying the Brenine.

  “I know where the Conclave thinks he’s going; I just don’t know where he’s going...”

  Kubrackk hated this mysterious bullshit. Only rich, greedy men had time to talk in riddles, with no sense of urgency. “Speak sense,” Kubrackk replied sharply. The Shay guard to his right apparently took some offence on his employer’s behalf. Before he could remove his weapon, Kubrackk flicked his knife directly into the servo-joint of his robotic arm, pinning it to the wall and severing the Shay’s connection to his fingers.

  The two Brenine on the sofa jumped up, ready to blast the Novaarian into the next world.

  “Stop!” Revus held up his hand. The guards looked confused at their orders but obediently remained where they were. Revus laughed to relieve the tension, sitting back comfortably in his leather chair. Kubrackk had a feeling it w
as Tularon leather.

  “My friends are a little more sensitive than I am, Kubrackk. Sit down,” He waved at the two Brenine, still itching for a fight. The Shay struggled to remove the blade with his organic arm. With a single look from Revus, the Shay stopped struggling and remained silently pinned to the wall. “What I mean to say, is that my contacts tell me Mr North and his associate are potentially heading back to their own kind.”

  Kubrackk knew about that hulking ship like everyone else. Aside from its outright attack on the capital, it was also witnessed in the Corvus system and in orbit around Naveen. It was bigger than any ship made by the Conclave, stronger too. It had been met with mixed results when the human refugees took shelter inside it, after the so-called Gomar had been defeated. It made sense to Kubrackk though. They were well protected inside the Gommarian with no small amount of leverage on their side, not to mention the famous Kalian Gaines.

  “You don’t know where the Gommarian is,” Kubrackk stated.

  “The location of that ship is known only to a few, and I do not have access to them.”

  Kubrackk felt all his hope wash away. If Revus couldn’t get to these people then he had no chance. North might die from human old age by the time he got that kind of information. He knew that the ship had been allowed to travel through Novaarian space, under constant guard, but even that amount of territory would take centuries to scour. He sighed as he turned and removed the buried blade in one motion, heading for the door. The Shay sagged against the wall under the weight of his broken mechanical arm. This had been a waste of his time.

  “There is someone who can get this information, if he doesn’t already have it, that is.” Kubrackk turned again to see the calculating look Revus was giving him. “I can arrange a meeting, if you like?” The Novaarian already knew who he was talking about. Just thinking about him gave Kubrackk a feeling of dread that made him want to run in the opposite direction.

  “The Laronian...”