Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “You are referring to Savrick’s daughter?” Elondrasa attempted to settle the tension.

  “Another secret the humans were keeping from us,” Nu-marn spat.

  It was hard to argue with his statement; as much as she would like to. The fact that Kalian Gaines wasn’t the only living Terran was quite the concern. The Highclave had come to the conclusion that any being with that level of power was a threat of the highest magnitude after the Gomar’s display. Kalian, however, had been judged based upon his actions and character. It would have been preferable to keep him somewhere they could study him, but they were satisfied with keeping him somewhere they could monitor. That measure of control gave them some security, up until now.

  Not only is there another Terran out there, but she is the daughter of Savrick. They didn’t know enough about Esabelle to judge her the same way as Kalian. From Uthor’s report it would seem she is the more powerful after her display in Clave Tower. Her age was hard to imagine at over two hundred thousand cycles. She literally predated their entire civilisation. There was some sympathy to be had if her story was true about being imprisoned by her own father, but as Nu-marn and Lordina continue to point out; the humans lie.

  “She is an unknown in all this,” Uthor continued. “She was not pleased about the remaining Gomar being removed from the ship, either. Her loyalties would apparently lie with the humans, but her concern for the Gomar troubles me.”

  “Whatever her loyalties,” Ch’lac interjected, “the daughter of Savrick is highly concerned about Protocorps’ A.I. systems.” They now knew that Esabelle was the source of information concerning this third party that manipulated the Terran war. “Are we still not taking the human’s warning seriously?”

  “How can we?” Nu-marn replied. “It’s just more lies to cover up for the fact they are a violent species. Both Terran and human history is littered with war; the humans’ last war only ended a few centuries ago!”

  “The connection between both the Trantax and the Gommarian cubes cannot be ignored.” Brokk placed both of his heavy hands on the table. “The report confirms that they are identical, except we already know that the Trantax cube arrived in our system long after the Gommarian was finished wiping out the Terran. That cube found its way onto Trantax IV without direction from the Terran, Gomar or the humans. That would suggest a third party.”

  “So you think the Terran is right; that there’s a cube inside the A.I. mainframe?” Nu-marn copied the Raalak’s posture with both hands on the table.

  “They claim to have proof,” Uthor offered. “Before I could have the data verified they escaped custody-”

  “Of course they did...”

  “But, from what I saw, the plans looked to be authentic.” Uthor looked down on Nu-marn, unhappy with the interruption.

  “In your opinion, High Charge,” Elondrasa asked, “what do you think they will do next?”

  Uthor took a moment to comprise his answer. “Whether they are correct in their findings or not, I know they believe they are. With the level of conviction they show, I would assume their next move is to attack Protocorps again, and destroy the third cube.”

  The councillors were quiet for a minute, while they considered all their options. They had two separate targets to find, seven thousand humans to relocate, twelve Gomar to secure and the Gommarian to repurpose.

  “At this moment, our findings are incomplete.” Elondrasa assumed her regal posture. “We need to find Professor Jones to accurately assess the nature of these cubes and the supposed third party. We will continue to transport the humans to Ch’ket, where they will remain under the guard of the Sentinel. I think we all agree that the Gommarian should be left in the hands the Ch’kara, so that we might discover more of its secrets.” The other councillors nodded their approval so far. “Uthor, what is the status of the Gomar?”

  The High Charge turned to his left, inspecting a monitor they couldn’t see. “They have already landed at the base. No problems reported. Doctor Bal is on site.”

  The base was a nameless facility located on a nameless planet on the border of Conclave space. It was the most classified place Elondrasa knew of, though she wasn’t naive enough to imagine that Uthor didn’t have a few other black-sites off the books. It was designed and constructed shortly after the events on Naveen with one purpose in mind: contain Kalian Gaines. It was currently undergoing some quick alterations to make appropriate space for the Gomar.

  “Excellent. Any suggestions on how we should proceed with Protocorps?”

  “Their security has already been increased,” Nu-marn stated.

  “I was not referring to their level of security, Nu-marn. What should we do about the allegations? Their involvement in the Trantax project is indisputable. It would be negligent to ignore their part in this entirely.” Elondrasa was aware of the freedom granted to the corporation over the centuries. Their contribution on behalf of the Shay was hard to ignore, but so was this.

  “Allegations from an alien species who are not members of this Conclave,” Nu-marn countered, his eyes darted around the table, looking for support.

  “They maintain a machine that helps govern the lives of seven trillion people.” Brokk added his support to Elondrasa. “You must look at this as a High-Councillor, Nu-marn, not a Shay and most definitely not as someone who receives a campaign contribution from Protocorps.”

  “We will commission an investigation,” Ch’lac said. “It will be discreet and not made public, but it will be definitive.”

  Nu-marn sat back in his chair, defeated. He looked to Lordina who remained quiet on the subject, happy to nod along.

  “Then it is settled,” Elondrasa announced. “I realise that capturing Kalian and Esabelle will be difficult, Uthor, but try to bring them in alive if possible.” There were several matters that needed addressing between the Conclave and the humans, but if this new threat did prove to be real, having a couple of Terran on their side wouldn’t hurt.

  The holographic emitters consumed the forward section of the Rackham’s bridge, swelling with the image of Vallara, against a starry backdrop. The Laronian homeworld glittered with lights of every colour on the dark side, while vast oceans of deep blue shimmered in the sun on the other. Arcing super-bridges of tremendous size extended from the ground to pierce the atmosphere, with towers hanging from every structure like a city upside down, only stopping a mile above the ground, where it met the rolling forests and mountains below.

  Kalian magnified the hologram to get a better look at the beautiful planet. Most of the super-bridges intersected mid-arc, or via individual bridges at various points. Snow-peaked mountains rose up between them, while winding rivers flowed across the land like roots of a tree. The planet’s surface was only blemished at the points where the bridges were secured to the ground with diameters miles apart in size. The Arcs were thick, each one capable of housing millions inside, as well as the hanging towers and the colossal spires that ran along the top.

  The Arcs were clustered together in groups across the entire planet, leaving whole sections untouched. Each cluster comprised around thirty to forty bridges like regions on a map. Kalian knew from the Laronians’ history, that Vallara had not always looked as it did right now. Like most intelligent species, industry ultimately dominated their way of life. Vallara had once been covered from pole to pole in cities that demanded more and more of its natural resources. If it hadn’t been for their early discovery of Intrinium, on the outer reaches of the solar system, the planet would be toxic by now. Centuries of rejuvenation saw the landscape returned to its natural state, so its people could enjoy its splendour.

  As with most Conclave planets, Vallara’s atmosphere was overlaid by the constant movement of vehicles, flying from one Arc to another. As one of the five core worlds it was under greater security than most. Just seeing the amount of activity from this distance was giving Kalian second thoughts. Their appearance was unique, even among a society as multi-cultural as the Conclave. It
wouldn’t take long before their scanning equipment detected them on the streets or a local called in their position.

  But they needed answers.

  The Rackham banked to starboard, heading for the dark side of the planet. He observed Roland and Ch’len as they checked the ship’s systems, making certain the stealthware was working. The plan was to enter the atmosphere undetectable to the naked eye, then find somewhere to land where the ship wouldn’t be a problem.

  In the few hours it had taken to reach the planet, Kalian had avoided Li’ara in every way. Being able to find her anywhere on the ship made that easy. She was standing behind Ch’len, pretending to look over the readouts, but Kalian knew she was stealing glances at him every few seconds. He suddenly hated how attuned he was to her.

  “Hitting the atmosphere in twenty. Adjust the angle of the port thrusters, Len. I don’t want to burn through and give ourselves away.”

  Ch’len rolled his eyes at the insult to his name, but continued as ordered.

  The entire ship changed its angle of approach and slowed down just enough to avoid heating up, as they punched through the planet’s natural shield. Seeing Roland in action reminded Kalian that he wasn’t just a bounty hunter with a quick-trigger finger. This was a man who had been trained for decades in the subtleties of warfare.

  “Where are we going?” Esabelle asked.

  “To the Ninx district, in the Spiral Arc,” Roland replied, eyeing Ch’len’s expression of dismay. The bounty hunter clearly found his partner’s terror, highly amusing.

  The forward section of the bridge became a wall of holographic fog, as the Rackham flew through the cloudbank and descended under the night sky. A few minutes later, Roland deactivated the stealthware and connected to the local A.I. hub, under a false registration.

  The view was incredible, as the hulking bridges dwarfed them on their journey through the cityscape. The Rackham ducked and weaved between the traffic, descending even lower until the tops of the trees were whipped into a frenzy by the after-effects of their speed. Like the feet of giants, the city-bridges appeared from nowhere as the larger ones vanished above the clouds.

  “There it is...” Roland’s words preceded the view of the Spiral Arc.

  It wasn’t large enough to pierce the atmosphere, but it was by no means the smallest of the Arcs. Unlike the others however, it wasn’t connected to any other via bridges or indeed another Arc. It was an island from which The Laronian could conduct his criminal affairs.

  “So what’s the plan?” Li’ara asked the group.

  “My plan is to stay right here!” Ch’len shuffled in his seat, creating a deeper imprint.

  “The Laronian runs everything from his club. That’s where we’ll find him.” Roland selected the landing destination and handed over the controls to the computer.

  The towering spires that made up the city, arching over the Arc, became crystal clear across the forward section of the bridge. The Rackham was gliding through the streets and towering buildings with a black, starry sky above. The city was painted in every colour of neon light as the inhabitants came out to play. The Ninx district was obviously the place to be to have fun on the Spiral Arc.

  “How can we get to him without drawing attention?” Li’ara was inspecting a hologram of the club, highlighted by Ch’len.

  “We can’t.” Roland’s reply held no sound of hope. “Between the Rackham and the club we’ll be spotted by a few hundred people, not to mention all the cameras connected to the A.I. hub.”

  “You think the cameras in this district are connected to the A.I.?” Ch’len snorted. “Everything here goes through The Laronian.”

  “Don’t you have any friends here that can help us?” Kalian aimed his question at Ch’len.

  “Ha! He doesn’t have friends, just people who want to kill him less.”

  Ch’len muttered to himself while he glared at Roland.

  Why are we even considering another way of getting in?

  Esabelle’s voice echoed through his mind in perfect clarity. Kalian looked at her with a questioning look and a hint of disapproval.

  We could walk in there and take the answers we need, and be gone before local security is even alerted. Nothing can stop us, Kalian.

  He didn’t reply, but considered her words. It was true; they could blow through The Laronian’s club and take what they needed. But should they? His use of power had been playing on his mind since he killed the mercenaries on Trantax IV. If they went with Esabelle’s plan there was a chance he would have to kill again, if only to keep the others safe. He retreated into his mind to give himself longer to think, but he knew there was no other way to get the answers they needed, in the time they had.

  “Esabelle and I will go in and speak to The Laronian. One way or another, he’ll tell us what we want to know.” Even as he spoke the words, Kalian could feel Esabelle’s confidence mixing with his own feelings, filling him with excitement at the prospect of being free with their abilities. It was worrying how quickly her thoughts and feelings could ebb into his own, changing his perspective completely.

  “We’re coming with you!” Li’ara protested.

  “They won’t just let us in; it’s safer if we go,” he countered.

  Li’ara’s expression was reply enough; I don’t need you to keep me safe.

  “For the first time ever, one of your crazy-suicide missions takes me to a bar, and you think I’m sitting it out?” Roland stood from his chair and twirled his Tri-rollers on both index fingers. “Let’s skip to the good bit...”

  The Ninx district was alive with its night time proclivities, with members of every race coming out to enjoy all it had to offer. Kubrackk leant against the railing, overlooking the layers of walkways below, each one cast in a multitude of neon light and bright colours. He was only four levels above the street that formed the top of the arching super-bridge, with many more levels above him. The street appeared to be flat, rather than curved, due to the sheer size of the Spiral Arc. The night-time illuminations literally outshone the stars, leaving them under a black sky devoid of cosmic detail.

  To his left, Spelnar clung tightly to the rail, with his twin-tail wrapped around his slender leg. The Trillik was more nervous about the coming encounter than Kubrackk was. That in mind, the scarred Novaarian looked down the street to his right, where The Laronian’s club, Nightfall, was situated. Nightfall dominated the strip of bars, casinos and entertainment parlours that specialised in virtual stimulation.

  Like all the buildings on the Arc, the club was built into the other structures around it, making it hard to see where one tower ended and the next began. Nightfall, however, was easy to find in the Ninx district. The exterior panels were chrome blue, to match the Laronian skin-tone, only the panels glowed with soft light. The surrounding business had no doubt been paid to keep their illuminations to a minimum in order to highlight the club.

  Everything about The Laronian screamed I can’t be touched.

  It was this lack of fear that put everyone on edge in their dealings with the criminal. His limitless contacts meant there was nowhere Kubrackk could go that The Laronian couldn’t reach. The Novaarian was about to enter into a deal with this shadowy individual. That thought gave him pause. He would avenge his brother and see Roland North dead by his hands. That outcome would never change. But was it worth going down this route to achieve that goal? Dealing with Revus was dangerous enough, but The Laronian was something else entirely.

  The criminal’s personality was well known among the underworld. He was eccentric to the point of psychotic madness. That made him hard to reason with and even harder to strike a fair bargain with. The Laronian’s intelligence was never brought into question, though. By concealing his identity and face beneath his legendary faceplate, he had created an almost mythic symbol in the criminal underworld, making him terrifying and untouchable to his enemies.

  Kubrackk stared long and hard at Nightfall, remembering the last time he had visited the esta
blishment. His uncle had taken Torvrackk and him when they were in their late teens, centuries ago when they were still learning the bounty trade. He couldn’t recall the business his uncle had with The Laronian, only the visage of the super criminal himself remained burned into his memory.

  “Are we really going to do this, boss?” Spelnar looked out across the layers of streets, avoiding Kubrackk’s gaze.

  “The Gommarian is too well hidden. We could be searching Novaarian space for years without finding it. We’re just going to ask The Laronian for the location, that’s all.” He relayed their plan as if he was talking to a child.

  “What do we give him in return?”

  Kubrackk had thought about that question. There was only one thing he would want and only one thing the Novaarian would have to offer.

  “We give him the Rackham, of course. It’s the only thing of any worth in all this.”

  “But we’ve offered that to Revus. Besides, you said the ship was going to be our prize, that it would compensate us a thousand fold for not taking any bounties.” Spelnar’s defiant expression only lasted until Kubrackk returned the look.

  “Let them fight over who gets the Rackham. Something tells me Revus won’t win. And by succeeding in this endeavour, we will be opening lucrative doors to work for The Laronian. The contracts he gives us will be worth ten times anything the Bounty Clave can offer us.” Kubrackk gave the Trillik a hard look. “You’re going to walk in there with me, Spelnar. And you’re going to look like the toughest, meanest bastard there is. Got it?”

  Spelnar’s attention was split between Kubrackk and something that had caught his eye on the street below. He was about to scold the stupid Trillik, before realising that Spelnar wasn’t the only one staring. Kubrackk leaned further over the rail, magnetised by the four humans walking freely through the streets of the Spiral Arc. They were not just any four humans, but four very important humans. On the far side, strolling through the crowd in his long animal-hide jacket was Roland North.