Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Esabelle came back into view with a small green dart in her hand. “Distracted.” She threw the dart away and came to stand directly in front of Kalian. “Groll venom, from Zantesh. Apparently Roland is quite the fan.” Esabelle looked to the red crate in the corner of the bay.

  Kalian tried to bring up the files in his mind and view everything there was to know about the Nix homeworld. The image in his mind became distorted, leaving only the lasting impression of danger towards the predatory Groll. Looking through his physical eyes had become just as hard as looking through his mind’s eye. Esabelle appeared to be flitting about the bay as the borders of his vision became blurred and dull. The whole ship seemed to shift making Kalian stumble backwards, though Esabelle was unaffected.

  “What...?” The darkness at the edge of his vision consumed his entire sight as sharp stabbing pains fired in his joints.

  “You’re letting the venom distract you.” Esabelle kicked him square in the chest with enough force to put him on his back. “Focus.” Kalian could no longer see her but without touching him he was flung up into the ceiling and dropped back to the floor.

  Pushing himself back onto his feet, Kalian could feel a numbness spreading through his arms and legs, and thanks to Esabelle’s telekinetic attack, he had blinding pain in the back of his head. Thankfully the nanocelium in his armour was doing its job and taking the brunt of her abuse.

  “What’s the...?” A stinging pain exploded across Kalian’s neck when he tried to speak. Esabelle came in again, hitting him in several places across his body and dropping him to his knee.

  “Just like Li’ara, the venom is distracting you. Your real threat is right in front of you, and you’re too busy trying to figure out how to counter act the poison in your veins. You need to create vaults in your mind where distractions can be placed at a moment’s notice. Your mind/body control must be perfect, Kalian. Your immune system is like an army at your disposal, but you must separate your mind and command your body to do what it must, while you deal with the external threat. The subconscious mind of a Terran does not work like a human’s. You have complete access to everything inside your brain, but that does not mean you should. Having a portion of the brain devoted to defensive measures without your direct command is essential. You need to heal while you fight.”

  Kalian had heard enough. The pain made him angry at everything. He lashed out in the direction of her voice, estimating the distance between them. The first attack was countered by Esabelle, as was the second and third. Kalian’s fourth attack went wild, only to be met with a blow to the ribs from Esabelle, who easily evaded the blind man’s attack.

  “Focus!” Esabelle commanded. “What’s the first thing you should have done?”

  Pain...

  In the blink of an eye, Kalian opened a thick heavy vault door in his mind and had it suck everything inside like a black hole. Any thought of Li’ara was instantly gone as he imagined the vault dropping into a shaft that disappeared into the depths of his mind. He quickly moved onto the Parietal lobe in his brain and commanded it to misinterpret the pain being transmitted through his spinal cord. In an instant the pain was gone and he could focus again.

  The right side of his face was awash with particulates in the air as Esabelle’s fist compressed the atmosphere between Kalian’s face and her approaching knuckles. A dodge of the head was all it took for her swing to follow through and expose her ribs. Kalian grappled her around the shoulders and drove his knee into her ribs, bringing them both down to the floor with him on top. He couldn’t see but he could feel her wriggling between his knees. That was until Esabelle launched him back into the ceiling with a shockwave of telekinetic energy.

  After hitting the ceiling and the floor, Kalian picked himself up again, using his extra senses to locate Esabelle. Time slowed as he retrospectively investigated the extent of the Groll venom in his system. His immunity to the venom was growing but the occipital lobe of his brain had been poisoned the most. Kalian concentrated on moving more white blood cells to that region of his body to try and gain his sight back. Having dealt with the pain aspect of the venom, he could leave the venom in the rest of his body until later.

  The air was pushed from his lungs as a wave of heat washed over his face and hands. Before Kalian could make sense of the attack, he was impacting against the far wall of the bay. On his hands and knees once more, Kalian probed the chest plates of his armour and felt the nanocelium rebuilding the crater where an organic ball of plasma had struck him. With an audible groan he picked himself up, again.

  “Too slow, baby Terran,” Esabelle mocked. “All the measures you just enacted inside your mind should have been done before the dart left your skin. If I was Garrett you’d be dead by now.” Her approaching footsteps rang out on the metal floor. “You lash out with your hands and feet, forgetting that you have so much more at your disposal. Even now you’re trying to locate me with your human senses; though heightened, it’s still slow and inaccurate.”

  Esabelle’s footsteps stopped right in front of him. Kalian dashed out with his fist but hit nothing but air and stumbled forward.

  “Your senses are easily fooled, Kalian. Try seeing the world like a Terran.” Esabelle’s voice came from the middle of the bay, nowhere near him.

  With a slow breath, Kalian let the universe flood his mind with all its physical information. The picture in his mind was made of every colour imaginable as the cargo bay and beyond was constructed for him to see. Esabelle shone like god incarnate before him. The frequencies of her brain emitted outward in every direction, like his. Kalian was forced to take a sharp breath as his awareness spread out into sub-space. Icy cold tentacles pierced his body, as if the abyss wanted to claim his senses. The bubble contracted, bringing his vision back to the cargo bay alone. Two small containers lay at his feet where he thought Esabelle should have been. With telekinesis she had managed to trick Kalian into thinking she was walking towards him.

  “You have three hundred and sixty vision. Use it.” Esabelle ran at him with enhanced speed.

  Matching her speed, Kalian countered the first few attacks before trying to land his own. With all his senses working at once he could anticipate her every action. Unfortunately, so could Esabelle. Eventually the fight began to evolve as Esabelle attacked Kalian from all sides using various crates and large containers. The cargo flew through the air faster than any human could move, striking Kalian in between Esabelle’s own attacks. He was forced to use telekinesis to keep them at bay while also blocking the hands and feet that whipped at him.

  The training continued for another hour before they both picked themselves off the cold floor. Bruises and cuts across Esabelle’s face were already fading, though she actually appeared to be out of breath with glistening sweat on her forehead. Kalian smiled at his efforts while his ribs realigned, allowing him to breathe properly again.

  “You’re getting better,” Esabelle remarked.

  “Tell that to my ribcage...” Kalian felt the ribs fit back into place and the pain receptors came back to life with a slight ache in his shoulders. The Groll venom had been filtered through his organs and removed from his occipital lobe, returning his sight.

  “Don’t rely on that armour,” she warned. “It’s the best armour in the galaxy, but it’s not as good as this.” Esabelle put her finger to her temple.

  “Garrett was strong, and fast, but he doesn’t have Terran abilities. Whatever the cube’s done to him, it’s only enhanced his human physiology. I was... distracted on the Nova, but together you and I can bring him down, hopefully without killing him.”

  “You did well containing the Starrillium,” Esabelle replied, “But the fact that Li’ara was onboard distracted you more. Keep working on creating those vaults in your mind.”

  Kalian chewed over whether to respond. “You know, sometimes thinking of her makes me stronger, not distracted. Overcoming Savrick, containing the Starrillium, I did all that thinking of her.”

  “Y
ou did that because you were worried she was going to die. What happens when you’re at your limits and Li’ara’s not in danger? When you feel there’s nothing left to give and there’s no one to protect? You need to be able to achieve those feats when she’s not around. And she won’t be around forever, Kalian.” Esabelle’s expression was a knowing one.

  “I’m going to go and check on the... something.” Kalian turned to leave.

  “You can’t run away from this one,” Esabelle called after him, giving him pause in the doorway. “You’re in love with someone whose lifespan is a spec compared to yours.”

  That got Kalian’s hackles up. “So I shouldn’t love anyone that can’t live as long as me? What kind of life is that?”

  “A life not filled with heartbreak.” Esabelle’s tone was a little softer. “Conclave technology might give Li’ara a few extra centuries, but centuries are nothing compared to the life you have. I know that’s hard to imagine right now but...”

  “You get to train me, Esabelle; you don’t get to tell me how to live my life. I mean, you’ve only been alive for six months. Maybe after a couple more decades of actually living you’ll have a different outlook,” Kalian added spitefully, before walking out of the cargo bay.

  Roland was sat slumped in the co-pilot’s chair with his feet up on the main console, deep in thought, distorting Li’ara’s words into nothing but white noise in the background of his mind. The Laronian’s warning confirmed his gut feeling. For months Roland had felt someone was behind his every step, with rumours of someone asking about him after a new bounty.

  Old scar-face was still hunting him.

  The Novaarian didn’t exactly scare him, but the bounty hunter’s tenacity to track him down and exact revenge for his brother was disturbing. At this point, Roland couldn’t even remember the name of Kubrackk’s brother. It had been a split second decision to kill the ruthless brothers in the canyons on Veridian’s moon. The bounty had been very clear with the prices for alive or dead, and dead would not split three ways and be worth it, but the brothers were merciless when it came to their job, enjoying the kill at the end of a hunt. Roland had urged them to take the Tularon alive, giving them all a nice chunk of moolah, but the look on their faces when they finally cornered the poor bastard...

  Killing the brother had been easy, dopey shit didn’t see it coming. But before his body had hit the canyon floor, Kubrackk had levelled his Quad-roller at Roland, putting his Callic-diamond armour to the test. The fall had knocked him unconscious, giving Kubrackk the impression of death. Of course the Rem-plant took care of the rest. A couple of shots from his Tri-rollers put the Novaarian in the dirt, but the kill-shot never found its mark. It wasn’t the first time Roland had ignored his training and finished his target, but the Tularon had used the fight to his advantage and run for it. With the payday all his, Roland left Kubrackk to die next to his brother and catch the Tularon.

  Son of a bitch should have stayed down.

  This was a potential complication that they didn’t need right now. With that in mind he suddenly sat up and examined the view beyond the bridge, inspecting the array of ships on the surrounding landing pads, but there was no sign of the ugly-ass ship the Novaarian called home. Roland decided he was being paranoid. After everything that had happened to him since taking the Protocorps job, there was no way Kubrackk could have tracked him all the way back here. They had even changed ships.

  “What are you doing?” Li’ara asked with a raised eyebrow. She was sat in the pilot’s chair in her usual combat suit and boots. Her red hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail that rested between her shoulder blades.

  “Nothing.” Roland tried to casually sit back down, but looked nothing except suspicious.

  “The Laronian’s put you on edge, eh?” A wicked grin appeared in the corner of her mouth.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Roland accessed the main console, pretending to check the comm was open to incoming messages. He wanted to drop the subject.

  “Have you heard anything I’ve been saying?” Li’ara hit the master control and closed down the holograms across the shared console. Roland had no choice but to turn back and pay attention. “Whatever The Laronian’s got you thinking about, you need to forget it. I need your head in the game. You already know the layout and The Laronian gave us details on where to find the back-up mainframe... Len?”

  Ch’len was sat silently at the back of the bridge, engrossed in holograms of Protocorps’ interior complex. For once he wasn’t stuffing his face with snacks, but instead poring over the data supplied by The Laronian.

  “Len!” Roland shouted.

  “What?” Ch’len sat up straight.

  “Can you direct us once we’re inside or not?” Li’ara had little patience for the alien.

  “It’s a maze in there, but yes I think so.” Ch’len grumbled into his console, “I still think this is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had! That building is swarming with itchy trigger fingers, and this ship offers zero protection!”

  “I promise when this is over, we’ll get the Rackham back and take the easiest bounty going.” Roland couldn’t help his patronising tone.

  Before Ch’len could reply with some sarcastic comment, the main console came back to life as the external com panel was activated on the ship’s outer door. Li’ara brought up the camera-feed so they could all see the group of mixed aliens standing outside the ship. Between them were a couple of large crates with no markings on. Roland knew scoundrels when he saw them.

  “Right on time,” the bounty hunter remarked.

  With Ch’len waddling behind, they met the group of criminals at the outer door. With no cargo bay on the ship, they would have to carry the crates through the kitchen area. The door slid into the ship revealing a group of seven aliens, predominantly Laronians. Upon seeing the human, the Raalak at the head of the group took a hesitant step back on his quadruped legs. Roland gave them all a menacing smile, revelling in their fear. Very few of the diverse Conclave had actually met a human being, and amongst the general population they were still considered to be dangerous.

  “Take it through there, on the right,” Li’ara instructed.

  With cautious glances to one another, the group plucked up the courage and hefted the crates into the ship. After dumping them on the dining table the Raalak dismissed the others and used a data-band on his wrist to open the crates. The lids split into two, with three shelves automatically rising out of the interiors. Roland was practically salivating at the contents.

  With a deep gravelly voice, the Raalak said, “The Laronian has told me to provide you with everything you need. These weapons are yours. I have transmitted the details to your ship’s nav-computer. Follow the instructions exactly. There’s a limited window in which you can gain access to Protocorps, and make certain you follow the flight path provided.” A last curious look at Ch’len was all the Raalak gave as a goodbye.

  Roland wasted no time in diving into the crates with both hands. There were grenades of every kind with mines and explosive Intrinium rounds. An exceptional collection of blades decorated the top shelf of one of the boxes, but Roland still preferred his Terran knife.

  “Is this a grenade launcher?” Li’ara pulled out a bulky looking gun with a wide muzzle.

  “Mine!” Roland snatched the launcher out of her hands like a child and immediately opened the internal chamber to inspect the ammo.

  Li’ara didn’t look convinced. “Isn’t all this a little... loud? Shouldn’t we be infiltrating this place with a modicum of stealth? You tried to shoot your way through with a Terran by your side last time, and you still got thrown out of the building, literally.”

  “I jumped, there’s a difference.” Roland didn’t even take his head out of the crate to reply.

  “Taking out the A.I. is going to be loud, I’ll admit, but our little favour for The Laronian requires finesse. We’d be better approaching the first half of the mission quietly.”
>
  Roland used both hands to pull out a flat rectangular box with a single touchpad in the middle. “There’s nothing quiet about this.” He placed the bomb on the side of the kitchen counter.

  “I’ll look after that.” Li’ara scooped it up and gently lowered it into a backpack designed to carry multiple weapons.

  After prying Roland away from the weapons crates, they returned to the bridge to review the details sent by The Laronian’s men. Ch’len dimmed the lights and activated the central holo emitters to reconstruct the designated flight path in the middle of the bridge. The image was in pale blue with an outline of the towers hanging from the ceiling. In deep red, the path of their ship was shown to travel around the edges of Clave Tower until it reached the furthest tower on the right. They were then to hug the shining walls of the next tower, closest to Protocorps’ HQ. Every manoeuvre was recorded at a certain time as the red line tracked down the central tower until it came to a stop. The holographic image magnified to a small flight deck near the bottom of Protocorps.

  “What is that?” Roland asked.

  “It’s a hangar. It must be a supply entrance for deliveries,” Ch’len replied. “The Laronian must have people on the inside.”

  “And on Conclave security,” Li’ara added. “Look at these times. Someone must be supplying them with patrol patterns.”

  Roland sat in the pilot’s chair and integrated the new flight path into the auto-pilot. He didn’t want to take any chances controlling the ship himself if they had to keep to such strict measures. A quick alert flashed over the console to indicate the approaching time - they only had a short window to get themselves ready before they landed in the hangar.

  Preparing for a fight such as this was more like a ritual for Roland. It was a time when all distractions were cast aside, even the annoying ones about Esabelle that had come from nowhere. Whether he liked it or not, infiltrating Protocorps without a Terran was going to be difficult. The bounty hunter surveyed his equipment carefully, choosing the right level of firepower that still provided him with enough manoeuvrability in combat. The brown-hide overcoat he had come to love so much was put aside, exposing his bare arms and tattoos, leaving only his Callic-diamond vest to protect him. The rusted plate covering was a good disguise for the real strength of the armour.