As you command...
Garrett’s parasite chose to speak via their unique link, clearly disliking a verbal form of communication. The professor sensed a very strange hierarchy between the two and the entity on the other side of the Starforge. The Terran was in charge here, no question about that, and the other entity was in charge of both, but it felt as though any form of hierarchy was alien to them. Making decisions of their own appeared to be a new concept to them, one they enjoyed and hated with equal measure. Maybe it has something to do with this constant sense of separation Garrett felt when connected to the parasite? It was as if they were constantly telling themselves that their current state of existence was temporary, though Garrett couldn’t fathom why that would be a good thing.
After dozens of ships exited the Starforge’s main hangar and ignored the Rackham, Esabelle had become curious and set a course, forgetting the smaller port ALF mentioned. Rows of identical ships lined the hangar as hundreds of crew flooded out of various Translifts. With the stealthware deactivated, the Rackham passed through the shield and settled down in the place of an exiting craft. There was no attack or soldiers waiting for them.
“What the hell is going on?” Kalian descended the Rackham’s ramp and watched hundreds of ships taking off around the hangar. A trumpet-like alarm rang out as engineers, scientists and armed guards ran into the waiting ships without batting an eye at the Terran vessel.
“Why would they be evacuating?” Esabelle came up by his side.
Kalian recognised the thin piece of nanocelium in her hand; a triangle with the apex cut off. Esabelle placed the metal below her navel where it exploded with dark strands of nanocelium, encompassing her body. The armour had a bronze tinge to its plates, making it a little different from his but no less formidable in its appearance. Like his, the armour hugged her every curve making it look too thin to be protective. Kalian knew better than to believe that.
ALF projected himself into the hangar. “If Garrett, or the cube I should say, has taken control of the Starforge remotely, he will no longer have need of an organic crew. No doubt he has replaced each of them with ten thousand nanocelium.”
“Then we need to hurry,” Esabelle said. “If it has taken control it won’t be long before the station is used as a weapon.”
“A weapon?” Kalian followed Esabelle who strode off in the direction of the nearest exit.
“I think this is more your area?” Esabelle looked over her shoulder at ALF, who followed beside Kalian.
“So you really were aware of everything that happened during your incarceration,” ALF met Kalian’s eyes before continuing. “A Starforge’s primary use is to open a hole in space/time and allow for instantaneous travel. But, during the war, I was forced to use it in other ways.” There was regret in his voice. “If you plot coordinates inside the core of a star, the forge will open a wormhole that connects the two across space. A vicious ground battle on the planet Vordinay was going badly; I calculated that the Gomar would win within days and take the planet. So I made a choice.” More regret. “I positioned a Starforge in orbit, above the battle. After it punched a hole into the closest sun, the forge focused and directed the raw energy like a beam, down into the planet.”
“Aptly named, then?” Kalian couldn’t believe such technology, such a weapon, existed.
“It decimated everything,” Esabelle explained. “It scorched Vordinay’s surface and wiped every Gomar and Terran from existence. But it was a calculated loss...” her words were spoken with venom at ALF.
“It wasn’t what I designed it for.” ALF ignored her last comment.
The three entered the Translift and Kalian felt Esabelle build a shield around her entire body. He decided it wasn’t a bad idea and followed suit, building the millimetre-thick barrier around himself.
“Do you think the cube knows how to use the station that way?” Kalian expanded his awareness beyond the Translift. The huge station pulsed with energy as three Starrilliums hummed with the power of the stars.
“We should assume so.” Esabelle pushed the button for the bridge. “How the cube could know is a question we will have to visit after neutralising Garrett.”
“Their whole connection to the Terran Empire is something we’ll have to visit later,” Kalian added.
He hated not having all the pieces to the puzzle. These cubes, or whatever they are, have had to be connected to the Terran in some way. They have had Terran script carved into their shell, one of them was found on Hadrok and was pivotal in destroying their entire civilisation, and now one of them controlled the most powerful corporation on the other side of the galaxy and had them build a Starforge, another Terran link.
Kalian was finding it harder and harder to believe that ALF had no knowledge of them. The A.I. had nurtured the Terran and worked with them to develop all their technology, including nanocelium, which just happened to be the material the cubes were made from. Was it possible the cubes had been made by the Terran without ALF’s knowledge? An experiment gone wrong? A weapon designed before ALF’s creation? That made no sense either since ALF had invented nanocelium. And yet the cube found by Savrick would suggest it fell to Hadrok during the end of the last Terran war, possibly around the same time ALF was given life. There were too many questions that Kalian felt the A.I. should be able to answer.
A small static charge disturbed the molecules in the Translift, turning Kalian’s attention to Esabelle. With one hand gripping her other wrist, Esabelle activated the nanocelium in the bracer, causing the microscopic machines to spread across her open hand, covering like a glove. She did the same with her other hand so that only her head was left exposed.
“How did you do that?” he asked, looking at his own hands.
“Your armour can do a lot more than that.” Esabelle turned both of her hands palm up. Her fingers flexed once and produced a tiny light on her finger tips, each light emitting a holographic menu. “You can mould the nanocelium or even change its colour.” Esabelle wiggled different fingers, interacting with various controls for the exo-suit. The flat bracers across her forearms began to shift like liquid until small spikes protruded all the way around her wrists.
Kalian did his best to make it appear as though it wasn’t a big revelation that he could have done with knowing months ago. “I’m happy with the way mine is.”
“Are you ready to kill him?” Esabelle asked with a sideways glance.
“If it comes to that, yes.” Kalian didn’t believe his own words. He had taken lives freely on Trantax, even with some enjoyment, but that didn’t mean he had the right to. These abilities of his were a responsibility that neither Esabelle nor ALF had asked him to ponder on. Should they kill because they could? Were they superior? These were questions Kalian hadn’t had time to stop and wonder about. Esabelle had been all about control and discipline over the last six months, but her outing with Roland appeared to have awoken something in her, an animal that had been caged for too long, perhaps. He was worried that she was no longer concerned with control.
“I think he’s past saving, Kalian,” Esabelle continued. “We won’t be able to draw out the nanocelium without leaving Garrett inside a broken body; that’s if there’s even any Garrett left to save. Who knows what that thing’s done to his mind.”
“If we can capture him alive then we will,” Kalian pressed.
ALF replied, “If you think the professor can offer any answers to our current riddle, I believe you would be mistaken. From what we know about this new Garrett, he doesn’t feel pain. That rules out one way of getting answers, but I would wager that he’s more machine than man now. You can’t leverage programming.”
Kalian was shocked that the A.I. would even consider torture. “Time to go back in your box.”
ALF shrugged and disappeared.
Esabelle was looking at him. “I just need to know you’re not going to pull your punches.”
Before Kalian could reply, the Translift came to a stop and opened up onto
the bridge. The command centre was befittingly large for such a massive station. Kalian counted three tiers, with one below them and one above, each filled with terminals and holographic monitors, though perhaps the oddest thing was the dozens of empty chairs. The view-port to their left rose up to the highest tier and stretched round the sides. The screen was heavily polarised with a slight glare around the edges as the nearby star fought to be seen.
The level pitted below them was crossed by two intersecting platforms with stairs either side. On their level was a raised platform with a single bank of monitors and terminals that looked to be the central command post. There were two other Translifts connecting to the bridge, opposite the one they both cautiously exited.
The fabric-like metal of their boots was soft on the polished floor, making as little sound as possible. Kalian doubled his shield and felt Esabelle do the same. They both made their way around the walkway, keeping the lower tier to their right as they approached the command terminal. Seeing the wrecked monitors and leftover nanocelium strands that infected the terminal, Kalian quickly expanded his awareness, connecting with every particle in the room. He turned around as soon as his mind built the picture of the man standing on the opposite side of the tier above. Esabelle mirrored his quick turn and faced the being that watched them.
The man wasn’t a man, so to speak. Kalian could feel the Terran frequencies that pulsed from his mind, building a picture of his own. His features were twisted like Garrett’s, but not to the same extent, with sunken dark eyes and shadowed cheekbones. The Terran’s milky skin was interlaced with hardened strands of nanocelium that forced many of his veins to the surface, where they met his short blonde hair. The nanocelium had collected over the surface of his body and created an exo-suit much like Kalian’s, only more organic.
The Terran said nothing but continued to stare at them from across the bridge with curious dark eyes. Kalian glanced at Esabelle with a hundred more questions flashing over his expression. How could there be a Terran here? How could there be a Terran anywhere? Kalian had memorised the faces of the eleven Gomar taken by the Conclave, and this wasn’t one of them.
“Who are you?” Kalian couldn’t help but ask.
The Terran moved for the first time, imitating a robot that had just come to life. He walked down the stairs with a low chuckle at Kalian’s question. He never took his eyes off them.
“It’s quite the obsession with your kind, isn’t it?” The Terran’s voice was eerily human. “You always have to name everything, label it, categorise it, put your stamp on it and make it yours. It doesn’t give you the power you think it does. But if it helps your primitive brain comprehend its own destruction, then so be it. I suppose you could call me Malekk.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sal-dev squirmed under the pressure of Li’ara’s gun in his back, his face pressed into the charred white wall where the turret gun had made a mess. The Shay was clearly struggling to keep himself upright on his bad legs, forcing Li’ara to use her free hand to pull up on his torn jacket.
“Enter the code and open the door!” Li’ara stood back and aimed the gun at his head.
Sal-dev slid down the wall momentarily before crawling his way back up the wall. The Shay was practically crying while he placed his eye into the protruding socket. Li’ara watched him carefully as he entered the code and exposed the Novattoo on his arm. A painful groan escaped his throat when the Shay tried to stand upright and space his feet. Sal-dev uttered his name out loud for the scanner, heavy with shame and fear.
They both turned to the circular door as a dozen locks could be heard through the wall, each of the thick cylinders sliding out of place. The heavy door was propelled open with a whoosh, triggering Sal-dev to break down and cry again, crumpling to the floor at the sight of his failure. The vault-like door swung open to reveal the cavernous expanse created to house Protocorps’ dirty little secret. The cube stared back at her from across the walkway.
Li’ara looked back at Sal-dev. He had heard their plan to plant a backdoor into the back-up mainframe, making him a liability. She didn’t care much to be honest; it was The Laronian’s schemes, not theirs. But then she saw the faces of the Gommarian crew that had been slaughtered by Garrett; Rodriguez, Pitt, Gardner, Astill and so many others killed because Protocorps were keeping secrets and helping the cubes.
“Please!” Sal-dev pleaded, seeing the cold look in her eye.
Li’ara shot him in the chest, killing him instantly. She didn’t stop to look at him, but instead turned towards the A.I. chamber and strode over the threshold.
Roland had been forced to get creative with distracting Kubrackk. The Novaarian and the Trillik had burst from the Translift, covered in blood and panting for breath. There was no hesitation in their dash to catch him as he ran for the executive Translift. Calling the lift would be too slow; their alien physiology made them faster than him, period. A few pot shots compelled the bounty hunters to take cover behind the pillars, slowing their advance while Roland primed a grenade.
The explosion blew the doors of the executive lift open and filled the corridor with more smoke. Roland shook his head to try and rid himself of the high pitch hum, before jumping feet first into the empty shaft. He over-calculated the jump and bounced off the other side of the shaft, smacking his head against the cold steel. The weapons on his back scraped over the shaft wall until he pushed off and corrected his drop.
“Are you suicidal?” Ch’len shouted down his ear.
The top of a stationary Translift was quickly coming into view, its square top rushing to meet him. Roland braced his legs and let the Laronian boots take care of the impact with a flare of blue light beneath his feet. His drop was immediately slowed until his feet were firmly on the top of the Translift. Looking back up, Roland could see the distinct features of a Novaarian’s head poking out of the burnt remains at the top of the shaft. An angry snarl echoed down to Roland.
“Come and get me, asshole!” Roland gave Kubrackk the finger, a gesture he knew would be lost on the Novaarian.
The emergency hatch slid aside for Roland to climb down into the lift. With his approaching enemy in mind, he repeatedly hit the button to open the doors.
“Why aren’t the lifts working, Len?” Roland looked up through the hatch and heard the sound of a metallic object magnetising to the shaft-wall above; they were going to rappel down.
“I would assume if it’s watching you, it’s listening as well,” Ch’len replied. “It knows where you’re going and it doesn’t want you to.”
“Fine...” Roland cracked his knuckles and started to prise the door apart manually. Sweat dripped off the corners of his eyebrows, stinging the cut above his eye.
Halfway through the gap in the doors, Roland had an idea, an explosive one. With the doors determined to close after him, he removed his last grenade and depressed the red priming button on the top and used his foot to keep the doors open wide enough to fit the grenade through the gap. Roland carefully placed the explosive between the two so the doors kept the grenade primed.
“Try and catch me now.” Roland turned to leave with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
Thud
He froze at the sound of the doors opening and the grenade hitting the floor behind him. Without even stopping to scream some profanity, Roland sprinted away from the lift without looking back. Two guards came rushing out of the door to his right, offering the opportunity of safety. The bounty hunter bounded into closest Shay, knocking them both into the room as the grenade released its payload, shredding the corridor with shrapnel. The other Shay was blown away in the explosion, sending half of his body down the corridor.
Roland rolled off the winded Shay, feeling a little dizzy himself. Once again his hearing had been shot to shit by yet another explosion of his doing. Smoke poured into the room with the distant sound of sparks and an acrid smell.
“It opened the doors...” Roland half whispered to himself, ignoring the recovering Sha
y.
“In the words of Roland North,” Ch’len cut in, “no shit!”
The surviving Shay picked him roughly off the floor with augmented arms. Roland could see the pistons that had been surgically fitted to replace the alien’s biceps.
“You’re dead!” the guard pinned him to the wall...
The space between them flared with brilliant blue. The Shay gasped with an expression of surprise and horror before looking down to see Roland’s Tri-roller pressed into his gut.
“Amateur.” Roland pushed the Shay until he fell to the floor and replaced his gun.
“You need to go up a level.” Ch’len came back with more directions.
Roland sighed with exhaustion setting in. His joints felt like they could go on forever with their enhancements, but his muscles were starving for oxygen and his lungs burned with all the smoke he’d inhaled.
“There’s a Translift round the corner. Try not to blow this one up,” Ch’len said.
The corridors were chaotic with personnel running for exits in every direction while trying to save their precious work. The sight of a human striding through their midst only terrified them more. It wasn’t long before he found himself prising open the next Translift, which of course refused to take him up a level.
“I don’t understand.” Roland had to shoot the emergency hatch to get through it. “Why did the cube let us get this far before taking over the lifts?”
“It might have been something to do with the ship that parked in its lobby.” Ch’len’s sarcasm was on form as usual. “Maybe you should thank Kubrackk before you kill him.”
“I’ll try and remember that.” Roland climbed up the service ladder and planted a mine on the door above. He made sure to cover his ears this time.
The next level was a simple corridor lined with a panoramic view of Clave Tower to its right. On the left was a field of tall black servers in row after row, each blinking with various lights to indicate their function. A lone monitor sat in the centre, at the front of the terminals, with a bank of holograms surrounding it.
Tempest: Book Two of the Terran Cycle Page 39