Heretic

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The Brenine whimpered and hesitated. “He’s in the Qelt Wastes!”

  Roland had never heard of it, but it didn’t sound like a place someone as rich and resourceful as Gor-van would stay. Despite that, the bounty hunter was sure Hon hadn’t lied to him.

  He pressed his thumb a little firmer into the Brenine’s eye, eliciting a pathetic yelp. “Well don’t stop there…”

  Hon Valorga’s lip quivered. “He has a safe house out there -”

  “Where’s there?” Roland’s interruption made the Brenine jump.

  “It’s in the southern hemisphere, near Q’altat. It’s just a desert. The exact coordinates are on my terminal.”

  “Details…”

  Now Hon could see light at the end of the tunnel. Answers kept pain at bay, giving him the illusion that Roland was reasonable and would, therefore, allow him to live when they were finished. Little did he know that the bounty hunter from Earth was far from reasonable.

  “It doesn’t look like much. It’s an old house, simple in design. Of course, Gor-van stays underneath it, in the real complex.”

  “Security…” Roland lightened the pressure over Hon’s eye.

  “Sensors detect anything ten feet off the ground. No ship can sneak up on the house. As for personnel, I have no idea.”

  Roland returned the pressure over Hon’s eye, sensing omission.

  The Brenine squirmed again. “Okay, okay! I don’t know exactly how many guys he has, but he always orders twelve girls on top of his three. I don’t know if that’s one girl per guard though.”

  Roland lifted his thumb somewhat. “Escape routes? Hidden tunnels?”

  “None, just a hangar underground, disguised as more desert.”

  Roland chewed it over for a moment, letting the Brenine fear what might come next. He didn’t think Hon was lying to him, but aliens were harder to read than humans.

  “Okay, Hon.” Roland removed a small device from his waist, used for cracking codes on safes, and placed it under the Brenine’s head. “Now you’re resting on a pressure mine,” he lied. “So do yourself a favour and stay very still.” Roland lifted his thumb from his victim’s only eye and retrieved the snap-shackles from a compartment in the suit’s thigh. “This is going to hurt. Don’t scream.”

  He ripped the Terran blade from Hon’s hand and replaced it on his back. The Brenine did his best to stifle his scream and keep his head still. Roland put Hon’s wrists together and used the snap-shackles to bind his hands. The stick snapped around his pale skin until both ends bonded together.

  “Now if your info turns out to be shit, I’ll come back and kill you a lot slower than that pressure mine.” Roland meant it. If the information was bogus, he would happily return and take his time sending Hon into the next life.

  Roland didn’t deactivate his cloaking systems until the Rackham’s hold sealed up behind him. He happily removed the helmet and unceremoniously dumped it in the kitchen on his way to the bridge. He didn’t even attempt to take the rest of the suit off; he would need Ch’len’s help in that department.

  Kicking the empty bottles of beer aside, Roland dropped into his chair and brought up the nav array, searching for the Qelt Wastes. Ch’len didn’t say anything, clearly uncomfortable with Roland’s recent proclivities. That was fine by Roland; he didn’t keep the Ch’kara around for chit-chat. The silence made the bounty hunter uncomfortable, however. Even the background sound of Ch’len’s munching was oddly absent.

  “Nice work with The Laronian thing,” Roland commented as he plotted a course for the Qelt Wastes.

  “Thanks. Nice work with the…” Ch’len searched for the word. “Well, I guess there is no replacing the word torture.”

  Roland chewed over his response. “It’s the only way…”

  “I don’t have a problem with you torturing dirtbags like Hon Valorga or Lan-vid if that’s what it takes. My problem is…”

  “What?” Roland pressed.

  “If, and it’s a huge if, but if Li’ara is still alive and she miraculously survived the explosion, where’s she been for the last three months?”

  That same question had plagued Roland’s mind, but it was a question he couldn’t answer until he solved the first mystery; how did she survive?

  Roland had no answer for Ch’len. “The next piece of the puzzle is in the Qelt Wastes. One mystery at a time, Len.”

  Chapter 9

  Kalian stood by the Advent’s air-lock with anticipation. Despite all the shit that the universe had piled onto his shoulders over the last year, the thought of actually stepping foot on the planet that truly birthed humanity was exciting. For the briefest of moments, he was able to think of something other than Li’ara. But only for a moment.

  “A suit has been prepared for you,” Naydaalan announced as he entered the small hold. “It will provide three hours of oxygen.”

  Kalian offered the Novaarian a smug smile. “I’ve already got a suit.”

  Using his Terran abilities, Kalian increased the strength of the electromagnetic field around both of his hands. This prompted the nanocelium in his suit to extend across his bare skin and cover his hands with strong, but flexible, gloves. With his right hand, Kalian cupped his fingers, activating the holographic menu that emitted from the ends of his fingers. A couple of flexes between the digits commanded the nanocelium around his neck to change shape and form a sleek helmet that completely coated his head and face. There were no apparent eyes on the outside, but Kalian was given a view from the inside as if there was no covering at all.

  Naydaalan looked at his own suit which, despite its technological elegance, appeared bulky and archaic in comparison. The Novaarian’s face was cast in a purple light behind the glass front of his helmet. A small mech hovered by his side, its contents filled with the tools and instruments that would be needed to fix the ship’s long-range sensor dish.

  Naydaalan used the panel on his lower arm to open the hatch and lower the ramp. Kalian was ready to adapt his eyes to the natural light that flooded the hold, but the suit took care of the glare. What awaited them was oddly beautiful, in its own way.

  Kalian and Naydaalan stepped out and looked upon the amalgamation of jungle and city. The opposing landscapes had come together over the course of two hundred thousand years, combating and evolving to weather the ever-changing levels of radiation. There wasn’t a single building or Terran-made object left intact. The roads and footpaths were indistinguishable, overgrown with thick green and blue vegetation. Broken arches and burnt corners poked out between the branches and weeds. Judging by the space in which the Advent had landed, Kalian guessed them to be standing in what was once a courtyard - though it could easily have been the foundations of an ancient building.

  Kicking a root aside, Kalian knelt down and brushed his gloved hand over the soil, before grabbing a handful. He watched it fall through his fingers intently while thinking about its importance. ALF was by his side, watching him. How long he had been standing there, Kalian didn’t know.

  “How does it feel?” Naydaalan asked. “To be the first of your kind to return here…”

  Kalian dropped the handful of dirt and stood up, with one eye on ALF. “Underwhelming.” The blue sky was becoming stained with the long fingers of the approaching storm. “I’ll look for the Starforge while you work on the Advent.”

  Naydaalan wasn’t convinced. “It would be safer if we stay together. We can both search for the Starforge when I’m finished.”

  Kalian looked up at the tainted sky. “We don’t have time. The speed of those winds will sweep us across the horizon. I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

  ALF pointed down what had once been a busy street. “The Starforge is this way.”

  “I know.” Kalian continued to stride through the foliage, using subtle telekinetic movements to push the large, hanging leaves aside. “I walked these streets inside the subconducer.”

  They walked in silence for a while as
they navigated the overgrown jungle and toppled buildings. Kalian was forced to lift tons of rubble out of the way, allowing them to pass through a skyscraper that now lay across the ground like a fallen giant. Certain parts were not easily moved, due to structural integrity, making Kalian search for safer routes through the heart of the ancient city.

  “There’s nothing left of them…” Kalian commented, scanning the ground. “No bones. No sign that anything ever lived here.”

  “Savrick was thorough,” ALF replied in a sombre tone. “I failed him most of all.”

  Kalian looked at the AI, wondering for a moment if ALF could see his face inside the helmet. ALF had often spoken of his role in the Terran community, usually comparing himself to a parent, but rarely taking any blame. The part of his construct left on Naveen was only a part of the whole, he had always said. The AI had split his personality into three pieces in order to effectively run the Terran society. One part to oversee and govern the day-to-day living, transport and energy requirements across an empire that spanned thousands of lightyears. The second part was there to meet the Terran on their level, as an interface. It was in their homes and on their ships, a guiding hand through life.

  The part left on Naveen, the part that was currently bound to his exo-suit, was the third and final piece. This particular portion of ALF had been designed to teach the Terran about their natural abilities. Of course, to the Terran, there were no three sides to the whole, there was just ALF.

  “They made me to help them,” ALF continued, surveying the remains of Albadar’s capital. “Before me, they only knew war. I watched them develop their natural abilities and find their place in the universe. I was proud to be among their creations, their achievements.”

  Kalian stopped in the middle of what his memories told him was once a plaza. “Just stop!” Kalian wanted to pinch his eyes in exasperation. “Savrick found the first cube on Hadrok, just like the Conclave discovered the cube on Trantax IV. They’re ancient. Older than you, apparently. You told me that the Terran were at war long before your creation and that nanocelium was their weapon of choice.” ALF nodded along. “Then you came along and brought an end to all the wars and took control. Are you telling me that you didn’t catalogue everything that came before you? The cubes are made of nanocelium, meaning they must be creations of the Terran. The cubes must have been in a database or something!”

  “I can see that you’re frustrated,” ALF replied irritatingly. “How long has it been since you slept, or meditated?”

  “I’m rested!” Kalian lied. “This is about you and the Terran! Whatever’s hunting my people down, whatever drove Savrick to start the civil war and destroy Earth, it started here, with you.” Kalian was pacing now. “And what’s Evalan?”

  ALF’s mouth was half open, ready to respond with an answer until Kalian asked his last question. Evalan was a mystery to them all. The word had been found on both cubes, and Kalian was confident that had he been able to inspect the cube inside Protocorps HQ, the word would have been engraved on it too.

  “I already told you,” ALF said, “I don’t know.”

  Kalian swivelled on the holographic projection. “It was written in a language you created!”

  “A language you can understand,” ALF countered. “You know as well as I that it has no meaning in Terran. There was no person or place called Evalan in the Terran Empire!” It was the first time ALF had matched Kalian’s aggressive tone. “As for everything else; I have no idea! Yes, I catalogued everything, but the Terran were at war for years after my creation. It took me an age to earn their trust and turn things around. Things get lost in war. The cubes are… I don’t know what they are. If they were indeed made by the Terran then they were made eons ago, before Earth even had oceans.” ALF paused as if considering his next words. “We should go to the Criterion. There are no answers here.”

  Kalian didn’t know what to think, and that was the problem. He had no Li’ara or Esabelle to help him. No one he could trust. ALF’s words made sense, but none of it sat right with Kalian. The heads-up display inside his visor informed him of the rising levels of radiation. Thanks to the suit, he was in no danger, but the rising levels were a forewarning of the approaching storm. Without another word, Kalian pressed on.

  After clearing the road of a giant stone head, covered in foliage, Kalian finally came across the central square of the city. The Starforge was positioned in the centre of the square, with six other roads leading away from it, like the spokes on a wheel. The forge was a ruin. The semi-circular piece of technology had been snapped, twisted and bent out of shape. The ground beneath it was like that of a mountain range, having suffered the effects of multiple earthquakes over the millennia.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered if it was in perfect condition,” ALF offered. “Its power source is based several hundred miles from here, in the ocean. The connections between it and the Starforge will have been severed in the initial attack. It’s dead.”

  Kalian looked at the small icon in the corner of his HUD and activated the comm-link to Naydaalan. “We found the Starforge…”

  “Judging by your tone, I assume it is inoperable?” Naydaalan replied.

  “Inoperable is an understatement.” Kalian scanned the area, looking for nothing in particular. “Have you fixed the array yet?”

  “Not quite. Those nanocelium leeches should be avoided in the future...” Naydaalan sounded frustrated, and rightly so. Kalian had been treating him as if he were nothing but an unwanted tag-along.

  “I’m heading back now. We should leave before that storm…” Kalian broke off, looking into the distance with a furrowed brow.

  “Kalian?” Naydaalan inquired.

  Kalian narrowed his vision to the alley between two buildings, beyond the Starforge. Somewhere in all the vines and giant leaves, he was sure he could see something, something with eyes. There was more movement, this time from a third-storey window above the alley, and then another flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. Kalian used the suit’s sensors to initiate a quick sweep.

  “Don’t rely on the suit,” ALF said.

  The creatures were immediately surrounded by a red outline, via his helmet’s HUD. They were large animals, the size of a horse at least. The scans produced a small holographic image that only Kalian could see. The creatures had four legs, each with three razor-sharp claws. Their face was somewhere between that of a lizard and a lion, but most certainly full of teeth. A long tail whipped out behind them, not dissimilar from a rat.

  They were predators.

  “What are they?” Kalian asked aloud.

  “They look like Bragans,” ALF’s hologram had disappeared now.

  Kalian searched for the name in the Terran databanks that filled his subconscious mind. A Bragan had been a small reptile, native to Albadar thousands of years ago. At the time of the Terran civil war, they had been no bigger than a man’s arm.

  “So that’s what two hundred thousand years of irradiated evolution looks like…” Kalian shut down the scan and expanded his awareness. His mind filled the square, taking in every molecule as if he were a part of it.

  “Kalian? What’s happening?” Naydaalan asked.

  There were hundreds of them. Kalian’s awareness found all of them in the blink of an eye, their intelligence glowing like stars in the dark. Most of them were hiding in the greenery and decimated buildings around the square. Not only could he feel their intelligence, but Kalian could also feel the adrenaline pumping through their blood. The Bragans had found today’s meal.

  “Naydaalan? Are you still outside the ship?” Kalian had visions of the beasts prowling around the Advent, stalking the Novaarian.

  “Yes. I am just replacing the array panel now.”

  “You need to get inside the Advent, now.” Kalian took some cautionary steps back.

  “Is there a problem, Kalian?” Naydaalan asked, concerned.

  “Not everything on this planet was wiped out. Some of the local wildli
fe has taken an interest in me.” Kalian used telekinesis to push aside the branches and vines behind his feet. As he moved backward, so too did the Bragans advance forward.

  “Do you require assistance?”

  “No he doesn’t, just -” ALF’s reply was cut off when Kalian disabled the audio.

  “I’ll be fine, just get inside the ship and keep the engine running. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “By my calculations, it took you an hour to reach your current destination.” Naydaalan sounded as if he was moving.

  The Bragans closed in.

  “The Sentinel was a pretty cramped ship for something so big. It’s been a while since I stretched my legs…” Kalian had already mapped out his route back to the Advent.

  The Bragan sprung from their hiding spots at the same moment Kalian turned around and dashed for the nearest building. Their roars were accompanied by the thundering of hundreds of feet. Kalian ignored the sounds and focused on his surroundings, allowing his mind to spill out into the old streets and feed him an image of the terrain that lay ahead. Contorting his body into every shape possible, Kalian jumped through jagged holes and over fallen walls, all the while avoiding the thicker branches and entangled vines. A Bragan, who thought it had been lying secretly in wait, exploded from behind its concrete cover. Kalian didn’t stop for the beast, but instead held out his hand, palm open, and forced the Bragan through a wall with telekinesis. After the creature burst through to the other side, Kalian jumped over its limp body and continued his sprint.

  The Bragan were fast, faster than any land animal Earth had ever known. Kalian was reminded of his daily runs with Esabelle, aboard the Gommarian. The four-legged animals were coming up on his side now, tackling the terrain with ease and experience - the pack had hunted in these grounds before.

  To keep the Bragans on their toes, Kalian increased his speed, using telekinesis to push him further with every stride. Just when one of the beasts thought he was in their grasp, Kalian skipped a step and altered his trajectory in a single bound, causing many of the Bragans to skid into one another. A tumble of limbs and angered roars brought a smile to his lips. It was perhaps the first time in three months that Kalian had found a genuine smile on his face. Unleashing his powers like this and enjoying his Terran abilities was impossible inside the Conclave. Being what he was scared them.