by Neil Davies
"Well, from what I've picked up from the limited data available to Sellit Control," and filtering some of the information given me in my T.I.C. briefing, "no-one knew Szuilta even existed until about eight years ago. They contacted one of the ex-colonial worlds out on the rim, not so much to make friends as to instigate trade. Seems they knew of us even though we didn't know of them. They'd basically kept out of our way but now they needed supplies they could no longer provide internally, or something like that. The reports seem a bit vague. It all caused quite a fuss in the media at the time. First truly alien race found in all our years of colonising worlds."
"Spare me the history of mankind's expansion through the galaxy will you? I'm not completely ignorant. I watch the news."
"You spent more time touching up Sharon under the desk during history than actually listening to the teacher if I remember rightly."
Steve laughed. "So I wasn't a good student. Who gives a shit? I've picked up more since leaving college and doing this job than I ever did back on Earth, and I know enough about our colonisation history to get by so, do you mind? Just stick to Szuilta. Thank you."
"Philistine."
"I also know enough ancient religious history to know that the Philistines were actually highly educated and the use of them as an insult is misguided, so I take that as a complement."
Jack joined the laughter. Steve hadn't changed. There was an educated mind behind the almost caricatured image of the rugged, ignorant Space Trader. Steve just chose not to let it surface too often.
"Szuilta, right." said Jack, glancing at the documents on the desktop before him. "Not much else to tell really. There are no pictures of the Szuiltans, they seem averse to that, but reports have it that they are definitely non-humanoid. All of our trading with them has been done through some sort of communicator and translator globes and a humanoid lifeform called, as closely as it can be interpreted into our language anyway, Bosens. These seem to be slaves of the Szuiltans and, by all accounts, are pretty much brainless followers of orders."
"Pictures?" Steve opened his eyes and sat up in the chair.
"One coming up on your screen..." Jack tapped a code into the keyboard inlaid into his desktop, "...now."
Steve stared in silence at the image. It showed a basically humanoid creature covered in thick, matted black hair. The facial features were indistinguishable, but even through the hair it was obvious that the creature was muscular and, no doubt, very strong.
"There's no scale on this thing."
Jack checked the notes. "They stand on average about seven foot tall."
"Great Larn! I wouldn't like to piss one of those off."
"And that's it really. All the rest is about the previous trades completed with them and some geographical and astrological data."
"Anything out of the ordinary?"
"Says here that Szuilta is basically land-locked, with one exception. One large mass of water dubbed in the reports as The Great Sea."
"Another loose translation?"
"I would guess so. Anyway, there don't seem to be any rivers running into or out of it, just this Great Sea stuck in the middle of all this land. Takes up about a fifth of the surface area of the planet apparently."
"It's either got some major underground rivers or it’s the biggest disease-ridden stagnant pond ever found. Either way, it’s not our job to investigate it." Steve pushed himself to his feet and stretched. "Summary?"
"They keep to themselves. They seem to pay on delivery without much fuss. If they weren't alien you probably wouldn't give them a second thought."
"Makes you wonder why the other traders were so reluctant to take the trade doesn't it?"
Jack said nothing. Does Steve suspect the truth? That the trade was deliberately re-routed away from the normal channels?
"I'm going to get dressed. You better settle in for a long trip. This ship is not exactly the fastest thing going."
Steve left the control room, his bare feet slapping down the corridor as he went.
Jack relaxed. It had just been a casual comment, he was certain of it. Steve would have said more, would probably have confronted him directly if he were truly suspicious.
He skimmed over the notes on the screen in front of him one more time. What was missing, of course, was the T.I.C. data regarding the Szuiltan's interest in the Aks-Earth war and the possible involvement of Suzex. All rumour and conjecture at this point. Hopefully this trading mission would give them some more concrete information.
Chapter 18
After the initial introductions, Suzex, who was intimidating even when smiling, had fallen into a scowling silence, studying the illuminated display of the small computer he had pulled from his jacket pocket. The angle allowed Mayor Lane to see that words were appearing on the display but made them unreadable to him. He had to resist the urge to lean over and look. He didn’t think that Suzex would take kindly to such rudeness.
Sand still clattered against the outside of the hotel, although the storm had subsided since its initial fury. The sound was eerie in the empty silence of the room, like the rattling of falling soil on a coffin lid. The Mayor shuddered at the morbid imagery. He was not prone to creating such dark comparisons in his mind and this one caused him to shift uncomfortably in his seat and clasp his hands together tightly. It unsettled him. This meeting, this hotel, this man unsettled him, pushed his mind down grim avenues he would rather not explore. He thought of himself as a positive man, able to see the possibilities in the direst situations. He had ploughed his way through the political minefield by taking advantage of those possibilities and this had seemed another one, perhaps the one he needed to make that final political jump from Mayor to Leader.
He hated the treaty, this supposed diplomatic triumph by Carlton that was dragging them towards a peace with the hated enemy. Yet even there, with Larn's help and guidance, he had seen a possibility, a chance to turn the disaster of the treaty into victory for the true Larnian faith and the destruction of the corruption that was Earth and its priesthood.
"The public, Mr Mayor."
Suzex spoke suddenly, his voice booming, shocking Mayor Lane out of his thoughtful meanderings.
"I'm sorry?" The Mayor's voice was weak and crackling with the dryness in his throat. He coughed and spoke again, this time more clearly. "I don't understand."
"The great Aksian public, the common people. The mob if you will." Suzex smiled, an underlying viciousness even in that outwardly friendly expression. "Is it fair to say they view the coming treaty with mixed feelings?"
"There is some support for Carlton, more for the man than the policy, but there is also a growing resentment, a gathering of discontent and rebellion..."
Suzex waved his hand dismissively, cutting the Mayor off in mid sentence.
"Save me the speech Mr Mayor. We both know that despite the grumblings it's all very disjointed. No organisation. No leadership."
"I would gladly step forward, but open rebellion would be crushed by those loyal to Carlton in the military. There would be no point..."
"You need a guarantee," interrupted Suzex.
The Mayor swallowed nervously.
"I'm not afraid..."
"Of course you are Mr Mayor," grinned Suzex. "You'd be a foolish man if you weren't. Coming forward with no military backing would be tantamount to political suicide, perhaps actual suicide should Carlton be sufficiently pissed off at your actions. That's why your spies contacted me."
Mayor Lane closed his eyes, gathering his conviction that the Earth's twisted corruption of the Larnian faith was an abhorrence, an evil to be stamped out by whatever means necessary. Personal political gain, while agreeable, was not the reason for his actions. His purpose was pure. Others would see that.
"Talking of spies," continued Suzex, "your enemies have infiltrated your office."
"What?" Lane was stunned, outraged. "Who would dare? If Carlton..."
"Not Carlton. Much worse."
"Earth? But how...
who..." The Mayor fell into speechless fear and anger. What could they have found out? How close to him was the spy?
"Don't concern yourself Mr Mayor," smiled Suzex. "I have spies of my own. It's all being taken care of. For the moment there are more important things to discuss."
"What could be more important..."
"You've heard of Szuilta?" interrupted Suzex. "It's a planet, a planet populated by true aliens."
The name sparked some distant memory in the Mayor and he struggled to calm himself, to push the worrying thoughts of a spy, a traitor, in his own office to one side. He had to concentrate on the larger picture. The spy was simply further proof that Earth could not be trusted.
"There's was some fuss about it in the news when contact was first made I believe."
Suzex nodded. "The only intelligent alien race we’ve so far discovered."
"What has this planet got to do with Aks?" Mayor Lane was confused but too wary of this man to use anything other than a polite enquiry.
"The Szuiltans have a hatred of Earth that surpasses even your own. They would do anything to destroy that planet."
"Why? What possible reason could they have for their hatred? Ours is historical and religious, but what of theirs?"
The Mayor's voice rose in pitch as he spoke, an element of panic lacing the edges, a tightening in his chest forcing the words out hurriedly, shakily. He felt increasingly edgy. A premonition perhaps, although he did not believe in such things, or maybe just the feeling that he was losing any semblance of control over the situation.
Suzex continued to smile, apparently amused by the Mayor’s discomfort.
"I have spoken with the Szuiltan President and he will provide what you need." Suzex paused, watching Mayor Lane slowly assimilate the information. When he spoke again it was slowly and, for a man with his large voice, quietly, almost conspiratorially.
"Szuilta is willing to ally itself with Aks towards the ultimate destruction of your common enemy, Earth. That will be all the backing and support you need… Leader Lane."
Chapter 19
Ursa Mirram lived in central Suburb 12, an address that demonstrated her favourable employment without flaunting it and risking the anger of the increasingly militant gangs of the outer suburbs. Her house was modest, a basic box design much favoured by the cost-conscious Aksian builders, and a sloping roof that was a further indication of the good location. This close to central Aks there was regular rainfall, much of it induced by the weather satellites in geo-stationary orbit above the business and government sectors. In the outlying Suburbs, where the desert pushed its way into every corner and crevice, the residents had to beg for each drop of rain given them. There was no natural rainfall that far into the desert. She had heard the representatives of those suburbs beseeching Mayor Lane, as Senior Administrative Officer, to allow a subtle change in the weather satellites' orbit, to give them regular rainfall, but always the answer was the same, a collection of well-used phrases and pseudoscientific 'facts': delicate balance of nature, the possible harm to the eco-system, the necessity of smoothly run business and government interests. She herself chose to believe a more cynical reason - keeping the common populace under control and pampering those with money and power.
A squadron of Police Craft darted overhead, heading towards the outer suburbs. Perhaps there was trouble again. Social unrest was on the increase and Ursa suspected that not all of it was motivated by social anger. There were undercurrents, suggestions of spies, agent provocateur, inciting youth violence, spreading rumours and, in particular, building the already ambivalent feelings towards Leader Carlton's treaty into an explosive renewal of the general hatred of Earth. Although she had no proof, Ursa suspected Mayor Lane's hand somewhere behind it all. He had his vision fixed firmly on the Leader's office.
Thoughts of the suburbs and the current social unrest brought with them, as they so often did, other thoughts and memories of pleasanter days, happier times before her undercover life and the constant stresses forced upon her.
In her time with the Aksian Special Forces she had travelled, posted to ex-colonial worlds favourable towards the Aksian position in either religion or distrust of Earth. Many of those planets were still surprisingly, pleasantly green, the human cities leaving space for grass and trees. Flowers grew naturally, not nurtured in specially maintained public gardens. She could not remember a time when Aks had been anything but urban sprawl.
The central city of Akasian spread over the face of the planet like a cancerous, pollution-oozing growth, devouring other cities in its hunger to expand, until there was only one city stretching across most of the planet’s surface. The buildings stopped only where they met the desert, the one natural area left on Aks, an area of nature that was too hostile to subjugate and populate. An area that was fighting back by slowly but persistently eating away at the outer suburbs, slowly reclaiming parts of itself, a reclamation that was permitted by the Aksian authorities. Aksians living on the edge of the desert relied on their government for their survival. Politicians on all sides could use that to their advantage.
The outer door of her home opened automatically as she approached, scanners implanted in the composite brick and plastic walls identifying her. Such systems were common in the relatively affluent Suburb 12. As she stepped into the alcove, the outer door closed behind her and an unseen but thorough retinal scan verified her identity. This, as far as she knew, was unique in Suburb 12 and, quite possibly, on the whole of Aks. It had been developed by the T.I.C. for its undercover operatives as a second level of security. Ursa was uncomfortable with it. The closing of the outer door sparked distant memories of a youth plagued by claustrophobia, and she would often disable it for weeks at a time before the fear of possible detection overcame the fear of the enclosed space. She waited agitatedly now for the verification to complete, knowing that it took only a second to do but unable to rid herself of the feeling of time stretching out interminably. She breathed a sigh of relief as the inner door swung open, realising only at that moment that her fists had been clenched so tightly that her fingernails had left deep indentations in her palms.
Her thoughts flicked back to her last meeting with her T.I.C. contact, a carefully arranged ‘chance’ meeting in a bar after work in full view of several of her colleagues. She had seen them smirking as this stranger flirted with her, bought her drinks and persuaded her to a quiet corner table. It amused them to see the harsh, plain, almost masculine Ursa apparently fall for the less-than-subtle approach of this man. She had been aware of them watching, passing close by, listening, eager to gather gossip for the next day at work. It had not concerned her.
They had spoken of trivial things, their conversation delving no deeper into politics than general comments about the unforgivable civil unrest in the outer suburbs and how important it was for the authorities to stamp hard on those responsible. Gradually her colleagues lost interest. By the time Ursa and the man she knew only as Richard stood up to leave the bar together, it raised nothing beyond a half-hearted smile and a whispered comment.
On the slow walk to the overland tram that would take her home, their conversation had switched to more serious matters, away from the curious attentions of others.
"The Council are now convinced that Suzex is involved," said her contact as they strolled beneath glowing street lamps.
"Any idea where he might surface in all this?"
"Not yet. There are some conflicting reports on that, but I've been told to advise you to look for anything that might indicate his presence here on Aks. It's very unlikely he'll ally himself with Earth, he was never that fond of it or its colonies. Aks, however, might give him some twisted satisfaction."
Ursa nodded. "I'll watch for it. Mayor Lane is becoming increasingly jumpy over this treaty business. If I were Suzex I'd work on him."
They had separated with a brief platonic kiss for the benefit of any onlookers.
Now, as the lights in her living room rose on her entry and then
dimmed on her spoken command, she faced the situation she had always dreaded. She must break silence and make direct contact with the Council. This could not wait until her next meeting with Richard, and she had no way of finding him before then. The message to the Mayor, his reaction to it, had convinced her, sent a shudder of fear and excitement through her body. It had to be Suzex, here on Aks and conspiring with the Mayor. The Council must be told.
She crossed the carpeted floor of the living room quickly, stepping round the clutter of chairs and low table that indicated her lack of interest in interior design. At a further barked command, the window in the far wall faded to an opaque grey. The concealed panel in the wall slid open at her coded touch and she removed the communicator that lay within.
She hesitated. This was the first time she had done anything other than look at this communicator. She had never felt the need to directly contact the Council before, and the prospect made her hands tremble. It was dangerous. Such contacts, while secure from people listening-in, were not secure from general detection.
Taking a deep breath, trying desperately not to imagine Aksian scanners roaming the streets outside her door, she reached for the send button.
A noise outside, a strange shuffling, stopped her, finger poised almost touching the button. She strained to hear above the general background sounds of suburban life, traffic, doors opening and closing, a distant dog barking. Had she imagined it? Perhaps her nervousness about this communication was making her overcautious.
No. There it was again. A shuffling, scraping sound coming from the outer wall.
A cold block of fear settled heavily in her stomach.
She was pushing the communicator back behind the concealed panel when the explosion ripped a hole in the wall alongside the window, cracking the toughened glass, sending a shower of brick and plastic and glass cubes into the centre of the living room.
Ursa turned away instinctively, feeling the sharp stabs of pain as debris passed straight through her clothes and embedded itself in her flesh. The blast slammed her face first against the wall and she fell to her knees, already feeling the tickling sensation of blood running down her back and legs.