by Neil Davies
"Carlton must be stopped!" he snapped, his voice strong, adamant.
Suzex smiled openly. That political confidence was back.
The Mayor was on his feet now, pacing back and forth.
"It's too late to stop the treaty, but we must do something about Carlton."
"That's where Szuiltan help is necessary," said Suzex. "With their military power you can seize control of Aks before Carlton returns. He will have no choice but to surrender to you. Once you have Aks and an alliance with Szuilta, even Earth will tremble."
A faint smile crossed the Mayor's face. Leader Lane. Perhaps, with Szuiltan help, he could finally take the war to Earth itself and end it once and for all? To control both Aks and Earth, to put their Priesthood to death and convert a whole world to the true Larnian faith, surely then his glorious afterlife would be guaranteed? It would be the ultimate missionary triumph. The conversion of Earth!
"You must leave," he said, turning to Suzex. "You're right, you must go and negotiate further and quickly with the Szuiltan President. Once the treaty has been signed, Carlton will head straight back, I'm sure. We must be ready for him when he returns."
Suzex bowed to the Mayor. It had worked perfectly. The Mayor was back in control of both himself and the situation.
"My ship is ready to leave," said Suzex as the Mayor re-seated himself. "As for the signing of the treaty? It's never too late to stop something that hasn't yet happened."
Chapter 31
They were led along the approach path and through the climate lock of the semi-solid, constantly adjusting protective shield around the planet. There was nothing unfamiliar about it to Steve and, although he wouldn't swear to it, he thought he glimpsed the stylised curving 'R' logo of the Reagold Corporation drifting past. Perhaps that wasn't surprising? The largest, most powerful technology corporation in the known galaxy was not going to ignore the commercial opportunities of trade with an alien race, the alien race.
Both men aboard The Seven Deadly Sins were silent as the ungainly ship was guided down towards the planet surface and they caught their first true glimpse of The Great Sea.
It covered, according to those first and only estimates, about a fifth of the planet and was the only surface water found on Szuilta. There were no rivers running into or out of it. If there was rainfall on the planet, and none had ever been documented, it left behind no lakes, streams or even puddles on the encircling landmass. It was presumed, by those human scientists attempting to learn more about this alien race and its planet, that The Great Sea was fed by underground water sources, although none had been detected on the minimal scanning allowed by the Szuiltans.
The Szuiltans themselves showed no interest in The Great Sea, nor in their planet generally. They had a place to live. That was the beginning and end of their apparent interest. They seemed incapable of understanding the curiosity shown by the human scientists who regularly requested, and were refused, permission to visit and study.
The Szuiltan craft ahead of them skimmed the waves, flying so low that occasional wind-flicked foam would spatter the hull. The Seven Deadly Sins, in contrast, could not be described as 'skimming' by even the most imaginative of poets. It blundered. It ploughed. It smashed through everything before it, air and sea, like an enraged bull in a particularly fine and delicate china shop.
Steve fastened his seat belt as the ship shuddered and rattled.
"Are they trying to kill us?"
Jack, fists gripping the edges of his seat but, as yet, not belted in, let out a long, slow breath. It helped to calm him. Slightly.
"I guess they like a low approach to their land. Maybe it's screened above a certain height?" Or maybe they just like to scare the shit out of visitors!
On the vid-screen they could see the hard line of the land cutting across the horizon. As they watched, the granite-like cliffs grew out of the water, rising higher and higher, sharp jagged peaks and gouged valleys growing sharper as they approached at high speed.
Weather erosion on a planet with so little weather?
The leading edge of the land seemed almost carved, a sculptor's idea of what a mountain range should look like, but solid nonetheless.
"If we don't pull up soon…"
Jack had almost closed his eyes, was grimacing from the expected collision, when the two ships finally rose sharply, barely clearing the topmost peaks of the mountains, and levelled out above a grey, flat, unmarked desert of a landscape.
Steve, still unwilling to unfasten his seatbelt, stared with a puzzled frown at the screen on the flight board.
"Not exactly densely populated is it? Where's the spaceport?"
Jack, peering further into the distance, pointed at the screen.
"Think down."
The desert fell away beneath them and they dropped into an enormous depression in the surface, which Jack estimated it to be at least five miles in diameter. Shadows thrown by the Szuiltan sun, filtered through the climate shield, seemed to gather at the centre. The deep black of the shadows concealed the ground within, except there was no ground within, just a hole leading down into the planet's interior.
Steve finally smiled, fear overwhelmed by curiosity and adventure.
“This is more like it. Now this is different!”
They lost external visual as The Seven Deadly Sins sank below the planet's surface. Steve tried half-heartedly to get the signal back, but he had no real doubts that the Szuiltans controlled that just as they controlled everything else about their journey here.
The descent was short and surprisingly smooth, particularly after the rough ride across The Great Sea. When they came to a stop it was sudden but not jarring. Other than a few creaks and groans, the ship settled calmly into its berth at the Szuiltan spaceport.
"Humans."
Steve jumped as the voice exploded from the flight board.
"Prepare to disembark while we unload your cargo."
Steve glanced back at Jack.
“Normally I’d stay with the ship but…”
Jack smiled and nodded. “Can’t come to the one and only alien civilisation and not do the grand tour now can we?” And I can’t find out much stuck in here.
Steve flicked the transmit switch.
"We’re on our way."
The spaceport Steve and Jack stepped out into was not that different from other spaceports around the galaxy, functional, cavernous, the main area a wide, empty space for ships to land and take-off. Around the edges were loading and unloading berths, one of which now housed The Seven Deadly Sins. The whole area was surrounded by tall, windowless walls. There was no apparent way out.
Jack had time to notice that the other berths were all empty before movement ahead of them caught his attention.
Two creatures, impressive in their height, at least seven-foot tall, and intimidating in their broad shoulders, muscular arms and legs and brown matted hair that did little to hide their nakedness strode forward. Despite their slight resemblance to the larger apes he had seen on histories of Earth, their gait was unsettlingly human, their faces animated, scowling, their eyes empty of intelligence but deep and black with barely suppressed violence.
“Bosens,” hissed Steve as the unwashed stench rolled over them almost causing him to gag.
Leading the two Bosens was a small floating globe roughly one-foot in diameter, gleaming like metal but undulating, pulsing like a barely contained and alive viscous liquid. It stopped within three feet of them, the Bosens lumbering to a halt behind it, towering over the traders.
"You will follow me."
The voice emanated from the globe and sounded very much like the voice that had spoken to them onboard their ship.
"Like we have a choice?" joked Steve nervously in an aside to Jack before they both fell in behind the globe as it floated back the way it had come. The two Bosens, to Steve’s great discomfort, let them pass and then followed.
Jack, with nerves tempered over years of active duty for the T.I.C., ignored their
entourage and looked about him as they walked. He wanted to be impressed, to be awestruck by the strangeness, the alienness of their surroundings, but other than a doorway that seemed to just fade into existence in one of the walls, he saw nothing but a plain corridor as they were led away from the spaceport.
"I don't think much of your adventure," he whispered to Steve as they walked further into the featureless interior.
The Szuiltan President floated, his shapeless form dripping and pooling on the floor, gelatinous, fluid, grey and ever changing. As he spoke in the bubbling, gurgling language of Szuilta the top of his form pulsated with the same disjointed rhythm of his speech.
"They have arrived?"
The Presidential Advisor, drifting around the President in the circular, lazy dance that was indicative of a subservient Szuiltan in conference with a superior, pulsated in reply.
"Yes President. They are, at this moment, being led to the allotted chamber."
“Our human friend is due to arrive soon. They must remain isolated. Our friend does not yet wish his plans revealed.”
“I understand President. The human traders will be kept in isolation until our friend has disembarked.”
“Perhaps with the help of our friend and the plans we are setting in motion we can look forward to a time when we do not rely on human traders so much. It is demeaning to require base commerce.”
“Our greatest military and scientific minds are of the same opinion President.”
The pool of bodily matter beneath the President undulated, grey globules pulling free, rising, melting back into the main form as more dripped, a constant circular process indicative of the President’s great age. He was one of the few Second Generation still functioning. None of the Ancients survived other than in bio-memory banks, their wisdom stored, their forms gone forever.
The Presidential Advisor, Eleventh Generation, retreated from his elder, the conference over. He must ensure the human traders were truly isolated as promised. There were many more Eleventh Generation and younger waiting to take his place should he error.
The room that Steve and Jack had been led into was as featureless as the corridor they left behind. Blank white walls curved up on each side, forming a smooth shiny dome above their heads. Five chairs, utilitarian and unpadded, were scattered about and a low, square table sat centrally. There was no thought, no design in the room. Steve felt sure the Szuiltans themselves would never use such furniture.
The door had not so much closed as reappeared behind them, leaving the wall as blank and featureless as the rest. Steve had not been paying particular attention in that direction but he could not remember a door actually opening. One moment they were walking towards a blank wall, the next there was a doorway. He had been too busy glancing back at the Bosens, trying not to breathe their fetid odour, trying not to show just how scared they made him.
That had been several hours ago. They had heard nothing, been given no idea of how long they would have to wait. Most trades would be all but complete by now and they would be preparing for the journey home.
Steve sat in one of the chairs opposite the wall where, he was fairly certain, the door was, trying to relax, to ignore the slow passage of time, but the hard chair and disquieting surroundings made it impossible. He watched Jack pace the floor as he had been doing, on and off, since they had been locked in, always returning to the invisible doorway, examining, staring as if it would open through the power of his will alone.
“Why don’t you just sit down? There’s nothing we can do but wait until they’ve finished unloading and checking the cargo. When we can leave they’ll come and get us.”
Jack stopped pacing and turned to Steve. His agitation, his increasing worry, had nothing to do with the trade. This mission was failing badly. Szuilta had none of the freedoms found at human ports and it was obvious he would not get the time or opportunity to explore and discover anything of worth for the Council. To salvage anything from this he needed as much help as possible. Nevertheless he hesitated. Deception had become a part of his life since signing up with the Trading Inner Council and he accepted the necessity of it, even with his closest friends. However, that did not make him feel any more comfortable about owning up to that deception. But if he was to help, Steve needed to know at least the basics.
“It’s no coincidence that you’re on this trade Steve, and I’m not on it because I want to get back into trading. Sellit arranged the whole thing.”
“What?” Steve sat forward, confused, a faint grumble of worry starting in his stomach. “What are you talking about Jack?”
“Something’s going on here on Szuilta, something we need to know about. You ever heard of Suzex?”
Steve shook his head.
“No, well, I guess it’s not surprising really. That whole affair was never made public, the Inner Council kept it under wraps.”
“Inner Council? What the fuck are you on Jack?”
“I haven’t got time to explain it to you just now, but you need to help me. I was hoping to get a chance to sneak off, take a look around on my own, but that’s not going to happen. I need your help to look for evidence when we’re led out of here. There might be something, something small, something seemingly insignificant. I need you to remember as much detail as you can and then we’ll debrief on the way home. ”
Steve felt the grip of panic. Jack was evidently mad. You never abused the hospitality of a customer, and despite their non-human origins and the noticeable lack of any real hospitality, the Szuiltans were still customers. Spying was classed as gross misconduct in the Traders’ Bible. He could lose his licence.
“I’m not risking my livelihood because you’ve dreamed up some conspiracy theory about Szuilta. Not a chance. For that matter I don’t want you snooping around either. On paper at least I’m the Captain of The Sins, which means anything that happens on this trade will be seen as my responsibility.”
“Steve, please understand. This is vitally important. The Inner Council…”
“What ‘inner council’?” interrupted Steve, raising his voice. “I’ve no idea where this idea of some mystical ‘inner council’ has come from Jack but it doesn’t exist. I’ve been a trader long enough to know what’s going on and my guess is the only ‘inner council’ is inside your head. Don’t drag me into your madness.”
Jack kept his voice calm, hoping to placate his friend, gain his trust and cooperation.
“All I’m asking you to do is keep your eyes open and remember what you see. There’s nothing wrong in that is there?”
“To you it’s only looking, but I’ll know it’s spying. Sorry Jack, we’ve been friends a long time but I’m not putting my licence under threat.”
Jack fell silent, defeated. He knew he had taken a risk in telling Steve the truth and it had backfired. He would need to tell the Council when they got back to Sellit. Steve would need debriefing, possibly even some memory wiping, although that was a risky procedure. Knowing Steve’s volatile nature, however, that risk might be something they just had to take.
Chapter 32
Martin stood stiffly to attention in one corner of the Controller's room aboard 'Armistice'. His expression was grim, his mind a bitter turmoil of emotions. He had made a powerful enemy in Loadra through no effort on his part. The Controller continued to use him against the High Priest, as if tempting him into anger, goading him into an action that would leave the Priesthood back on Earth no choice but to withdraw him from the position of Religious Advisor to the Controller. Was that really what the Controller wanted?
The High Priest had arrived several minutes earlier, at the Controller’s personal request, and now stood with the Controller and his other advisers and ministers by the opposite wall. They discussed the coming events, the signing of the treaty in less than three hour's time, and yet still Loadra found time to glare with hatred towards Martin.
Prepare to be hated. The words of his commanding officer on the occasion of Martin's promotion to Lieute
nant returned to him. Your soldiers may hate you, everyone hates those who can give the orders, but as long as they respect you they'll obey.
The small ceremony had taken place in Commander Bryant's office on the fortress moon of Primary-Keep, an artificially created world set in orbit around Earth, almost directly opposite the natural satellite of the moon. Present, other than Martin and Commander Bryant, had been a junior minister from the Controller's government and several reporters. The minister would not normally have attended such a routine event had Martin not been offered the promotion after a well publicised and morale boosting battle on some distant planet that Martin had already forgotten the name of, even by the time of the ceremony. A ministerial presence was felt necessary, especially with the media coverage expected. For the briefest of moments Martin had been a media and public hero. Needless to say, it had faded as quickly as it had risen and he suspected no one even remembered who he was back home now.
Your soldiers must do what you ask without any hesitation or question. Behind your back they will call you every name you can think of and several that you can't, but they will kill anyone outside of their ranks who dares to do the same. Respect, it all revolves around respect.
Respect. That was what Martin was lacking now. No one respected him. His companions in this specialised force treated him politely but always as an outsider, a partygoer who had been invited by the host for all the wrong reasons. The Controller saw him simply as a pawn, something to be used to further his own ends. And Loadra hated him, considered him to be a traitor and both untrustworthy and next to useless. He missed the respect he had always enjoyed in the Terramarines.
Loadra also felt that he had lost respect. The respect of his fellow advisors to the Controller, and the respect of the Controller himself. It comforted him slightly to know that his Priesthood still maintained their respect both for him and for the task he undertook as their ambassador when the Controller travelled.