The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “Don’t take the Translift.” Ch’len’s only warning before it pinged to signify its arrival. Roland would never tell him but it was moments like this he was happy to keep the Ch’kara around. Without waiting to see the half-dozen mercenaries pile out, he unstrapped the gravity bomb from his bicep. He was forced to duck and weave in an attempt to avoid the pot shots that continued to blow the walls and floor to cinders. There was no hesitation as he pulled the cord from the strap activating the release mechanism. There was no more finesse required than simply dropping it at his feet. As expected the bomb did what any bomb did, it exploded. The ball bearings shot out in every direction, sticking to whatever surface they came into contact with.

  As always, Roland found the reaction hilarious. Every ball bearing created a new gravity well that stretched for three metres in every direction. One second the mercenaries were running on the floor, the next they were being flung into the wall as if they had tripped. It wasn’t long after they regained their new sense of up and down before a new ball bearing dropped them into a different gravity-well. The frequency of shots decreased along with their accuracy, often shooting each other by accident. Roland turned just in time to see a Tularon launch into the air slamming its furry head through the ceiling. It didn’t get back up.

  “There’s a private grav pillar coming up on your left,” Ch’len continued. “You’re going to have to hack it. Use your-”

  “I know what to use, Len!” It was times like this when Roland hated having the Ch’kara in his ear. The door he was looking for had a simple universal touch terminal fitted into the adjacent wall. He removed a rusty looking cylinder from the strap that ran diagonally across his chest. After a particularly close shot nearly took his head off, Roland flattened himself into a small alcove while jamming the cylinder directly into the terminal. Tentatively he raised his left arm out, remaining as flat as possible, and twisted the end of the cylinder to begin the decoding. He estimated the bombs only had enough charge for another two minutes. With that in mind, he quickly leaned out and shot two mercenaries. He chuckled sadistically as their bodies dropped into the wall and ceiling as if it was the floor.

  Roland glanced at the cylinder, annoyed at how long it was taking to hack a simple terminal. There were more advanced devices available for such an illegal act of course, but he simply couldn’t afford them. A quick succession of chirps told him the terminal was now under his control. The door parted down the middle to reveal an empty shaft that ran the entire four miles of Krono Towers. Roland had used a similar form of transportation during his first time on the Conclave capital, only those were commercial size grav pillars that could take hundreds of people at a time. Before stepping in he said the number of the floor he needed, otherwise he would just float.

  The timing was perfect; as a Novaarian mercenary reached the door, Roland shot up the grav pillar narrowly avoiding the weapons fire. The shaft was dark with intermittent neon lights on each floor he flew past. Eventually, his speed began to lose momentum as the designated floor approached. After a gentle ping, he stepped out onto another well-decorated hallway with a single chandelier in the centre. Before continuing, he pulled a grenade from his belt and dropped it into the shaft while verbally commanding the previous floor. The drop was so far he didn’t even hear the explosion; at least they couldn’t follow him now.

  To cover all exits he moved to the Translift and removed a metallic square, the size of his hand, from his belt. Using the magnetic seal, he stuck the square to one side of the Translift and activated the invisible laser that ran across the entrance. When the mercenaries arrived they would pass through the laser and trigger the explosive.

  On the other side of a pointless central ornamental table was a set of double doors made from some alien tree. The plaque read: 21-LB.

  “Emergency services are responding; Conclave security is swarming the bridge to Krono Towers and patrol ships are diverting to your location.” Ch’len always had the best news.

  “What about merc activity? I’m outside the apartment and there’s not even an automated defence.” Roland was suspicious.

  “They’ve been forced to deactivate automated defences due to the hysteria your little accident caused. Inhabitants are running wild in the corridors; they probably think the big bad humans are invading,” Ch’len said mockingly. “As for the mercenaries, I can’t say. Comm chatter indicated they were moving to protect Ral-vet. Don’t forget though, his apartment is extensive. It’s more like a mansion up there.”

  “So they’re probably all inside...” That suited Roland, close quarters just made it easier. He regretted not paying for the retina upgrades now. At the time he had the option of getting optical implants to see heartbeats through walls. Instead, he had gone for reinforcing his joints since they took most of the damage in his line of work.

  “They’re coming up the Translift. Unless you want to get caught up in your own explosive I suggest you move.” Ch’len was definitely eating something as every word was slightly garbled.

  With a flair for all things vintage, Ral-vet had an ancient form of door that used hinges and a handle. Roland quietly entered the apartment, Tri-rollers at the ready. Moving to the side of the old doors, he waited to see if he had tripped any alarms. Then the hallway beyond exploded. The wood cracked as it took some of the force but remained in place.

  That had done it.

  Shouting came from inside the apartment, followed by several running footsteps. The footfalls of the Raalak were unmistakable as all four of its feet pounded the staircase above Roland. The view as he came in was majestic with a well-lit foyer decorated with expensive ornaments and fittings of every precious rock. On the far side was a panoramic window giving view to Shandar’s top hemisphere, dotted with thousands of structures much like Krono Towers. Above Roland was a set of twin staircases that descended into the middle of the foyer. It was a shame it was all going to get shot to shit.

  His first action was to prime a grenade before flicking it towards the point at which the staircases met. The timing was perfect as the mercenaries converged on that same spot just as the explosive unleashed its payload. To protect himself, Roland ran around the left-hand staircase as the grenade blew. The disconnected arm of a Raalak flew over the bannister nearly colliding with his head, along with the helmet and leg of what he assumed to be a Shay. Thanks to human ageing and Conclave medicine, Roland, a man in his mid-sixties, had the agility of a twenty-year-old. He kicked off the wall and hopped over the bannister until he was face-to-face with a stunned Laronian. He wasn’t sure if the alien was shocked by the grenade or the fact that he was seeing a specimen of the rare species known as human. Either way, Roland shoved his Tri-roller under the scaly blue chin and blew the top of his head off.

  Smoke filled the area, the smell of charred flesh rising with it. Body parts were strewn across the stairs and foyer with debris from every ornament. Roland continued his climb up the stairs letting off a couple of shots, killing the Novaarian on the opposite side. He looked back a moment to check it wasn’t a certain Novaarian bounty hunter he had crossed a month or so back. That was not someone he wanted to meet again. Unfortunately, it wasn’t him; the lack of facial scarring gave it away.

  “There are no cameras inside. I’m blind,” Ch’len stated.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo, Len.” Roland stood on the landing between the stairs.

  “What’s a rodeo?” the Ch’kara asked confused.

  “Never mind,” he replied flatly.

  “Knock knock...” Roland regretted teaching the Ch’kara this particular type of joke.

  “Who’s there?” the bounty hunter entertained the chubby moron if only to see if he finally said the right lines. It was just then he heard the soft ping of the Translift outside. Moments after the doors parted the apartment was shaken by the blast of his little gift.

  “I guess we’ll never know.” The comm erupted in laughter as Ch’len howled down the microphone. Roland had to hand it
to him; that was pretty funny. Shaking his head in mock disgust, Roland continued to stride down the corridor decorated in pixel-paintings of various worlds and ships of grand design. It was this distraction that caused him to miss the Laronian and the Shay emerging from the room to his left. They crashed into him knocking the Tri-rollers from his hands and forcing him through the door to his back. All three crashed into the pool room in a struggle of limbs, the combined weight coming down on Roland.

  The myopallic armour took the majority of the force from their bulk, but he still felt the air evacuate his lungs in a painful gasp. Giving over to muscle-memory, he immediately used their momentum against them, rolling backwards, flipping the Laronian into the oval shaped pool. Roland felt the vice-like grip around the back of his neck, as the Shay’s robotic hand pulled him back to rest on his knees. His boots slipped on the wet floor stopping him from gaining a foothold and rising to his attacker’s height. In his peripheral vision, Roland glimpsed the Shay’s organic arm swing down towards his head with something shiny between its four pale fingers. Instinctively his left arm shot up connecting with the descending wrist and blocking the knife centimetres before it cut into his flesh. He felt the sharp sting as the blade sliced down his cheekbone drawing blood.

  The Laronian was recovering from his impromptu swim and beginning to climb out of the pool. Thanks to the reinforced joint around his shoulder, Roland could keep his arm locked above his head with little effort and keep the blade at bay. The Laronian complicated matters somewhat. He loved a good fight when the opportunity presented itself, but he had a job to get on with and the Laronian was about to alter his chances of winning. Roland thought it best to end things a little quicker.

  Before the Shay knew what Roland was doing, he had removed the Terran hilt from the small of his back and activated the nanocelium within. The hide coat concealed most of his actions before he plunged the blade into the gap between his raised arm and the Shay’s own blade. He pushed through until the mercenary’s armour was touching his hand and the robotic grip loosened. His next move was a blur of motion as he launched off his knees, pulling free his Terran blade and relinquishing the Shay’s knife in his other hand as he did. The approaching Laronian had no time to react as Roland threw both weapons into the alien’s head. Blood poured out of both wounds, mixing with the pool water as the liquid flowed in every direction.

  After retrieving his blade and Tri-rollers he turned back and shot the still breathing Shay. The side of his head blew off in a combination of brain-matter and a sophisticated web of circuitry. Roland stood at the door, admiring his work so far, as he rotated his left shoulder. As entrances go, his was damn good. Sometimes the slow/quiet option was preferable, depending on the circumstances, but quick and loud had a shock factor that was just plain fun.

  “How’s it looking out there?” The apartment was so isolated it was impossible to get a feel for the rest of Krono Towers. Chaos would work for him; he had planned on chaos.

  “Local security has entered the building. They’re coordinating with some Protocorps representative who looks mighty pissed at how long it took them to react. Another team of mercs are on their way up but...” Ch’len sounded distracted.

  “What is it?” Roland asked impatiently.

  “There’s something wrong with the feed, the monitors keep dropping out one-by-one in short bursts,” Ch’len continued. “From what I can tell, it started at the base of the bridge and is slowly working up towards you. It could be nothing though.”

  Roland had a bad feeling.

  “What could cause that kind of interference?” he dipped his head into one of the numerous rooms only to find yet another lounge.

  “I don’t know. Some kind of hack into Krono’s main systems, or a portable EMP maybe?” Ch’len offered.

  Shit...

  Roland didn’t like the sound of that last part. There was a particular type of individual that could emit an electromagnetic pulse at will, and he didn’t fancy bumping into any of them. It couldn’t possibly be who he was thinking it was, could it? Had he finally caused enough trouble that one of them had come for him? In a way, he had always known they would come, especially the kid, with his floppy emotions and ridiculous moral code. Roland just wished it wasn’t in the middle of making a hundred thousand units.

  “Keep me updated.” He continued the hunt for his prey. If it really was one of them or even both, he would deal with them when the time came. After a small firefight in the next hallway, he finally discovered another staircase leading to a sparse looking office. A desktop of thick black glass hovered at one end of the room with no structural support. Every corner of the room had a single sculpture of a different looking Shay with unique augmentations made to their stretched faces. The entire wall to the left was glass, giving an overview of the apartment below in all its blown-to-hell glory.

  The office was dark, the only light from the apartment below. He approached the hover desk and peered into its crystalline surface. Like most Conclave tech, it was operated by hand movement or verbal command. Since he didn’t possess Ral-vet’s voice he waved his hand over the top, bringing up the turquoise holographic display. He moved around the desk, shoving the equally hovering chair aside, in order to see the display. Thanks to a fully integrated translator, he could now fully comprehend every Conclave language, spoken or written. Unfortunately, the words were not to his liking.

  “We have a password problem,” he said out loud for Ch’len’s benefit. Before his partner in crime could respond, Roland heard the unmistakable sound of a repeater reaching full charge.

  “You have bigger problems than that I’m afraid...”

  Roland looked over the display to see the fat barrel of the repeater staring back at him, but perhaps most embarrassingly, it was being held by Ral-vet Tanek. He missed the Ch’kara’s response; too busy being pissed at himself for holstering the Tri-rollers. “Keep your hands flat on the table, human.” The Shay said the word like it was an insult. “Who hired you?” The right side of his face was completely robotic with a bright LED blue eye in the pit of metallic plating and gold tubes. Both arms were robotic below the elbow, revealing a contortion of engineered tendons and extra rotation spheres for dislocated movement. The layered robe concealed his body but Roland heard the sound of servo motors, most likely from another augmentation to the legs. “I said, who hired you?” his voice had a machine-like echo to it as he became irate.

  “Your mother!” Roland felt the heat from the blast that shot past his head, cratering the wall. He calculated the next few seconds would be precious as far as his survival was concerned. In his experience, people didn’t give a second warning shot. Before he could spin some lie, to keep him alive a few seconds longer, Ral-vet’s weapon flew from his hand, continuing through the glass wall and raining shards into the apartment below. The Shay’s look of shock only lasted a second until it turned to one of pain. He rose into the air, arms spread apart not quite under his control, as he was slammed into the wall by an unseen force. The metal plating around his face crumpled, cutting into his pale flesh and drawing thick globules of red blood. His cries of agony faltered as the augmentation around his voice box fluttered through the different octaves.

  Then he saw her.

  “Esabelle, I almost didn’t recognise you with all your clothes on.” In comparison to the naked form he had originally met, the Terran now wore a black floor-length cloak with the hood pulled down. She strode into the centre of the office with her right arm stretched out towards Ral-vet, who continued to struggle against the wall.

  “Hilarious as always, Roland,” she replied dryly. With that she lowered her arm, dropping the Shay into a heap on the floor, struggling to breathe.

  “I thought for sure it would be the kid, but I suppose this isn’t quite his style.” Roland walked round the hover desk, never taking his eyes off the tall brunette. She was far more attractive than he remembered from their first encounter on the Gommarian. Her dark hair flowed h
alfway down her back, set against a strong angular face with deep blue eyes. Her skin had gained some colour but was still paler than most, in an angelic way, he thought. It occurred to Roland that this exact scenario had played out the first time they met, only it was Savrick’s best bud Elandar standing over him.

  “What the hell is going on in there?” Ch’len screamed down the comm.

  “Just keep the engine runnin’.” Roland didn’t trust him to fly the Rackham but he was pretty good with all the technical maintenance. With that, he touched his ear, cutting the communication between them.

  “I gave you freedom, Roland. Our species is entering a new phase in its existence, and we are trying to make allies with the biggest power-house this side of the galaxy. So putting it plainly - you need to stop fucking it up.” There was definitely something about this woman that turned him on.

  “And which species is that exactly? I was under the impression you and I weren’t actually in the same gene pool.” All he had was words, there was no way he could beat her in any kind of fight. He decided to let it play out a little longer, find her angle before making his move.

  “As much as it pains me, we are the same species. I’m just a little further along than you.” She was cocky, but then again she could be.

  “So what’s the plan; you haul me back to Kalian and he throws me over his knee and gives me a spanking?” If that really was the plan he was sure as shit going to give her hell trying. Esabelle looked as if she were about to reply when she froze as if hearing something he couldn’t.