The Terran Cycle Boxset

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Memories of the human rogue still haunted the Shay’s sleep. It was the closest he had ever come to death in his life of comfort and privilege. Roland North was proof that the human race was dangerous, regardless of whether they could move things with their mind. The bounty hunter was the reason Kel-var kept the lights on everywhere he went inside the Crucible’s complex. Seeing him waiting, sitting in the dark in his apartment had been terrifying.

  “Thanks to that Terran ship of his he’s been hard to track down,” Gor-van explained. “I may have found a way to trap him, however. I will know soon enough. Would you like to kill him yourself?” the Shay offered casually.

  Kel-var thought about the prospect for a moment. “No. Just kill him… slowly.”

  Ch’len glanced at the chronometer on his console and sighed, pressing his head back into the comfortable rest. It wasn’t long after he had left the Rackham’s cargo bay that the screaming began. Using the controls, that lay spread out in a semicircle around him, the Ch’kara sealed all the doors between the bridge and the bay. Every now and then he would check the feed to see if Roland was still laying into the Shay. It wasn’t easy to watch.

  With a wave of his stubby fingers, the section of console to his right came to life. Holograms in green and blue rose out of the shiny surface and relayed information about the outside world, a place Ch’len was happy to stay away from. Local security had been alerted to the incident in the bar and multiple reports made concerning a human masquerading as a Laronian. Tapping into the secure servers, attached to the nearest branch of Sebula’s planetary security, Ch’len examined where these reports were going and who was reading them.

  The Ch’kara sat forward in his chair and stared in disbelief at the dispersal rate of the reports. From some snotty young Trillik in admin to High Charge Uthor, the top of the navy. It was possible that Uthor had delivered this news to the Highclave themselves, but Ch’len pulled back the probing nanocelium. Up to now, it had been undetected, but he didn’t want to test the firewalls that surrounded the Highclaves’s personal security.

  Using the other side of the console, the Ch’kara pulled up a new set of holograms that had collated data from all the cameras in the city. Ch’len recognised a net when he saw one. The Sebula government appeared to have handed the matter over to Conclave security, who were now split into dozens of teams, each working their way through the city. It wouldn’t be long before they started checking the outdoor landing platforms.

  Pushing the hologram aside, the small alien expanded an image that had been two dimensional on the surface. It clearly showed the camera feed from their particular landing pad - with no ship on it. That would fool any techs looking for them, but not a physical team.

  The thought of it all made him stressed. Without thinking about it, Ch’len reached for the snacks on the edge of the console and filled his mouth with sticky treats. With sticky fingers, he couldn’t operate the console to inquire about his next thought.

  “Rackham…” Ch’len waited for the seductive female voice to reply.

  “Yes Ch’len?”

  “Are you connected to the local AI hub?” Every word came through a mouthful of food.

  “I am.”

  “Where’s the nearest Conclave ship?” He was thinking ahead to what might be a tight escape.

  After a moment’s pause, the ship replied, “There is a Nebula Class vessel in the Heti system, currently en route to Sebula.”

  “ETA?”

  “Three hours, give or take…”

  Ch’len sighed at the ship’s casual nature. Roland had given it too much attitude when creating its personality, not to mention changing all the features to human, forcing Ch’len to learn how humans kept time. A tap of his stubby finger brought up the feed to the Rackam’s bay, where Roland was apparently branding Lan-vid’s exposed torso.

  “Damn it, Roland…” Ch’len swore under his breath.

  Three human hours wasn’t a lot of time in Conclave terms. They needed to be clear of the system well before that Nebula Class vessel showed up. If he could, Ch’len would have keyed in the ignition code and taken the Rackham into deep space, but only Roland knew the code. The bounty hunter was quite specific about who controlled the ship. Ch’len snorted in amusement; if he left the Rackham, Roland wouldn’t know the first thing about operating it.

  After much deliberation - and several Novaarian pies - Ch’len decided to return to the cargo bay. The screams could be heard as he passed through the kitchen and only grew in pitch until he was standing in front of the bloody mess. Roland had stripped down to his vest, which was now splattered with blood and drenched in sweat, revealing his neon-green tattoos. The bay was horribly humid with the internal temperature cranked right up. A good deal of the tools was coated in blood, while a few others were still attached to Lan-vid in some way.

  “...No, really it’s a funny story.” Roland sounded tired and a little manic. “You see I had every which way planned out. There was no way Kel-var was walking back out of that apartment.”

  Ch’len sat on the edge of a crate and waited for Roland to finish telling the Shay his story - a story he was well acquainted with himself. He didn’t fancy interrupting him right now anyway.

  “He told me…” Roland glanced at Ch’len. “He insinuated that a friend of mine - an endangered species to boot - was still very much alive. Now just when I’ve got Kel-var all to myself, much like our little situation right now Lanny, an off-the-books team storms the apartment and rescues the little shit. Left me with a couple of shiners too... I know what you’re thinking,” Roland wagged a short blade in Lan-vid’s swollen face, “how could I not know about another team? Well, that same question went round and round my head. Drove me nuts!”

  Roland walked away to retrieve a new tool. Ch’len saw Lan-vid in all his bloody glory. Most of his cybernetic augments had been savagely ripped away, leaving the Shay a haggard ruin. Blood trickled down his pale skin and pooled on the floor around his only organic leg. Smoke rose from his back where the blowtorch had been applied. Ch’len adjusted the shield settings on his chest plate, filtering out the smells.

  “So I followed the breadcrumbs left by this off-the-books team. Mercenaries all.” Roland tested a pair of pliers in his hand to a dismayed-looking Lan-vid. “Funny thing about mercs; it doesn't matter what species they are, turns out they all have zero allegiance. If you apply just the right pressure,” Roland shoved the pliers into Lan-vid’s mouth and clamped them around his teeth, “all the answers come spilling out!” A quick tug pulled teeth and blood from the Shay’s mouth.

  Ch’len cringed and looked away, not enjoying the sounds Lan-vid made.

  “It took me a while to track them down, but one-by-one they all directed me to you; their broker. You see, I didn’t know about any other protection team because Kel-var wasn’t paying them. He pays for you to ensure a secondary team is always keeping an eye on him. It’s a clever system - no money trail. You appear on his books like any other accountant, but you’re so much more than that, aren’t you Lanny?” Roland looked over the grotesque husk of an alien. “Well maybe a little less now.”

  Ch’len cleared his throat. “We need to get out of here, like now. Just get the answer out of him so we can leave.”

  Lan-vid moaned something unintelligible and Roland smiled. “He told me what I needed to know hours ago. Set a course for Byzantial. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Ch’len couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open. “Are you shittin’ me pink-skin! He told you ages ago and you’ve had us sitting here with a target on our backs!”

  “Len…” Roland had a detached look to him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Ch’len chewed over his response and decided against testing the bounty hunter. He gave Lan-vid one final look, knowing he would never see the Shay alive again.

  It was several minutes before Roland returned to his station on the bridge. He was wearing his usual clothes again, having cleaned the blood
off his skin. Silence passed between them while they both checked over various systems.

  The Rackham lifted off after the nanocelium threads had retreated back into the ship. Without a sound, the storm clouds gave way to the height of Sebula’s atmosphere, which faded to a black and then a starry backdrop.

  “Len, it might be a little while before I catch the next bounty, so if you want to get off, Byzantial’s your stop.”

  Ch’len considered that statement for a moment, having thought about it a lot over the last three months. “I want to know if Li’ara is alive as well. I liked the way she spoke to you, like an asshole.” Ch’len activated the mag-plates in the cargo bay to keep the containers in place. “Besides, if I leave who's gonna keep you alive?” The Ch’kara hit the button to open the bay door, ejecting Lan-vid’s corpse into space.

  “Good point.” Roland had the smallest hint of a smile.

  The Rackham broke Sebula’s gravity well and jumped to sub-space.

  4

  Captain Fey looked to have left reality behind, as she stood by the floor-to-ceiling window on the Nautallon’s observation deck. She looked out at the alien solar system in wonder, if a little lost in her thoughts. The captain couldn’t help but think about Kalian and where he might be right now. Who knew what remained of the ancient Terran Empire and its forgotten worlds. Having seen the trouble Mr. Gaines usually attracted, it would be nothing good.

  But he’s a survivor, she thought. He had already done so much for their kind, and the captain knew he would be vitally important in the future. She still couldn’t believe some of the things he could do, and the claims of ALF that one day that same gene would be awoken in all of humanity. Not that there was much left now. Just over seven thousand humans had survived the genocide of their race.

  Not enough…

  Fey hadn’t been entirely happy to leave them in the Raalak home system, especially with Laurence Wynter staying behind. The councillor was always scheming to assume more control and push the UDC element out of the picture. The captain had left Commander Malcolm Holland, her new second-in-command, behind, however, and she was confident in his ability to keep Wynter in line. Instead, Fey had brought councillors Sharon Booth and Jim Landale with her, as well as Lieutenant Worth.

  The captain caught her reflection in the glass and, not for the first time that day, stroked the olive skin below her left eye. She had first seen the difference in the mirror, after her morning shower, and marvelled at the smoother-looking skin. Fey was sure some of the wrinkles around her eyes had disappeared, along with the pain she had often endured in the base of her back - an old injury she had continuously overlooked.

  “Incredible…” Jim Landale came to stand next to her, breaking her reverie.

  Captain Fey followed his gaze to the stormy planet the Nautallon was currently gliding past. Spider-webs of blue lightning spread out across the red storm clouds in quick succession. Every layer of cloud was visibly churning from the north pole to the south, creating the illusion of liquid marble.

  “I have seen more beautiful sights in the last year than I have in my entire life.” Jim craned his neck to catch a lasting glimpse of the tumultuous planet.

  “I would give up every wonder in the universe to see Earth one last time…” Fey didn’t usually let her guard down, but time away from the UDC was slowly changing her. The captain had often wondered why her role was even needed anymore. It was usually around then that the human council would propose some new idiotic idea, and she realised how vital her guiding hand really was. If only she wasn’t so tired of it all…

  “Century for me,” Jim commented.

  It occurred to Captain Fey that she didn’t really know anything about the councillors outside of their professions.

  “Were you born there?” she asked, happy for the distraction from more serious matters.

  “I come from three generations of Centurians,” Jim replied proudly. “I was born in Aspen. Fantastic summers, bloody awful winters. Did you ever visit?”

  “Century? Yes, several times in my youth.” The memory of hiking through the Vengora mountains brought a smile to the captain’s face. “I don’t suppose it matters anymore but, the UDC had a training facility in the northern pole. Every cadet goes through it.” Fey caught herself. “Went through it…”

  Fey wanted to ask Jim whether he had lost any family, but she knew it would lead to him asking her the same question. The face of her husband nearly brought a tear to her eye. Not a minute went by when she didn’t think of him and wonder what his last moments were like. They had never got round to having children - mostly due to her career - and for the first time in a long time, the captain was thankful to have suffered no such loss. More than a few had committed suicide aboard the Gommarian after they had learned of Earth’s and Century’s fate.

  “I take it you were Earth-born, Captain?” Jim inquired, pleasantly.

  “In a fashion. I was actually born on the moon, in Armstrong City. My family moved to Shanghai before I can remember anything about the habitat.”

  Captain Fey could feel Jim becoming more familiar with her. That would lead to more questions; something she could not allow. To be who she needed to be, there had to be boundaries that kept her apart from everyone else.

  “Nautallon,” Fey said aloud.

  “Yes, Captain Fey?” A blue hologram of a female human appeared at their side. Apparently, the ship’s AI thought it would be easier for them to commune with a human facsimile.

  “We emerged from sub-space some time ago. How close are we to the ship?”

  “It will be visible from the port side in a few moments, Captain. It is on the dark side of the third moon.” The blue hologram gestured to the viewing screen as a heavily cratered moon took shape.

  “That will be all.” Captain Fey dismissed the hologram without taking her eyes off the emerging moon.

  The Nautallon made its way around the circumference and into the moon’s shadow. Lieutenant Worth and Sharon Booth joined them by the window, despite the new ship still being too far away to see.

  “Did Uthor give you any details about this ship?” Sharon asked in disbelief.

  “Only that they had met hostile reproach when they attempted to board,” Fey explained. “Something is wrong with their communications apparently.”

  “Well let’s hope they don’t shoot us before we can say hello,” Jim added, his levity not appreciated by the group.

  “You will not be greeting them alone.” The deep, gravelly voice of High Charge Uthor startled them all. Along with a small entourage and a floating mech, the Raalak came to join them by the viewing screen. “A small strike team will be just out of sight, but ready to step in should events repeat themselves.”

  “Were there any casualties?” Captain Fey asked, concerned.

  “There projectile weaponry was oddly primitive, even by your standards,” Uthor explained. “No one was fatally injured, but the team of humans who awaited us possessed explosive ordinance and we didn’t want to risk depressurisation.”

  “They’re probably just terrified,” Sharon offered. “Who knows how they escaped the Gomar attack, let alone survive out here for so long.”

  Uthor hesitated. “I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that. Though we have been unable to communicate with them, we have scanned their ship repeatedly.”

  “What did you find?” Captain Fey asked, her interest peaked. She had thought that this errand had been to smooth over first contact and give the human survivors a reassuring face, as well as an explanation to, well, everything.

  “What we discovered is part of the reason I asked you here,” Uthor replied mysteriously. The Raalak lifted his rocky chin to the viewing screen, directing their attention to the human vessel, off the port bow.

  Captain Fey frowned as she took in the sight of the bloated-looking ship. The design tugged at her memories but she couldn’t place it. The vessel looked to her as if someone had stuck a giant sphere in the middle of an
ancient Earth space shuttle. The hull was a dull silver but appeared in great shape.

  “There are over a hundred thousand lifeforms onboard.”

  All four humans slowly turned and stared blankly at the Raalak. They had hoped for twenty or maybe thirty survivors, as it had been with most of the other craft that wasn’t in the solar system when the Gomar attacked. A hundred thousand was…

  Captain Fey’s eyes filled with tears, but she kept them from breaching her eyelashes. “I don’t understand…”

  “How is this possible?” Lieutenant Worth asked, his gaze fixed on the swollen ship.

  Uthor glanced at the Ch’kara - who appeared as a bug next to the Raalak’s bulk. “My engineers tell me it hasn’t been here for very long. Only a couple of days by your standards.”

  “How can you tell?” Jim asked, equally vexed by the ship.

  “The intrinium scar left by the ship’s…” Uthor chewed over his next words. “Solar Drive, I believe you call it.”

  The Ch’kara by Uthor’s side spoke up. “The radiation levels being emitted by the engines are close to becoming fatal. If it isn’t fixed soon every human onboard will die.”

  Captain Fey put her hand on the glass and realised it wasn’t glass at all, but some kind of force-field that vibrated across the surface of her skin. She looked at the hulking ship and saw humanity's only hope of resisting extinction teeter on the edge of a knife.

  “Do we know anything else about it?” Fey asked with desperation creeping into her voice.

  “Only its name,” Uthor replied. “Paladin.”

  The captain’s mouth fell open when the Nautallon swung around to reveal the massive white letters printed across the silver hull.

  “As in… the Paladin?” Jim asked what they were all thinking.