“I’m getting really tired of listening to this fortune cookie bullshit.” Kalian waved his hand across the console and used telekinesis to bring all the systems back online.
The engines whirred to life, resonating from the back of the Advent. Holograms of orange and blue rose from the various consoles when the navigation array began to actively search for destinations. Four other planets were detected in the system, as well as what appeared to be the remains of a Terran-made installation, on the far reaches of the system. The pulse that Kalian had found on the other side of the planet pinged in the form of a red hologram between Naydaalan and himself. The message that displayed was written in Terran glyphs and continued to flash.
“What does it say?” the Novaarian asked.
“It’s an emergency beacon,” Kalian replied before ALF. “It’s a call for help.”
“Is it coming from a ship?” Naydaalan sifted through the sensor array results, searching for the source of the signal.
“No,” ALF said flatly. “Those coordinates are the location of Albadar’s Starforge.”
“Then it still has power?” Naydaalan sounded hopeful.
Kalian had a feeling that what was left of the Terran Empire would soon leech Naydaalan of that emotion.
“I build things to last,” ALF said arrogantly.
“Let’s take a look.” Using his hands this time, Kalian programmed a course into the navigation array.
The Advent swept over the top of the northern pole of Albadar, skirting across the planet’s fine atmosphere until the world could no longer be seen. Space once again filled the viewport, along with a holographic overlay that pinpointed the Starforge in the distance. What soon took shape, however, was not a Starforge, but the remains of one. The crescent station was in pieces, scattered across hundreds of miles of space.
Naydaalan took manual control of the ship and stopped the Advent from entering the debris field. It was hard to believe that these pieces had been here for two hundred thousand years. The vacuum of space had preserved the material, preventing it from aging. The Novaarian’s four hands never seemed to stop moving across his console.
“The debris is covered in scorch marks,” Naydaalan observed. “There are still residual energy signatures from weapons fire.”
“Where’s the beacon coming from?” ALF asked, his eyes cautiously scanning the debris.
Naydaalan buried his elongated head in holograms and readouts. Kalian didn’t have to look at them to know where it was coming from, however. With the swipe of a finger, the spotlights, positioned above the bridge, illuminated the debris in front of them. One of the larger chunks of the Starforge was dead ahead and fully exposed under the scrutiny of the spotlights.
“In there…” Kalian sat forward in his seat, peering into the stark shadows.
The shadows moved. A slither in the dark.
“Get us out of here.” ALF saw it too. “It’s a trap.”
Naydaalan didn’t respond straight away but continued to stare into the debris, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.
“Now!” the AI shouted.
Four Novaarian hands dashed between holograms and tapped the glass console, repositioning the ship to turn about.
“No time!” Kalian assumed control of the thrusters, using the console, and hurled the Advent into the debris field.
The ship narrowly avoided the bulk of the larger piece of debris and pushed into the field at an angle. They were too late. The space junk burst apart as if the hull had been covered in spores. The black spores coalesced and attached to the Advent like leeches, growing in size. Alarms went off on every console, warning them of proximity to foreign bodies and potential hull breaches. Naydaalan took back control with two holographic domes, which he used to steer the ship through the field. There were too many pieces to avoid them all, making collisions inevitable. The sounds reverberated through the walls when bits of the Starforge bounced off the Advent’s hull.
It wasn’t the debris that concerned Kalian.
A quick sensor scan formed a three-dimensional hologram of the ship above Kalian’s console. The leeches appeared to be a collection of tentacles without a head. Every strand spread out across the hull, searching for a weak point on the Advent. Every bit of them was made from nanocelium, each capable of altering their shape and creating…
The hull screeched above their heads as the tentacles formed pointed spears and dug into the ship, peeling the panels away. More alarms rang out, warning them of hull breaches and imminent depressurisation. One of Naydaalan’s arms whipped out and silenced the multiple alarms with the flick of a slender finger.
“They are trying to breach the engines!” The Novaarian was a blur of movement in his chair. “I can only repair the ship to a certain extent. If the damage is beyond my capabilities we will be stranded in this part of the galaxy!” His two lower arms continued to navigate through the Starforge rubble. “That is if we do not become part of the debris in the meantime…”
Kalian looked up at the viewport, observing Naydaalan’s fine piloting. “Stop avoiding the debris and hit everything.”
“What?” Naydaalan stole a glance at Kalian.
“Hit everything! We need to knock them off the hull!” Kalian jumped from his seat and positioned himself in the centre of the bridge. The holographic emitters around his waist moved of their own accord to keep ALF in the same spot.
Naydaalan considered Kalian’s words for just a second, before altering the path of the Advent and allocating more power to the inertial dampeners, stopping them from feeling the sudden change in direction. It didn’t stop the ship from shaking every time a large piece collided with the hull. It wasn’t long before a small crack appeared in the top corner of the viewport after a piece of ancient piping speared the edge.
“Maybe don’t hit everything…” ALF added quietly.
The hologram was hard to examine with the constant shuddering, but Kalian caught sight of a mass of tentacles being flung from the Advent, along with the severed tentacle of another. The ship continued to veer in every direction, Naydaalan often taking the time to ensure they skimmed the surface of the debris. A new alarm flashed on the glass console, alerting Kalian to a hull breach only a few metres from where he was sitting.
“We’ve got a breach!” Kalian waved his hand through the hologram of the Advent and brought up a new one, showing the schematics of the ship. A red square overlaid the blue ship, highlighting the area being breached.
“I polarised the hull but it has had no effect,” Naydaalan stated. His concentration was clearly focused on the viewport.
“They’re made of nanocelium…” ALF observed. “They’re adaptable.”
Kalian had a sharp reply on the end of his tongue, regarding ALF’s connection to the nanocelium, but found himself immediately distracted by the drilling sound coming from the back of the bridge. They were burrowing through the ceiling.
“Turn us around!” Kalian ordered as he lowered himself to the floor, resting on his knees. “Take us back to Albadar!”
“What are you doing?” Naydaalan asked, concerned.
“Just get us out of the debris!” Kalian closed his eyes.
The sound of alarms and hull impacts disappeared at the same moment the universe contracted to only encompass Kalian. His Terran awareness pulsed through the ship to the outer hull, where the nanocelium worked their tentacles into murderous cutting tools. He could feel the microscopic machines writhe and wriggle, always changing their shape to cover as much surface area as possible. Kalian’s mind felt around the edges of the torn hull, while his tastebuds detected its metallic tang and his nose inhaled the scent of burning where internal wires had been cut. It felt to him as if the entire ship was an extension of his body. Every bolt, drop of fluid and electrical connection was a part of him. Even Naydaalan’s humming form was just another part of Kalian’s being.
In this state of mind, Kalian lost all sense of time and space. He had to focus inte
nsely to stop that loss of self from consuming him. It was easy to get lost in the intricate complexity of the universe. As if his mind were a computer, Kalian was able to delete everything of no consequence. To this end, he erased the ship and Naydaalan from his mind’s perception and concentrated on the nanocelium intruders. He instantly counted nine scurrying across the hull. It took an unknown amount of time to use his telekinesis and form a shell between the Advent and every particle of nanocelium digging into the ship. His consciousness was only partly aware of his hands, which had formed the outline of a ball in front of his chest. As Kalian’s mind expanded outwards, so too did his hands, pushing the telekinetic field away from the ship’s surface.
The light of the physical world returned when Kalian finally opened his eyes. The gloomy bridge brightened when Naydaalan directed the ship out of the debris field and back towards Albadar, silhouetted against the sun. Kalian’s Terran abilities briefly scanned the ship, searching for any serious breaches or unwanted passengers. His feedback was only a second faster than that of the ship’s array.
“We’re free!” Naydaalan exclaimed.
Albadar and its starry backdrop dominated the viewport once more. Its greens and blues had once been reminiscent of Earth and Century, but no longer. The black clouds sweeping over the planet’s surface were testament to the war that had ravaged its lands and oceans. The dominant storm was massive and entirely menacing as it rolled over the northern hemisphere.
“What were those things?” the Novaarian asked, still rigid in his chair.
Kalian stole his gaze from the planet and returned to his seat, beside Naydaalan. “Mines. Clusters of nanocelium left behind by the Gomar. Savrick must have had them reprogrammed…” Kalian eyed ALF suspiciously.
“I thought that process could only be done inside the Criterion?” Naydaalan cocked his head. “Perhaps it is a bad idea to seek out your old housing, ALF.”
“Savrick didn’t use the Criterion to reprogramme the nanocelium,” ALF replied, meeting Kalian’s accusatory expression. “The cube he found on Hadrok had the power to not only reprogramme nanocelium but replicate it. That’s how the Gommarian came into being.”
Naydaalan’s golden eyes widened with shock. “The Gommarian was made by one of the cubes?”
Kalian answered the Novaarian, having seen it play out in his mind. “Savrick stole nanocelium from Kaldor, the only city on Hadrok. The cube was able to forge his exo-suit and counter the Harness that kept all the Gomars’ Terran abilities in check. It also constructed the Gommarian from a single grain of nanocelium.” Kalian looked at ALF again. “Powerful stuff in the wrong hands.”
ALF frowned. “The cubes are as much a mystery to me as they are to you, Kalian.” The words sounded tired as if the AI was becoming exhausted with the response.
Naydaalan worked the controls and checked the sensor array. “The mystery of the cubes will have to wait. Clearly, the local Starforge is not an option. The external long-range sensor has been damaged, but if we can land on the planet I believe I can fix it. Once it is functional again we can search nearby systems for other Starforges.”
ALF’s holographic image flittered as he walked behind Kalian’s chair, coming to a stop between the Advent’s inhabitants. “There’s a Starforge on the surface…” The AI didn’t look happy about giving over this piece of information.
Kalian half turned to the old-looking man, trying to recall images of the planet-bound Starforges. During his time in the subconducer, on Naveen, Kalian had walked the streets of Albadar and other worlds in the Terran Empire, while his mind processed an enormous amount of data, including the Terran language. He vaguely remembered seeing the forges, often the hub of the capital city on the various planets. It had been the power supply to one of these that Esabelle had accidentally destroyed upon her first breath. As the daughter of two Gomar, Esabelle had been a dangerous and uncontrollable force to be reckoned with. That catastrophic explosion had killed thousands and started a chain reaction that ultimately led to the civil war.
“The Terran had teleportation devices on the surface?” Naydaalan looked at Albadar with new wonder.
“Only one per planet,” ALF explained casually. “Of course not all Terran required a forge to move between planets…”
“Enough.” Kalian waved his hand, silencing the AI’s next lecture about his training. “If we’re going down there we’ll have to contend with that.”
The black storm continued to sweep across the continent. Sporadic webs of lightning illuminated the clouds for hundreds of miles. Naydaalan buried his head in new holograms and readouts from the sensor array. His translucent dreadlocks fell over his shoulders, spilling onto the glass console.
“That storm is highly irradiated,” the Novaarian offered. “I calculate catastrophic organ failure within…” Naydaalan checked the human chrono-metre. “Within thirty minutes of exposure.”
Kalian poured over the scans on his own console. “It looks like Savrick bombarded the planet from orbit. Two hundred thousand years and the radiation levels are still deadly…” New holographics rose from the surface. “There are a few places where vegetation has returned. Radiation levels are lower in those areas. Still deadly, but definitely lower.”
ALF leaned over the images and examined them closely. “Hmm. You can find the Starforge in there.” He pointed at the remains of an ancient city.
“Is that the capital?” Naydaalan asked.
“It was,” Kalian replied dryly.
“I still recommend travelling to the Criterion,” ALF added. “There’s nothing down there but radiation and potential traps. The odds of the Starforge still working are astronomical!”
Kalian replied with a venomous smile. “I thought you built things to last?”
ALF met Kalian’s gaze but remained silent.
“Discovering answers without a way of relaying them back to the Conclave is redundant,” Naydaalan pointed out. “If nothing else, I can repair the long-range sensor while we are grounded.”
Kalian nodded his agreement. “Plot a course, Naydaalan. Let’s avoid flying through that storm if we can…”
7
Doctor Bal sat back at his desk and looked over the day’s results. The Trillik’s twin-tail, which split into two at the end, swished lightly by his side, missing the floor by an inch. Every day they learned something new about the eleven Terran prisoners, filling the scientist and his team with excitement. The desk arched around him in a neat semicircle, offering holograms in neon orange and green. A soft chime told of a visitor beyond his door.
“Enter.”
Bal looked up and took a moment to admire the view outside his panoramic window. Lush yellow fields of Karla wheat blew gently in the morning breeze on Corvus’s equator. If only I were there, he thought. The hologram was there to provide a feeling of normality and comfort, covering the fact that he was several miles underwater, on a planet devoid of any land.
The door slid apart to reveal Gelda, his assistant. The vibrantly pink Atari hurried into his office with a look of distress that Bal had become accustomed to. Gelda was prone to fretting over every detail, sometimes to the doctor’s benefit, but often to his irritation. Had their work not been such a secret he would have transferred her long ago.
“What is it, Gelda?” Bal had already dropped his green head back into the holograms.
“It’s the Highclave, sir! They’re here!” Gelda came to a stop in front of his desk, her expression full of fright.
“You were supposed to give me time, Gelda. The communications suite is on the other side of the installation! Now the Highclave will be waiting!” Bal dismissed his desk with the flick of a bulbous finger, sending it back into the floor.
“No Doctor Bal,” Gelda blocked his path, “they’re here…”
Bal’s four black eyes expanded in shock. “You mean they’re actually here, at the installation?” Gelda nodded furiously. “Why are they here? They were supposed to use the communications link…
”
“The Marillion dropped out of sub-space a hundred thousand miles out,” Gelda informed him.
Bal furrowed his green brow. The Marillion was large enough to rival most moons and, as such, was never permitted to fly within four hundred thousand miles of any planet for fear of gravitational damage. What did it matter, however, on a world made entirely of water? The waves would be especially large for the next few months but little else would be affected. The scientist smoothed out his clothes and left his office behind.
The Translift that ran through the heart of the installation sped them towards the surface of the ocean. Bal ran his multitude of eyes over reports from the various labs, while Gelda informed the teams that an inspection was imminent. The Trillik’s twin-tail clung tightly to his leg, reflecting his mood.
The doors opened after the Translift ascended above the only landing platform on the installation. Doctor Bal felt his lips part as he took in the very different view. The sea usually came right up to the lip of the installation at this time of day, its spray exploding over the sides. Today the ocean surface was at least half a mile down the installation’s length. Bal strode to the edge and peered over the side, only to feel his fear of heights kick in - the drop was dizzying.
He followed the new sea level until mountainous waves dominated the horizon. Both of the Trillik’s stomachs dropped and he was left with the feeling of wanting to run back inside. Gelda gasped by his side, drawing his attention to the golden moon that hung over the planet. The Marillion sat over the waterworld like a god presiding over its domain.
Bal had always wanted to go inside the mysterious ship, designed especially for the Highclave. Its outer hull was said to be impregnable and laced with enough weaponry to obliterate every world in the Conclave before fresh munitions were required. To date, seven generations of Highclave had used the gargantuan ship as a mobile base. Biology was Bal’s speciality, however. As fantastical and mysterious as the Marillion was, the doctor would have little understanding of its infrastructure.
The Terran Cycle Boxset Page 101
