Information Cloud: Science fiction and fantasy series (Tales of Cinnamon City Book 1)
Page 1
Information Cloud
Tales of Cinnamon City #1
Peter James West
Copyright © Peter James West 2012, 2016
Published by: Peter James West
ISBN: 978-0957219007
Ref: v081
Find out the latest news about Peter James West at:
http://www.peterjameswest.com
Or contact the author at:
peterjameswest@sciencefictionextra.com
A full glossary of terms is available here: Glossary
A full character list is available here: Cast
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Copyright
Copyright Information Cloud, Tales of Cinnamon City © Peter James West 2012, 2016
Published by: Peter James West
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Cover artwork Copyright © Peter James West
Disclaimer
All characters in this publication are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, companies or organisations, living, dead, past or present is purely coincidental.
With Thanks
Many thanks to my wife for her patience and support while I am lost in the long hours of writing fiction.
A big thanks to Tony Chandler for helping me see the wood from the trees.
Thanks also to all those who left reviews on any of the online book sites. All your feedback has been invaluable.
Finally, thanks to all the great authors who left a legacy for us to follow. Without them there would be no path to follow through the deep, dark woods.
Thanks to Robert Jordan, Peter F. Hamilton, Orson Scott Card, Stephen King, Stephen R. Donaldson, Robin Hobb, and J.V. Jones and so many others. Thank you for the stories and characters that became our friends on our journey through life. We salute you.
Prologue
Megarothia orbited the star of Durittus, following the path it had started on over seven billion years ago. Swirling white clouds danced across the thick, oxygen-rich atmosphere above sapphire oceans and sprawling green continents, providing the perfect habitat for a rich and varied life.
When the first starship arrived, humans quickly colonised the planet's surface, eating the creatures that walked the land, and destroying forests to build great towns and cities. They developed a strong society based on preordained laws. For a thousand years they populated the land in peace, growing stronger day by day.
When the Lords came in the second starship, they subjugated the humans, taking all positions of power within a few days. They enslaved the population, forcing them to build giant fortresses on their behalf.
The Iridium Wars started within a generation of the Lords' arrival, continuing for 272 years. Lords fought against Lords, and the people turned against each other as they were forced to take sides in a war that was not their own. The war finally ended with the First Black Day, a day that brought great destruction upon Megarothia. The sky turned black. The lands were poisoned. The oceans frothed with death and decay as millions of corpses washed up against the shorelines.
Only those who were granted sanctuary beneath Lord Hades' Dome Shield survived. Five thousand men, women and children huddled together under torn blankets, while millions died in the toxic wasteland outside. Within the protection of the Dome Shield, Lord Hades constructed the microcosm that he had fought so hard to make possible. He called this new world within a world the Orange Zone, and the people within it worked hard to start a new life.
Lord Hades helped the people build a great tower as a monument of hope. He named this tower the "White Spear" because it was made of pure white stone. The tower supported the Dome Shield as it expanded year after year, and the people built a great city around it.
For 715 years, the Orange Zone grew and prospered, ruled by the Council of Lords. The Lords governed through a military organisation known as Central Command, offering the people protection in exchange for their service and obedience.
Now, in the year 715DS, a new enemy is rising in the Orange Zone, and Central Command must stand and fight once more.
The Messenger
Major Rachel Henson sat with the other Security Forces, huddled together on old wooden crates at the back of the dimly lit box cabin. The small stone building hadn't been lived in for many years and it had fallen into disrepair. It was too small for most families, so it had become a transient place for people to rest a night or two on their way to somewhere else. It smelt like some had used it as a toilet too. Rachel tried to ignore the smells of dust, sweat and piss all around her.
She wore a thick cream coloured robe over her black combat armour, despite the dry heat of the afternoon sun outside. Her mouth was dry and her back was soaked in sweat. The room's only window had been intentionally obstructed by piles of broken crates, and the door had long since fallen off, leaving two rusty hinges sticking out at an odd angle. A thick dusty blanket had been strung across the doorway to act as a makeshift curtain. Thin cracks in the sagging straw roof provided the room's only light, casting disparate sunbeams across the dry dirt floor. Rachel wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The afternoon heat was getting to them all.
Commander Jake Harris stood in the doorway, peering through a small gap in the curtain. His short black hair was shot through with thin streaks of grey, and his broad shoulders looked wider than ever beneath his dusty grey robe. Trooper Dan Rickworth stood beside him, hunched over so that he could see through the curtain beneath Harris's elbow. He was half as wide as Harris, and a hand shorter, but he had always been the first to volunteer for any combat operations. His enthusiasm was admirable but his abilities hadn't grown much in the time that Rachel had known him. There were a lot of more capable troopers that Harris could have chosen for this operation. She wondered what Rickworth had done to get himself selected this time.
'It's just faces and more faces,' Rickworth said, peering through the curtain. 'I can't even tell one from another anymore.'
Harris spoke in a low voice that rumbled in the back of his throat, 'Okay, go take your seat.'
Rickworth shuffled towards the back of the room with slumped shoulders. He joined the others, sitting on a battered old crate that creaked when he put his weight on it. Rubbing his hands together, he mumbled something under his breath and frowned at the floor between his combat black boots.
Rachel sat motionless beside him, feeling the weight of her heavy robe hanging from her shoulders. It was a warm day outside, and the stuffy box cabin had little in the way of ventilation. The room felt claustrophobic but she tried not to think about it.
Harris had asked her to take part in his combat operation. It wasn't really in her patrol area, now that she had been reassigned to Beacon Station, but she didn't mind coming back to Cinnamon City for the day. She would be the first to admit that Beacon Station hadn't yet grown on her, and it probably never would.
Her bones had been well and truly rattled during her nin
ety minute ride in the back of a Cage Carrier from Beacon Station, and she had been lucky to reach the city with nothing more than a headache and a few bruises, but it felt good to be back in the Old Quarter again, even for a short time.
She enjoyed taking part in combat operations. It was one of the things that made her feel truly alive, but it was the waiting that got to her, sitting around until someone else decided it was time to take action. After spending the last half hour sitting on a badly made crate, her backside was completely numb, and to make things worse, the crate was covered in long, sharp splinters that stabbed through her skin every time her hand brushed against them. Already her hand had been pricked half a dozen times. It was the last thing she needed on such a hot day.
Despite her frustrations, she knew this was exactly where she wanted to be. Central Command had been her home for a long time and she still felt like she belonged in the towers even if Admiral Gail Thompson didn't agree.
Harris had always treated her well. He had given her opportunities when few others had shown any interest in her. She wanted to help him find the messenger. It was the least she could do.
Rickworth was staring at her with his usual sour expression. Rachel ignored him. She gazed down at the floor until she heard Harris mumbling something under his breath. He turned in the doorway and smiled towards her, the bright sunlight catching his face as the curtain rippled in a light breeze from outside. His short black beard had a white tinge in places but he hadn't yet reached his middle years. He beckoned her with one finger and a twinkle in his calm grey eyes. To some he was charming, to Rachel he was just Harris.
'Okay Henson,' he said, 'come do what you do best.'
Rickworth made an odd noise in the back of his throat.
Rachel stood up, 'Something bothering you, Rickworth?'
He shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. He didn't like anyone else doing well in the world, especially when his own abilities were so limited. He held bitterness close to his heart.
Rachel pushed him from her mind and walked the few short paces towards Harris, coming to a halt beside him. 'I can't promise anything.'
Harris nodded with a smile, 'I don't need any promises. I just need results.' He stepped to one side, pulling the curtain open a fraction so she could see into the narrow dusty street outside.
Rachel let her eyes adjust to the brightness of the hot afternoon sun. The sky was bright orange at this time of day, casting long shadows across the ground. She tried not to look at the Dome Shield a kilometre above her head. It was barely visible but something about it always made her itch from head to toe. She focussed instead on what Harris had asked her to do.
Through the gap in the curtain, she could see the people of Cinnamon City walking past in both directions. The men wore loose pale trousers and shirts, while the women wore long baggy working skirts with jackets that fitted tight around their hips. Their clothes had a thin covering of dust from the street but it didn't seem to bother them. At least the breeze was gentle today.
'Keep your eyes open,' Harris said. 'We know they're out there. A good source of mine tells me there should be a Kamari messenger today.'
'Who's your source?' Rachel said.
'You know I'd love to tell you, Henson, but I'm not going to.' Harris flashed his white teeth in a winning smile.
'Fine,' Rachel said, watching the passing faces outside. A group of merchants had set up small wooden stalls to sell their wares a little way up the street. Thankfully none of them were looking in her direction. She focussed instead on the foot traffic - the people going about their everyday business on the street outside.
A large man with a round face carried two sacks of grain in his arms as sweat rolled down his forehead. Behind him, a tall woman with a hawk nose dragged two children along the street with such enthusiasm that she almost pulled their arms out of their sockets. The children complained that they wanted to see the market stalls but the woman told them that she had no credits to spend today. Rachel relaxed her mind, observing each face without judgement.
'Anything yet?' Harris said.
'Shhh,' Rachel said, holding her palm out towards him.
Taking a series of deep breaths, she slowed her heart rate and stopped trying to focus on each face in turn. She let her mind drift away until her eyes lost focus, and the people, market stalls, and merchants all merged together, forming a single unfocussed image in her mind. Her heart rate slowed to a crawl. Her breathing stopped. The sound of passing footsteps mingled with a dozen different voices, forming a continuous white noise around her.
Harris was saying something again, tapping her on the shoulder with his finger but Rachel couldn't hear him. She felt as though she had fallen into a deep, comfortable dream that carried her away to a place beyond thoughts and actions. She opened her senses to everything around her, absorbing as much of the Old Quarter as she could. Suddenly the white noise stopped and her eyes came into sharp focus.
'There,' she said, following the direction of her own outstretched hand. A tall man stood on the opposite side of the street, carrying a heavy sack across his shoulders. His small dark eyes hugged the ground in front of him.
'That's the messenger,' she said.
Harris leant forwards, taking a look through the curtain, 'Him? He looks like a worker from the fields.' Looking into the eyes, he twisted his mouth from side to side as though chewing over what she had just told him. 'Are you sure it's him?'
'Yes. His name's Barker. He's a Kamari soldier. I've seen him before.'
Harris didn't look convinced, but he said, 'Okay. Let's do this.'
The others jumped up from their crates and stood in a tight group behind them, eager to get outside.
'This one's yours then, Henson,' Harris said. 'You lead.'
He leant back, holding the curtain open at a slight angle until bright sunlight flooded into the small box cabin, giving everyone's eyes a chance to adjust to the conditions outside.
Rachel nodded, turning to face the others, 'Remember to stay back,' she said. 'If I can see you, then so can he. We don't want to scare him off before we find out where he's going.'
'You heard Major Henson,' Harris said. 'Let's go.'
Rachel pushed through the gap in the curtain, stepping onto the street outside. She took a deep breath of the clean fresh air, savouring the light breeze that caressed her hot face and cooled her forehead. She was still too warm in her heavy robe, but it concealed her combat armour to some extent, even if it did little to conceal the lower part of her black combat trousers or her combat boots with their neatly tied laces. The streets were crowded. She was hoping that nobody would notice her boots until they were close enough to be captured.
Rachel walked slowly, giving the illusion of someone in no great haste. The robe helped her blend into the crowds as the people walked around her, wandering among market stalls and examining the merchants' wares.
Stepping into the middle of the street, she kept her expression neutral and her head down. She fixed one eye on Barker as he walked away from her, but she made no move to follow him. She waited until he was almost out of sight before she headed up the busy street, making sure to look at every market stall as she walked. She exaggerated the turn of her head to make it look as though she was interested in the goods on offer. The breeze blew sand across her boots as she tried to make her gait more casual in the hope of blending into the crowds.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Rickworth moving level with her across the street. His eyes were straight ahead, staring directly at Barker.
Rachel tapped her jacket collar beneath her robe, whispering into her comms unit. 'I said stay back. Keep your eyes off the target.'
Rickworth glared at her, but he stayed where he was until she had moved along a line of fruit stalls, strolling up the street at a leisurely pace.
Barker was already a couple of hundred metres ahead of her when he stopped and turned for the first time, looking back over his shoulder at the street beh
ind him. Rachel kept her head low and her movements slow. She stepped over to a stall that was covered with bolts of silk, wrapped in thick paper. She moved her mouth as though she was talking to the stallholder, but she didn't make any sound. She wasn't interested in talking. She just wanted to listen to her comms channel.
The stall keeper looked at her as though she had gone completely mad. His curly white moustache twitched beneath a round, red nose and his beady eyes huddled under thick white brows that rose and fell at regular intervals. Rachel didn't care what he thought of her actions. He was a market stall owner. He must have met crazy people all the time.
Barker was standing up ahead, his eyes searching the crowds around him. He hadn't noticed her yet. She was sure about that. Rachel opened a bolt of blue silk and examined the fine cloth, holding it up to the light between her fingers.
'I can make you good deal if you speak louder,' the stallholder said with a thin smile spreading across his big round face.
Rachel shook her head. In the corner of her eye, she saw Barker walking away again. She waited for a few seconds, placing the blue cloth neatly back in its paper wrapper, then walked along the line of stalls towards him. She pretended to cough and took a quick glance behind her. The rest of the Security Forces were a long way back. They were all wearing the same dirty white robes on top of their uniforms. Their identical disguises made them more conspicuous than she had hoped. She could see Harris clearly because of his beard, but she didn't think the Kamari would recognise him. So far, everything was going to plan.
Barker walked over to a tall stone pillar and stepped behind it. Rachel paused, browsing a stall covered with wooden bowls, spoons and ladles. On another day she might have bought one. She waited for Barker to appear on the other side of the pillar, but as the seconds passed by, she realised that he wasn't going to. A bad feeling started in her stomach before moving up towards her chest.