Information Cloud: Science fiction and fantasy series (Tales of Cinnamon City Book 1)

by Peter James West

  A crackling noise made Gail look up. Two hundred metres above her head, the Dome Shield extended from the White Spear's tip, spreading towards the horizon in all directions. This close to the Dome Shield, its usual transparent nature took on new qualities. Strange patterns played across its surface as though tiny wriggling creatures lived inside it. Gail discarded the preposterous thought.

  She didn't know anything about what the Dome Shield was made of or how it worked. Nobody did except for the Lords. It had been present for centuries even before she was born. Nobody questioned its existence. The same was true of the White Spear. She had lived inside the building for several years and yet she never felt like she really knew the building at all. Its mysteries belonged to the Lords and they liked to keep it that way.

  Whenever Gail had tried to ask about the White Spear, the lords had brushed her questions aside as though she was nothing more than a foolish child. She hated talking to them. They had no respect for her position at all. Most of the time they were absent. If only they would remain permanently absent, things might be a lot easier for her to do her job. On the rare occasions that one of them visited Central Command, they never bothered to meet her unless she managed to find them before they had gone again.

  A shiver ran down her spine. It was getting colder. She turned and walked back towards the armour plated doors that led into the White Spear, but something caught her eye. Glancing down, she noticed an old plaque hung low on the balcony's balustrade. She couldn't remember having seen it before. Kneeling in front of it, she wiped away what looked like decades of dry dirt. The plaque was weather worn and faded in several places. She had to strain her eyes and retrace the words more than once, but eventually she managed to read it.

  In remembrance of the Sand-Lord

  David Wembern,

  honoured member of the Council Of Lords,

  guardian of the people,

  and father of the Orange Zone.

  All those who live beneath the Dome Shield

  shall forever owe their lives to him.

  May God take him into his heart.

  Gail rose to her feet and frowned. She had never heard the name Wembern before. There was so much that the Lords had not told her. She wondered whether there would ever be an end to their secrets.

  A low buzz from her jacket collar informed her of an incoming comms call. Gail took one more look at the plaque, then turned and strode back inside the White Spear.

  The Gateways

  There had been no sign of Kamari soldiers in Havers Compound for almost an hour. Rumours were spreading that the operation would soon be over. Many of the Security Forces were beginning to make their way back to their transports, walking out onto the muddy fields outside.

  Lieutenant Ronald Pike stood in one of the larger open spaces inside Havers Compound, deleting old messages from his console. The plain white walls were undamaged, almost peaceful in their cleanliness. Half a dozen soldiers lolled against packing cases nearby, smoking cigarettes or checking their ammunition for the second or third time.

  A shimmering motion in the air was their only warning. A cloaked gateway wobbled into existence, a watery torus floating two feet above the ground. As it stabilised, a clear opening formed, looking out onto another place entirely. The soldiers threw their cigarettes to the floor, jumping to their feet and grabbing their weapons.

  It was known that the Kamari had portal technology, rumours had been spreading for years, but nobody had ever seen one until now. It was said that gateways enabled people to move great distances in a single step, or to enter sealed spaces deep underground. The technology required to make them was immense. Cloaking a gateway would be even more difficult. Pike wondered how long the gateway had been open before the Kamari had uncloaked it. No doubt they had been watching the Security Forces, waiting for the best moment to attack.

  The soldiers fired at the gateway as soon as it appeared. They reacted on instinct and fear rather than any hope of hitting something. The bullets disappeared into the shimmering air without having any effect.

  When three small black spheres emerged from the gateway, floating out into the room, the soldiers had no doubts about what they were looking at - but it was too late. Simultaneous explosions tore the room apart before they could run. Bodies, tables and debris flew against the outer walls in a brilliant white flash. When the Kamari forces streamed out en-massé, there was nothing to meet them but blood and smoke.

  Renewed fighting broke out all over the compound. Nobody was quite sure where the Kamari had come from. Some said that the soldiers appeared from nowhere. Others spoke of hidden doors or floating weapons. One thing was for sure, the battle of Havers Compound was far from over. The Kamari had returned. The sound of gunfire filled the air. Explosions shook the ground. Everywhere men ran and fought, some with guns, some with fists and knives. Frantic fighting could be heard from all sides. The fighting was at its most fierce on the west side of the compound.

  The sun had set over Havers Compound. The Kamari pushed the Security Forces to the front of the compound, forcing them out onto the dark ploughed fields outside. They came in great numbers, pouring out of Havers Compound like a colony of ants, pushing the Security Forces along with them in a tide of destruction. Plasma grenades flashed in the darkness. Men fell. Shouts filled the air. Armoured vehicles blasted each other with bright red proton fire. The battleground was ablaze once more.

  Lockdown

  Riser couldn't believe it. His two hundred and fifty strong swarm of net-feed droids had been cut back to a mere twenty-three. Even the few droids that were remaining were running low on power. Since his little satellite-grid controller stunt, the Kamari had joined in the latest fad of shooting down net-feed droids. Worst of all, there was a Bull Ranger running around, blasting the droids out of the air. Its efficiency was unsettling. The breadth of sensations pouring through Riser's mind had thinned to a trickle compared to the hurricane of information that it had once been. It was a sad loss of sensation. Riser had already tried to release another pod of a further two hundred and fifty net-feed droids from the Mekinet News droid hangar in Shinara but Ario had shut him out. The hangar was locked down and off limits as far as Riser was concerned. Neech could be a real asshole when he wanted to be.

  The orange warning lights blinking in Riser's mind informed him that his remaining droids would run out of power within three hours. They were not intended for long term use. They were not intended for this kind of use at all. He considered calling Neech again and demanding another pod from the hangar, but he didn't think the conversation would go very well. His working relationship with Neech was probably now completely fucked. There was nothing he could do about that. They had never been on good terms anyway.

  It was getting cold in the basement. Riser thought he'd better check what the dick heads with the shoulder lamps were doing. Flicking through the banks of internal visual logs, he searched the corridors and stairwells of the Mekinet News building to find out what the Security Forces were doing.

  It looked like Thompson had taken his threat seriously. She didn't know that he hadn't yet managed to break the satellite-grid controller's access codes, and she never would if Riser could help it. She'd have to assume that he was willing and capable of blasting the whole building down to a street-level stump. As fun as it would be, Riser had no intention of launching a satellite strike on his own building. The Security Forces were dumb sometimes. He didn't have to challenge his imagination too much to come up with lies to confuse them with. They believed whatever crap he told them.

  The soldiers had pulled back. A disgruntled crowd remained at the front of the building, soldiers milling amongst them and more people hanging around across the street. There were two or three soldiers still inside the building, but they were at least trying to find their way back out. It was entertaining watching the fools walking in circles, like mice in a maze, making the same mistakes over and over again.

  A green light blinked in Riser'
s mind. It was another request from Damen, no doubt.

  Riser opened a channel onto the PA system in the basement.

  'Yes, Damen? What is it now?'

  'I want an RS12.'

  'What the fuck do you want one of those for?'

  'I can sell it.'

  'You won't need it, believe me. Once they pay up, we'll have all the credits we'll ever need.'

  'You could still ask for one.'

  'Central Command are stupid, Damen, but they aren't that stupid. They won't give us more obscenely expensive military hardware to stop us from using our existing stolen military hardware.'

  Damen took a while to respond. 'OK. It was just a thought.' He was silent for a while. He must have been considering how the denial of an RS12 affected his current wish list. He'd already requested more things than Riser could even remember.

  'A Juxter K11, then. That's not military.'

  Riser sighed, 'Fine. I'll add it to the list. One Juxter K11 trailer shuttle. That is unless you need three of them?'

  'No. Just one.'

  'Okay, I'm adding it to the list. I'm going to send it now before it gets even more ridiculous.'

  'But I might think of some more things that I need.'

  'It's only a matter of time before Central Command realise that I can't control the satellite-grid controller at all, and when they do, we need to be as far away from Cinnamon City as possible, not sitting here writing lists that they can storm in and shove up our arses!'

  'I think I'll go back to reading my gun catalogue then.'

  Damen clicked off the comms link leaving Riser alone with his thoughts.

  Time to Exit

  Rachel headed away from the sounds of fighting even though it was against her natural instinct to do so. She jogged towards the east side of the compound. It was deserted in comparison to the mayhem that was now breaking out to the West. The weight of her equipment pack pulled at her shoulder as she ran past the bodies of fallen soldiers from both sides. She couldn't help feeling angry about how Gail Thompson had recalled her to Central Command. She had never liked Thompson. The feeling was apparently mutual.

  She headed deeper into east wing of the compound, following the convoluted corridors as she searched for an exit. On her right, she noticed a series of rooms that had not been involved in the fighting at all. The pristine white walls and large glass partitions were in sharp contrast to the rest of the battle-damaged compound. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of technicians packing up equipment, getting ready to move out. There were no Kamari soldiers here so she left the technicians to continue their work. They didn't look like the fighting kind. Most of them ignored her too. Some scurried away like mice when they heard her coming.

  She glanced into the rooms that lined the corridor as she walked. Most were laboratories of some kind, filled with equipment and consoles. Intrigued by what looked like someone lying on a metal-framed bed, Rachel paused in one of the laboratory entrances. She knew that she didn't have much time, but something pulled at her to take a closer look. There was nobody else in the room so she slipped inside with her impact pistol held loose in one hand.

  The displays next to the bed showed a heartbeat even though the figure on the bed was covered with a plain white sheet. It seemed like an odd way to treat a living patient. Rachel raised her impact pistol in case there was a technician hiding under the sheet but she didn't think it was likely. She reached out, pulling the edge of the sheet back and was surprised to find a young boy lying on the bed. His thin sandy hair was arranged into a neat parting as though he had been groomed for his own funeral, but the bedside console displayed a strong and steady heartbeat. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

  Rachel brushed a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. What was the boy doing here? Was he sick? Why had the technicians covered him with a sheet? No doubt one of the technicians would visit to the boy sooner or later. Another time she would have stayed to investigate further, but she had her orders. She had to get back to the towers.

  She was about to turn and leave, when she noticed something disturbing. A thick cable was hanging under the bed. She had assumed that it was attached to the console but it seemed to be tucked under the boy's pillow. Stepping around to the back of the bed, Rachel gasped. The whole back of the boy's head was missing, replaced by a thick black metallic casing. It wasn't a sensor cap. It was built directly into the boy's head, and the thick cable was plugged into the base of his neck.

  Rachel shuddered as she lifted her impact pistol and aimed it at the aberration in front of her. She stood there for a long time, thoughts whirring inside her head. What had they done to him? It was an abomination. The impact pistol wobbled in her trembling hand. Seconds passed by as she struggled to understand what she was looking at.

  The boy opened his eyes. Rachel jumped and almost fired by accident. His eyes watched her as a thin smile formed on his lips. Rachel swallowed hard. She lowered her weapon and strode quickly out of the room. There was nothing she could do for the boy. She kept telling herself that as she hurried through the compound, fighting the anger within herself. There was nothing she could do!

  A hundred metres further down the corridor, a cool breeze guided her towards a collapsed wall that led out onto the open fields beyond. She was surprised to see how dark it had become outside. She'd been in the compound all day. Thin streaks of rain fell from a starless sky. She tried not to think about what she had seen in the laboratories, but the appalling sight of the cable attached to the boy's head replayed over and over in her mind. This was no ordinary building. Whatever kind of research the Kamari were doing here, Rachel was sure she didn't like it.

  Once she stepped out onto the muddy battlefield, she made her way to the nearest abandoned vehicle and climbed inside it. It was a Nimbus jump-pad, capable of low level flight. It was just what she had been looking for. She used her wrist console to activate its control systems, watching small lights flickering across the control panel above her head. A low hum told her that the propulsion system had started.

  The jump-pad shook, and this rose up, hovering just above the ground, using small manoeuvring jets to maintain its position until she managed to steer it away from the compound. It wobbled as it tried to hover above the uneven ploughed fields, firing stabiliser jets on both sides. The fields were mostly deserted at this end of the compound but she could still hear fighting to the West. Intermittent white flashes punctuated the sky behind her. She hoped Nick was okay. Rodnig would be there to help him. He was a veteran in his own right.

  Steering around a lone tree, she sped forwards, racing across the muddy fields. It wasn't long before she saw the river pass by beneath her. Walstone Forest formed a dark silhouette across the sky in front of her. Powering up the main drive, she increased thrust until the jump-pad rose up above the treetops. It felt good to be so high, putting some distance between herself and her unsettling memories of Havers Compound.

  Once she was clear of the trees, Rachel reached up to the control panel above her head, entering the coordinates for Cinnamon City. It was still some distance to the North-East.

  She had deliberately chosen a vehicle that wasn't a walker. Walkers hated mud. After heavy rain and so much fighting, the battlefield had turned into a quagmire. The journey would have been slow and difficult on a roach. The jump-pad would make much better progress over long distances, bypassing the need to navigate through the forest. Even with the rack of white lights mounted on the front of the jump-pad, she could only see a few metres into the darkness ahead. The rain was falling harder now. Gusting winds shunted the jump-pad back and forth as though it was riding on the waves of the sky.

  Rachel relied on the autopilot to keep her away from tall trees and any other mishaps. The dark sky embraced her and the trees flowed beneath the jump-pad like an ocean of branches. She rubbed one cold hand across her face as she t
ried to relax the tightness in her shoulders. It wasn't long before her mind started to wander.

  She thought about her daughter, Lisa, back at her apartment. Annie would be looking after her, she knew that, but she didn't know how long it would be before she would be able to visit her home again. It didn't feel safe leaving Lisa in the apartment. She couldn't say why, exactly. It troubled her that the apartment block was so close to the Mekinet News building. All the talk about net-feed droids at Havers Compound was already making Rachel feel uneasy.

  Thompson was trying to lay the blame on her father. Rachel wasn't sure how things were going to pan out. She couldn't let Lisa get caught up in any of that. Maybe it would be better if Lisa went to her grandfather's for a few days. There were people there who could look after her for a while. Annie would be there too. At least she would be out of the city for a while.

  Rachel tried to distract herself with thoughts of how Lisa would enjoy her upcoming birthday. It was hard to be cheerful in the driving rain of such a bleak night. She was angry with Thompson for putting her in this situation. She felt angry about a lot of things.

  Responsibilities

  Nick stood in one of the quieter rooms of Havers Compound, checking his hand-held console. It showed various inaccurate maps and brightly coloured illustrations of what total chaos war really was. He tapped in a few orders, just to show that he was still alive, but it was difficult to keep track of the eight thousand Security Forces that had arrived a few hours ago and proceeded to fuck everything up. There were twenty-three unit leaders, fourteen majors and one commander on the battlefield somewhere. Most of the unit leaders seemed to be inexperienced from what he had seen so far. Not one of them had contacted Nick, the leader of the Beacon Attack Force, or bothered to coordinate their own misconstrued plans with his own. Those with the rank of major were doing their best, but they were spread too thin for such a large force. Commander Rodnig had a lot of combat experience but Nick wasn't sure why he had been sent on his own. The whole thing was a shambles.