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

by Peter James West

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  Damen pulled a rag from his pocket, wiping the blood from his knife's serrated blade. Its sharp edge had proven useful once more. Riser was still in his own world, blissfully unaware of what had just happened. His wrist twitched as his jelly fish hat filled his mind with visions of far away places. He wouldn't have even noticed if the woman had killed him. Damen would have known though, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Riser was his brother. Nobody was going to hurt him while Damen was around.

  The woman wore a Security Forces uniform, her black combat trousers and jacket now covered in her own blood. Obviously she hadn't got the message about pulling out of the building. Well, she had got the message now all right.

  Damen bent down, grabbing her impact pistol from the floor. It was lighter than he had expected. Walking across to his brother, he lay the pistol gently on the side of the desk. He considered telling Riser what had just happened, but he didn't want to make his brother angry again. Riser didn't like being interrupted when he was busy, and he wouldn't like this kind of news at all. Damen knew his brother would be angry with him for killing the woman, but what else could he have done? There was no need to tell him yet, anyway. The woman was going nowhere.

  Damen stepped out into the corridor, walking along its length before shuffling onto the landing outside. Staring up the stairwell, he watched for any signs movement in the darkness. He couldn't see anything. Had the woman been stupid enough to come alone? Why would she do that? He hadn't seen anyone coming on the visual logs, but a lot of them weren't working now that the building's power was out.

  Rubbing his chin with one hand, he wondered what he had got himself into. If she could find her way down to the research levels, maybe someone else could too.

  One Step Ahead

  Nick ran down a long corridor, through double doors, and found himself in some kind of meeting room. One end of the room was home to a black plastic table. Three chairs had been placed in a row on each side. The table was laid out with pens and paper, and even a small selection of biscuits. A vase of flowers sat in the middle of the table, filling the room with the sweet scent of summer blooms. Nick slowed his pace, staring with disbelief. Shaking his head, he stepped out through a side door.

  The next room was a bright relaxation area. Soft white seats had been laid out in a horseshoe arrangement in the middle of the room with an ornate wooden coffee table almost filling the space between them. Drinking fountains lined the back wall. Both rooms seemed strangely out of place compared to the rubble-strewn corridors nearby. Nick wondered again just where the portal had taken him.

  A beautiful woman sat on an L-shaped sofa, drinking coffee from a clear glass cup. Her long black hair hung in swirls about her shoulders and her tight red dress stopped well short of her knees. She raised an eyebrow as Nick ran past but she made no move to get up. He nodded in greeting, starting to make excuses for his presence, but then decided it was better to say nothing at all. He was already halfway across the room. Nothing he could say now would make his actions any less suspicious. He was wearing combat gear, covered in blood, dust and small pieces of fallen masonry. Anything he said would lack credibility anyway.

  Running towards a door at the back of the room, Nick headed into a corridor where stone walls gave way to polished metal alloys. The ceiling was covered in snaking cables and ventilation conduits. Stepping over a pile of wooden boxes, he quickened his pace. He expected to run into Kamari soldiers at any moment, but wherever they had gone, they didn't appear to be here. He wondered whether the portals had all been linked to different locations. It made sense in a way. That many people couldn't all arrive in the same place at once.

  Nick slowed to a trot as he tried to catch his breath. Hunger rumbled in his stomach. The long day was catching up with him. He leant against the wall and gathered his thoughts until his breathing had slowed to a more manageable rhythm. Turning on his comms unit, he tried to hail Rachel but there was no response. His chest felt tight every time he thought about her. Was she okay? Where was she now? The comms unit hung for a few seconds, then flashed up a status message.

  OUT OF RANGE

  Nick scratched his head and tried again but with no more luck. He tried to call Central Command but got the same response. His comms unit should work if he was within two kilometres of Cinnamon City. Maybe wherever he was had some serious jamming equipment. Either way, his comms unit was useless to him now.

  He didn't know where he was, and he didn't know how to get back, even if he wanted to. It wouldn't be long before the Kamari surrounded him. How long could he hide in a base full of enemy soldiers? He wondered whether he would ever speak to Rachel again. The thought stung him more than he thought possible.

  Brushing his hair with one hand, he gazed down at the floor in front of him. Somewhere in the distance, he could smell something burning. It reminded him of the times he had sat with the men, back at Beacon Station. They had smoked cigarettes and exchanged stories about previous combat operations. There had been a camaraderie between them back then. They had all been new to the station, and trying to impress each other. It hadn't lasted long. Within weeks, things had started to go wrong. Major Mullork had been killed while out on patrol. All the soldiers had liked him. He had made jokes, and handed out cigarettes, even when he didn't have many left for himself. His contagious smile had been sadly missed. It had been a blunt reminder that they weren't at Beacon Station to play games and make friends. They were there to suppress the Kamari.

  Many soldiers had died since Mullork. Each casualty left Beacon Station's crew feeling more hopeless and desolate than before. Nick squeezed the grip of his impact pistol. Sometimes a man could make his own decisions in life. Sometimes the dice had already been rolled. If this was to be his final act, then he had to keep his promise to Rachel. He had to find the satellite-grid controller and destroy it. At least then Cinnamon City would be safe from Trent and the Kamari. Nobody would be able to use it once it was destroyed. Rachel and Lisa would be safe from the satellite strikes of madmen. That was all that mattered.

  A blinking red light caught Nick's eye. When he looked up, he noticed the familiar round lens of a visual log recorder pointing straight towards him. So much for stealth. The Kamari soldiers would definitely know where he was now. Nick broke into a jog. If he was going to find the controller, he had better do it soon.

  His eyes scanned the rows of doors that lined the corridor as he ran. Each room seemed stranger than the last. The first door led to a sparse bunkroom. An old man sat bare-chested on a bunk, his body covered in folds of sagging skin. A plastic face mask covered his nose and mouth, and a clear plastic tube connected the mask to a ventilator. The old man watched Nick run past with empty eyes. Nick wondered who he was and how long he had been there.

  The next room had a bunk in it too. This one was unoccupied. A dome-shaped cleaning droid was making a whirring noise under the bunk. It looked like it was trying to hump the floor tiles. Nick blinked and ran on.

  Most of the rooms contained stacks of equipment boxes. Nick wondered whether the Kamari might be doing some kind of medical research. He had seen patients, and a few domestic droids, but he hadn't seen any doctors.

  He shoved his way through a pair of wide double doors and took the nearest staircase. He was getting out of breath again. Sweat clung to the back of his neck. He headed up, rather than down, though he couldn't say why. He had to trust his instincts sometimes. They were all he had to go on. The stairs doubled back and stopped in front of a large metal security door. A numeric keypad was built into the frame of the door. Nick cursed. So much, for his fucking instincts. He was about to turn back, when he heard voices below. They were a several levels down but they were getting closer. He was trapped with nowhere else to go.

  He pushed the door but wasn't surprised to find that it was locked. Another visual log recorder stood in the corner of the stairwell, red light blinking down at him. There was no time for subtlety. Raising his impact pistol, N
ick fired directly at the security panel. It shattered, sparking as the circuits shorted out. Nick fired again before slamming the butt of his impact pistol on the keypad. It cracked but he didn't feel like his efforts were making any real difference. He kicked the door over and over with his black combat boots. Just when he was about to give up, he heard something click, and the door swung open.

  A single Kamari soldier sat on a metal chair in the small hallway beyond the open door. When he saw Nick, he leapt up from his chair and reached for an assault rifle that was leant against the wall beside him. Nick fired once, hitting him in the side of the head. The soldier staggered sideways, collapsing behind a small metal table. Nick peered over the table top, holding his impact pistol out in front of him, but the soldier was already dead. There was nobody else in the hallway. The only other door was marked, 'Research'. Nick took a deep breath, checked his impact pistol, and then opened the door.

  An immense underground hangar opened up before him. A Walker stood towering above him in the middle of the wide open space. Nick flinched, almost turning to run in the opposite direction. He had escaped the Walker that had attacked him in Walstone Forest, only to run into another Walker in this strange underground base. But something was different about this one. It stood motionless before him with gantries erected around it so technicians could work on it. A series of smaller droids crawled up and down its huge legs, attaching armour plating. Thick cables hung down from the hangar's high ceiling, attached to the Walker's head. Nick realised the droid was still under construction. There were gaps in its body that he could see straight through. He relaxed his shoulders and loosened his grip on his impact pistol, growing in confidence that the Walker wasn't about to blast him into a thousand pieces.

  The whole building was full of men in white lab coats. Some wore black protective gloves and face masks. Nick stared in disbelief. Now that he felt comfortable taking his eyes off the Walker, he saw that there were many other strange droids in the hangar too. Each one stood in its own marked out area. The droids were attended to by groups of technicians, and the room was full of the sounds of welder droids and humming power lines. The smell of burning was stronger here. It was the welder droids, melting metal alloys with high voltage integrators. They crawled across the Walker's legs, attaching multiple layers of armour, as they climbed towards its low hanging body.

  A shuttle whizzed past Nick, pulling a long trail of segmented cargo pods behind it. It wriggled passed him like a demented centipede. Nick stood watching the strange sights around him. The hangar was huge. The roof of the hangar was so high that it was barely visible. He wondered again just how far the portal had taken him. Was he in some kind of underground cavern?

  A series of small rooms with high glass walls ran along the right side of the hangar. Most of them looked like laboratories or storage rooms, packed with equipment and supplies. There were no soldiers in the hangar. The technicians seemed to be caught up in their own work. Nobody had noticed Nick so far, even though he stood in plain view. He knew his time must be limited. It was clear that the Kamari weren't expecting a commander of Central Command to gain entry to a place like this, but the technicians would notice him soon if he didn't keep moving.

  Nick jogged along the side of the hangar as quickly as he dared, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He glanced into each of the rooms in turn. He was hoping he might find the satellite-grid controller again, or at least some clues as to where it might be. None of the rooms offered him much hope. Most contained piles of equipment. Several had consoles showing images of other hangars. Nick had no idea where they were. He was surprised that the Kamari had so many resources at their disposal. Maybe they were capable of far more than he had given them credit for.

  Some of the technicians glanced at Nick with concern in their eyes as he ran past. It wouldn't be long before one of them realised he shouldn't be there and raised the alarm.

  Halfway along the row of glass-walled rooms, his search was interrupted by the chime of a lift opening. Huge metal doors slid open, revealing a rising cargo bay that was large enough for a Walker. The enormous lift was empty except for two technicians who were struggling with a long metal cylinder. Nick clenched his teeth when he saw that it was the satellite-grid controller. They held it at each end as they shuffled forwards, carrying it out of the lift. Even from a distance he could hear them grunting with exertion. Their sweaty red faces looked flustered as though they had been struggling with it for a long time.

  Nick took his chance, sprinting towards the lift. He had no choice but to use his last two shots. The first hit the younger technician in the chest, throwing him against the back wall of the lift. His mouth hung open as a wide red circle spread across his lab coat. The end of the cylinder that he had been holding crashed onto the ground with a loud clang. The second shot just missed the older technician's head. He stared at Nick as though he had gone mad. Nick continued his headlong sprint and struck the old man across the face with the butt of his impact pistol. The technician crumpled unconscious, with the satellite-grid controller in his lap. With no ammunition left, and very little time, Nick searched the lift for anything that he could use to help him destroy the controller. There was nothing! Nothing! All that he could see was a fucking red fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.

  Out of Options

  A group of Kamari soldiers appeared at the other end of the hangar. They ran straight towards Nick with their weapons held high. Nick darted behind the inner wall of the lift for cover. He ripped the fire extinguisher from the wall and lifted it high over his head before slamming it down on the satellite-grid controller. The heavy extinguisher crushed the machine's keypad and display panel but the damage was only superficial. Numeric readouts still flowed along the edge of the cylinder. Nick raised the extinguisher and brought it down again. Over and over, he slammed it into the controller with as much force as he could muster. He didn't stop until clear liquid seeped out from its underside.

  Gasping for breath, he paused to examined the controller. The core control unit still looked as though it was working. He cursed his luck. Damn the Security Forces for making the controller so robust. Why couldn't the controller be as poorly made as the rest of Nick's equipment? Damn them all! He had to do something. He had to make sure the Kamari could never use the controller again. But what could he do? He was out of options.

  A feeling of panic rose up inside him but he pushed it back down again. The soldiers were only seconds away. He remembered all the men who had died outside Havers Compound. He remembered Fredericks staring back at him, holding a plasma grenade in his hand. He remembered Rachel shouting at him, telling him that she had to go, and the anger in her eyes the last time he had seen her. He wanted to make it all better. He wanted to tear up every last mistake he had ever made. Maybe it was time to be the hero that Lisa had always mistaken him for. He had never been a hero. He knew that now. He had always been afraid of something. Nick took one look at the soldiers who were charging towards him. They would be on him in moments. He was out of time. There was only one thing he could do.

  Nick pulled the plasma grenade from his jacket pocket and slapped it down on top of the controller. It stuck to the metal casing and a small red light flashed as it emitted a rapid sequence of beeps. Leaping out of the lift, he scrambled on his hands and feet as tried to get as far away from the lift as possible. The soldiers were pointing their weapons at him now. Nick threw himself across the floor with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  The soldiers slowed their approach, looking between Nick and the open lift with confusion painted across their faces. Their leader shouted, 'Get down.'

  Nick grunted as he landed on his elbow and slid along the floor on his back. A bright white flash illuminated the whole hangar as the ground shook beneath him. When he lifted his head, he saw bits of mangled equipment bounced across the hangar towards the soldiers. Nick groaned as the deafening explosion hurt his ears. Pieces of metal crashed down around him
and a support tower collapsed, shattering nearby. Smoke clouds billowed out from the lift entrance, rising up towards the high ceiling. Shouts came from all sides as technicians turned and ran.

  Nick lay on his back, gasping for breath. He waited for the hail of bullets that must surely come. He had no ammunition left. He had no more grenades. No help was on its way. He had played his final hand and there was nothing more he could do. It was a relief, in a way. The great Nick Chambers was finally out of options. But what he had done, he would not take back. The satellite-grid controller was destroyed. Nobody could launch any more satellite strikes. Rachel and Lisa were safe, along with all the people of Cinnamon City. Nick smiled, waiting for his inevitable death.

  Lucky Fools

  Jacob couldn't believe what had happened to Roy and Isor. He had taken charge of the situation as soon as he had found out about the explosion. Arrays of visual log recorders monitored the whole base. They had reported Chamber's position every few minutes, but by the time soldiers had been mobilised to intercept him, he had moved again. It was infuriating. Jacob had been tracking his position for half an hour. Now he knew exactly where Chambers was. He just wished it could have been anywhere else.

  Jacob burst through the double doors, sprinting into the main research hangar. Twenty soldiers followed behind him in a tight pack. They loaded their weapons as they ran, some still pulling on combat jackets and switching on comms units. This was one place they hadn't expected an attack. It was a mistake which had already cost them dearly. Jacob gritted his teeth as he ran. Blood pumped through his veins as he covered the ground with long powerful strides.