Heretic

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “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…”

  Chapter 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.

  Three Conclave-security Darts roared overhead as they flew around the installation. The red fighter ships split up and fell into patrolling patterns further out to sea before a new ship arrived. This new ship was sleek, like the Darts, but entirely silver and lavish in design. Six out of place, chunky-looking engines brought the craft to land gently on the platform in front of Bal and Gelda. The two stood to attention, straightening their backs while trying to ignore the unusual landscape.

  “Is this really happening?” Gelda squeaked.

  “Yes.” Bal cleared the lump in his throat. “Just try to think of them as our benefactors or sponsors…” He didn’t want her to embarrass him.

  “You mean rather than the most powerful beings in the galaxy?” Gelda replied in a smaller voice.

  Doctor Bal thought about that statement and considered the eleven beings frozen in their Rem-Stores beneath their very feet. Powerful was a term the Terran had redefined for the doctor.

  The shuttle door slid aside and a ramp protruded down to the platform. The first to exit was Xydrandil, the Nix. Though not a member of the Highclave, this particular alien was considered their gatekeeper. The Nix’s billowing black and silver robes covered the majority of his pincer-like legs, as he scurried across the platform. Xydrandil was soon followed by the council of aliens that ruled over seven hundred and twenty worlds.

  They defined regal. These five beings held the weight of multiple civilizations on their shoulders. Bal had only ever spoken with them over a holo-feed, and even then there had only been one or two of them. The doctor’s attention was momentarily torn away by the increasing size of the oncoming wave. Though several miles away, the weight and speed of the water would certainly kill them all.

  “Greetings of peace, Doctor Bal.” Elondrasa towered over the Trillik with her levitating headdress.

  “Councillors…” Bal was lost for words. “Greetings of peace!” he said at last, as was the Novaarian custom. “I didn’t realise you were honouring u
s with a visit.”

  Brokk, the hulking Raalak, glanced over his stone shoulder. “A visit that will be short-lived if we continue this conversation out here.”

  Bal followed the councillor’s look of concern and agreed with his assessment. “Please…” The doctor ushered them into the Translift.

  Xydrandil trailed behind with a small group of elite soldiers, all dressed in black armour. It was quite the squeeze once they were all inside the lift - especially with Brokk’s girth. Thankfully, the installation was relatively spacious inside, allowing for the group to regain their regal postures.

  “Would you like a tour of the installation, Councillors?” Bal wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be doing. The conversation over the holo-feed was only meant to be an update report.

  Nu-marn, whose Shay features gave him a permanent frown, replied, “We didn’t come all this way to see where you shit and eat.”

  Bal noticed the briefest of inflections across the other councillors’ faces, suggesting their dislike for the Shay.

  “Take us to them,” Elondrasa added with more diplomacy.

  “As you wish.” Bal was only too happy to deal with the Novaarian councillor.

  The walk was tediously long with the installation branching out the deeper they travelled. The silence offered the councillors time to ask simpler questions Bal was only too happy to answer.

  “Does this facility have a name?” Lordina asked.

  Doctor Bal turned to the Laronian and found his reply hard to come by, as he dwelled for a moment too long on her beauty. “No, Councillor. This installation, like the planet in which it resides, is without a name or designation. Neither can it be found on any star charts. One or two of the staff have attempted to name the installation and even the planet, but I have discouraged them from doing so. High Charge Uthor was quite clear about the level of secrecy surrounding this project. It is to remain nameless…”

  Ch’lac, the smallest and slowest of the group, stopped to make an observation. “I see the renovations are still underway.”

  The group turned as one to regard the newest lab, still under construction, filled with floating mechs who were busy building the framework.

  “Yes…” Bal wasn’t sure where the Ch’kara was going with his comment. “The mechs have to be quite careful in their work, being so far below sea level. One wrong adjustment and the entire installation will implode under the pressure!” The Trillik lost his smile when the councillors failed to enjoy the levity.

  “I take it there are no issues with funding?” Elondrasa inquired.

  “Oh no, Councillor,” Bal was quick to reply. The funds being supplied to the project were large enough to build a fleet or buy an entire planet. “The renovations are just taking time due to the speed with which the installation required altering. As you know, it was originally designed to house only one occupant.”

  “Kalian Gaines is no longer considered an active threat,” Elondrasa stated the fact as if she were making a public announcement.

  Nu-marn added, not-so-subtly, under his breath, “That could change in a heartbeat…”

  Brokk’s giant flat head swivelled towards the Shay, creating the sound of grinding rocks. Nu-marn matched the Raalak’s scowl but remained silent.

  Doctor Bal excused himself to open the next door - the most secure in the whole facility. The Trillik stood over a concealed pressure matt, which measured his weight, while his hand rested inside a circular alcove, where his fingerprints and a small sample of his DNA was taken from the top layers of his green skin. A retinal scanner ran a blue light over one of his four eyeballs as another scanner measured his height and checked for concealed weapons. Using the glass interface beside the hand scanner, Bal adjusted the detectors to allow for the Highclave’s guards and their weapons.

  Finally, the oval door parted with a hiss, revealing another lab. A small team of scientists was already inside, busy working away on what was clearly the centrepiece of the lab. Bal showed the Highclave in, walking backward to gauge their reactions at the sight. A single Gomar female stood upright in the middle of the lab, her legs mostly covered by the lower half of the Rem-Store. Everything else was on show without the usual screen and casing that housed an occupant.

  “I don’t understand…” Elondrasa looked the female Gomar up and down, taking in her short, red hair that only covered half of her head.

  “Yes, as you can see,” Bal directed their attention to the glass wall on their right, where the other ten sleeping Gomar could be seen inside their Rem-Stores, “we have found a way to remove most of the outer shell without waking them.”

  The Highclave’s attention fell back on the female Gomar, who was still inside her bulky, black armour. Several tubes and wires protruded her head and bare hands, giving and taking fluids.

  Bal could see that this new step made the councillors nervous. “It’s perfectly safe.” The doctor reached out and touched the Gomar’s fingers. “She is still very much asleep. It’s quite astonishing really; for all their advanced technology, their Rem-Stores are very similar to our cryo-pods. The tricky part was building an interface that would allow us to talk to the hardware.” Bal flicked the Rem-Store with his bulbous finger. “Every one of them is made from nanocelium and coded in Terran, to which we have no working translation. However, we managed to remove the outer shell and insert intravenous lines before the occupant could be roused. It was touch and go while we experimented with different sedation techniques.”

  “She has never woken?” Lordina asked, raising the blue scales above her eye.

  Bal gestured to a series of tanks that lined the wall - all connected in some way to the Gomar. “Some of our first concoctions proved to be insufficient, placing the subject in a stupefacient state. We have since increased the dose, though we are forced to make regular adjustments.”

  “Adjustments?” Ch’lac inquired.

  “Her immune system is unlike anything we’ve ever seen in the Conclave. She’s always fighting it, as if her mind knows that something isn’t right. Now, from what we know about them, the Gomar are essentially Terran. They are identical in every way, except the Gomar struggle to control their natural abilities, making them dangerous. These exo-suits,” Bal placed the palm of his hand on the cold breastplate, “appear to be linked in a surgical manner to the Harnesses that run the length of their spines.” The doctor brought up a hologram of recent scans to illustrate. “As you can see, the Harness has been fused with the central nervous system along the spine. Without these exo-suits, the Gomar would be as powerless as any human. Somehow the nanocelium inside the suits is able to not only counteract the Harness but also provide the user with a measure of control.”

  “Can you remove the exo-suit?” Brokk asked.

  “We’re working on that…” Bal had indeed been studying the suits and their users closely since the outer shell of the Rem-Store had been successfully removed.

  “The only way we’re going to get answers from them is if they’re awake,” Ch’lac stated. “I think we are all in agreement that consciousness should not be achieved until their abilities are nullified?”

  “Agreed,” Nu-marn added.

  Elondrasa walked over to the glass wall and looked out on the ten Rem-Stores, their occupants frozen within. “If even one of them became aware of what was happening, they could bring this entire installation to its knees, not to mention the havoc they could create in the Conclave.”

  “There are fail-safes in place for such an incident,” Bal explained. “Every floor is fitted with enough explosives to disintegrate this installation and everything inside it. And should that not be enough, this planet was chosen for a reason, Councillor. There is no land from pole to pole, since we had the ice-caps destroyed. We keep no shuttles or spacecraft of any kind as we are resupplied monthly. There is no way off this world.”

  Ch’lac looked up at Bal. “What became of the recent security breach?

  The doctor averted his eyes in em
barrassment. Only a month ago, during a supply landing, had the internal systems been compromised. The apparent hack had only lasted half a second before the firewalls shut it out and tracked the source to a cluster of asteroids in Bendeesi system.

  “We still aren’t sure how the intruder found a way into our systems, but High Charge Uthor is certain the supply ship was the cause. After the entire installation was swept, the supply ships were all swapped out and personnel changed. The signal was traced via the supply ship to the Bendeesi System, but I am told there were no life forms in that region of space. Either way, they were shut out before any data could be taken.

  “A disturbing series of events,” Ch’lac replied, gravely.

  “Indeed. All of our security systems have been upgraded since.”

  Nu-marn cleared his cybernetic throat. “Have you gleaned any weaknesses in all your research, Doctor Bal?”

  “We’ve been learning more every day since we removed the outer shell,” Bal replied with enthusiasm. The doctor brought up a new hologram, this time with images of the female’s right palm. “One of my first tests was to measure her immune system.” The image changed to that of an inch-long cut on her palm. “The wound didn’t heal instantly as I had expected it to. This proves that their ability to heal is a conscious decision. However,” the image changed again to clean palm, “the wound did seal back up without any scar tissue within a few days - much quicker than any natural healing factor we know of.”

  Lordina frowned. “Doesn’t that prove their healing isn’t a conscious decision? We all saw how Kalian Gaines healed himself after that incident on the Nova.”

  Indeed Bal had seen the footage of what could only be described as a miraculous feat of biology. Kalian Gaines had contained an entire starrillium from exploding, saving the crew, and then healed himself from what should have been fatal burns - with a little help from a medder tank.