Heretic

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “Yes, I believe that the Terran, or the Gomar - whatever label you prefer - can heal instantly, should they wish to, but I also believe that their evolution has granted them a naturally increased healing state. In fact, if my calculations are accurate, a Terran could continually adjust their immune system, healing and aging factors. They could live forever or simply choose to stop replenishing their cells, allowing them to age naturally. Though why they would ever choose to die is beyond me…”

  “That all sounds like a strength to me,” Nu-marn commented. “Weaknesses, Doctor?”

  Bal stopped himself from frowning, exasperated with the Shay’s level of understanding. “This shows us that the Terran use their abilities consciously. It’s not a reflex, though I have a theory that Terran children do have reflexive abilities, as a protective measure - but that’s not…” Bal had to collect himself and stay on topic. “Essentially, if you can surprise a Terran, you can harm them. They have to be actively protecting themselves, which I don’t believe is a state they can maintain for long periods of time. Also, when they’re asleep, they’re vulnerable.” Bal flicked the female’s cheek.

  The Highclave shared a communal glance at one another. Doctor Bal knew that all this information he was collating on Terran physiology was to ensure they had a chance of controlling Kalian Gaines. They might say he isn’t an active threat, but his capabilities made him a danger to everyone in the Conclave. They simply had no way of combating a being that could tear ships apart with a single thought.

  Bal was more upset that he hadn’t been able to get his hands on Esabelle’s body. The things he could have learned from her corpse would unlock every secret the Terran had. Of course, that was the perfect example of Kalian’s power; he said they couldn’t have her body and no one disagreed with him.

  “Anything else, Doctor?” Elondrasa asked, casually.

  “We’ve been scanning her brain, but I could really do with a human to compare their different states of evolution. There’s certainly a lot of activity for someone under heavy sedation, but I can’t be sure whether this is normal for their kind, regardless of their level of evolution.”

  Elondrasa’s tone was stern. “The humans are not animals to be tested on. The Gomar destroyed their world and killed thousands of our own; the humans are victims in all this.”

  “My apologies, Councillor.” Bal shrunk away.

  Elondrasa took a calming breath. “You may continue your work, Doctor Bal. Your priority is to relieve them of their exo-suits, while maintaining the integrity of their Harnesses.”

  “As you wish, Councillor.” Bal just wanted them to leave now. While they were here, he was no longer the god of all he surveyed.

  Brokk adjusted his four-legged stance. “When you have the exo-suits you are to alert us immediately. They will be transferred to a different installation.”

  Bal nodded absently, wondering just how many secret installations the Highclave had, each devoted to understanding the Terran in a different way.

  The Highclave gave the female Gomar a last look before turning to leave. The councillors left the installation as abruptly as they arrived, and Bal was thankful for it. He watched their ship lift off from the landing platform and made a mad dash back to the Translift, along with Gelda. The giant waves were only moments away from crashing into the installation. As the lift descended, the facility shook ever so slightly when the wave finally slammed into the walls. Bal breathed a sigh, though not at surviving the mountainous waves, but at the departure of the Highclave.

  “Prep a new Rem-Store,” Doctor Bal instructed. “We’re going to split into two teams and work on both Gomar at once. The Highclave want those exo-suits and it is our job to deliver them.” His twin-tail clung tightly to his leg.

  Elondrasa sat back in her comfy chair, designed especially for her Novaarian physiology, and watched the waterworld fade away as they passed through the atmosphere. The Marillion’s protective golden hull awaited them, shining in the distant sun.

  Three Darts hovered around their craft, flying in tight formation. Elondrasa knew they would not be the only Darts flying in this region of space, as the Marillion was home to five hundred Darts, each with a pilot ready and waiting to die for their Highclave. She knew that at least a quarter of their complement would be patrolling nearby.

  “It’s confirmed,” Brokk announced to the group, his eyes fixed on the holo-pad in his large hands. “High Charge Uthor reports that there are just over one hundred thousand humans aboard the Paladin. They are working to solve the mystery of their appearance.”

  “That’s all we need,” Nu-marn spat, “more humans and their mysteries!”

  Brokk ignored the Shay’s comment and continued, “Captain Fey has made contact on our behalf. A small engineering crew is being permitted to fix their engine and the radiation leak.”

  “They are to be escorted back to Raalak space?” Lordina asked, incredulously.

  “The habitat we gave them cannot sustain those numbers…” Ch’lac offered from his corner.

  Nu-marn looked directly at Elondrasa. “Don’t say it,” he warned.

  The Shay’s tone grated on the Novaarian. “The Planetary Location Office has chosen an appropriate world for them.” Elondrasa concealed her smile at Nu-marn’s audible groan.

  “Where is it?” Lordina asked.

  Elondrasa frowned, as they should all be aware of this information. “It is within the Novaarian sector. I have already spoken with my government on Nova Prime and they all agree it is for the best.”

  “If we give them a world we give them membership…” Brokk’s tone wasn’t argumentative. The Raalak was simply throwing out a fact and seeing where it fell within the group.

  “They have nothing to offer the Conclave!” Nu-marn’s tone was argumentative.

  Ch’lac sat forward. “They are in possession of technological secrets that could change our entire society! We have just built our first successful Starforge. With the Conclave’s resources, we could have hundreds within a month.”

  “Then there’s the nanocelium…” Lordina sipped a flute of Atari sweet-ale.

  Nu-marn balled his robotic hand. “They will never divulge the secrets to their nanotechnology! It’s an advantage they will hold over us, always teasing us with it but never sharing it. Even now they tell us it cannot be used on anyone but humans and Terran!”

  Elondrasa spoke in a quieter voice. “Should our offer of membership be solely based on what other species has to offer us?”

  Nu-marn turned to Xydrandil. “Leave us.”

  The Nix bowed his chevron head and departed the lounge without a word. Elondrasa knew she had brought up a much-contested topic, one that had even been protested over during the early days of her councilship and many times before that. Of the twelve species that inhabited the Conclave, only five of them were permitted to sit on the Highclave. It had been these five that originally formed the Conclave and brought with them technology that helped to shape their society.

  Nu-marn continued, “With nothing to offer us they would be dead weight, entirely carried by our resources. They will breed until they populate that world and require another one. Their needs will know no bounds, and we will have to be the ones who explain to the various heads of government that their resources must be shared.”

  “I agree,” Lordina added her vote.

  Brokk remained silent with his rectangular head resting in his large palm, contemplating.

  Ch’lac offered, “Can we not grant them a planet without membership?”

  The councillors looked at one another, having never considered that an option before.

  “Giving them a planet does have its advantages,” Brokk said. “They would be isolated and easily observed.”

  “No.” Elondrasa didn’t look any of them in the eye. “One cannot come without the other. If they are to be granted membership they certainly cannot be observed. Trust is required.”

  Nu-marn smiled wickedly. “And there yo
u have it. You have just stated the very reason why they will never be granted membership or a planet. They are not only dangerous but mysterious. We are not in possession of all the facts - of that I am sure! These cubes that plague us are built from the very same material that the Terran manufactured. And we haven’t even got to Kalian Gaines! The AI told us of his tampering with their DNA on Earth. How long will it be before there are a hundred Kalian Gaines, a thousand, all of them?”

  Lordina was nodding her head. “If they are allowed to live amongst us and thrive, we could end up with a new Terran Empire inside the Conclave.”

  Ch’lac whispered, “They would be gods amongst us…”

  All eyes fell on the Ch’kara as his words sank in. Kalian was already uncontrollable and becoming more headstrong by the day. Why would a society of god-like beings fall in line under the rule of five less-evolved species?

  Trust, Elondrasa reminded herself.

  “They have done nothing but help us since their arrival,” the Novaarian pointed out.

  “They’ve done nothing but bring death to our door,” Nu-marn countered.

  “How many years before we give an order they don’t agree with?” Lordina placed her flute on the table beside her and watched as the liquid refilled from the bottom up. “What could we do if a hundred-thousand Terran turn around and say no?”

  Their starry surroundings disappeared when the craft passed through the outer shell of the Marillion. The launch tunnel was many miles long, taking the Highclave deep into the protective heart of the giant ship.

  Brokk held up his heavy hands. “None of this solves our current problem. We still have a hundred thousand humans, as well as the seven thousand on the habitat, who have nowhere to go.”

  “Let them stay aboard the Paladin,” Nu-marn waved his hand dismissively.

  “That ship was designed for transportation,” Ch’lac quickly replied. “It cannot support any quality of life. There would be rioting in the Conclave if we made a decision like that.”

  Elondrasa nodded her agreement. There were many in the Conclave at large who supported the humans and their right to live amongst them. The basic rights of any intelligent being were strongly upheld by many organisations, most of whom petitioned daily for the humans to be granted membership. Of course, there were those who sat firmly in the other camp and petitioned and protested daily that the humans be ejected from Conclave space and left to survive in the wilds of the galaxy.

  “So what do we do?” Elondrasa asked, exasperated. “How many times will we observe the humans rise up to protect us? How many times will Kalian have to fight for us before we recognise their efforts, their contributions?” Elondrasa stared at Nu-marn with her last word. “There are forces out there who wish to harm us. Their motives may be unknown and their origins may well stem from the Terran, but the people in that habitat and aboard the Paladin are human beings, not Terran. They have done nothing wrong. They are more victim to the Terran or whoever is behind these attacks than we are.”

  Nu-marn leaned forward in his chair. “There are still too many questions surrounding them. They might not be from the Terran Empire, but they are the fruit of their labours, created, designed, to continue their race. There can be no trust.”

  “Perhaps Kalian Gaines will shed some light on the matter…” Ch’lac adjusted the miniature force-field around his head, containing the poisonous gases he needed to live.

  Brokk nodded in agreement. “We shall continue this discussion upon his return.”

  “If he returns…” Nu-marn added under his breath.

  Elondrasa looked away, refusing to rise to the comment. “What of our three Protocorps prisoners? The board members.”

  The Novaarian was happy to turn the tables on Nu-marn. Protocorps’ long-standing involvement with the cubes had been quite the embarrassment for the Shay councillor, since their corporation was one of his largest contributors and supporters. The betrayal had stung them all, but Nu-marn more so. His involvement with the investigation had been limited to avoid any bias.

  “Bal-son Narek is close to securing a deal that will keep him out of the Relis Mines,” Brokk said. “Nal-mev Nargreen and Tu-garn Davorn are saying nothing. They appear to be afraid of reprisals from Kel-var Tionis and Gor-van Tanar.”

  “Who are both still at large…” Lordina added with a sour note.

  “Their resources make them elusive prey,” Brokk replied with his gravelly voice.

  Elondrasa met the Raalak’s black eyes. “Is the human still hunting them down?”

  “Our sources would suggest he is.”

  Roland North had proven to be just as much trouble as Kalian or Esabelle. The man was proof that a human didn’t need Terran abilities to cause trouble on a galactic scale - often noted by Nu-marn. His tenacity would apparently be the end of the Protocorps board members, however, much to Elondrasa’s satisfaction. The bounty hunter had had more luck tracking them down than any of their agencies.

  “More resources should be devoted to bringing that scoundrel in,” Nu-marn spat.

  “You would think that,” Elondrasa added quietly.

  Lordina gave a mirthless laugh. “Having seen the devastation he wrought on Protocorps headquarters, I just feel sorry for Kel-var and Gor-van. At least if we find the pair they’ll get a cushy cell. May the gods help them if Roland North finds them first…”

  Chapter 8

  Byzantial was a barren planet to Roland’s eye, its surface void of any life or character. Like any other world it was covered in mountains and ravines and the usual vegetation the bounty hunter didn’t usually give a shit about, but Byzantial was dead by all appearances. Roland watched the land drift by, under the viewport, and knew that appearances could be deceiving, however. The Rackham’s sensors showed a hive of activity under the planet’s arid surface.

  Connecting to the local AI hub - under a false ship I.D. - Roland accessed information on the planet and its native inhabitants. He hadn’t put much forethought into a mission since his days on the UDC payroll, but this particular job required some finesse. Gor-van would be heavily protected, and if he was going to discover the location of his little hidey-hole he was going to have to be sneaky.

  The Brenine, Byzantial’s bipedal inhabitants, were a race who lived in the dark, preferring to live underground. Their stark white skin was evident to this particular evolutionary path. Having dealt with a small handful of their race, Roland was more than aware of what made the Brenine so different. A holographic image popped up with a physiological image of a male Brenine, highlighting the unique tongue that belonged to every one of their species. It looked to Roland like that of a tentacle, similar to an octopus's. Avoiding that tongue was crucial, as a fully matured Brenine could drain him of his bodily fluids in under a minute.

  It was this special diet and their proclivity for darkness that kept the majority of the Brenine on Byzantial. There weren’t many places that accommodated their sensitivity to light or stocked the necessary fluids they required to drink. No one wanted to be near a stranded Brenine in search of food. Still, they were a species who had mastered faster-than-light travel and they lived within the Conclave sphere. It would have been impossible for the rest of the Conclave to ignore them. As it was, the Brenine were known for their lavish parties and exceptional nightlife.

  The empty landscape soon gave way to a vast ocean that filled the horizon. The white sun was kissing the ocean's surface in the distance, painting the sky in blues and a deep turquoise. Roland gripped the controls, enjoying the feel of control over the Rackham, and drove the ship low until its speed pushed against the water.

  “Lan-vid said the pimp was in Sector LV-1089.” Roland brought up the holographics from the nav-comm.

  “You mean Lan-vid who you tortured for this information,” Ch’len said through his constant snacking. “How can we take what he said to be true? He might have just been trying to get you to stop.”

  Roland had extracted information in a similar
fashion many times before. He was confident in his ability to retrieve accurate information. Those memories never left him, no matter how many bottles he found the bottom of.

  “He was telling the truth.”

  The Ch’kara sighed. “Sector LV-1089…” Ch’len brought up an orange hologram and flicked it towards Roland until it came to rest above his station. “Commonly known as The Cove.”

  Roland looked at the images of a city teaming with lithe towers and pointed spires that almost touched the top of a rocky ceiling, which sheltered everything within. Stalactites intruded into the cityscape, though the Brenine had made no attempts to cut them back, but instead build around them.

  “It’s full of clubs, bars, brothels and casinos as bottomless as a blackhole.” Ch’len stopped chewing. “You’ll fit right in.”

  “I don’t plan on fitting in. Show me the Starlight Apartments,” Roland dismissed the current hologram as Ch’len acquiesced his command.

  The new image was that of a tower in the south-west quadrant of The Cove. the apex of the apartment block was saucer shaped and surrounded by glass for a three-hundred and sixty-degree view of the city.

  Ch’len cleared his throat. “You should know, a percentage of every illegal credit made in The Cove finds its way back to The Laronian.”

  Roland gave that a moment’s thought. Three months ago the crime lord had tasked him with inserting a ‘backdoor’ into the central AI’s backup generators, while Li’ara set the explosives inside the main chamber. This had been his price for getting them into Protocorps HQ. Despite succeeding in planting the datastick, the subsequent fight between himself and Kubrackk - the Novaarian bounty hunter who had gone to extreme circumstances in seeking his revenge upon Roland - destroyed enough of the servers to disrupt the hack, preventing any backdoor access for The Laronian.