The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy)

by Neil Davies

  "You can't believe..."

  Carina let out a howl of anguish and fury, fought against the restraining hand of the guard. She felt a knife slipped into her palm, turned to look into the eyes of the soldier behind her.

  "My blade is yours Marm. Avenge our Leader."

  She leapt at Lane, her faced twisted into ugly, animal rage.

  He turned, saw her coming but could not move aside.

  The knife slipped into his belly easily as she knocked him to the ground, screaming and spitting in a rage that bordered on insanity. She pulled the knife out, plunged it back in again, his belly, his chest, his arms. He tried to push her away, but she cut his hands, chopped fingers clean through. With a final scream of satisfaction, she thrust the blade up to the hilt in his throat, blood spurting forth over her hand, spilling onto the polished hall floor, a fan-like delta of blood running away from the dead but still twitching body of Leader Lane.

  Suzex signalled to the soldiers who were Carina's guard and they gently pulled her away from the body, easing the knife from her fingers. She stood between them sobbing, all the months of anguish and anger unleashed and unloaded. She felt free. She felt strangely empty.

  The hall was in uproar. Screams and shouts echoed in the tall ceiling as people tried to run but were restrained by the Bosens and by Aksian soldiers who had entered the room at Suzex's order.

  "Quiet!" bellowed Suzex, his voice booming over the general chaos, shocking people into silence, a frightened, shuffling silence. Around them, the vid cameras continued to relay the events live around the planet.

  "The truth has finally been revealed," said Suzex, quieter this time, but still booming. "The murderer of Leader Carlton has been unmasked and justice, however unexpected, has been done."

  He could see the acceptance spreading on the faces before him. They had supported Carlton and, on the whole, respected him, even liked him. They had followed Lane because he was, as Mayor, the natural successor, but they had never liked him. It was easy to believe what they had just witnessed. It fitted their pre-formed opinion of Leader Lane.

  They change allegiance so easily, thought Suzex. This will be even simpler than we thought.

  "We must act swiftly to ensure that the rebels do not take advantage of this situation," he said, knowing the effect the spectre of the rebels would cause. They are so easily frightened. So easily led.

  "Under the newly formed Alliance between our two planets, I have no alternative," said the Szuiltan President through his translator globe. "I will be your new Leader."

  Chapter 55

  The steady, almost irritating, beeping of her Reagold Personal Organiser and Communicator woke Tina Harrison from a restless sleep.

  She had dreamed of Martin, Roland and The Director playing a giant card game with her as the prize and death as the cost of losing. Martin had been close to winning when she had seen The Director draw an Ace from his jacket. She had wanted to scream, to warn Martin of the deception, but she had been unable to speak, unable to move. A cold sheen of sweat still covered her body.

  Ignoring the insistent beeping for a moment longer, she reached across to the other pillow and was momentarily alarmed at Martin's absence. Then she remembered. He was off-duty today and had said he had some personal matters to clear up. She suspected, hoped even, that these would include a separation from his wife, but she had not asked him. She felt strangely empty without him there.

  I miss him more than I really want to, she thought. Perhaps it's better that he's not here. Even though we haven't hidden our affair, it's only right that he spends his off-duty time away from me.

  The beeping seemed to grow louder, although she knew that was not possible on this system, and angrily she grabbed it up from the bedside cabinet, holding the R-POC in the palm of her hand. She switched on the communicator and a projected real-time hologram image flickered into the shape of Roland's head in the air before her.

  "Yes, Roland. What is it?"

  "The Director wishes to speak with you," said Roland, his voice flat, emotionless, but she thought she detected a quiet satisfaction, triumph even, in the eyes.

  Has Roland called The Director? Has he told him about Martin?

  "Put him through Roland," she said calmly, as though nothing was more natural than The Director contacting a representative personally. She knew this was not the case, and so did Roland.

  "Is the security coder on your R-POC?" asked Roland.

  "Of course it's on!" she snapped, quickly regaining her composure. "I would never talk to The Director without it on." Nevertheless, she double-checked.

  Roland's head dissolved to be replaced by The Director's, a quiet smile on his mouth as he looked directly into Tina's eyes. She had not realised until that moment that Roland never looked that directly, always seemed to be looking to one side, or further down, or not at all. Never at the eyes. She decided then that Roland would have to be removed from her entourage as soon as was convenient.

  "Director," she said, smiling despite the concerns turning in her mind. "It's a rare honour to talk to you like this."

  "Thank you Tina." His voice was as rich as that day on Reagold and she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the memory. What she and Martin shared in no way diminished the experience of making love with The Director, the most powerful man in the Reagold Corporation, probably one of the most powerful men in the known galaxy.

  "I trust there's no problem?" I'd rather this was done with as soon as possible.

  "I presume you are referring to your affair with the Earth soldier?" The Director laughed at the expression of rage that swept briefly over Tina's face before she could control it once more. "Yes, Roland told me. You should remove him from your staff immediately. There is no place for those who would betray their superiors in Reagold."

  "I was just thinking the same thing myself."

  "Do whatever you see fit." The Director shook his head sadly. "I despise treachery among my people."

  Does he just mean Roland? Or is this a double-edged attack concerning Martin?

  "I agree that betrayal is the worst trait of human kind."

  "Betrayal of a superior," corrected The Director. "There are other types of betrayal that are necessary tools of business and politics. But yes, in principle you are right. He deserves anything you decide for him."

  There's no point in delaying matters. I’m not capable of distracting a mind such as The Director's for long. The issue must be faced.

  "What of my affair with the soldier? Do you consider that a betrayal too?"

  The Director laughed again.

  "I admire your directness Tina, that was one of the qualities I chose you for. In answer to your question, no, I don't consider your affair a betrayal, of me or of anyone. What we shared was special and I have every intention of sharing that again, but meanwhile you must live your own life. If you find some moment's pleasure in taking this man to your bed then I applaud you for it. Roland does not, and I suspect never could, understand me, any more than he understands you."

  Tina let go the breath she had been holding.

  "I am grateful for your understanding. But if that isn't the reason for your call, what is?"

  "Things are about to happen, Tina. Momentous events that you can be a part of, Reagold can be a part of."

  "What events Director?" Tina was puzzled and a little frightened at the tone in his voice, the awe, the reverence with which he spoke.

  "The peak of an experiment that has lasted decades, an experiment that escaped the barriers we set out, to become so much more than we ever imagined possible." His eyes had taken on a glazed look, a staring into middle distance, not focusing on anything, at least nothing that others could see.

  Tina shuddered. I've seen that look before, on the High Priests of the Larnian religion here on Earth when they speak of things spiritual. It was a look that bordered on fanaticism and she found herself involuntarily leaning away from the hologram, a cold settling of fear in her stomac
h. Has he gone mad?

  "What experiment Director?" I had to ask.

  "The greatest experiment in artificial intelligence and genetic engineering ever attempted. And we were successful beyond any scope of our imagination."

  I must bring him back to reality, back to the events he says are going to happen. This rambling about an experiment can wait.

  "What do I have to do, Director? What's going to happen and what should I do?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry Tina. It's not fair of me to expect you to share my enthusiasm, my excitement, when you can't understand what I'm talking about."

  "I'm sure I would be just as excited, Director, if I knew."

  "Again, I'm sorry. Only those of us involved from the beginning knew everything, and all but me are dead." For a moment he seemed in danger of drifting off again, this time into memories of lost companions, but suddenly his eyes refocused and he smiled.

  "There are things you must know, Tina, so that you are not caught off guard."

  "This room is secure. I checked it myself." Now we get to the point, finally.

  "Szuilta now rules Aks."

  "What?" She sat forward. News of Aks was always of prime importance on Earth, but she had heard nothing of this. "When?"

  "Some days ago. And now a fleet is under way, heading towards Earth. A fleet of Szuiltan and Aks ships."

  "Surely they can't mean to invade? That's against..."

  "Szuilta has no concern for pieces of paper signed too many years ago to remember. The Szuiltans are doing what the Aksians never had the nerve, nor the power to do. They will take over Earth by sheer force!"

  For a moment Tina said nothing. Thoughts raced in her head. An invasion? Here, on Earth? There had not been a full-scale planetary invasion within living memory. Such things formed part of the ancient history that all students on Reagold were instructed in.

  "I don't understand what I'm meant to do?" The Director had some plans for her in this, she was sure. She just didn't know what or why.

  "When they arrive, you are to give them your full cooperation. At the moment of invasion your people, and any others you can sway to your thinking, should take control of the area around you. I want you to make the passage into the Controller's Palace as easy as possible for the invaders."

  'Others'. He means Martin. But why? Why am I being ordered to help an invasion by an alien race? Surely Reagold's allegiance should lie, if anywhere, with Earth, our new market. The humans?

  "I'm sorry, Director. I don't understand." How can I refuse a direct order? My life would be forfeit should I betray him now. "Why is Reagold aiding the Szuiltans? These aliens?"

  The Director laughed, his head tilting back, momentarily moving outside the field of the hologram. The viewer shifted to re-centre the image of his head.

  "Why did you think we wanted the foothold on Earth? I needed to have a representative there, in place, when the invasion happened, if the invasion happened. For so long it seemed the programming had failed, been completely lost."

  "What programming?" Was he ranting again? Was he totally insane?

  "The experiment, Tina. Artificial Intelligence. Genetic Engineering. Self-determination run wild, free of all our restraints. The others thought it a failure, but I could see its success. What greater success for such an experiment than the complete self-rule we could see before us? Still, even now, the programming would seem to have influence. The experiment has come back to us, back on course."

  "I don't know this experiment you're talking about." He's surely mad. What's all this talk of Genetic Engineering and self-determinacy? It makes no sense...

  Barriers fell away from her thoughts as the realisation broke through, a shaft of illuminating light in the darkness of confusion.

  It can't be!

  "The Szuiltans?"

  The Director nodded, his smile broadening.

  "Yes, Tina. We created the Szuiltans!"

  Chapter 56

  The night wind, gusting at times up to gale force, tugged at Steve's jacket as he struggled to keep up with the pace of the others. The cold air bit through his trackovers, insinuating itself into every corner, every gap, in a way that not even the thick winter jacket he had borrowed from one of Walker's people could keep out.

  He joined them where they had paused at a street corner, just in time to hear John say, "So it's true then, the rumours. The weather control system is breaking down."

  "Ever since the Szuiltans took control," agreed Ursa. "What do they care about human comfort?"

  A vivid memory of Szuilta swept to the front of Steve's thoughts. He remembered the dome protecting the city. It was reasonable to presume they had climate control within that dome.

  "I don't think it's lack of care," he said, causing the others to turn and look at him. He ignored the looks of contempt, of disgust. He knew he was not wanted there, just as he knew there were too few of them to turn his offer of help down.

  "What would you know?" snapped Isabelle, one of only three people who had joined Ursa from Walker's group.

  "I have been to Szuilta. I know more than you." He spoke quietly, but the bitterness was heavy in his voice.

  "I'm surprised you can remember anything through all that alcohol!"

  This was said by John, standing close to Ursa as always.

  "I haven't touched a drop for weeks." It's true, thought Steve, and I have the shakes to prove it.

  Ursa raised her hand to restrain any further insults.

  "That's enough arguing," she said firmly, the confidence of command in her voice. "What's your point trader?"

  "My point is that they use climate control themselves, I'm sure of it. So, it's not that they don't care about climate control, it's more likely just a way of pissing off the ordinary Aksian in the street."

  "Perhaps," said Ursa, thoughts taking coherent shape in her mind, sensing something more sinister behind the seemingly trivial point.

  If they intend to rule this planet until a new Leader can be found, as the official releases claim, then they would be taking care to keep the populace happy. If, on the other hand, they were planning to discard the planet, use it up and spit it out?

  She kept the thoughts to herself. Without proof they were groundless suspicions. Maybe this raid would provide that proof? She was not quite sure what this raid might produce, but it had to be better than the civil unrest and urban terrorism being perpetrated by Walker's followers.

  "How far to go now?" said Jason, lifting everyone's thoughts away from the Szuiltans and back to their immediate concerns.

  "Just a couple more blocks," said Ursa. "Let's get moving, but be careful. We don't want to be spotted if we can help it."

  "Spotted?" said Steve. "The streets are deserted. We haven't seen anyone, not even someone looking out of a window, since it got dark."

  Ursa studied him carefully. He was right. Twice he had produced interesting and thought provoking comments. Perhaps beneath the drink there was a man worth listening to, worth getting to know?

  Later.

  "Come on. Move." She waved the others on ahead of her, counting in her head as they went.

  Seven of us in total. Me, John, Agent Rawlings, Isabelle, George, Damon, and, of course, Drake, who may yet prove useful after all. It's not much. I only hope it's enough.

  She followed Steve as he moved out, giving him a gentle push in the back, a reminder that she expected him to keep up with the others. She had made it clear before they left Walker's latest nomadic base.

  "If you're coming with us, expect no special treatment. You might not have the others' experience of fighting but you'll get the same as everyone else."

  "I realise that," Steve had replied, his voice bitter, his temper close to snapping. "I've had nothing but insults, warnings, even threats since I offered to help. I've stopped drinking. I've joined in the training. I’ve accepted all your conditions and all the risks. Now, get off my back!"

  Ursa smiled at the memory as she sprinted to the front of the gr
oup. Steve Drake was a man she could see as being admirable, somewhere beneath the rough surface.

  They reached the corner of the next block, edgy, easily startled by an old can whipped up into a frenzied dance in the centre of the street by the growing storm.

  Ursa studied their surroundings, the tall buildings, the street lamps, several broken, the wide, litter-strewn streets. This was the edge of Central Akasian, but she had never seen it so dirty, so dilapidated. And Drake was right. Where were all the people?

  "Perhaps there's a curfew of some kind?" said Damon, as if reading her mind. He was a small man in his mid-thirties, long black hair tugged by the wind, and Ursa smiled at him, noting the nervousness on his face.

  "Perhaps," she agreed. We would have heard.

  A sound, unnoticed at first beneath the noise of the wind, grew until they turned their eyes skyward in response. They all recognised the sound, even Steve, despite his short time with the rebellion.

  Thwum, thwum, thwum.

  "Bird of Death!" gasped Isabelle.

  Bosens, thought Ursa. Now there's a more likely reason for the desertion, more than any curfew.

  "Into the shadows, quickly," she snapped.

  The sound grew louder, closer. Steady. Monotonous. Maddening.

  John drew closer to her where they crouched. She knew the thoughts that would be going through his head, the memories. She experienced them too. Frightening and horrifying.

  So easy to let fear overcome you. So easy to retreat into memories, into madness.

  She reached out, took hold of John's hand, felt him squeeze her fingers gratefully.

  Thwum, thwum, thwum.

  Steve wanted to ignore it. He had heard stories, seen the news reports. He had no wish to experience the horror first hand. He tried to look down at the ground but his eyes were drawn irresistibly upwards.

  The sound was directly overhead now, high in the storm tossed night.

  I see it!

  Like a great cloud, a heavy storm cloud, the Bosen craft moved overhead, the ponderous rotating of its arms carrying it against the wind as though the sky was calm.