The Offspring

By Neil Davies

The 3rd and Final Book in The Szuiltan Trilogy

The galaxy is at peace. The Szuiltans no longer exist, The Reagold Corporation has been dissolved, and Steve Drake, space trader and veteran of The Szuiltan War, is bored. But, as New Szuilta builds on the ashes of the old, a last, desperate experiment by the Szuiltans is secretly reaching maturity. Before long, Steve, Ursa, Martin, and others will find themselves drawn, once again, to the frontline in a battle against an enemy they thought they had already defeated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C&N Publications
• Release date: Apr 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463040478

Neil Davies

I am fifty two years old and I have Parkinsons disease. This affects my mobility quite a lot but not my mind . I write my poetry as a way of keeping my sense of humour alive.I have been writing for quite a few years and my poems range from humourous things my daughters and granddaugher have said to obscene jokes transfered into rhyme and the meaning of life .I hope you enjoy your purchase. Please comment on my verses I would love to hear from you.Neil

Book preview

Chapter One

Steve Drake thought it unlikely that Curaton, on the edge of an asteroid mining field, really merited its designation as a small planet. It was barely larger than the asteroids that provided a pebble-dashed background to the evening sky.

Everything seems in order, Steve.

The voice startled him out of his ruminations.

Steve! What gives this stranger the right to call me Steve?

He knew the answer. Fame, or a semblance of it. The reporting and subsequent dramatization of the war against Szuilta, had given him some notoriety for the small part he played in the final attack. Unfortunately, the portrayal of him that emerged was one of a rough, but fundamentally kind-hearted, drunk and womaniser. He was not pleased, but there was little he could do. It seemed he was in the public domain, until their interest waned. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Not least because most people didn't listen, they just presumed.

Can I get you a drink? If you haven't already had a skinful!

The farmer laughed, and Steve managed a tight grin, controlling the anger he could feel building.

I haven't had a drink for almost five years, he said, with little expectation of being heard.

And I guess I'd better lock up my daughters while you're here, just in case you get an urge. The farmer continued to laugh, and Steve could hear girlish giggling from within the prefab farmhouse.

This was bullshit. He was only on Curaton to make a delivery of animal feed, not to satisfy some fake and inaccurate version of himself for the customer's entertainment. The sooner he could leave the farm's atmosphere bubble, and return to The Seven Deadly Sins, the happier he would be. And the safer the farmer would be, for at that moment, Steve was resisting a very strong urge to punch him in his wide, laughing mouth.

Back aboard The Seven Deadly Sins, with Curaton a rapidly fading, and bitter, memory, Steve finally managed to relax a little.

I need to get out of this business, he said, although there was no one but the ship to hear. Find somewhere to settle, where the people aren't all complete dicks!

Or perhaps not settle, because that sounded boring.

He enjoyed the travel, the time aboard ship, but the trades were increasingly dull, and many of the customers bordering on obnoxious. Like the farmer on Curaton. Too many offered him drinks, or sniffed suspiciously to see if he was already drunk. The Temperance System, in which all three planets lived up to the system's name, flatly refused to do business with him. He was a drunk, they said. They would not have him delivering anything to them. It wasn't a great loss financially, but the injustice hurt him. He had been teetotal for almost five years. Why would no one believe him?

"I'm sick of people either hiding their women away when I arrive, or throwing them at me like some bargaining chip. As though I'll give them money off if they let me screw their daughter, or wife, or cousin. How many times do I have to say no, before they believe me? I'm not interested in screwing around anymore. I just want..."

He fell silent, feeling sulky and belligerent. Ursa had chosen to fly off with Miar Shrilor.

Their mission was important, he knew that. Suzex needed to be found and stopped, before he created more mayhem in the new order of things. But, so far, it had meant only one return trip to Sellit in all the years since she left. One time seeing her, and then she was with Shrilor, and Chivers, and others. He wanted time alone with her to tell her... tell her what? He was unsure of his feelings towards Ursa. They were unfamiliar to him. But he knew he was missing her, and was happier when she was around. Even after all this time of separation, he continued to look forward to when the mission was over and she returned.

If she returned.

Don't think about it, he warned himself. That's not a good road to go down.

The mission was dangerous, but she would come back. She had to.

Steve pushed himself upright in his chair, and studied the lights on the flight panel before him. There was nothing he needed to do, but he felt more focused doing it.

Snap out of it, he said. You're acting like a kid whose date dumped him on prom night to go with the school jock. Grow up! We all have things we need to do.

Even if mine is to take boring trades to pay for my apartment on Sellit, and the maintenance of The Sins. And to take shit from ignorant customers who can go fuck themselves!

Chapter Two

Suzex checked the perimeter, as he did every morning. The alarms were active, the traps ready to be sprung. This deep in the jungles of Greelad, he protected against local fauna more than searching humans. He doubted the Trading Inner Council of Sellit would find him here, nor the agents of Earth and other colony and ex-colony worlds. Even the authorities on Greelad had people looking for him, but they looked outward, not inward. He had paid well for that protection. Only one man might find him. Only one man could read behind the lies of officials and spot the signs, the trail that even the most skilled and cautious would leave behind them.

But when Miar Shrilor came, as Suzex was sure he would, they were ready for him. Suzex and the offspring of Szuiltan and human crossbreeding.

Ever cautious, Suzex sensed the movement before he heard or saw anything. He ducked, the throwing knife flying above him, striking the trunk of one of the trees that acted as a natural barrier around the campsite. He turned and smiled at the boy who stood behind him.

Not bad, Erik, he said. The nearest yet. But I still managed to sense your presence. You need further practice.

Erik Newman, as Suzex had named the offspring, looked disappointed.

I'll get you one day, he said, almost pouting. I'll be better than you one day.

I believe you will, said Suzex, stepping over to Erik and placing a thick arm around his shoulders. Now, let's get some breakfast.

He let the boy lead, never failing to be impressed at his rapid development, both physically and mentally. Only five years had passed since the destruction of the Szuiltan race, but the boy was, in every way, in his late teens, possibly early twenties. He truly did believe there would come a day when the boy was superior to him, in both combat and intellect. Then his job would be complete. Erik would be ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting galaxy.

Chapter Three

Eve Kaipa stepped onto the plasteel surface of the spaceport, smiling. Nearby, at the edge of the landing pad, skeletal frames of buildings were rising up, but for the moment, the principal spaceport on the newly colonised planet of New Szuilta, was primitive, open to the elements. The recently laid plasteel, underfoot, was beginning to scar in patches, where ships from colonial and ex-colonial worlds landed and departed almost hourly. Eve loved it.

Well, she said. We're here.

She waited until she was joined on the plasteel by Cherry Carter, and the two young women strode towards the shack-like construction that was immigration control.

We did kind of jump the queue a bit, said Cherry. Between you being a veteran, and my T.I.C. contacts, we managed to qualify for V.I.P. service.

Are you complaining?

Not at all. Just commenting on our good fortune.

Being a veteran of the Szuiltan war, the close quarter battle on Brobdingnagian, and subsequent clean-up operations, didn't feel like good fortune to Eve. It had been exciting, frightening, and had left scars that still woke her, sweating, some nights. It felt like anything but good fortune. She could not deny, however, that in this one case it had proved useful.

On the distant horizon, silhouettes of oil, gas, and nuclear drilling rigs poked into the sky, pumpjacks working incessantly. The big fuel companies were among the first to stake claims on New Szuilta, and they were determined to find the profit they believed existed beneath the surface. To Eve, they were ugly reminders of the influence of Big Business. They were also none of her concern.

Immigration was fast, and mostly automated. DNA and full body scan confirmed their identities, and Eve's veteran status allowed the weapon, holstered at her hip, to pass without comment. On the other side of immigration, past the edge of the spaceport, they stepped onto the soft, imported soil and clay that underlay First City.

Terraforming had only ceased operation in the sector just over a year ago, and in the clear sky above, probes and maintenance drones still flew, day and night, ensuring all was well with the new atmosphere. It would be several decades before the whole planet was completely terraformed, and until then, oxygen masks were still required in some areas. But the small bubble of the spaceport, First City, and the surrounding area had been priority. Other than a slight chemical aftertaste, Eve found the air enjoyable to breathe, especially after the recycled air on the transport ships.

I think they were a bit presumptuous calling this a city, don't you? Cherry frowned slightly as they neared the first buildings on the outskirts of First City.

I think the name shows a depressing lack of imagination too, said Eve. It's a frontier town. Maybe, one day, it'll be a city.

The unevenly scattered homes that marked the boundary of the only large urban project, so far, on New Szuilta, were mostly prefab worker cabins. Bare plasteel domes, built to withstand all likely weather conditions, rather than for comfort. One or two had DIY extensions, demonstrating the occupants intentions to remain after the building work had finished. But most were ready to be picked up and shipped to the next job at a moment's notice.

Our accommodation is more central, said Cherry. Maybe that will be better.

Eve shrugged. Maybe. She had bedded down in worse conditions, and had trained herself to sleep more or less anywhere. In the five years since the battle of Brobdingnagian, she had been active in clearing pockets of bosen and Szuiltan resistance on Aks and Earth, and had helped map parts of the blasted surface of Szuilta, while the immense terraforming machines worked unceasingly overhead. To come back as a civilian, a veteran, was all the luxury she needed.

A sudden wind rose up, funnelling through the alleyways formed by the buildings ahead of them. Dark, purple clouds billowed overhead where, moments ago, the sky had been clear. Sudden and unpredictable weather was standard on recently terraformed planets. It would settle after a decade or two, but until then, it was simply part of frontier life.

Cherry dropped her bags, and tied her long, red hair back in a pony tail.

Times like this, she said, I appreciate why you keep your head shaved.

Eve smiled and pulled on her old army cap. It protected her bare head, and only partially obscured the Lichfield Raiders tattoo that ran behind her ear and down to her neck. She was proud of that tattoo, proud of her years in the Raiders. She had grown up rapidly in the time following her first experience of battle. The Raiders had made her who she was, and the tattoo was a mark of that. One she hoped she never disgraced.

Let's get moving before this wind turns into something worse, she said. I hope our accommodation has a built-in shower!

Chapter Four

Ursa Mirram watched the crowd, while Miar Shrilor talked to an old friend inside the small, rock-built shop behind her. A low sun, and three moons already in the evening sky, threw dark, angular shadows from traders and customers alike, making her task difficult. But she persevered. Several times, on various planets, they had been attacked without warning, usually by no more than one or two people. She didn't want that to happen again. So far, they had escaped unharmed, but the attackers only had to be lucky once.

Shrilor had no doubt that the attackers were in the pay of Suzex, and she saw no reason to disagree. Just because the bastard was hidden away on some distant world, did not mean his influence was any less. It seemed he had scattered would-be assassins throughout the systems he most expected Shrilor to search. Thus far, his knowledge of Shrilor had proved unnervingly correct.

Shrilor. Although he had insisted she call him Miar, she could not stop thinking of him as Shrilor. She had grown up with the T.I.C., where the legend that was Miar Shrilor was always, without fail, shortened to Shrilor. No one referred to him as Miar, and she still found it difficult to do so. She might say the name Miar out loud, but in her head she was thinking Shrilor.

How's the assassin-watch?

Ursa smiled as Shrilor emerged from the shop and stood alongside her.

"Clear so far. Was your old friend interesting company?"

He was very nervous, said Shrilor. Admittedly, his previous informing on Suzex's movements has left him with rather cheap-looking prosthetic legs below the knee. But, even so, he used to be more forthcoming.

It has been a long time, said Ursa. Maybe he was just surprised to see you?

"But he wasn't surprised, which is another thing. I'd say he was even expecting me."

So, he's been got at by Suzex. Surely that makes anything he tells you suspect?

A small, incongruous movement caught her eye to the far right of the milling crowd of shoppers. Was her brief view of a man's face, ducking away, avoidance, or did he simply move with the crowd, like everyone else?

Probably, said Shrilor, continuing. His information was simple. He claimed to have heard a rumour that Suzex had hidden away in the jungles of Greelad.

She could no longer see the man, and she returned her focus to Shrilor, while retaining a wary eye on the right side of the crowd.

Then it's a trap.

Almost certainly, said Shrilor. But that doesn't mean Suzex isn't there. I know how his twisted mind works. These assassination attempts are just to keep us on our toes. He doesn't believe they can succeed. Suzex wants to kill me himself. So, yes, a trap. But it could still be true that Suzex is there, waiting to spring it himself.

They moved off, skirting the edge of the crowd, heading back towards the spaceport.

Ursa noted the movement among the people. The face she had briefly seen before, following them. And at least three others following him.

Chapter Five

Steve Drake sat at a table in The Tradesman's Entrance, nursing a cup of coffee, laced with the currently popular blend of spices.

He still, occasionally, glanced at the familiar bottles of MBP behind the bar, but it was with nostalgia rather than longing. Breaking the addiction had been hard, near impossible at times, but, with the help of friends, in particular his ex-lover Suzy, he had made it through. He was not tempted by alcohol any more, and the thought of getting drunk nauseated him. Yet he still gravitated towards the bars, rather than the coffee houses, on Sellit. It was habit, and a little bit of stubbornness that refused to abandon everything about his old ways.

The bar was busy, rowdy even, but that was familiar enough to Steve. Gather a bunch of traders, just back from their travels, or about to embark, each trying to outdo the other with tales of the strange and unusual people they had met, mix in alcohol, and things were bound to get lively. In the past, Steve would have found it all vaguely amusing, comforting even. He might have joined in, after a couple of bottles of MBP. Now, he sat alone with his coffee. Bored.

Trading had been his life, something he drew great pleasure from, as well as his income. Now, it was a chore, a burden that he had to drag himself through. He had been part of great things, faced danger and death, felt the heaviness of fear, and the rush of adrenaline-fuelled excitement. And he had sobered up. That he was now a cliché, the rough trader with a heart of gold, depressed him.

Most of all, he was bored.

Great Larn, you look miserable!

He looked up as Suzy took a chair opposite him. The colours in her hair were muted, subtle, and her make-up and clothes followed suit. She looked good, and Steve smiled.

I'm okay, he said. "Just thinking.

No doubt about the sturdy, but very pleasant, Ursa Mirram.

No, said Steve, more quickly than necessary. I mean, she was part of it, certainly.

An important part.

Of course.

You miss her?

Steve shrugged, brushing off the question as though it didn't matter. The twist in his stomach said otherwise.

I met her, you know, said Suzy. Just before she headed out with Miar Shrilor.

Did you tell her about us? About our history? He felt anxious, without knowing quite why.

Of course. It didn't seem to faze her, but she did want to know all about you. How you used to be, anyway.

You think I've changed?

Obviously. You've got a fucking cup of coffee in front of you, for Larn's sake! That would have been poison to the Steve I used to know.

Am I better or worse?

Suzy smiled, taking a moment before she answered.

Different, she said. There were times when the old you was great fun, but you could be a complete bastard too. I like this new you. Stable, quieter, and nice all the time.

A waitress crossed the crowded floor to their table. She held a coffee jug in her hand.

Refill?

Yes, please, said Steve. Suzy, what would you like? It's on me.

Well, said Suzy, laughing. In that case, I'll have a cup of coffee as well, please.

As the waitress walked away, Steve shook his head in disbelief.

You? Coffee? Since when?

Maybe you're a good influence on me, said Suzy. I like the new you. I want to see if I can like a new me too.

There's nothing wrong with you as you are.

Sweet of you to say that, Steve, but it's not true. There are things I need to change. And I want to find my own Ursa, my own special person.

She's not...

Please, Steve. I know you too well. She's special to you. And I'll tell you this, you're special to her. It was obvious when I met her.

Steve said nothing, but he hoped that Suzy was right. He wanted, needed, Ursa to come back safely. Not just to Sellit, but to him.

But I'm not here by accident, and I'm not here just to buff up your ego. Suzy glanced over her shoulder and waved to someone in the crowd. I brought someone else. Someone you haven't seen for a couple of years. He has an offer to make.

Steve looked up, saw a man stepping free of the crowd and approaching their table.

Well, fuck me, he said. "I'm surprised to see you slumming it here."

Thanks. Martin Lichfield, smiling, sat down next to Suzy. Good to see you too, Steve. I have something you might be interested in.

It wasn't possible for Martin Lichfield, Earth Controller, to go anywhere public without security, but they were doing their best at mixing with the crowd in The Tradesman's Entrance. Nevertheless, they were obvious to Steve.

As though reading Steve's thoughts, Martin said, You can see I'm not alone.

Didn't expect you to be, said Steve. I'm quite impressed they're not crowding the table.

I've no desire to draw unnecessary attention. This isn't an official visit.

Steve said nothing. He had been caught unprepared by Martin's appearance, and could not completely suppress unfair feelings of bitterness at the lack of contact between the two of them since the war.

For a second time, Martin seemed to read his thoughts.

Am I that transparent?

I'm sorry I've not been in touch. Things have been a bit busy.

I'm not naive, said Steve. I understand that being the Earth Controller is a full-time job. I doubt you've found much time to rest, let alone keep in touch with old friends.

Yet he could not deny a feeling of disappointment in Martin, and refused to listen to the nagging voice that told him he hadn't reached out to Martin, either.

We lost contact. It happens. But it still pisses me off a little.

What brings you here now? said Steve. Surely not just to see me?

Actually, it is.

After a moment's surprised hesitation, Steve laughed. Bullshit.

Steve, said Suzy, interrupting. Just hear him out, please?

And why use Suzy in this? said Steve, not yet willing to completely let go his annoyance.

I was assured, said Martin, that if anyone could track you down quickly, Suzy could.

I'm not that hard to find.

I needed it to be quick, and quiet, said Martin. "Only Chivers knows about this stop-over. We're on our way to New Szuilta, officially flying-by Sellit, not stopping."

Why was it so urgent to see me all of a sudden?

Nothing sudden about it, old friend. Martin smiled. More an opportunity too good to miss, with our convoy travelling so nearby. I want you to come to New Szuilta with me.

Steve said nothing. The offer was so sudden, so unexpected, that he didn't know how to reply.

I hear you're getting a bit bored with just trading stuff, planet-to-planet, continued Martin. And I thought you might like to get a look at what's going on at this new frontier for humanity.

"You hear? Steve sighed. Have you been spying on me?"

Just keeping in touch with what you were up to.

Steve paused for only a moment. It really wasn't that hard a decision.

Well, you're right. I am bored with it. If you're serious about this offer, then I'm in.

Steve offered his hand across the table, and Martin took it. A moment later, Suzy's hand dropped on top.

I'm coming too, she said. No argument!

Chapter Six

Cherry looked up automatically as Eve stepped out of the