A Galaxy to Conquer

The Human Chronicles Saga Book 8

T.R. Harris

An Adam Cain Adventure

Copyright 2014

by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

All rights reserved.*

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Contents

Novels by T.R. Harris

Adam Cain

A Galaxy to Conquer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

Raiders of the Shadow

War of Attrition

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

The Human Chronicles Box Set Series

Box Set #1 – Books 1-5 in the series

Box Set #2 – Books 6-10 in the series

Box Set #3 – Books 11-15 in the series

Box Set #4 – Books 16-20 in the series

Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series

Box Set #6 — Books 26-29 in the series

REV Warriors Series

Rev

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

REV Warriors Part 2

REV: Revelations

REV: Resolve

REV: Requiem

REV Warriors Series Part 1 Box Set - The COMPLETE Series (5 books)

Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

The Drone Wars Series

Day of the Drone

In collaboration with Co-Author George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

Available exclusively on Amazon.com and FREE to members of Kindle Unlimited.

Adam Cain

Is an alien with an attitude.

His story continues…

A Galaxy to Conquer

Chapter 1

An entire race of beings was about to be exterminated…

For the past ten thousand years, the natives of the planet Aslon had been witness to one of the most awesome spectacles in the universe: A white dwarf star being devoured by a voracious black hole.

Even though the image was faint in the bright afternoon sky, at night the glory and savage power of the celestial event became more evident, as the brilliance of the massive accretion disk outshined even that of the planet's solitary moon. For the entire time the O'mly race had been evolved enough to notice, the fiery display of yellow and green gasses had cast a soft glow over the seasonal veil of night, bathing the ocean world in an iridescent light and creating an almost hypnotic dance of colorful sparkles upon the surface of the gentle waves.

It was estimated that this spectacular event would last another five thousand years before the gasses enveloping the solid diamond core of the white dwarf would be depleted. And then the singularity would disappear, not from existence, but from view. Now locked in an eternal dance with what would become a black dwarf star, the singularity would forever pose a hazard to interstellar traffic within the space surrounding the homeworld of the O’mly race.

Five thousand years is a long time in the lifespan of a civilization, if not that of a species. However, if Captain David Robe, UESF, had his way the O’mly race would be extinct long before then. Actually, by his estimation, he was placing their lifespan at not more than three weeks remaining.

The white dwarf/singularity grudge-match was located only a quarter-light-year from the Aslon star of Illin, and the twenty-five ships making up the Human invasion force under Captain Robe’s command had to pass through the rapidly decaying star system to reach the planet. Dave had very little experience with the wonders of deep space, so for him—as well as the bulk of his crew—this sight was a first. He stood before the wide viewport of his flagship—the ESV San Diego—mesmerized by the awesome sight before his eyes.

At the center of the swirling accretion disk of yellow and green gas—being drawn from the dying star across a million miles of space—he could clearly see the eerie, pitch-black point signifying the event horizon of the singularity. He stood in absolute awe of the fact that this was a visualization of the process that powered all the mighty starships streaking across the galaxy, his own included. For it was within the logic-defying realm of the event horizon where the magic took place; where time stood still and the laws of nature could be circumvented, allowing Human and alien alike to travel the impossibly far distances of the galaxy.

Captain Robe’s ship was powered by a miniature version of the same inconceivable power that was eating the white dwarf, even though his singularity existed in only microscopic dimensions. However, even on such a small scale, it was still powerful enough to create the conditions necessary for his craft to cheat Relativity.

Traditionally, deep-space vessels such as the San Diego would be required to travel along designated space lanes far away from conflicting gravity sources such as planets, moons and asteroids. For these larger vessels, the strength of their gravity-wells was enough to disrupt the orbits of these bodies and was capable of destroying entire stellar systems in the aftermath. However, the Earth Space Vessel San Diego—named in honor of one of the great cities of America destroyed by the Juireans nearly twenty years earlier—was a special breed of gravity-drive ship. She employed a concentrated-array of eight focusing rings, allowing the singularity to be created only a few hundred yards from the generators. Using Newton's Laws—which still applied in most cases—the gravity source was created so close to the ship that its influence was great on the San Diego, while having a negligible effect on surrounding bodies within a stellar system located at a much farther distance.

It was this unique ability of the concentrated-array drive that allowed Captain Robe's fleet of ships to move through star systems at speeds greater than any other ships in the galaxy. And even as he gazed out at the embodiment of a gravity-well space drive played out on a stellar scale, Dave felt honored and privileged to be in command of the first contingent of Human starships to be converted to the new drive.

The technology for the con-ray drive was new, introduced to the Earth by Captain Adam Cain, USN-RET, when he arrived just ahead of the Kracori fleet six months earlier. And even though he didn’t invent the drive, he was still given credit for what was now known as the Cain Gravity Drive.

Dave Robe had no problem ascribing even more accolades to the already-Legendary Navy SEAL. Dave had been the senior officer-in-charge of the tech crew Cain had hastily put together to help repel the Kracori nuclear attack on the planet. It was during that action that Robe had witnessed first-hand Cain’s unexplainable feat of the mind that helped destroy the bulk of the alien attack fleet when it looked as if all was lost. Even though some of the alien nuclear bombs did make it to the surface, it was Dave’s opinion—as well as many others—that Cain's efforts that day had saved the Human race from total annihilation.

How Adam Cain did what he did had never been fully explained, and now Dave was sworn to secrecy as to the events of that day. Yet as a reward for this own efforts in stopping the Kracori attack, he had been given command of the first taskforce of Cain Gravity Drive conversions under the auspices of the new United Earth Space Force (UESF) and given his current orders. Dave’s small fleet of twenty-five Klin Fleet Vessels, C-Classification (KFV-C’s), would spill the first alien blood in what would become a galaxy-wide campaign of revenge and vengeance. And Dave’s actions would be just the beginning. With the speed advantage of the new starships, Humanity was out to conquer the entire galaxy and exact revenge on the enemies of Mankind once and for all.

Commander Hub Kittle was the first on the bridge to break his gaze from the spectacle outside the ship and return to his duties. At their present speed, they were just now entering the Aslon star system, and on the screen before him he could clearly see the defensive line that had formed. “Looks like they're expecting us,” he said to his captain.

The comment had its desired effect, as Dave Robe broke away from the viewport and joined Kittle at his station. “You would think they could’ve mustered a larger force against us. I only count about three hundred ships.”

“When faced with the extinction of their race, I would agree, sir. I'm launching drones now.”

Within minutes, the tiny, unarmed flitter-craft were sweeping along the line of spaceships tasked with repelling the Human invaders, their cameras sending back an almost sad series of images. Many of the ships sent out to engage the most-advanced warcraft of all time were nothing more than merchantmen with makeshift flash weapons bolted to their hulls. In fact, the two officers didn't see a single vessel that would be classified as a man-of-war along the entire line.

“Cain said the O'mly didn't have a war fleet; I didn't believe him, but there's no arguing with this,” Captain Robe said.

“Maybe they're saving their main force for closer in.”

“That's possible,” Dave said, “but first things first. Start your maneuvers, Commander; the show's all yours.”

Commander Kittle sat up a little straighter in his chair and smiled. “Aye aye, sir.”

Captain Robe took his command chair, located at the port side of the bridge, and buckled in. He unbuttoned the high collar of his charcoal gray uniform and worked the kinks out of his neck. He hated the new uniforms; they were uncomfortable and looked like something out of a Star Wars movie. He preferred his khakis, yet they had been retired almost four years earlier, as the military command of Earth had been integrated into one single entity.

Robe shook his head thinking about how the simple question of uniforms for the unified Human military had turned out to be one of the single biggest issues faced at the time. All the militaries of the world wanted their input and representation; it was utter chaos for several months. Finally it was decided that an entirely new uniform would to be created. That turned out to be this sterile, seemly modernistic-looking clusterfuck that looked like it belonged in a version of Orwell's 1984 rather than on the bridge of a starship.

Luckily, service ranks were an easier fix. Most militaries on the planet had a navy, and since operations in space more closely resembled naval operations, it was decided that those ranks would apply within the new United Earth Space Force, while ground units retained their traditional Army-Air Force designations, such a private and sergeant, colonel and general.

“Commencing first run, sir.” Commander Kittle announced from his station. On the tactical screen set to the left of the main viewport, Dave saw his tiny fleet separate into three squadrons. Ten ships each sped off to flank the long line of defenders, while the remaining five warcraft, led by the San Diego, accelerated to attack speed toward the center of the defenders.

Captain Robe knew his ships had such superior speed and maneuverability that he could have avoided this encounter entirely and simply bypassed the ragtag line of defenders. But his mission was to destroy the O'mly—or as many as he could with his limited resources. Command had stopped short of calling his orders genocide, but Robe knew better. The O'mly had assisted the Kracori in their attack on the Earth by providing a staging area for the strike force. That singular act had sealed their fate, and with a billion-and-a-half Humans either dead or dying from the nuclear attack on the planet, Humanity was done playing nice with the aliens. Any race that lifted an arm, tentacle or other such appendage against the Human race—no matter how slight—would be eliminated.

Two devastating attacks on the Earth were enough. There would not be a third, even if it took exterminating every alien race in the galaxy.

Captain Robe's five ships blasted through the center of the O’mly line at such a speed that the aliens didn't even know they were under attack until the Humans were on the other side of the line and back into open space. Yet as the five Human ships passed through, they unleashed a deadly barrage of flash-cannon fire that ripped through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. Thirty-two alien ships either exploded or were damaged to such a degree that they were out of the battle.

The O'mly—completely inexperienced in the art of war—at first didn't know what to do. Some of their units moved away from the center of the line, while others maneuvered to close the gap made by the Humans. The confusion and lack of a coordinated command resulted in the collisions of dozens of additional units, as their primitive gravity-wells overlapped with catastrophic consequences.

When Commander Kittle had his five ships double back for another run on the disjointed defensive line, most of the O'mly had decided that pulling away from the center was the best move. This resulted in a bunching up of the alien ships into two large balls of defenders … and it was then that the other two squadrons of ten Human ships each struck from the flanks.

Over the next nineteen minutes total confusion reigned among the O'mly ships. In the end, fourteen of the defenders broke away from the battle and headed in-system, the only survivors of the three-hundred ship defensive force. Commander Kittle sent three of his ships after them, and another ten minutes passed before the entire O'mly fleet had been destroyed.

Captain Robe was satisfied with the results of his first battle in outer space. All the defenders had been destroyed and only two of his ships had taken enough enemy fire to require immediate repairs. He ordered his remaining force of twenty-three ships to head for the planet Aslon at the best possible speed, while allowing the damaged units to limp in towards the planet on their own. He was anxious to see if the O'mly had anything else to throw against them. He was pretty confident they didn't.

Six hours later—and after the destruction of a secondary defensive force of ninety ships—Dave Robe’s Human fleet took up orbiting positions above the surface of Aslon.

Immediately upon achieving orbit, Commander Kittle dispatched a swarm of drones to survey the planet, and within minutes data was pouring in.

Adam Cain’s report on the O’mly had mentioned that the planet was comprised mainly of water, with thousands of islands and atolls where the amphibious inhabitants built their cities—at least the dry-land portions of their settlements. Looking down at the blue and white globe below while scanning the data flowing in from the drones, Dave could now confirm that a good portion of the O'mly civilization was located underwater. The experts reasoned these underwater settlements wouldn’t be very advanced since it was hard to use electricity in a wet environment. What the O'mly did in their underwater cities was anyone's guess … yet the one thing it would give them would be a place to hide—at least from the flash weapons of the fleet.

“Yes sir,” Commander Kittle said, “most of the square footage of their settlements is located underwater, surrounding the land cities. We've counted thirty-five hundred settlements so far. In one way we're lucky that the underwater portion of their cities isn’t more than fifty feet in depth—in most cases—but our flash weapons won’t be able to penetrate the surface of the water. Water and electricity don't get along very well.”

“Our conventional weapons shouldn't have a problem penetrating to that depth,” Dave said.

Kittle shook his head. “That's right, sir, but we don't have nearly enough munitions aboard the fleet to bombard all thirty-five hundred of them.”

A small grimace crossed Dave’s face. “They’ll also know we came with only twenty-five ships, which is hardly large enough for an occupying force. They'll take refuge below the surface and then wait until we leave.” He was silent for only a moment while settling on his strategy.

“Get on the horn with Command, Hub, and see if they can get us the conventional armaments we need. With the main fleet gearing up for the assault on Elision, I'm hoping they'll have enough to spare us. In the meantime, begin the destruction of the O’mly surface cities using the flash-cannon. Those can be recharged, so we'll have plenty of power for that part of the mission.”

Robe turned to his second-in-command and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Send out your ships, Hub, and then set us down on the surface. I have an appointment with the planetary president, czar or whatever they have here. This should get interesting.”

Chapter 2

Throughout their brief time in the Aslon system, the Humans had been monitoring the communications traffic between the defenders and the planet, and as a result had a pretty good idea as to the location of the planet's central government. It was on one of the largest islands within the vast, shallow sea, and in a central cluster of buildings with one dominant structure reaching twenty stories high.

Dave took three ships down to the surface with him, and even before touching down in a vast field outside the governmental building complex, monitors revealed that the O'mly fully intended to defend their capital from the invading aliens.

Over four thousand O'mly had assembled near the entrance to the tallest of the buildings, having stacked hundreds of car-like transports and trucks into a metal barricade four cars high. Then the defenders ensconced themselves within the barricade, aiming their flash rifles and mobile cannon out windows and doors of the stacked vehicles. Captain Robe wasn't even sure if the planetary leader was in the building, yet the O'mly appeared to be going through an awful lot of trouble to guard this one particular structure.

Each of Robe's three KFV-C's carried a crew of forty-five along with a contingent of one hundred Marines, and secured within the landing bays of the ships, they also carried two armored transport vehicles with 50-caliber machine guns, along with two mobile platforms with mounted 88mm cannon. Dave watched with satisfaction as LtCol. Nathan Cruise disembarked his Marines from the three spacecraft – all three hundred of them – and rolled out the six ATV's and 88mm cannon.

Dave Robe stepped off the incline ramp from the San Diego's landing bay and placed his first step upon an alien world. He tried to take a moment to revel in the sensation, yet circumstances didn't allow him more than thirty-seconds before Colonel Cruise approached. Even then the old Army mantra kept echoing in his head: Join the Army, meet interesting people—and kill them! If ever that saying was true, it surely applied to his current assignment.

“We're fully-disembarked and assembled, Captain.”

Dave could have sworn that the Marine Lieutenant-Colonel was near sexual arousal at the moment. He decided to give him some leeway; Marines were trained to fight, not sit for weeks aboard a cramped spaceship waiting for the action to begin.

“So I take it your men are ready for this, Colonel?”

Cruise fashioned an almost sinister smirk on his face. “The deadliest weapon in the galaxy is a pissed off nineteen-year-old Marine, sir, and I have plenty of those to go around.”

“I have no doubt, Colonel. You're in command of the assault; just leave me someone to negotiate with.”

“I didn't think our mission here was to negotiate, sir. I thought it was to kick-ass and take names.”

“It is, Colonel, and you're the tip of the sword. But we need to leave someone alive to spread the word about the consequences of siding with the wrong party in this war.”

“I'm sure they'll be plenty of these water-sucking bastards to tell the tale.”

“Be careful, Nathan. You've seen the pictures of their eight-inch long talons.”

“We don't intend to get that close, Captain. Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have some aliens to kill.”

Out of nowhere, a command tent had sprung up in the field near the San Diego; Captain Robe and his staff took positions inside at a bank of computer monitors sitting on folding tables. A dozen drones had taken to the air and were now monitoring the battlefield from above.

What Dave first noticed about the line of defenders was that nearly all of them were now hidden within the barricade of stacked transports. Even though he was no land-based tactician, he was pretty sure that may have been a mistake.

It didn't take long for his suspicions to be validated.

The flash weapons employed by the aliens had a maximum effective range of just under a mile, and that was just the rare cannon they possessed. The hand-held rifles and handguns could only reach out to about a hundred yards or so. On the other hand, the Human 50-cal, 88mm and grenade launchers had a much longer range, especially in the three-quarter gravity of Aslon. So when Colonel Cruise unleashed his barrage against the defensive line of the O'mly, the aliens—natives in this case—had no defense except to hunker down and take it.

Unfortunately, the meager cover the stack of vehicles provided served only to entomb the defenders in coffins of hot, twisted metal. The barricade literally exploded high into the thin air as round after round tore into it. The boom of the 88's, the rat-tat-tat of the 50-cal’s and the thundering cacophony of grenades exploding—all within a concentrated area—was absolutely deafening.

Fortunately, the barrage didn’t last long, even though Dave's ears would be ringing for hours afterwards. After only five minutes of intense fire, Colonel Cruise called for a ceasefire, not so much to assess the condition of his troops, but rather to let the smoke clear so they could better sight their targets.

There was quiet stillness among the Human Marines as they witnessed the results of their initial attack. The once tall wall of stacked transports was now in total disarray, with burned out hulks strewn about the courtyard in front of the tall government building, burning rubber tires sending up multiple towers of dense, black smoke above the now quiet battlefield. A central corridor had been blown free of most obstructions leading up to the entrance of the central building, and there were dead O'mly everywhere. In five short minutes, easily eighty percent of the four thousand defenders had died … and not a single Human had suffered even a scratch.

It was then that Dave noticed on the monitors a large number of O'mly running to his right towards the sea. He watched in amazement as the natives dove headfirst into the ocean. The drones overhead showed an elaborate maze of structures just below the surface. The O'mly—gyrating their bodies like dolphin—dove deeper into the murky waters and disappeared.

Dave grimaced. His mission was to destroy the O'mly race, or at least as many as he could. Watching the natives dive below the surface meant that many more would survive than he had anticipated. Still, Dave Robe would make a lasting impression on the homeworld of the O'mly. They would never forget this day—just as the Humans had a couple of memorable days of their own they would never forget....

Captain Dave Robe now began to assemble his diplomatic entourage, which included LtCol. Cruise and fifty of his Marines, and as he began to make his way towards the entrance of the building which the natives had fought so vainly to defend, all he could think of was: Ain't payback a bitch?

The Marines entered the building first, and immediately encountered more close-quarters resistance from within. Robe stood back and watched as the young Human warriors effectively sent suppressing fire into the pockets of hapless defenders.

At one point, a skinny private first class got ambushed by five O'mly, each attacking with their talons—essentially eight-inch long fingernails at the tips of two of their fingers, making a total of four deadly spikes from each attacker. The young Marine brushed aside two of the O’mly with his M27 assault rifle before being knocked to the ground by the other three aliens; he lost his weapon and had to resort to hand-to-hand combat. And this was when things got really strange....

In the light gravity of Aslon, the Marine was lightning quick and able to fend off every blow sent his way by the aliens. At one point, the young warrior even let out a little laugh at the ease with which he was defending himself. He then grabbed one of the O'mly around the neck, and with a squeeze of his hand, collapsed the creature's windpipe. And then a few super-powerful fist-blows later—some of which nearly ripped off the faces of the aliens—the young Marine was soon standing in the center of the bloody remains of all five of his attackers.

Now covered in alien blood, the blond Marine clenched his fists, threw back his head and let out a primal Oo-rah as loudly as he could.

His call was soon joined by a chorus of more echoing shouts from throughout the vast central lobby of the building. The battle was over ... and only two marines had suffered minor puncture wounds; their scars soon to become badges of honor they would carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Suddenly, all the Humans became aware of more movement coming from one of the elevators at the far end of the room. A group of eight O'mly now stood at the door, their faces covered with what could only be described as white surgical masks.

“Hold fast!” Colonel Cruise ordered. These O'mly were different; they wore ceremonial robes and appeared to be much older than the others. Captain Robe and his entourage approached the aliens; Cruise's men swarmed over the natives, searching for weapons and explosives. When none were found, they stepped aside and let their commander advance.

The O'mly in the center of the group stepped forward. “I am Isnar Beh, Ulnish of the O’mly people,” he said by way of introduction. “Why have you done this? Why have you attacked us so viciously and without provocation?"

Dave and his men had been fitted with universal translation bugs years ago—it was now required on Earth that all children be fitted as well—so he understood the alien’s language. “This is what you get for siding with the Kracori.”

“We did not side with them,” the O'mly leader countered emphatically.

“You helped them stage their attack on the Earth. Where I come from, that's joining the enemy. And for that, you’re classified as an enemy of Humanity—just as the Kracori.”

“Before the Klin came—and then the Kracori—we had never heard of your Earth before. After that, all we had to go by was what we were told.”

“Is that why you wear the masks?”

“Yes. Is it not true you carry diseases, virulent, deadly diseases?”

“Not any more than you do, so you can take off those ridiculous things.”

The aliens slowly pulled down the masks to reveal knobby, green-tinted skin covering elongated faces. “Please, you must acknowledge that this is simply a misunderstanding?” Isnar said.

“No misunderstanding,” Dave shouted, his anger growing by the second. “There are a billion-and-a-half Humans dead or dying because of what you helped the Kracori achieve. For that, your race has been sentenced to death.”

“We O'mly are not allies of the Kracori. They came ... and we had no choice but to help.”

“And yet you believed every word they said, even about Humans being parasites and disease carriers.” Robe shook his head. “The damage is done. Even if your participation in the attack on Earth was only peripheral, what happens to the O'mly will serve as a warning to others who want to mess with the Humans.”

“I'm afraid I do not understand the phrase 'to mess with' –”

“It means to bring harm to. The Human race has suffered enough at the hands of aliens—by creatures like you. No more. The galaxy is about to be taught a lesson, and unfortunately for the O'mly, you are our first students.”

“So you will destroy our entire race ... to make an example?”

“Not all of you; many will survive, probably millions. And you, Mr. President—or Ulnish as you call yourself—will be spared. We need you to spread the word about what happens to anyone who goes against the Humans.”

“We did not go against the Humans!” the O'mly leader pleaded, his eyes now wide and with tiny droplets of green spittle appearing at the corners of his mouth.

“You knew the Kracori were staging an attack on the Earth and yet you did nothing to stop them.”

“What could we do?” the alien cried. He was near a full-blown panic attack. “The Kracori and the Klin are much more advanced than are we. They would have just destroyed us and moved on to another race.”

“Sorry about your luck, Bud!” Dave stated. He was no diplomat, and his orders did not call for him to become one. He watched the confused look on the faces of the aliens at his last statement and then he turned to Colonel Cruise. “Take them to my ship and lock ’em away. They'll remain there until our mission here is complete.” He turned back to the native leader. “At which time you will be released to begin the clean-up. And hopefully, we won't have to come back for a second round of lessons.”

Chapter 3

Adam Cain left the communications room of the huge Formilian spacecraft in a daze, his head jumbled up with plans upon plans upon plans. The New-Expansion Administrator Kroekus of Silea had just laid a vast amount of information on him—information Adam was upset that he was just now learning.

For the past thirty days, Adam had split nearly every waking moment between helping train his team on the use of their new Artificial Telepathy Devices and desperately seeking a plan to rescue Riyad from the Kracori home planet of Elision … and a plan that didn’t sound like a suicide mission. With the information Kroekus had just blessed him with he was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, they were only a day out from Tel’or—the gateway to the Juddle Nebula—and there wasn’t much time left for planning, not with the Juireans barreling their way toward a clash with the Kracori.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subtle decrease in gravity as he neared the ship’s common room. There were three localized gravity-wells operating within the ship, providing gravity over the football-field-length of the spacecraft. The eight Formilians enjoyed the lighter gravity of their homeworld throughout two-thirds of the ship, while the five heavy-gravity Humans spent most of their time in the aft section. It was always easier and more efficient for the heavy-worlders to adapt to lighter gravity rather than the other way around. But even as he neared the common room, Adam already knew that gravity was going to influence his mission plan, and the Formilians were not going to like it....

The Formilian ship had been originally built to accommodate a crew and passenger count of over two hundred, so there was ample space for the thirteen passengers currently aboard to spread out. The huge common/dining room combination was spacious, with two dozen tables anchored to the deck for meals, a large alcove with eight comfortable sofas, and a self-serve meal-prep area running along one long wall.

As Adam entered, he saw that the eight Formilians were seated around two of the tables near the center of the room, their chiseled and bronze bodies barely contained in the form-fitting jumpsuits they all wore. Even though they appeared to be much stronger and better-conditioned than the smaller, pale-skinned Humans occupying the alcove area, Adam knew this was only an illusion. The lighter gravity of the Formilian birth world made them a poor match for the strength, durability and quickness of the Humans, although one couldn’t tell it at first glance. This was a common mistake made throughout the galaxy, that of underestimating the Humans. But even as this angered Adam at times, it had also allowed he and his kind to fly under the radar ... at least until it was time to step up and put the hurt on someone.

Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge and Petty Officer First Class John Tindal were seated on one of the long sofas in the alcove, each cradling an acoustic guitar in their laps and singing in perfect harmony. The two former SEAL’s had been Adam’s friends and teammates for going on twenty years, but it hadn’t been until they retired from military service seven years earlier that Adam even knew they could sing and play music as well as they could. Returning to Earth after the Human-Juirean War, the pair had moved to Key West, Florida, and made a fairly good living entertaining the tourists and fishermen in America’s southern-most city. The fact that Adam had never heard them play or sing in his early days as a member of SEAL Team Six, simply meant that they must have started after Adam had been abducted by the Klin. After that event, his entire perspective of reality had changed.

Rutledge and Tindal had been on the recon mission with Adam that fateful night along the Afghan-Pakistan border. And even though no one had ever mentioned it aloud, the other two SEAL’s knew that except for a simple quirk of fate, it could have been either one of them who was abducted rather than Adam Cain.

Admiral Andy Tobias, USN-RET, sat next to Sherri Valentine, watching and listening to the impromptu concert with mesmerized expressions—the guys were that good—and were so enraptured that they didn’t notice when Adam entered the room. Yet when the duo made a quick and unexpected end to Teach Your Children by Crosby, Stills and Nash, all eyes turned to their leader, Adam Cain.

“So what’s the scoop, Captain?” John Tindal asked as they all rose to meet him near the congregation of Formilians. “Did Kroekus-the-Hut help us out any?”

Even though they often joked about the Silean’s huge bulk, Adam knew a secret that the others didn’t: Silean males intentionally grew to such bulk because along with their size also grew their maleness, their sex organ. In Silean society, the larger the male the more of a stud he was, so being a fat Silean was actually desired rather than frowned upon.

The Humans took seats at the tables next to the Formilians while Adam faced his team, leaning against another table while remaining standing.

“He has indeed, although I’m pretty pissed that he waited until the last minute to tell me.”

Adam saw frowns cross the faces of the Formilian contingent of his team as they worked through the translation of ‘pissed.’ All except Trimen O’lac. The young and handsome alien was second in power only to the First Celebrant Convor Ton’al Ona among the Formilian male religious and political caste. It had been Trimen who had initially trained Adam in the use of his telepathy device, and as a consequence, he had spent more time with the Human than any other Formilian, even their Supreme Celebrant Arieel Bol. By now, Trimen had heard nearly every colloquialism and slang term Adam could throw out, and even though most of them he still didn’t comprehend, by now he let most slide by without comment or concern.

“So do we have a plan yet, Mr. Cain?” Admiral Tobias asked. Although technically outranking Adam, Andy Tobias was content to defer all operational command to the younger man, seeing that this operation was not sanctioned by any military or government, which also lacked any jurisdiction over the Humans onboard. All were either retired or separated from official duty under Earth’s command, so rank was simply in the eye of the beholder, and by now no one was going to question Adam’s right to command.

“I’m working on it, but Kroekus has provided us with an ace up our sleeve.” This comment really threw the aliens for a loop, including a frown to Trimen’s tanned forehead. “It seems the crafty old crook has more assets operating in the Nebula than we first thought. He even has an insider who claims to have been to Elision.”

“No shit?” Sherri said. “How convenient he’s just now coming forward with this person.”

“My thoughts exactly, Sherri, and there’s more. This agent has also secured for us a local ship that supposedly can get us into the Dysion Void and all the way to Elision without drawing suspicion. He even says he has entry codes that can get us to the surface. And best of all, has a pretty good idea where Riyad’s being held.”

Even though Chief Rutledge could sing like James Taylor and play guitar just as well, his normal speaking voice was a gruff combination of sandpaper and bombast. Adam reasoned this came from years of barking orders at snot-nosed Navy pukes like him.

“Bullshit, Captain. The Kracori know we’re planning an attack on their world and they’re going to lock down the place tighter than a minister’s daughter on prom night.”

“Maybe not, Chief; another thing that Kroekus told me is that the cat’s now out of the bag.” More frowns from the Formilians. “The Kracori have announced their presence to the Nebula and are now going around seeking allies against the attack. They’ve been spreading the rumor that the entire Nebula’s at risk, and therefore it’s in the best interest of these other races to join them against the outsiders. The ship that’s been provided for us is from a planet very near the Void and built by a race that’s had ties with the Kracori all along. As it turns out, much of the Nebula was already aware of the Kracori, but they’ve been keeping it a closely-guarded secret.”

“So we have a ship and access codes to get us to the surface of Elision,” Trimen said, speaking for the first time. “What is your plan for each of us, or is that not finalized yet?”

“Just on the fly, I can give you some of the highlights of what I’m thinking. First off we all get to Elision without getting ourselves killed. Then after we achieve orbit, my military team and I drop down to the surface at night in a shuttle to the area where we suspect Riyad is being held. With Elision’s heavier gravity, it’s best that you and your Formilians stay aboard the main ship and help with the diversion tactics on the surface.”

“Through our Gifts—ATD’s? However, we came to offer more than just ancillary support.”

“I realize that, Trimen, but the gravity is going to make moving around pretty tough for you. This will be a team effort, and everyone will play their part.” Adam paused to let the Formilians assimilate his alien phrasing, and then he continued: “We’ll broadcast a signal from the surface, allowing you to piggy-back—ride along, sorry—until you can tap into the surface power-grid. We’ll need a series of disruptions throughout an area larger than our target so that no central point will become obvious. And the disruptions will have to be sporadic, with no discernable pattern. I want the Kracori to be as confused and unsuspecting as possible.”

Adam turned to his fellow Humans. “This will be like dropping into a foreign country to make an extraction, although we’ll stand out from the natives like never before. That’s why it’s important that we go in dark and stealthy. We want to attract as little attention as we can. Night vision and suppressors, no flash weapons; those damn things can be seen for miles.”

“This is all assuming the informant’s intel is reliable,” Admiral Tobias offered.

“Exactly, Andy, that’s why I said I’ll give you the highlights. So much of the final op will depend on the accuracy and reliability of the information.”

Sherri raised her hand in a juvenile attempt to get his attention, and before waiting to be acknowledged she asked, “What about me? I see you conveniently left me off your military team.”

“I’d like you to stay aboard the mothership and coordinate everything from there.”

“I want to go to the surface—”

“It’s too dangerous,” Adam said in his command voice.

“Bullshit. I can handle it.”

“How much training have you had in just this type of covert operation?” he asked. “I’m not trying to embarrass or demean, it’s just that this is what SEAL’s are trained to do.” He held up his hand to stop the growing protest. “I know, you’re going to say all of us here are either retired, over-the-hill or out of practice for this kind of operation. That may be so, but we still have years of knowledge and muscle memory that makes us better suited for this op. You may be tough, gung-ho and willing, but you just haven’t operated as a member of a team like this before. We’ve been through this dozens of times.”

“Fine, asshole! Have it your way. But I’m also the only one here with any real medical training. What if you get down there and find that Riyad’s in really bad shape and in need of immediate medical care? What then?”

“We all have basic emergency medical training, Sherri. We’ll be able to get him to the shuttle and back up to where you can take over.”

“Then what the fuck did I get this stupid implant for if it wasn’t so I could use it?”

“Just hope you don’t have to.”

The lights in the common room suddenly dimmed. “I guess I can always turn out the lights when the boys are done playing war. It’s about all I’m good for around here.”

Andy Tobias leaned over closer to Sherri. “You do know this is probably a suicide mission? I’d rather not go if I had a choice.”

“It’s cool, Andy,” Sherri said. “It’s just big brother being overly protective. Is that also why you sent Kaylor and Jym ahead to Tel’or ... to get them out of the way?”

“I sent them to track down this Ruszel character. Up until a few minutes ago, I had no idea how we were going to get in close to Elision. The Tel’oran has been there before, and he also helped Riyad. He was our only real lead until Kroekus’s informant showed up.”

“So are you going to call them back and take them to the surface with you?”

Sherri picked up on Adam’s hesitation before answering and sent him a nastier-than-normal glare. “I’ll let them find Ruszel, as a backup,” Adam said. “And no, I’m not taking them to the surface and for the same reason I’m not taking you or Trimen and his team.”

Sherri was about to respond until Chief Rutledge suddenly jumped to his feet. “Will the two of you shut your traps? The Captain’s right. The SEAL’s go in, and we go in alone. All you back on the ship will play a vital role in the mission, so stop your bitching. This will be a team effort, so start acting like part of the team!”

Sherri clamped her mouth shut and clenched her teeth. When she spoke again, she was looking only at Rutledge. “You’re right, Chief. Sorry. It’s just that I want to pull my weight around here. Riyad’s my friend, too.”

“Understood, ma’am, but we each have our designated roles to play, and yours is to run the show from orbit. You will be our eyes and ears.”

“And what do you call our role in the upcoming adventure, Mr. Rutledge?” Trimen asked, concerned that he and his Formilians were being ignored in the current conversation.

Rutledge grinned, while being careful not to expose his teeth to the aliens. “If the plan unfolds as Mr. Cain has detailed, then you will be the ants at the picnic ... and just the cover we need to get Mr. Tarazi home safe and sound.”

Adam shook his head as he watched the expressions on the faces of the aliens. Somehow he didn’t think the Chief’s comment helped to clarify things very much.

Chapter 4

Finding a single Tel’oran out of several billion was a daunting task, so much so that Kaylor had pleaded with Adam to let someone else do the job. Yet in the end, the Human had been persuasive, reminding him that a Belsonian and a Fulquin would not draw as much attention as either Humans or Formilians would parading around the planet Tel’or. But what really sold him on the assignment was the opportunity to pilot the Pegasus to the planet.

Kaylor and Jym had never been aboard a concentrated-array spacecraft before, let alone been at the controls. And even though Adam regretted not being able to take the ship to the Juddle Nebula himself, he knew she would be in good hands with Kaylor at the helm.

Both the Pegasus and the Formilian starship 99012 had departed Formil at the same time—like most other alien species, Formilians did not name their ships. Yet with the added speed of the Pegasus, Kaylor and Jym arrived at Tel’or a full eight days sooner, and that was without even opening the ship up to her full potential.

As Adam had explained, it was imperative that the Tel’oran pilot Ruszel Crin be located prior to the team’s arrival at the Nebula. Ruszel was the only reliable source for locating Elision through the treacherous and tumultuous environment of the Nebula, and they didn’t have time to waste seeking him out after reaching Tel’or, knowing of the impending arrival of the Juirean fleet in the region.

It was also Kaylor and Jym’s job to convince the Tel’oran pilot to help. Short of that, Adam had authorized them to use whatever means necessary to secure said pilot for the trip through the Void and into Kracori space.

Normally using these two particular aliens for such an assignment would have been problematic, to say the least. The tall, slender Belsonian and the short, bear-like Fulquin were not known for their physical prowess or ruthless determination. And yet the Artificial Telepathy Devices they each had implanted under their skin changed all that—especially for Jym.

Although known to be grumpy and outspoken, most other species regarded the Fulquins to be simply a breed of amusing and harmless pets. Even though they were skilled technicians, specializing in electronic devices, their furry black faces and small stature caused none to see them as physical threats. And in the savage Milky Way Galaxy, without physical intimidation, you had nothing. As a result, Jym had embraced his ATD so much more than had Kaylor, being obsessed with finding all the marvelous things the device could do to help him even the playing field with more dynamic races. Jym was now arguably the foremost expert in the use of the device, behind only Adam Cain.

Kaylor could understand what Jym was feeling. He, too, felt an awesome new confidence in nearly everything he did. Even piloting an advanced spacecraft such as the Pegasus became child’s play, as Kaylor was able to monitor all the ship’s systems with much more accuracy and ease, allowing him to guide the ship with less conscious effort. The ATD—linked directly to his thoughts—could tap into all the ship’s systems on a level Kaylor had never imagined, giving him much more control and with quicker reaction times. He literally felt as if he was one with the ship.

And so it was with trepidation that Kaylor set the Pegasus down on the surface of Tel’or, and therefore exposing the ship to all kinds of added interest and scrutiny.

A Formilian ATD had a maximum range of only about half-a-mile; however, Adam Cain had found a way around that limitation. He discovered that the ATD was capable of sending his thoughts—and subsequently his control—over normal communications lines, be they primitive radio waves or Continuous-Wormhole links, allowing the ATD to operate even over galactic distances. So Jym set up a continuous signal between the communications system aboard the Pegasus and their ATD’s. This way the two pilots could monitor the ship while even being halfway around the planet Tel’or, and thereby protecting it from intrusion by curious natives.

With the Pegasus now secure, Kaylor and Jym set out looking for the Senior Guild Pilot Ruszel Crin. They began their search in the Tel’or capital city of Saf’in, where the Trade Guild was headquartered. It was from here that pilots were dispatched to guide Outers and locals alike through the deadly and unforgiving region of space known by the natives as the Silvean Nebula, and on the star charts as the Juddle Nebula.

It had been a little over four months since Ruszel sent his message to the Formilian Speaker Arieel Bol, informing her of Riyad’s capture. Since then, there was no telling where Ruszel could be. Jym had efficiently tapped into the Guild computers using his ATD but found no mention of the pilot. Even the local residents’ directories came up blank. Their only remaining option was good old fashion boot-leather to find the elusive Tel’oran.

Having been a space-faring merchant for over forty standard years, Kaylor knew how spaceports operated, and he knew where to find ships’ crews when they were in port and off-duty. So after scouring a half-dozen of the most popular taverns outside the gates of the main landing field, they finally struck pay dirt.

“Ruszel! Of course I know of him, the impedium scumcup! He comes into an incredible amount of ruiens and then abruptly walks out without even a courtesy credit my way. We’ve flown together many times; you would think he would look out for his fellow pilots.” The green-skinned native was obviously intoxicated, and therefore free with this talk. His name was Kankus and he had to be over a hundred Tel’oran years old.

“So where did he go?” Kaylor asked, chugging on a strong intoxicant himself, while Jym suspiciously eyed every other patron in the bar. Between listening to the old pilot ramble on about what a rotten bastard Ruszel was—and watching Jym send teeth-baring snarls at anyone who looked at him for more than a second—Kaylor wasn’t sure how this night was going to play out. This old pilot was the first real lead they’d found in over seven days of searching, and Adam and the rest of the team were now only one day out. However it looked as if Jym’s new-found confidence and belligerence might interrupt the interview....

Kaylor was somewhat relieved to see that none of the Tel’oran natives reacted to Jym’s snarls, meaning they didn’t treat the baring of teeth as a life-challenge, as did most of the galaxy. Unfortunately, there were other races represented in the bar other than Tel’orans, and already Jym was causing some of them to stir.

The old pilot spoke: “He and Canos quit the Guild and have taken their bloodlines to The Lakes, along with his fancy new ship.”

“Where are The Lakes? We are new here.”

“Then why are you asking about Ruszel? He is no longer a pilot, and if you require one, I am available for private hire.”

Around the main spaceport, Kaylor had picked up rumors of another ship like the Pegasus that passed through a few months before. Could this be Riyad’s ship, the Ifrit? Kaylor wondered. If so, then how did Ruszel come to possess it?

‘We seek Ruszel in regard to the ship he now owns,” Kaylor improvised. “There is a title issue that we are seeking to resolve.”

“Scumcup!” the Tel’oran pilot spit out, spraying Kaylor with a partial mouthful of bitter intoxicant. Unconcerned, the alien continued. “I hope you yank that ship right from him. He was such a scumcup telling us all about what a superior ship he now possessed. So he could not own it in reality?”

Kaylor picked up on the line of thinking by the old pilot. “That is a possibility, yet we must confront him first. So where are The Lakes?”

“North of here, just at the base of the Esesian Mountains. It is an exclusive region most commonly reserved for Guild managers and directors and not for overly-fortunate pilots! Did he really receive that ship and the credits in return for a single fare? I know there are beings within the Expansion with credits to spare, yet this was beyond belief.”

“He may have stolen it,” Kaylor said, glad to see an even more animated response from the pilot.

“In that case, I will personally guide you to where I believe he is now residing!” Kankus said. “And if you allow me to see the look on his face when you confront him, I would be forever in your debt!”

“Our transaction with Pilot Ruszel will have to stay private, yet if you guide us to his location, we could pay you a thousand ruiens.”

Kankus nearly fell off his seat. “Of course—a thousand—that would be acceptable.” And then he paused. “Half in advance?” he said with a question mark. “I have a tavern debt to clear before we leave.”

Kaylor grinned. He had been in the same situation many times before and could relate. He doled out the credits to the Tel’oran and then turned to see if Jym had started a fight—yet. Even though two sets of foreign creatures were visibly agitated at Jym’s challenges, none had acted on their anger, which only served to infuriate the tiny bear even more. Kaylor nudged his partner toward the door, with the old Tel’oran pilot bringing up the rear. It seemed that Jym wasn’t enough of a challenge to the aliens for them to bother, something that would do little for his small friend’s self-esteem. Kaylor knew it was only going to get worse from here on out.

Kaylor had secured a transport large enough for the three of them to make the two-hour journey to The Lakes in relative comfort, even though most of the trip was spent with the windows down to relieve the cockpit of the rank odor of Kankus’ intoxicant-laced breath.

As it was with most societies of advanced beings, wealth had its privileges, and The Lakes was everything you would expect from a conclave of the planet’s elites. The roads throughout the sprawling complex were extremely wide, bordered by manicured landscaping of lush green grass and tailored trees, now ablaze with the vibrant colors of springtime on Tel’or. All the homes were separated by several acres, many with tall security walls and iron gates through which were revealed extremely long driveways leading to massive, low-slung domiciles. Tel’oran homes were constructed with outwardly sloping exterior walls, providing a sheltered area around the perimeter under expansive rooflines that soared high to a zenith above the central point of the home. Inside would be a voluminous great room with a ceiling easily a hundred feet high.

The pilot Kankus directed the trio to a gate leading to Ruszel’s current residence—one of the largest, if not the largest, residence in the entire subdivision. A camera attached to a long support extended out from the security wall next to the gate and scanned the transport from both the driver and passenger sides.

“Kankus, is that you?” came a disembodied voice from hidden, stereoscopic speakers.

“Yes, my friend. I have come to pay you a visit.”

“And who is that with you?”

“Fellow travelers who are intrigued by your tales of adventure; they may even wish to profile you in the Library.”

Kaylor wasn’t surprised by the effortlessness of the Tel’oran’s lie. Merchant traders and pilots were often quick with their tales, a necessary talent when negotiating entry—or exit—from difficult situations.

“Please enter, Kankus. I will welcome the diversion.”

The gate silently slipped to one side and Kaylor drove the transport up to the front portico of a fabulously ornate building. With such a variety of different habitats found throughout the galaxy, one being’s mansion could be another’s waste dump, yet even by Kaylor’s Belsonian standards, this structure was massive and impressive. How the Senior Pilot came to afford it was still a mystery to both he and Jym, their only clue being Kankus’ mention of his fortune and spaceship coming as the result of a single fare. That fare had to be Riyad Tarazi, Kaylor reasoned, and if the Human had been carrying a wealth in native currency on his mission—as were they—then the source of Ruszel’s new-found gains became obvious.

Kaylor had been very slow at learning how to use his ATD effectively, and the fact that he and Jym were on a separate starship from the rest of the team meant that they had to learn their lessons remotely. This hindered Kaylor’s progress even more. And yet the single-most important ability of the telepathy implant proved to be the detection of energy weapons, along with their subsequent disarming. This talent the two aliens—Kaylor included—had mastered, which gave the diminutive Jym his often reckless confidence in confronting overwhelming force.

Kaylor and Jym looked at each other, communicating the silent acknowledgement that there were multiple flash weapons located throughout the structure and grounds, with most gathered in a hidden circle around them. With Ruszel’s new wealth—and the questionable means in which he acquired it—Kaylor understood why the Tel’oran would be paranoid of visitors. Security was expected, and the former pilot had the means to afford the very best.

Ruszel greeted them at the wide double entrance to the home. He was a green-skinned creature of average build, with skin displaying knobby welts on his narrow face like other Tel’orans. His three guests exited the transport and walked the short distance up a series of steps to the landing outside the entrance.

Ruszel grasped the arms of Kankus and squeezed them vigorously. “My friend, I am delighted to see you,” he said with genuine emotion. “I find it surprising that I miss my old companions in the Pilot’s Guild, yet after a life of travel among the stars, even this fabulous habitat can appear staid at times.”

His pleasant demeanor changed abruptly as he turned his gaze to Kaylor and Jym. “And I see you have brought me two imposters, enemies whose intentions must now be discerned.”

Immediately, ten Tel’oran guards swarmed out of the house from behind Ruszel and from around the corners of the building. They each held MK-17’s leveled at the two aliens. The pilot stepped up to Kaylor, assuming the taller Belsonian to be the leader of the pair.

“Why have you come? I have scanned your images and you are of species located from within the Expansion. What business do you have with me?”

“They said it is about the spaceship you recently acquired,” Kankus offered, moving up to stand next to Ruszel.

The pilot nodded. “I was expecting this, and that is why I have spies located throughout the port area, including my old friend Kankus. He will be handsomely rewarded, which will encourage others to protect me as he has.”

“We are not your enemy, Senior Pilot Ruszel,” Kaylor said with confidence, knowing that even as he spoke, Jym had already disconnected the power packs from the rail systems of the flash weapons aimed at them. Kaylor and Jym carried flash weapons as well—now the only ones still operating within the compound—and the overly-confident Tel’orans had yet to take their weapons from them. “We are friends of Riyad Tarazi, and we are here seeking information of which you are exclusively the holder. You may wish to lower your weapons and have the three of us retire to another location for a more private conversation.”

Ruszel did not appear surprised by the mention of the Human’s name. His entire life had been altered by the brief five-day encounter with Riyad Tarazi; it was inevitable that others may either question his gains or seek more information about his encounter. And with the recent events sweeping the Nebula, the window for such a confrontation was narrowing rapidly.

“I will entertain your presence as long as you reciprocate with information of your own. I have nothing to hide; I have done nothing wrong in acquiring my gains.”

“We are not here to take anything from you, Ruszel Crin, yet this is not the proper venue for this conversation.”

“Agreed; enter my home yet leave your weapons with my guards. And please be assured that you will be under constant scrutiny while we are together. Kankus, you are to remain with my guards; I will speak privately with these beings.”

Kaylor and Jym were led into the breathtaking great room of the home, with its soaring ceiling and vast wall of glass to the rear affording a magnificent view of the nearby snow-capped mountains. They sat on a semi-circle of cushy sofas; Ruszel offered them neither food nor drink.

“You have come under deceptive means. What is it you want?”

“We need more information about the location of our friend Riyad Tarazi, as well as the location of the planet Elision.” Kaylor watched Ruszel’s face for a reaction at his mention of the planet Elision, the hidden and near-mythical homeworld of the outlaw Kracori race. He detected no change in the Tel’oran’s countenance. Either he assumed Kaylor and Jym would know the truth, or something else was at play.

“The location of Elision is no longer a secret within the Nebula, yet you still appear to believe it be so. Perhaps your own information is out of date?”

“We have been traveling from the planet Formil. Are there new developments concerning the Kracori?”

“Indeed,” Ruszel said, appearing to revel in the questioning looks on the faces of his alien guests. “The Kracori have announced to the galaxy the location of their homeworld. They also know of the impending attack on the Nebula by the Human forces and have begun to solicit allies to repel such an attack.” He paused to let the impact of his statement to sink in. “What do you expect to do with what little additional information I may have regarding the Human Riyad Tarazi? You have traveled a long distance for very little gain.”

Kaylor considered which approach to take with his next statement. He was not sure whether the Tel’oran was friend or foe at this point. He couldn’t risk revealing too much until he knew for certain. He looked around at the fabulous room where he sat. “All you have here is a result of your interaction with Riyad; we can all agree on that?”

“Yes,” Ruszel replied quickly. “He rewarded me and Canos for our assistance. We did not take this from him.”

“We understand that, and Adam Cain is forever grateful for that assistance.” Kaylor saw a beacon of recognition at the mention of the name Adam Cain. This would add to Kaylor’s own claim of credibility. “We are aware that he was taken to Elision. How do you feel about that?”

“Feel? I am saddened,” Ruszel answered. “It was revealed to me and Canos that the Human was to experience intense suffering during his stay. Yet even in light of his impending demise, he sought to insulate us from the wrath of the Kracori.”

“So you can say you owe your life—as well as your fortune—to Riyad Tarazi?”

“I understand where you intend to take this conversation,” the Tel’oran said, a tight frown appearing on his knobby forehead. “We have debated among ourselves—between Canos and I—and have decided that it was Riyad’s own actions which placed us in such jeopardy. The fact that he subsequently sought to save us is a measure in his favor, yet it does not completely absolve him of responsibility.”

“That, too, I understand,” Kaylor said. “And yet it has all benefitted you to an extreme degree.”

“That is true. And yet now there is a terrifying time coming to the Nebula. My wealth will allow me to escape the brunt of it, yet not so for the rest of Nebula.”

“This conflict was coming anyway, Ruszel, and without the generosity of Riyad, you—as well as your bloodline—would have been caught up in it without recourse.”

“What do you want me to say, Belsonian?”

“We seek to know whether you are a friend or a foe of Riyad Tarazi?”

“It is hard to be friends with Humans, yet if I had to make a choice, I would say I am a friend. I hold no animosity towards him.”

“Good! That is what we need to know,” Kaylor said with emotion.

Jym jumped to his feet suddenly and blurted out: “We are here to rescue him!” Kaylor recoiled and sent a stern glare at his companion. “I am sorry Kaylor, but we are wasting time.”

“Rescue ... from Elision? That would be suicide.” Ruszel said, a smile crossing his face. “How do you propose to do this?” He seemed almost amused at the absurdity of the concept.

Kaylor gathered his thoughts before speaking again. “We are the vanguard of a team—a team of Humans and Formilians—with the mission to rescue Riyad before the Human attack.” Kaylor knew that the Juireans would arrive at Elision before the Humans, yet he also knew that this information was highly classified. He would let Ruszel go on believing that it was the Humans that the Juddle Nebula had to fear most, and not the Juireans. “What we are seeking from you is your assistance in our endeavors.”

“Assistance ... by what means?”

“You have been to the Dysion Void and to the very region around Elision. We need you to do what you did for Riyad, serve as our guide and pilot—”

“Ridiculous!” Ruszel shouted. “You expect me to guide a team of Humans and other beings into the very heart of Kracori space, and at a time when the entire Nebula is beginning to align with them against the Human threat? I now have the means to comfortably avoid the coming conflict ... and you expect me to risk it all? Thanks to your Riyad Tarazi, you do not have enough ruiens available to make me even consider such an undertaking. I will draw you charts and provide other insights, yet I will not be accompanying you on your journey. Is that understood?”

Jym snorted loudly. Kaylor and Ruszel watched for a moment as the tiny bear began to pace the room. When he said nothing, they turned back to one another.

“You owe everything you now have to Riyad Tarazi, even your life. How can you let him suffer in a Kracori prison when you have the opportunity to join a team that can save him?”

“As I have stated, I am saddened by his circumstance, yet even if I had the willingness to join your quest, I have grave doubts as to its possibility of success.”

“You mentioned that the Kracori are now in the process of soliciting allies in their war with the Humans,” Kaylor said. “Is Tel’or among the supporters?”

Kaylor noticed the pilot hesitate before answering. “It has not been decided, yet the possibility is growing stronger with each passing day. I do not know how much experience you have had dealing with the Humans, but from my brief experience with Riyad, I can say they are a savage and dangerous race who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. I truly believe that the entire Nebula is now at risk, as do many of my fellow Tel’orans. Yet either way, I will be unaffected. I will simply leave the Nebula until the conflict is concluded.”

Kaylor attempted a smile. “Yes, Ruszel, I too, have had experience with the Humans, and far more than you. They are often misunderstood and frequently underestimated. Yet I have found that they often do the things they do because they have been forced to, not because they want to.”

“In the end, that does not matter—”

“We are wasting time, Kaylor!” Jym suddenly shouted, while lifting a heavy metal lamp and holding it threateningly in Ruszel’s direction. “Let us just take him!”

Stunned only momentarily, Ruszel stretched out a wide grin. “Put that down,” he ordered. “You are now threatening me within my own residence.” His expression turned more serious as he looked back to Kaylor and withdrew the MK-17 flash weapon from its holster around his waist. “In light of your companion’s rude behavior, I believe I will rescind my offer of charts and other assistance and insist that you both leave immediately. I will have my guards escort you off my property.”

Kaylor remained seated, with a calm unconcerned expression on his face. He slowly nodded. “I agree,” he said, rising to his feet. Ruszel stood as well, a smug look on his face with the weapon still aimed squarely at Kaylor’s chest. “I agree,” he repeated. “We must take him now; we have no more time to waste.”

The comment caught Ruszel off guard. “The two of you are crazy; I will call my guards and be within my rights to shoot you down where you stand.”

“Take your weapon, Jym, and stand by the door. I’ll release the lock when you are ready.”

Ruszel’s mouth fell open as his eyes grew wide. He watched in horror as Kaylor turned his back on him and went to stand at the end of the long sofa where Ruszel had been sitting. “Call your guards now.” Kaylor commanded.

“Did you not hear me? I said I could kill you myself … and I would be within my rights.”

Kaylor turned and took a step closer to the pilot. Ruszel raised the flash weapon, pointing it directly at Kaylor’s face. “Go ahead then, kill me,” Kaylor said calmly.

Anger flared up in Ruszel. He squeezed the grip of the handgun even tighter, yet he did not pull the trigger.

“Do it!” Kaylor yelled, taking another step closer.

Finally, Ruszel fingered the trigger, and as Kaylor was expecting, nothing happened.

A look of utter shock crossed Ruszel’s face. He began to finger the trigger even more until he pulled the weapon back and checked the battery level. It was full.

Kaylor had had enough. He stepped forward and pulled the MK-17 from Ruszel’s now weakened grip. He expertly twisted the weapon around in his hand until he held it firmly. Next he pointed it at a faraway wall and pulled the trigger.

The now fully-operational flash weapon discharged a bright ball of blue-white electricity, illuminating the room and slashing against the target wall with a sharp crack. He then turned the MK back on the pilot.

There was banging on the main door to the great room, a door that Kaylor had locked with the help of his ATD as soon as they had entered. A faint click was now heard as Kaylor released the lock with a command of his mind.

A flood of Tel’oran guards poured into the room. These were skilled operatives, and not simply armed starship pilots. They acquired targets for their weapons almost immediately—and suffered the same shock and confusion as Ruszel had when their MK’s failed to launch.

Jym swung the heavy metal lamp down on the arm of the nearest guard, dislodging his weapon. He then scooped up the gun and pointed it at the handful of guards approaching him. They didn’t hesitate, fully convinced that their weapons were inert—for some strange reason. Jym pointed the gun upwards and launched a bolt into the ceiling. The guards stopped in their tracks.

Having seen Jym’s weapon discharge, most of the guards now resumed the futile triggering of their own weapons once again. Finally, realizing that Kaylor and Jym had the only two working MK’s in the room, the guards dejectedly lowered their weapons and stood waiting for commands from the two intruders.

Kaylor turned to Ruszel. “Most structures like these have some sort of secure room, where valuables are stored, or as safe place against intruders.”

“Are you really here to rob me?”

“No, of course not,” Kaylor said. “It is just that we need to have a safe place to lock away your guards so we can get away. Otherwise we will have to kill them all.”

A nervous murmur spread through the ranks of the guards, along with the old pilot Kankus.

“I would prefer not to have to do that.”

“I say kill them, kill them all so they won’t talk or follow us!” little Jym said while pointing his weapon up at the head of the nearest guard. The towering Tel’oran backed away in fear; Kaylor saw the look of unbridled satisfaction cross Jym’s face. He was finally having his moment....

“I have such a room,” Ruszel said in a panic. “In fact, I have many such rooms in this large estate. Please do not kill my guards.” He then locked his eyes on Kankus, who was cowering towards the back of the crowd of bodyguards. “Kankus you can kill ... for bringing the two of you into my home. I would feel no regret about that!”

“We’re not going to kill anyone,” Kaylor said, beginning to grow annoyed that the situation had come down to talk of mass murder, “. . . unless we have to. Now Ruszel, please lead us to these rooms, rooms large enough to accommodate all your bodyguards—and Kankus.”

Half an hour later, after locking the guards away in a large room with food and water to last for three days, Kaylor, Ruszel, as well as an immensely pleased-with-himself Jym, were back in the transport and heading for the spaceport two hours away.

“You know you cannot force me to help you,” Ruszel said.

Kaylor smiled. “You are right. We cannot force you, but I’m sure Adam Cain will.”

“Adam Cain? He is the one the message I relayed was intended for. It is he who is leading the rescue effort?”

“That is correct. And you would be wise not to anger that particular Human. He almost single-handily brought down the entire Juirean Expansion and now has the Kracori race—as well as your Nebula—fearing for its very survival.”

“And you said Riyad was a dangerous savage,” Jym chimed in. “Well, it was Adam Cain who taught him all he knows about being dangerous. Resist at your own peril, Ruszel, but soon you will find that resistance is futile.”

Chapter 5

Formilian ships were common at the major spaceports on Tel’or, having supplied the Juddle Nebula with advanced electronic devices for over two hundred years. So when the Formilian spaceship dropped down among the myriad of other craft in the spaceport, no one paid it any undue attention. In fact, the spaceport was a beehive of activity, with hundreds of vessels coming and going—mainly going—with looks of concern painted on the faces of the dozens of species frequenting the grounds.

Adam felt good stepping out onto the surface of a planet after thirty days in space. The gravity of Tel’or was Juirean-standard, placing it at about point seventy-five that of Earth; the air was warm and rich in oxygen, although laced with a strong trace of chemical propellant here in the spaceport. Adam didn’t mind; he took in the wide open sky and sweeping views before being approached by a slender creature with prominent blues veins threading his thin, white skin and two dangling appendages below each ear.

“Kaylor, my friend, it’s good to see you again,” Adam said, stretching out a grin while keeping his teeth covered with his lips.

“The same, Adam,” Kaylor said, although his expression displayed more concern than joy.

Adam picked up on the expression. “Any luck in finding Ruszel?” he asked, expecting the worst.

“Oh, yes, that has been accomplished. He is with Jym now in the Pegasus.”

“Then why the gloomy face?”

“The pilot says that the Kracori have revealed themselves to the Nebula and are now seeking allies against any attacks.”

“Does he know about the Juireans?”

“No, he—they—are still expecting the Humans to strike first.”

Adam looked around at the various aliens beginning to move within his landing zone now that the ship had come to a rest. With a high hood draped over his short crop of blond hair, he wondered how many of them would even recognize a Human if they saw one? None seemed to be paying them any attention. “Kroekus told me the same. Do you know if Tel’or is one of their allies?”

“Not yet, according to Ruszel, but the trend appears to be in that direction. It is best that we depart Tel’or as quickly as possible.”

Adam took Kaylor by the arm and pulled him over next to the still warm and creaking hull of the Formilian ship. “Something’s come up, Kaylor, something that will require you and Jym to stay here for the time being.”

Kaylor’s eyes grew wide. “We are not to accompany you and Ruszel?”

“Kroekus has arranged for other passage, and with an informant who has been to Elision. He has a ship and access codes to get us to the surface.”

“So you do not need Ruszel? We did all this for nothing!”

“Not for nothing; I haven’t met this informant yet nor verified his information. Ruszel—along with you and Jym—will serve as a backup in case anything goes wrong.”

“So we stay on Tel’or ... and wait?”

“Only for a few days.”

“And we keep Ruszel a prisoner for that time?”

“Prisoner?”

“Yes, he did not come voluntarily.”

Adam smiled. So the two passive aliens had come through in a pinch—more-than-likely the result of their ATD’s. “Good work, Kaylor. I would have preferred that he came voluntarily, but under the circumstances, you did great.”

Kaylor was unaccepting of the compliment. “But we want to contribute to the rescue efforts, and with Tel’or about to align with the Kracori, it may be more dangerous to remain here.”

Kaylor had a point, Adam thought. The Pegasus was a unique ship, one that would evoke suspicion if the natives began to look for Human sympathizers.

“Fine. Launch in the Pegasus, but only shadow us. Wait on this side of the Dysion Shield and only come through if we need you.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the alien he’d known the longest. “Just having you watching my back will give me a lot of comfort. And with the reckless nature of this operation, you’re just the contingency we may need.”

“I still do not like it,” Kaylor said. “With our ATD’s, Jym and I are potent fighters as well.”

“I know you are,” Adam said, “and that’s why I feel better with you and Jym covering us. Now go back to the Pegasus and wait for my signal. I don’t know anything about this new ship the team will be transferring to, or about the informant, so I don’t want anyone outside the team to know about you and Jym—and Ruszel.”

Adam smiled even wider as a thought crossed his mind. “So, Ruszel put up a fight? How did you convince him to come along?”

“It was all Jym,” Kaylor answered, his face displaying even more concern than before. “I believe we have created a monster.”

Chapter 6

The informant’s ship was located at another spaceport on the opposite side of Saf’in. Adam left the Formilians aboard their ship and took Sherri and Andy Tobias with him for the first meeting.

In all the chaos of the spaceports—understandable now from what Kaylor had told him—it took Adam longer than he’d planned to locate the informant’s ship. Already frustrated, he did a quick walk-around of the huge ship—probably the largest he’d ever seen capable of a planetary landing. The ship had a huge landing bay hatch, and according to Kroekus carried two shuttles and a number of escape pods. Next to the large bay hatch was a smaller access door with a monitor set off to one side within the hull. Adam touched the screen and a message instantly appeared.

Welcome, Adam Cain, the message read. Then it continued to scroll down. Please enter alone and leave your weapons with your companions. Because of the delicate position I am in, I wish our first meeting to be private and secure. Please comply. You are being monitored.

Adam looked at Sherri and Andy and raised his eyebrows. “Cautious bastard, isn’t he?”

“He’s probably risking a lot by helping us,” Sherri said by way of an explanation.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is.” Adam handed his MK-17 to Andy Tobias. “I detect a supply of power packs, but none are attached to flash weapons.”

“You can tell that?” Andy asked. “Damn, I’ve still got a whole lot to learn about my thingumajig. Can you detect that, Sherri?”

Sherri scrunched up her face. “Yeah, Andy, I can. Sorry.”

“No worries; I guess it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I’m going in,” Adam stated as the door slid aside. “You both should be able to link with me if I call. Stay alert.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Sherri said, snapping off a sloppy Boy Scout-type salute, the one with the thumb tucked into the palm—which was not an official military salute.

Assuming his host would be on the bridge, Adam proceeded along a wide corridor forward from the hanger bay access airlock. He had noticed the wide bank of viewports at the forward section of the elongated spaceship and knew that if he just kept moving in that direction he would eventually reach the bridge. The spaceship was a good three-hundred feet long and half that wide, about the size of football field, and he crossed through several large intersections along the central corridor, although he didn’t take the time to investigate what lay beyond the dozen of hatches and doorways he passed. If the informant passed the test, then he would have plenty of time for exploration.

The central corridor did indeed end at the bridge, announced by a wide portal in the forward bulkhead, its double doors already open.

The lights on the bridge were dimmed and the blast shield was down, and it took Adam a moment for his eyes to adjust. The room was like most starship bridges, with consoles lining three walls, a three-window array of viewports forward and two pilot seats just below the ports with a command chair located behind the pilots. This ship was large enough to have separate pilots and a commander, rather than like the Pegasus where the commander was often the pilot as well.

There was a figure in the command chair, and as Adam approached, the chair began to swivel around.

Adam nearly fainted as the light from the outer corridor painted the features of the person in the chair. It was Nigel McCarthy.

Instinctively, Adam reached for his weapon, but found his holster empty. Frozen for the moment, he saw a .45 semi-automatic held firmly in McCarthy’s grip, aimed at Adam’s midsection.

“I thought you were dead!” Adam blurted out.

Nigel smiled—a wide, toothy grin on his pale, freckled face. “Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

Adam opened his mouth to speak again, yet only an incoherent jumble of syllables escaped.

“Please, Adam, take a seat. We have much to discuss ... before we begin our next adventure together.”

“We’re not doing shit together!” Adam managed to finally say.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, mate, if you ever expect to get Tarazi out of a Kracori prison before the Juireans attack.”

Adam was shocked at the vast amount of classified information contained in that one sentence. He looked at the gun, and then into Nigel’s eyes. The Brit had an expression like that of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. Adam knew that McCarthy had designed this encounter to carry the most shock, and like most of the Englishman’s tactics, it was working.

Adam took a deep breath, then moved past the command chair and fell heavily into one of the pilot seats. The chair was wide and soft, signifying that the beings who built the ship were larger than Humans. Nigel turned his chair to face Adam.

“Let’s begin by getting one thing straight, Mr. Cain: I am not your enemy, not anymore—”

“Bullshit!”

“Please let me finish. I know we have had our differences in the past—”

“You killed Lee ... and probably Dawson, too, now that I think about it. That’s more than simply differences.”

“That was another time, with different objectives. It was never personal, Captain. I have actually always considered you an admirable challenger—a competitor if you will—rather than my enemy.”

“Not for me, dickhead. You are my enemy, and always have been. So you didn’t die on the Phoenix? That lying bastard, Henderson.”

“Oh, don’t blame him. He left the ship just as the Kracori were attacking,” McCarthy said. “He saw the ship explode and thought I was still onboard.” He smiled even wider. “Obviously I wasn’t.”

“So you lived, and somehow you’re here aboard this ship. What’s your involvement with this informant of Kroekus’s? Have you killed him, too?”

“Of course not, Captain. I am the informant.”

Adam’s jaw fell open. “You’re working with Kroekus?”

Nigel nodded.

“He didn’t tell me.”

“We both decided it would be best if he didn’t. Just think what your reaction would have been if he had? We need each other, Adam, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“What do you mean? How are you involved in Riyad’s rescue?”

“Well, first of all mate, I’m the one who told Kroekus about the Juireans. It’s because of me that you even know of the timeline you have to work with on this operation. And secondly, I have been to Elision. You know this; I spent seven fucking years there. And as far as I can tell, I’m the only one of your team who has.”

Adam bit his bottom lip, begrudgingly admitting to himself that McCarthy was right. “Kroekus said the informant—you—have access codes ... and that you know where Riyad’s being held.”

“That’s right. As special forces yourself, you know I couldn’t just sit on my arse all that time and not do some snooping around. I know the lay of the land, and long before I escaped the planet, I acquired a wealth of intel regarding planetary ingress and egress, defensive fortifications, industrial complex ... and where all high-valued detainees are held.”

Adam was a loss for words. He had to admit that if it had been himself on Elision for all those years, he would have done the same. Hell, he’d already begun the process during his brief time on Tel’or. It was just second nature to people like him, including McCarthy.

“So you’re willing to help me get Riyad? Why? You’re a lying, backstabbing, son-of-a-bitch who certainly can’t be trusted. What’s changed, if anything?”

“Let just say I would like to earn some goodwill points with the blokes back home.”

“You’re a turncoat, one of the people responsible for a billion deaths when the Juireans attacked. I don’t think saving one person will earn you a pardon and a pat on the back.”

“Probably not,” McCarthy agreed, nodding his head. “But combined with my warning about the Juireans, and the other intel I can provide, I might convince them to stop hunting me.”

“We had stopped hunting you; we thought you were dead!”

“That’s true, but at some point I would like to return home. If I do well here, then the powers that be might let me retire to some little island where I can anonymously disappear.”

“Have you already cut the deal?”

“Not yet. A lot of my bargaining power will come with a successful rescue of Tarazi and the information I’m willing to share with the Fleet.”

“They won’t do it, even for Riyad and your intel. You are directly responsible for everything that’s gone bad for the Human race over the past fifteen, twenty years. There have been too many deaths.”

Adam saw McCarthy’s face turn red. “You think I’m responsible for all that’s happened—is happening—even as we speak? You couldn’t be more bloody wrong! All the deaths, from both attacks on the Earth, have been your fault, not mine. You’re responsible for everything, Cain, not me.”

“How do you figure?” Adam asked incredulously. He was stunned by the accusation. “You were the one who advised the Klin and orchestrated the abduction of thousands of people from the Earth. You’re the traitor that made it all possible.”

Nigel leaned forward in the command chair. “Let me give you a brief history lesson, my friend. I was not the first, nor the only Human helping the Klin. And if you can recall, I, too was abducted by the fucking aliens. All I did was find a way to survive. And if I didn’t do what I did, they would have just found someone else. There was no shortage of people looking to gain favor with the Klin to assure their survival.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you helped the enemy. You knew the Klin were manipulating the Juireans into attacking us, and you even knew about the Kracori.”

“I knew about the Juireans, but not the Kracori. The Klin kept that from me because they were using the Humans, not partnering with us as I had believed. I was deceived by them, just as you were.”

“That still doesn’t absolve you for the deaths of a billion people. Nothing will.”

Nigel laughed, a sarcastic, guttural laugh. “I’m not responsible for those deaths ... you are!”

“Good try, McCarthy, but that’s not going to work—”

“The Klin had a plan—a long-term plan—and it was you who disrupted it. It was you and your actions that led the Juireans to the Earth prematurely. You mucked up the Klin’s entire timetable and so they had to improvise. Deaths had always been planned on Earth—there had to be, as motivator—but not a billion, along with all the infrastructure destruction. The war was supposed to last longer, and the Kracori were to be brought along more slowly. But then you came on the scene and everything changed.”

“I can’t see how I caused this. The Klin had planned all along for the Juirean attack on the Earth. I didn’t force them to do anything.”

“You moved up their timetable. If you hadn’t, another thirty or forty years may have gone by. The Earth would have been better prepared for the attack, rather than having to rely on the Klin.”

“An attack brought about by the Klin!”

“I didn’t lead the Juireans to the Earth, Adam Cain, you did. And let’s look at what else you did that caused even more deaths.”

“And what’s that?”

“It was your bloody Cain Initiative.”

“Again, bullshit, McCarthy. The Initiative got Humans back home, out of a situation we were ill-prepared to handle. It saved Humanity from becoming like the Juireans.”

“That part it did, but it’s the other part I’m talking about.”

Adam was growing frustrated and angry. He didn’t have time for this senseless banter. He was also sure that at any moment, Andy and Sherri would become worried and check in. And how would they react when they saw McCarthy?

“What part are you talking about, mate!” Adam snapped back.

“The part about making outlaws of the Klin and the Kracori. When you did that—and that was all you—the aliens had no choice but to attack the Earth first. You left them no option.”

“We couldn’t let them get away with what they’d done. Is that what you’re proposing?”

“Not entirely, but it would have been nice to use a little diplomacy. Instead you sentenced two entire races to extinction. They couldn’t reveal themselves, they couldn’t interact with other races, and they couldn’t even offer reparations for what they had done. You said we would track them down and we would kill them, when and wherever we found them. And then you deputized the entire Expansion into helping you.”

When Adam was silent, Nigel continued.

“What would we have done if the roles were reversed? What if our only chance for survival rested in our ability to destroy our tormentors ... and before they destroyed us? You know what we’d do. We would attack, without mercy and without warning. Our survival as a race would depend on it.”

A hard, angry look turned McCarthy’s face to stone. “When you announced the bounty and the intentions of the Humans, I had no choice but to leave Elision. I was a Human with knowledge of the location of the Kracori homeworld. And when I did leave, it traumatized an entire race. They knew I would turn over the coordinates—and then their world would be destroyed.”

“But you didn’t, not for three more years.” Adam managed to say. He felt weak; his heart pounding in his ears.

“That’s right,” McCarthy said. “I may never have, until I was captured. But during the time before I did, the tension and paranoia within the Kracori were growing to the boiling point. They knew they had to act before we did. And even though the Klin were more insulated from your threat, they decided to help the Kracori eliminate their mutual enemy. With Humanity gone, both races would be free to reveal themselves, even the Klin. With the Juireans hunkered down at the far end of the galaxy, the Klin would finally be able to join the rest of the Expansion. But first, the Earth had to be destroyed. And it was all because of you, Adam Cain!”

Adam didn’t know how to respond. He had heard the words when McCarthy asked what the Humans would have done if it were they with the death warrant. He began to sweat when the answer came: Exactly what the Kracori just did.

Had Adam really initiated the series of events that had led to all those deaths? Was he, along with his short-sighted quest for revenge, responsible for it all?

He gathered his composure as best he could. “Your theory sounds all neat and everything, but the Klin and Kracori have been out to destroy us from the beginning. We just happened to be better at war than they were. I admit, I may have forced their hand some, but eventually it would have come down to them or us. And after the Juirean attack on the Earth, and then the Kracori’s first attempt to nuke us, we had no choice but to do what we did.”

Nigel took a deep breath. “In the history of my country, the bloody Germans lobed V-2 rockets down on London for months. They killed thousands of my countrymen, there and in Europe. And the Japanese, they attacked your Pearl Harbor—”

“What point are you trying to make?” Adam interrupted, growing tired of the history lesson, as well as this entire line of conversation.

“What I’m getting at is that eventually both our countries made friends of our enemies. Hell, even our two countries have fought two wars against each other. What I’m saying is that if the door had been left open for negotiations and compromise, you may have been surprised what the Kracori would have done to make amends. You may have been able to exact massive reparations out of them. I was on Elision when these options were being discussed. But before any overtures could be made, you get up before the entire galaxy and yell ‘Death to all Kracori and Klin!’ You didn’t even give them a chance. And now we’re here, with the Juireans about to crash the party, and I assume, the Humans ready to step in and clean up the mess after the two alien races slug it out. Is that the plan? It doesn’t take a military genius to figure that one out.”

Adam was in such shock that he hardly noticed when Nigel slipped the .45 into a pocket of his waistcoat. He stood and approached Adam. “Mr. Cain, you have to believe me when I say I am truly sorry for what I just said, but you know it to be the truth. I do not blame you; you are a warrior and that is how you approach these things. But the diplomats back on Earth should have foreseen this and not let the death warrant go out. But that is all water under the bridge. I stand before you now as a partner, as a comrade with a common goal. I have brought you a ship that can get you into Elision space—thanks to our fat Silean’s unlimited bank account—and with the means to get us to the surface of the planet and find Tarazi. I assume you still have your secret weapon, your mind-control device, so affecting a rescue should be child’s play for you and your team of SEALs. Whatever my assistance will buy me with the people back home, that remains to be seen. But let’s bury that hatchet and work as one.”

Nigel actually placed a hand on Adam’s slumping shoulder. “I promise not speak about my theory on current and recent events to your team. The time to place blame is over. Now we must deal with the present. I’m offering you my help. All you have to do is accept it.”

Adam rose to his feet, weakened and humiliated by the words he now had emblazoned in his mind. He looked into Nigel’s blue eyes, knowing that even though he may not speak of this again, Adam would be haunted by the revelation, probably for the rest of his life.

He looked down to see Nigel’s offered hand. He reached out to grasp it—just as Sherri Valentine and Andy Tobias burst onto the bridge. The look of utter shock on their faces came from two sources: One from seeing Nigel McCarthy alive; and two, from the sight of Adam and McCarthy shaking hands.

Chapter 7

It took a full hour for Adam to convince Sherri and Andy that he hadn’t gone insane, and that the best chance they had of getting Riyad back alive was to have McCarthy join the team. The three other SEALs—Tobias, Master Chief Rutledge and John Tindal—only knew McCarthy by reputation, but Sherri had firsthand experience with him. She was the hardest to convince.

In the end, they all came to a tense agreement. The operation to rescue Riyad couldn’t last longer than ten days; five days transit time to the Shield, and then a maximum of another five to reach Elision, find Riyad and get him out. If it took any longer than that, then they were all in a world of shit.

Sherri and Tobias agreed to tolerate the arrangement for those ten days, if it meant a better chance of saving Riyad. But after that, McCarthy would part company with the team, and hopefully never cross their path again.

McCarthy remained onboard the native ship—native to a race of beings called the Volseen—to prepare for launch. The three other Humans returned to the Formilian ship to secure a transport vehicle to transfer their gear and belongings. It was a pretty good bet that they would be abandoning the Formilian ship on Tel’or. Once they had Riyad, the team would beat feet out of the Nebula by the fastest route possible avoiding Tel’or altogether.

With the tensions running so high on Tel’or, Adam and the other two Humans wore lose-fitting hooded cloaks to hide their race of origin. With the planet about to ally with the Kracori at any moment, being one of the feared and dreaded invaders could prove dangerous.

It was about dusk by the time they reached the western spaceport and as they approached the main gate, they encountered a massive crowd of very agitated Tel’orans blocking the entrance. There was a line of transports waiting to get in, and Adam joined the line about a hundred yards from the gate.

He lowered a window and asked a native who was watching the demonstration from a safe distance what was happening. Adam’s face was hidden in the shadows of the cloak and the approaching night.

“The Guild has announced their support for the Kracori,” the worried native said. “All vessels are being confiscated to assist in the defense of the Nebula. Many of the spacers are upset.”

“I can imagine why,” Adam said. “No ships are being allowed to leave?”

“Only some Outer vessels with the proper documentation. All Nebula and Guild ships are to remain grounded. I’m afraid there will be a riot soon.”

“I thought siding with the Kracori would save the Nebula?” Adam commented, trying to ferret out the feelings of the common person on the planet.

“That may be so, but not everyone is of the same belief. The stories of the Human horde coming this way have frightened many. Those with spaceships available have options. Others like me and my bloodline do not.”

The Tel’oran then turned to look more closely at Adam, who slipped further back into the shadows of the transport.

“Do you have a vessel in the port? I can see you are not Tel’oran. Are you an Outer?”

“Formilian,” Adam said.

“Ah, you should have received clearance—if you can get into the port. Do you have room for a paying passenger aboard your ship? I do not have much, but what I have is yours.”

“I’m afraid my government is aligned with the Kracori as well,” Adam lied. “We will not be departing anytime soon.”

The Tel’oran looked thoroughly defeated. “Then I will seek to join in the service of the Nebula. If we are to die, I would prefer to do so defending my home.”

“A noble attitude, my friend. I wish you the best of luck.” Now move away from the car before you draw attention to us.

Admiral Tobias leaned forward from his position in the rear seat. “We’re not going to get the gear moved to the other spaceport, not in this mess. And it’s a good bet that the same protest is going on back at the eastern port by now.”

“And McCarthy’s ship is a Nebula-based ship,” Sherri added. “They’re not going to let it off the surface.” There was panic in her voice.

Adam noticed a large transport pass the line of stopped vehicles carrying a cargo of Tel’or soldiers or police wearing black leather outfits and cradling flash rifles in their laps. This truck was followed by two more.

“Here come the troops,” he said. “It looks like they mean to enforce the decree.”

“What are we going to do?” Sherri asked, her voice an octave higher than only a moment before.

“We can’t let the military take control of the port,” Tobias stated. “We need a diversion.”

“Exactly, Admiral,” Adam said. “Some chaos could go a long way to starting a panic, with every ship that can then heading for the stars.”

“How are you going to do that?” Sherri asked.

Adam grimaced in the deep shadows of early evening on Tel’or. “It’s going to get bloody, but I don’t see an alternative.”

Adam accessed his ATD and attempted to communicate with the rest of his team on the Formilian ship. All he got back in return was silence. They were still out of range. He opened the door to the transport and climbed out. The others followed. They all took out their MK’s and checked the battery status.

“When the first explosions begin head for the ship. Everyone will be running by then. Just act as panicked as the rest.”

“That’ll be easy,” Sherri said. She knew what Adam was about to do and she saw no alternative as well.

The trio began to force their way through the crowd toward the main gate. The three troop trucks were just arriving there as well, having threaded their way through the gathering demonstrators. Even over the din of the crowd, a series of high-pitched sounds could be heard coming from the backs of the troops trucks. The sounds grew ever higher in pitch and intensity until they could hardly be tolerated by those closest to the trucks.

The first flash weapons exploded as Adam—through his ATD—separated the firing control from the rail system of the weapons and let the charge build up in a dynamo effect. The exploding flash rifles were like grenades going off in the middle of the Tel’oran troops, effectively killing nearly every soldier in the vehicles. Flames soared high, and shrapnel rained down on the stunned demonstrators.

Panic—along with the desired chaos—spread among the thousands of beings near the gate. Having just seen the Tel’oran military forces reduced to body parts, everyone ran for safety, not knowing whether the area was under attack by Humans, or if insurgents were present. Most of the crowd consisted of crew for the vessels in port, and they began a headlong stampede toward their ships. There may have been a restriction against lifting off, but at the time there was no one around to enforce it.

The three Humans barreled through the panicked masses, aided by their incredible speed in the light gravity and by the power of their bodies. Aliens flew out of their wake like the running of the bulls in Pamplona, and soon they were at their ship.

“Get us out of here, Trimen!” Adam projected through his ATD as the three Humans entered the ship.

“Where to?” came the immediate reply.

“Anywhere. Just off the surface.”

Adam sprinted for the pilothouse. Once there, he slid into the comm station as a deep rumble filled the ship. They were lifting off in a blaze of chemical exhaust. Adam chanced a quick look out the forward viewport, only to see a few unfortunate bodies being blasted away in the exhaust cloud. Then he saw multiple exhaust clouds, as other ships began to liftoff, themselves frying any aliens unlucky enough to be near the exhaust ports.

Adam punched in the link code for the Pegasus.

“Kaylor, are you there?”

Only a second passed before the reply blasted through the speakers on the console. “Yes, and I assume you have heard the news?”

“I have, and we’re just now lifting off. Get off the surface, too.”

“But there is a moratorium against launching.”

“Screw that. Do it anyway. The Pegasus can get away faster than anyone will expect. Just do it before they really start enforcing the moratorium.”

“Will do,” Kaylor said. “We’ll coordinate once we’re away.”

“Roger that.”

Adam cut the link and opened another to McCarthy’s ship. “McCarthy! Come in.”

The reply was also almost instantaneous. “Way ahead of you, Cain. I saw the first protests and heard the news flash. Figured we could rendezvous in space somewhere.”

“Good. We’re just now clearing the clouds ... should be in clear space in a couple of minutes. We’ll link up in an hour. Head for the small moon; they have two but this one is just a rock. Everyone else will probably head for the big one, the one with the settlements.”

Adam leaned back in the chair and took several deep breaths. With Tel’or—as well as the rest of the Nebula—soon to be allied with the Kracori, their journey to Elision could be more dangerous. Most Outer ships would be heading away from the Nebula, not further into it. And the Volsee ship, being as large as it is, could be a much sought after addition to the Nebula’s growing fleet. This was going to get dicey.

A few minutes later, Adam reopened the link to the Pegasus. “Kaylor, it’s Adam. Come in.”

“Here, Adam. We are clear, and when we launched it started a surge of other launches as well. It seems no one wants to stay on the planet and become part of the defense force.”

“I’m meeting up with the other ship near the small Tel’oran moon. I need you to keep your distance. I will set up a separate and continuous link to you once I get aboard the other ship on a frequency only we will know. This will be our private way of communicating.”

“Understood,” Kaylor said. “So what of the informant’s credentials? Will he be able to help rescue Riyad?”

Adam hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should let the Belsonian know that the informant was none other than Nigel McCarthy. After a moment he decided to let him in on the secret.

“McCarthy! I thought he was dead.”

“We all did. But now he has a ship and access codes to get us to the surface of Elision. He spent seven years there, so he’s the best source we have. I need to use him, while also keeping a close eye on him.”

“I assume a close eye means to watch him carefully for any treachery. Knowing McCarthy’s past, that would be very prudent.”

“This also means you will probably become a vital part of this mission at some point, my friend. I can’t believe that everything will go smoothly from here on out. The mission has gotten off to a rocky start already.”

“Jym and I are ready and willing to assist. Not so much is the pilot Ruszel Crin. He keeps saying that you will all die during the transit to the Shield, and not from the warring spaceships but from the Nebula itself. He says it is a dangerous passage and novices will not make it through the maze.”

“But he’s still not willing to help us?”

“That is correct. He appears to be enjoying the circumstances, at least for now. Yet as I pilot the Pegasus further into the Nebula with him aboard, he may choose to assist me out of a need for self-preservation. Is McCarthy familiar with the landscape of the Nebula?”

“He says he is, and yet he only escaped from Elision once, and that was three years ago. I’m sure his knowledge is not nearly as in-depth as Ruszel’s. I will keep you informed of our progress as often as I can without letting McCarthy know you’re out there.”

“Acknowledged, Adam. We will stay back and await your link.”

“Good luck, Kaylor.”

Chapter 8

“I sure hope you know what you're doing,” Sherri said as she watched the large Volseen ship grow larger in the forward viewport.

“So do I.” The two Humans were standing on the bridge, just behind the Formilian pilots as the rendezvous was taking place. “McCarthy is the only one who's actually been on Elision. He's studied the planet and the Kracori. If he behaves himself, this could actually be a bonus.”

Sherri looked at Adam with a scowl. “That's like saying Hitler spoke German so let's use the Austrian as our guide to Auschwitz.”

It was Adam's turn to scowl. “That's an obscure reference if ever I heard one.”

“History minor, Mr. Cain. And history is why I'm having a hard time believing that you didn't just up and kill him the moment you saw him. The guy's a lying, backstabbing, rat-bastard of the first-degree.”

Adam managed a feeble smile. “Yeah, but right now he's a lying, backstabbing, rat-bastard with a ship that can get us to Elision. We owe it to Riyad to at least use all the tools at our disposal.”

“Are you forgetting that his men killed Lee and tried to do the same to the rest of us?”

“Of course not, and when we have Riyad back safe and sound, then we'll see how much of our forgiveness McCarthy's earned, if any. Let's face it, I'd rather have him working with us that against us.”

“Like they say, 'War makes for strange bedfellows.’ ”

“Let's not even go there. That image makes me want to puke.”

The two large ships joined together with a rigid umbilical and soon the team was transferring all their gear to McCarthy's ship. With the exception of Trimen, the Formilians had no experience with McCarthy. Trimen was aware that it had been McCarthy who orchestrated the kidnapping of their supreme religious figure, Arieel Bol, the event that led to Adam’s involvement with the Formilians and their artificial telepathy device. However, the handsome alien chose to suppress his emotions for the duration of the mission, and to fall in line behind the Humans for any revenge which might be coming McCarthy’s way at its conclusion.

The three other Humans—Tobias, Rutledge and Tindal—were another story. If looks could kill, Nigel McCarthy would have suffered the most agonizingly painful and creative death possible at the hands of the three SEAL's. As it was, the ex-British SAS Major was quick to recognize the looks and did his best to ease the growing tension.

“I know I've done some shitty things in the past, mates, but that's all over now. The galaxy has changed and there's not a lot of room for people like me out here anymore. When I got back to my base, my traitorous scientists had destroyed my entire operation and killed off almost my entire crew. What was left wasn't worth salvaging. So you see, I have nothing; it's now time to return home and face the music.”

“So what did happen to the rest of your crew, McCarthy?” Admiral Tobias asked, not even close to being convinced that Nigel was sincere. “Did you have them for dinner?”

McCarthy cringed some knowing how close to the truth that statement was—if not for him, then the survivors of his pitiful crew. “I set them free. Some got medical attention, others were given passage on one of my other ships to the planet of their choice,” he lied. “I'm not sure any have returned to Earth, at least not yet.”

“If it's known that they were part of your army of terrorists and murderers, I doubt if their homecoming would be that welcome.”

“That’s what I hope to remedy with this mission, Admiral.”

John Tindal stepped up to the six-foot-four-inch tall Brit, his own large stature equaling that of McCarthy's. “You know you're in the lion's den here, mate, and that if it wasn't for Riyad you'd be a frozen-solid lump of floating debris outside the ship right about now. Just do your fucking job ... and then we'll decide how to treat you after that.”

“That's fair, Petty Officer Tindal," Nigel said, looking more penitent than any of them had ever seen him before. “I understand that only my actions will mean anything to you and the rest of your team. But now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the bridge and start our journey to Elision." Then he paused and offered a wicked-looking grin back at Tindal. “That, my friend, will be the real lion's den.”

Chapter 9

The space around the Kracori homeworld of Elision was cluttered with spaceships of all makes and models, including dozens of Volseen vessels. Being the closest of the Nebula worlds to Elision, the Volsee were enthusiastic supporters of the Kracori against the ravenous Human invaders. For generations the two races had interacted, but only now was the association able to be revealed. A warlike race in their own right, the Volsee idolized the much stronger and experienced Kracori, envious of their near-assumption of complete control of the Expansion only a few short years before. They also knew it had been the Humans who spoiled the Kracori prospects of ruling the galaxy. And now the Humans were coming for them. They would be ready, offering everything in their arsenal to the Kracori to help defeat the creatures from Earth.

At the time McCarthy secured the Volseen ship this new dynamic in the Nebula didn’t exist. He had simply been looking for a ship built by a race of beings he knew to be privy to the Kracori’s secret. With the planet’s whole-hearted alliance with the gray aliens, the job of maneuvering the Volseen ship into a close orbit above Elision was greatly enhanced. His was only one of many now adorning the space above Elision.

The Formilian warriors had taken to the controls of the ship quickly, so McCarthy was able to leave the bridge and join the rest of the assault team in the rear landing bay. Seeing the four SEALs decked out in tactical gear from head to toe brought back a pang of nostalgia for the former SAS officer. He had spent eight years in the service before being abducted by the Klin, which was a lifetime of experience compared to most other professions. Looking back on it now, those were the best eight years of his life, even counting all his wild adventures in space.

Adam Cain looked up when Nigel entered the bay, the monocular night-vision goggles strapped around the circumference of his Kevlar helmet. “You are coming with us, aren’t you?” Adam asked rather harshly. “You’re our guide on the surface.”

“I was counting on it, Captain,” he replied as he lifted a gear pack off the bulkhead and began to pull out its contents. He could tell Cain thoroughly resented the fact that he had to rely on him for assistance; it was all McCarthy could do to keep from displaying his satisfaction with the situation. Anything to annoy the uppity Yank was fine by him.

With quiet precision and professionalism, the now five special forces operatives went about preparing for their mission, even silently checking McCarthy’s gear to make sure all was in order. On the surface of the alien world, they would have only themselves to count on—including McCarthy. Each of the SEALs knew that the Brit had skills every bit the equal of their own, although you’d never hear them admit it. And having a member of the team with first-hand knowledge of the terrain only added to their confidence and determination.

Soon they were boarding the shuttle. Adam walked over to Sherri who had been silently leaning against an outer pressure hull watching the team prepare.

“I’m sorry you can’t come along,” he said to her in a whisper.

“No you’re not,” she said, no trace of anger in her voice. “You were right. I would have only endangered the mission. You guys are pros at this.” And then she grinned. “But I do really like killing aliens.”

“And you’re really good at it, too,” Adam said with an equally mischievous grin. But then the grin vanished. “I’m going to be sending out a continuous radio signal from my pack, allowing our ATD’s to stay in contact. I don’t want the Formilians to have this access, only you, otherwise my head will be cluttered with too many distractions. You’re to relay info to Trimen and his team. It looks like with all this added traffic from space to the surface we should be able to get down without too much trouble.” He then swept a hand over his gear. “But we won’t be able to get very far dressed like this. It’s important that the power go wacky as soon as we land. The longer we spend on the surface, the riskier it gets.”

“Roger that, Captain, sir,” Sherri said with a smile, her eyes now looking warm and full of concern. “You be careful. And try to make sure you all get back in one piece—and with Riyad. Don’t try to do any hero shit while you’re down there.”

“This mission is like none we’ve attempted while in space. This world has Earth-standard gravity with natives just as strong and tough as we are.” And then he smiled again. “It will be just like what we were trained for, without any special concessions. I always love a challenge.”

“Yeah, five of you against an entire world of deadly aliens. I’d say that’s enough of a challenge—even for SEALs.”

He gave a quick nod. “See you soon.” They embraced briefly, while sharing a passionate kiss. Adam Cain was the last to board the shuttle.

Chapter 10

With Nigel McCarthy at the controls, the squat little shuttle shot out the back of the Volseen ship, did a steep turn to starboard and then headed straight down toward the surface of Elision. There were six seats behind the pilot seat where the rest of the team was located, affording them all a view out the forward viewport. They all watched in tense silence as the planet grew to engulf the entire view and wisps of clouds began to shoot across the window as turbulence rocked the small craft from side to side.

Their destination soon became apparent as a massive city stretching nearly to the horizon began to form below. It was not a pretty city, even though it had towering spires and a mish-mash of roadways entwined throughout the metropolis. All the colors on the surface seemed muted; a pale gray like that found on a cloudy day back on Earth. What color there was came from the occasional green of trees and grasses that were rare within the city limits. From their vantage point, the Humans could see far off forests, small in size and separated by vast fields of what appeared to be ancient lava flows.

From this first sighting, it was clear to the team that Elision was a harsh environment, and it was this bleak land that had spawned the gray Kracori. There was no joy or laughter in the landscape, only rugged pragmatism. The Kracori survived because that was what life did across the universe, yet no one ever said it had to be a pleasant experience.

As they drew closer to the surface, McCarthy had to avoid other air traffic, and eventually he was challenged as to his destination.

“Security equipment and personnel for the Citadel; we are anticipating an influx of prisoners once the Humans arrive.”

“That may be the Volseen way, but we Kracori will take very few prisoners. That is simply a waste of resources.” The Kracori’s voice was as rough as his attitude.

“That is true; however, we must strive to gain intelligence before eliminating those who are captured. That is our mission.”

“Better you than us. Transponder code verified; proceed to Citadel landing zone two.”

McCarthy cut the comm link without further acknowledgement. He cocked his head back toward the rest of the team. “The Citadel is where high-valued prisoners will be held. That was where Haden was kept. Tarazi will be there, too.”

“You don’t suppose Haden’s still alive, do you?” Adam asked, referring to the former Juirean Elder whom McCarthy had captured and then transported to Elision as a prize for the Langril of the Kracori.

“I very much doubt that. Although I never heard what became of him while I was there, the Kracori care only about Legend, and not about publicity regarding certain acts. Destroying Haden’s Legend through his death would have been good enough for the Langril without having to spread news of the event across the galaxy.”

Adam had spent some time with the old, white-haired Overlord during his time on Juir. He found the alien to be a sad victim of circumstance, some of which from outside influences, but mostly of his own making. Haden had been duty-bound to do what he did in defense of the Expansion, including ordering the first attack on the planet Earth. Considering all the false information he had been fed by the Klin, Adam would have done the same if he had been in Haden’s shoes. That still didn’t excuse the billion deaths that had resulted from the attack, but it did go a long way to making the Juirean out to be less of a cold-blooded monster for his actions. Adam had felt sorry for him when McCarthy loaded Haden in a spaceship and set off to deliver him to the Kracori. He could only imagine what a horrible fate awaited.

And he was also sure it was pretty much the same fate that befell Riyad Tarazi, although his torture would be prolonged, waiting out the arrival of the Human fleet. And then the Kracori would make a spectacle of his execution, just to add an element of horror to the coming conflict: Fight the Kracori ... and you shall all meet a similar fate.

The first thing Adam thought when he saw the Citadel from the air was how similar it looked to the Kremlin back on Earth. The oddly shaped capital building of the former Russian Federation–comprised of domes, spires and vibrant colors–had somehow survived both the Juirean and Kracori attacks on the planet. And now here was a near-perfect replica of the structure located some nine thousand light-years from Moscow.

“Déjà vu, all over again,” Adam heard someone whisper from behind him, verifying that his impression was also shared by others on the team.

“That’s a big place, McCarthy,” Adam said. “Where do you think Riyad’s being held?” It was nighttime on this side of Elision, yet even then the building was awash with spotlights and internal illumination.

“On the north side is a smaller dome–you see it? That’s the security facility, the Kracori’s equivalent of Lubyanka Prison, if we’re sticking with Russian references. It’s much smaller of course, since the Kracori seldom imprison their own. Even then, political prisoners are the most common in Kracori society, and I’m sure they considered both Haden and Tarazi as political prisoners rather than prisoners of war per se.”

“What about security in and around the building?”

“Not as much as would be found on Earth, but still a fair amount of guards and electronic surveillance. Even though they’re gearing up for a major dustup, expecting a raid like this has to be the furthest thing from their mind.”

“That’s what we’re counting on,” Adam said. “How close can we land to the prison?”

“About half a klick. Unfortunately, that’s half a klick in normal gravity and with full gear.” McCarthy then paused to take a critical look at the four SEALs seated behind him in the shuttle. “And for a bunch of out of shape and over-the-hill senior citizens.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!” Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge barked out. “I’m still twice the killing machine you ever were.”

“Relax, Chief. Save some of that bloody temper for the aliens.”

McCarthy turned back to the controls just as he pulled the nose up on the shuttle and began to settle down on a concrete landing pad in a cloud of white chemical exhaust. There were a dozen other shuttles occupying the landing zone, along with ten or so ground units. Off in the distance, clear of the landing exhaust, fifteen to twenty Kracori could be seen performing various duties around the sitting craft. They didn’t pay any attention to the new shuttle that just landed.

“Ready up!” Adam called out, and the SEALs unbuckled and began to move to the rear of the shuttle and the airlock door.

Sherri, can you hear me?

Eh, yeah, came the ethereal reply within Adam’s mind. This is freaky. We can only do this through communication systems?

Correct, otherwise we wouldn’t have to say a word, just do everything through telepathy.

I wouldn’t like that. I like the sound of my own voice too much.

Adam smiled slightly, the expression hidden in the shadows of his helmet and the dimness of the shuttle’s airlock. Are Trimen and the Formilians ready?

Just waiting for your go.

Adam peeled back the Velcro cover over his diver’s watch and watched the secondhand sweep towards the zenith. Then mark thirty seconds from … now.

Done. Keep me up-to-date. I’m going to be a nervous wreck from here on out.

Roger that. Cain out.

Adam looked up at the anxious faces looking at him, each covered with streaks of green and black grease. ‘Goggles down,” he commanded, and the night-vision monoculars were slipped down, obscuring the determined faces even more, while giving his team an alien look of their own. He nodded to John Tindal at the control panel for the airlock hatch.

“We go in ten ... eight ... four, three, two, one—go!”

Tindal fingered the controls and the panel slide away, revealing a pitch-black landscape outside. The lights that had flooded the landing zone—as well as the massive complex of buildings making up the Citadel—had all gone dark, as had the entire surrounding neighborhood. A few of the Kracori off in the distance held working flashlights. But the natives seemed more concerned with the area surrounding them than in the activity near a distant shuttle.

The team poured out of the shuttle and made their way to the spacecraft nearest their shuttle, staying low and quiet as they moved. The greenish glow from the goggles lit up the landing zone in vivid detail, even in the darkness, and soon Adam and his team were hopscotching from cover to cover, moving ever-closer to the border of the landing zone and a small wall signifying the boundary to the Citadel property.

With no natural enemies on their homeworld, or even any alien visitors to speak of, security surrounding the Citadel was surprisingly loose. The wall around the complex was only about six feet tall, and a simple boost assist soon had the five-member team over and crouched on the other side watching for signs of detection.

Seconds later, McCarthy led them across a dark, empty patch of land about fifty yards wide, making it to the side of the smallish dome he had indicated where the prison was located.

In unison, the team suddenly dropped to the cool, moist ground as a door opened near them and two Kracori stepped outside. In absolute silence they lay as the two natives proceeded to scan the scene outside, mumbling something about the blackout. One pointed as a nearby section of the city gained power, just as another that had been illuminated suddenly went dark. They seemed thoroughly perplexed at the randomness of the blackout, just as Adam had hoped. If only the Citadel had lost power it would have raised too much suspicion and pinpointed where the Kracori needed to concentrate their attention.

When the two Kracori showed no urgency to reenter the building, Adam caught the attention of Chief Rutledge and Petty Officer Tindal. He motioned with his hand, two fingers and then a cutting motion. The two former SEALs turned to their targets, took aim, and simultaneously let loose with single shots from their suppressed M4 carbine rifles. The muted poofs could barely be heard above the insect noises of the night.

The team jumped to their feet and scrambled to the open doorway; the interior was dark indicating that no emergency lighting was operating in this section of the building. Flanking the entrance, Tindal and Rutledge did a quick look-see inside. Rutledge turned to Adam and nodded. Quietly, Adam darted through the doorway, followed closely by McCarthy, Tobias and then lastly Rutledge and Tindal.

They were in a small anteroom with several desks and darkened computer monitors. The goggles provided an eerie image yet showed the room to be empty of Kracori. Adam looked to McCarthy. “Take lead,” he whispered.

Nigel sent him a confirming nod and moved toward the solitary door leading from the room. It was hinged and he slowly opened it to reveal a wide hallway running off in opposite directions. He moved into the corridor and turned to his right; the rest of the team followed with Tindal taking up the six position, spending most of his time looking back down the corridor in the other direction, his hand resting on Admiral Tobias’s back.

There were voices coming from within the building, their tone sounding more annoyed than alarmed. Adam stretched out with his ATD and detected literally dozens of flash weapons, all charged and ready, yet none appeared to be moving it their direction. In fact, most were stationery, their owners apparently waiting in the darkness for the lights to come back on.

McCarthy came to a wider-than-normal doorway and paused. “This should be a larger waiting area outside the prison section,” he whispered to Adam. “I don’t detect any flash weapons present. With most Kracori in this part of the building armed, I’m hoping that means the room is empty. We’ll use it as a staging area if it is. I’ll go first.”

He twisted the handle to the door and opened it a couple of feet, just enough for him to peer through. He looked both ways with his night-vision goggles and then turned back to Adam. “Clear,” he said. He then moved inside and turned to his right.

Adam followed, and a second later the entire team had entered the room. From what he could see the room was empty, with a series of four-foot-high partitions forming a semi-circle in front of them. The hair began to rise on the back on his neck ... just as floodlights suddenly filled the room with blinding light.

Adam and his team peeled off their goggles, but by then the damage was done. It took another couple of seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light. And what they saw when eyesight returned sent their spirits crashing.

An entire line of Kracori soldiers had revealed themselves from behind the partitions, holding what appeared to be projectile weapons aimed directly at them. Adam quickly scanned the line of massive gray aliens until his vision focused on Nigel McCarthy, standing at the end of the line next to a purple-sashed Kracori, his goggles up, a sinister grin on his freckled face.

“Game over, Mr. Cain,” McCarthy said. There was movement in the corridor, and five more Kracori entered behind Adam and his men, each carrying the same kind of projectile device. Since this kind of weapon didn’t rely on electronics to operate, Adam had been unable to detect them with his ATD. It also meant that the Kracori knew they were coming and how to prevent detection.

His blood began to boil and he took a quick step towards McCarthy. The Brit raised his own M4 and placed the barrel firmly against Adam’s chest. His Kevlar vest would have probably stopped a round from the weapon, even at this distance, but it would definitely crack a number of ribs, and might even stop his heart. Adam stopped in his tracks.

“Don’t do anything foolish ... any of you,” McCarthy said. “The Kracori want you all alive, at least for now.”

“You rotten, traitorous asshole!” Andy Tobias yelled. “You’ve done it again.”

“I believe it was you, Admiral, who said it best: I wouldn’t be welcomed back on Earth, no matter what I do here. So you see, my future lies elsewhere, and the Kracori have been kind enough to offer me ample financial support for my new endeavors.” He then leaned in closer to the red-faced, wide-eyed leader of the team. “Did you really expect me to help you Cain? You’ve been fucking with me for years. Now it seems that your life is worth a lot of money. The Kracori have long memories, and it’s funny, but they blame you for their loss of Juir and of their bloody Legend in the eyes of the galaxy. It seems like everywhere you go entire races come to hate and despise you. It’s a singular talent of yours, it seems.”

“The same for you, McCarthy!” Adam spit out.

Dozens of huge Kracori soldiers suddenly swarmed over the team, jerking away their weapons and pulling the packs from off their backs. In a panic, Adam thought of Sherri.

Sherri, get away! McCarthy’s fucked us again! he mentally cried out through his ATD.

A group of Kracori knocked him to the ground and pinned his arms to the floor while McCarthy stepped forward and placed a boot against his neck. He bent down while pulling out a black-bladed commando knife and cut away the tac vest on Adam’s left side. “Turn him on his side,” McCarthy instructed the Kracori. And then he reached down and felt the skin under Adam’s armpit.

Adam knew what was coming, and he struggled against the force of the Kracori. These aliens were just as strong as Humans, and his attempt to break free failed miserably.

“Relax, mate,” McCarthy said as he felt the cigarette-long bump under Adam’s skin signifying the location of his ATD. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.” McCarthy then proceeded to slice open Adam’s skin along the line of the bump; Adam grit his teeth but refused to cry out, not giving McCarthy the sadistic satisfaction he was hoping for. But then when he reached inside the incision, grabbed the ATD with his fingers and pulled, Adam let out a guttural moan that brought a wide grin to McCarthy’s face. The Brit then threw the small metallic device to the floor and stomped a heavy boot upon it, smashing it to pieces.

Suddenly Adam felt nauseous, not only from the pain of the cut but also from the loss of contact with the ATD. He struggled to keep his mind focused, to keep from blacking out. It was to no avail, especially when McCarthy raised his boot again and brought it down swiftly to the side of Adam’s head.

Chapter 11

Sherri Valentine recoiled from the intensity of the words exploding in her mind. She wasn’t used to telepathic communications, and especially not of this intensity. But the burst of words only lasted a moment, and then all went quiet, a particularly deep quiet that made her uneasy.

Get away! McCarthy’s fucked us again!

Adam! What do you mean ... are you there?

When only silence prevailed, Sherri began to panic. She turned to Trimen who had noticed her head jerk when Adam’s message first came through.

“We have to get out of here,” she said forcefully. “Adam says McCarthy’s fuc—betrayed us again.”

Trimen and Sherri were in the comm room of the Volseen ship, along with five of the other Formilians, all silently manipulating power-grids on the surface of the planet below. Two other Formilians were on the bridge of the ship.

Trimen pressed a button on the console in front of him. “Galemous, do you have any contacts closing on our location?”

“Yes, several. Large ones as well,” came the immediate reply.

“Break orbit and begin evasive maneuvers,” Trimen commanded. “I am proceeding to the landing bay.”

He stood and grabbed Sherri by the arm. “We must evacuate the ship immediately,” he stated calmly as they left the comm room.

“What about the rest of your men—I mean your Formilians?”

“They will provide us cover.”

“We’re going to leave them?”

“I am the Second Celebrant. My position must survive. They will do what they must to protect me.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Sherri allowed herself to be pulled along by the weaker alien, even as she expressed disbelief at what she was hearing.

“Of course,” Trimen answered. “My position is more important than their lives. They know that and it is accepted. Please stop thinking in Human terms, Sherri.”

She was silent the rest of the way to the landing bay, but when they entered and headed for one of the escape pods she found her voice again. “They’ll detect us leaving.”

“We will wait until the ship is taking fire and on the verge of being destroyed, then we will become part of the debris field from the exploding ship. My comrades will detonate the ship when we are ready.”

She didn’t know what to say. The other seven Formilians were about to commit suicide to protect their Second Celebrant, the second-highest male ranking in the Order of Life and Light on the planet Formil. Sherri thought this probably wasn’t too different from Secret Service agents protecting the President—when there was a president. She allowed herself to be placed inside the small capsule as Trimen guided the tiny craft towards an escape portal.

Trimen toggled a comm switch in the small pod. “Galemous, we are in position. Increase the pressure in the landing bay. When the time comes we will use the expelling atmosphere to eject us from the ship. I am powering down now.”

“Yes, my Lord. May Mislin and Sufor guide your light.”

“Acknowledged.”

Sherri was stunned by the complete lack of emotion in the conversation, and yet she was grateful that she had been included in Trimen’s determination to survive, if only to preserve his rank within the Order. Yet as she sat in the near-darkness of the pod, illuminated now only by the feeble light entering through the solitary porthole, she sought to make sense of Adam’s last message. She kept trying to make contact with him, and when that failed, she tried the others in the team. Nothing came back.

If McCarthy had betrayed them to the Kracori, then all was lost. They were four Humans on a planet of angry and bloodthirsty aliens, aliens with a particular dislike for Humans. They had walked into a trap, and now would suffer the same fate as Riyad—and with the Juireans only days away from reaching the Nebula.

Tears began to escape from her eyes when the reality of the situation hit her ... and when the emotions became too much to contain, she began to sob loudly.

Trimen placed a hand on her leg. “The mission was problematic from the beginning, Sherri,” he said in a feeble Formilian attempt to calm her. “McCarthy has been a rogue element from the beginning, as evidenced by his history with both Formilian and Human. In light of that, these results are not totally unexpected.”

“Just shut up for a minute, Trimen!” Sherri yelled. She didn’t want to be rude to the handsome alien, but his words weren’t helping. “Just let me deal with this in silence—”

Suddenly the ship began to rock violently and they could hear loud drumming sounds coming from all around them. And then came a thunderous boom ... and the tiny pod was shot out into the blackness of space at such a speed that Sherri thought she would be crushed. But soon the acceleration stopped and she found herself experiencing the dizzying effects of weightlessness. Through the tiny porthole, she could see they were tumbling, as shiny metal debris could be seen with each pass of the pod, glittering with yellow and white light. But then the sparkling debris began to separate from the pod, becoming dimmer and harder to see. A few minutes later they were gone.

All was dark in the pod, except when the angle was right, Sherri could see a sliver of the planet Elision off in the distance. Without powering up, the pod would remain in the vicinity of the planet, possibly even to be captured by its gravity well resulting in a fiery freefall to the surface far below. They may be away from what remained of the Volseen ship, but they were far from safe.

Distracted by her need to survive, Sherri had stopped her crying. When the light from the planet appeared again, she could see Trimen sitting emotionless next to her.

“So how long are we going to keep tumbling like this without power?” she asked.

“Until the internal temperature becomes such that we have no choice but to power up or die,” the Formilian answered calmly. “By then we will either be clear of detection, or we will die anyway from the cold. I say another hour or so would be our limit.”

Again, Sherri was amazed at the cold, calculating demeanor of the alien. But he was right. Either they would be clear of the Kracori monitors, or else they will be blown to pieces by flash-cannon when they powered up. The next hour would determine their fate.

Unfortunately, the quiet of the pod gave Sherri plenty of time to ponder the fate of Adam and the rest of her friends on Elision. The reverie allowed the sad realization that all the people she had loved and cared about over the past ten years or more were down on that planet. She suddenly felt very alone.

In the darkness and growing cold, Sherri Valentine didn’t even have the willpower left to be angry at McCarthy. Trimen was right about that, too; something about a tiger and his stripes came to mind. Yes, they should have been expecting this from the beginning.

Chapter 12

Consciousness returned to Adam Cain, not in a peaceful reawakening from a blissful slumber, but rather from an excruciating spasm of pain in his side. He tried to open his eyes but was confused when the pain that aroused him was replaced by a drum-like throbbing coming from his forehead. He tried to relax and let sleep reclaim him, but that was not possible. He was in too much pain from too many quarters.

Foreign hands helped him roll over as a not-soft-enough pillow was propped behind his aching head.

“Welcome back, Captain,” a voice said out of the blackness. He willed his eyes open, and was rewarded with a dim light barely illuminating the room he was in.

“I’m going to kill that motherfucking Englishman,” he said in a raspy voice.

“Get in line.”

Admiral Andy Tobias was sitting on the small cot next to Adam, his shirt off and with a blood-soaked remnant of his green combat tee-shirt tied around his chest, wrapping just under his armpit. A quick survey of the other men in the room saw that they all had the same wrappings, including him.

Tobias saw Adam notice the bandages. “Yeah, those things didn’t last us very long. And I was just getting used to my fancy remote control gizmo.”

“Is everyone else okay ... other than that?”

‘For now.” Adam saw Tobias grin. “It was a bitch getting the ATD’s cut out of us, but we’re all right now. You’re the only one who got knocked the fuck out. I don’t think McCarthy likes you very much.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Adam grimaced as he tried to sit up straighter on the cot. “Where are we?”

“Same place—the Kracori equivalent of Lubyanka Prison.”

“How long ... how long was I out?”

“They took our watches, but I’d say a good two hours.”

“Where’s McCarthy?”

“Hell if I know. He’s all chummy with the Kracori again. He looked in on you a little while ago. I think he wants to make sure you don’t die, not until he’s had a chance to screw with you some more.”

Rutledge and Tindal were seated on separate cots, dabbing at their wounds with expressionless faces. “I’m sorry I got us into this,” Adam said, “especially after McCarthy showed up.”

Chief Rutledge looked over at him with a glare as piercing as a laser. “If I recall, we showed up at your doorstep and forced our way in. No one made us come. This is part of the job.”

“That’s right,” John Tindal added.

Admiral Tobias placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself—”

The door to the room suddenly swung open and Nigel McCarthy entered, flanked by two large Kracori with flash weapons at the ready.

“Ah, you’re awake!” he said with genuine enthusiasm. “I must learn to control my temper otherwise I could end up breaking all my toys.”

“Fuck you, McCarthy!”

“Now, Mr. Cain, language such as that is unbecoming an officer and gentleman. Let’s get past all that. I have a gift for you, one I’m sure you’ll appreciate.” He nodded to one of the Kracori, who then moved outside the cell and returned a moment later with a slumped-over figure in a wheelchair. It was Riyad Tarazi.

The other three Humans rushed to his side while Adam remained on the cot, too dizzy to move. The Kracori let them take the chair away and pull it further into the room. Riyad lifted his head, revealing a bruised and puffy face, along with a coarse, black beard looking scraggily and dirty, spotted with clumps of dried blood.

“I know traffic this time of day can be a bitch, but even then, what took you so long?” he managed to say, the corners of his blood-caked mouth attempting a grin.

John Tindal, the team’s primary corpsman, began a quick evaluation of Riyad’s condition. “Nothing seems to be broken,” he said while looking Riyad in the eye. “Severe dehydration and malnutrition mainly ... and of course the beating.” He looked up at the nearest Kracori. “Don’t you feed your prisoners here?”

“That is a waste of resources,” the gray alien answered. “Keeping you all alive is a waste of resources.”

“Now, my Ludif, you must not talk like that,” McCarthy said with good humor. “These are some very important guests of your Langril. You must keep them alive so he can have his pleasure with them.”

The alien just grunted.

“I should have known better than to trust you, McCarthy.” Adam said. He looked at the pitiful figure of his friend Riyad Tarazi and fought instant nausea.

“But Mr. Cain, I did every bloody thing I said I would do. I got you to the surface of Elision safe and sound. I even got you to the place where Tarazi was being held. I told you the rest was up to you and your team. I can’t be responsible for your gullibility and incompetence.”

“Why did the Kracori even talk with you? They’ve been trying to kill you for three years. They almost succeeded when the Phoenix was destroyed—”

McCarthy laughed, the satisfaction he was experiencing in seeing Adam’s condition showed on his face and in the near-bouncing energy of his body. “The Kracori didn’t destroy the Phoenix—I did, with the help of Captain Henderson, of course. I made the ambitious soldier an offer he couldn’t refuse, and he took it.”

“Then you also killed Dawson!” Adam said, this time attempting to stand. Tobias held him to the cot.

“Henderson and I discussed bringing him in and letting the two of them share the glory of revealing the Elision coordinates. But Captain Henderson wasn’t feeling very generous that day. I didn’t care either way; I just wanted my freedom.”

“And so the Kracori know it was you who revealed the location of their planet to us; you’re the reason they’re about to be attacked. Why aren’t you dead?”

“Because the Kracori are a pragmatic race. They understood why I did what I did. I may have made them nervous as to when I would reveal the location of Elision, but it was inevitable that the location would be found out. They’ve been preparing for it for years. And as it turned out, the Kracori hate you more than they hate me. You were the one who robbed them of their Legend, their opportunity to rule the galaxy. You made them look weak in the eyes of the Expansion. To the Kracori, that’s a little more serious offense. Oh, and I also told them the Juireans are coming, and will be arriving before the Humans. That was something they were very glad to learn.”

“Now what happens?” Adam said as the pain in his head grew worse.

“Now I will take the fancy new Klin ship they’ve given me, plus a cargo-hold full of every imaginable precious metal, and I’m off to a region of the galaxy where they’ve never heard of Humans, Juireans or Kracori before; a place where a superman like me can really strut his stuff.”

“I meant what about us? I don’t give a fuck what you do.”

McCarthy laughed again. “Oh, forgive me, Mr. Cain. It’s just that I’d already written you all off for dead.” He took a few steps further into the room until he stood directly in front of Adam, towering over him with a superior attitude. “With the Juireans only days away, I doubt if the Kracori will bother to keep you around much longer just to make a point to the arriving Human fleet. I think now they’ll have other things on their minds. The new Langril knows your history and I’m sure he would just as soon extinguish your bloody Legend just to check one more thing off his to-do list. And by the way, the Kracori have enlisted nearly the entire Nebula to their cause. When the Juireans get here—as well as the Humans—they will find a much more formidable enemy than anticipated. It’s going to be glorious. Unfortunately, I won’t be sticking around to see it. And one last thing before I go: all that bullshit I fed you on the bridge of my ship on Tel’or, well that was bullshit. It was I who offered the plan to the Klin to have the Juireans attack the Earth, and then for the Klin to step in and save the planet. Those slow-thinking idiots were willing to go back to square one after you escaped, content with another thirty or forty years of planning before acting. I showed them a quicker, more effective way to get the Humans and the Juireans to fight. So yes, I am responsible for the deaths of all those people, and I must say, it’s an incredible feeling knowing that I had the power to do so.”

“You’re insane, McCarthy,” Adam grunted. “Certifiably and criminally insane.”

McCarthy himself grunted. “Of course I am. What sane person could devise such a plan and then feel no remorse for all the deaths? I am aware enough to realize that. But maybe it’s a product of my insanity that I don’t really care. Either way, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” McCarthy leaned over a little closer to Adam. “This is it, Mr. Cain—the end.”

And with that statement, Major Nigel McCarthy, formerly of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service, spun on his heel and headed back to the cell door. He stopped and turned to say one last thing to Adam Cain. “Take a good look at me, Adam, and realize this: I won and you lost. Let that eat at you for the last few hours of life you have left.”

And then he was gone.

The Kracori locked the door behind them, leaving Riyad in the cell with his fellow Humans. No one said a word, even after McCarthy was gone. What was there left to say?

Chapter 13

It was getting cold in the escape pod, but nothing Sherri couldn’t handle. She had been raised in rural Kentucky, where the winters are long and harsh. However, in an hour or so she could anticipate reaching the end of her tolerance.

Sherri fell into the mind-numbing routine of watching the sliver of the planet Elision sweep into view every two minutes. This helped her ignore the cold and also the nagging question about her future, which didn’t look too promising right about then. She and the alien Trimen were drifting far above a hostile alien planet, nine thousand light-years from her home, and with no one even out looking for them—except maybe those seeking to blast them into atoms. It’s at times like these that Sherri wondered what kept people going, holding onto some ounce of hope, in the face of insurmountable odds? Personally, she knew she would fight on, at least for a little while longer, just to see what options might present themselves in the future….

Trimen had been quiet for a long time, and when the light from the planet swept over through interior of the pod again, Sherri looked over at her companion. In the briefest of moments, she saw that his skin was nearly blue, and his lower jaw was trembling noticeably.

“My God, you’re freezing to death!” she said, shifting her position so she could wrap her arms around the alien and pull him into her. His entire body shook violently and the cold of his skin seeped through her clothing and infected her as well. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I could see that you were tolerating the cold much better than I, and the more time we could drift before powering up, the better our chance of survival. I should have known a Human would be better-suited for harsh conditions such as these than would a Formilian.”

“That’s all well and good, if you don’t die first. Power up, Trimen. We’ll take our chances.”

“I can last a little longer—”

“Do it now ... or I will.”

“As you wish.”

With the last rotation of the pod towards Elision, Sherri saw Trimen’s trembling hand reach for the control console. He pressed two buttons in sequence and light suddenly filled the pod, followed quickly by a burst of warm air from a hidden vent. Being as small as the pod was, it only took a few seconds to fill the interior with soothing, blissful heat. Sherri closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. If the Kracori detected them now—and were charging their flash-cannon for an attack—at least she would have a few moments of deeply-penetrating warmth to comfort her. She hadn’t realized just how cold she’d actually become.

With thawing out Trimen’s first priority—and their fate completely out of their control once the pod had power—it was a full two minutes before the Formilian activated the external monitors. A small screen in front of them lit up, giving a graphic representation of the space around them in vivid 3D. The range of the scan was out to five hundred miles, and even though there were several ships in the vicinity, none carried the signature of a Kracori warship. These were ships built by other races and all coming to the aid of their Nebula-mates; merchantmen bringing supplies and munitions, along with a few warships to add to the Kracori fleet.

Yet now with the pod emitting an energy signature, Sherri and Trimen sat with their eyes glued to the screen, looking for any indication that one or more of the ships were changing course. After a few extremely tense minutes, they began to relax. Nothing had changed outside the tiny escape pod; they were being ignored, at least for the time being.

“What now?” Sherri asked.

“We can use the pod’s drive to evacuate Elision space and then attempt to contact Formil. The pod does not have a CW comm link, but it does carry traditional wormhole equipment. It may take us a while to find the right relays, yet eventually I should be able to link up.”

“And then we wait for Formil to send another ship?” Sherri’s tone was incredulous. “It took us a month to get here, and by then a rescue ship would be heading straight into a warzone. Besides, I’m sure there aren’t enough supplies in the pod to last two people thirty days or more.”

Trimen stared at her in silence, not offering any alternative suggestions. When it was obvious that the alien was out of ideas, Sherri spoke. “Kaylor and Jym; we need to contact them. They’re still in the Nebula for all I know, and they have the Pegasus. They could get from Tel’or to here in only a couple of days.”

“How do you propose we contact them?”

“I used to know the frequency of the Pegasus,” Sherri said, her forehead now deeply furrowed. “I just have to remember it.”

“Will that be difficult?”

“With our lives depending on my remembering, it could be!” She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands. What were those numbers? She had spent considerable time onboard the ship, yet very little making incoming calls from their base on Pyrum-3. And since the numbers had been assigned to the ship, rather than from a clever personal selection, they could be any combination of six numbers. She knew they were right on the tip of her tongue, yet with the pressure of the situation—as well as the strikingly good-looking alien watching her with his huge blue eyes—they just weren’t coming to her.

“Let’s not worry about that now,” she finally said. “Let’s get some food out; I’m sure the numbers will come to me when I’m not thinking about them.”

“How is that even possible?” Trimen asked, genuinely confused. “How can you think of something when you’re not thinking of it?”

Sherri managed a smile. Trimen was cute in his naiveté. “I just need to relax and let the numbers come to me. It’s done all the time where I come from.”

Trimen raised an eyebrow. “I know Humans to be physically superior to Formilians, but I was not aware of this mental power you also possess. There is no wonder your kind once ruled the galaxy, if even briefly.”

Sherri let the alien believe that what she was saying was a virtue rather than a flaw. It was always nice to keep an air of mystery around oneself. And she liked the fact that the gorgeous alien found her to be superior to him mentally, even as she knew what Formilian women were like physically. It would be the only advantage she would have over them.

Now if she could only remember the damn numbers....

Chapter 14

There was a small pipe dropping down from ceiling in the cell with a trickle of water escaping from it. There was also a hole in the floor for relieving oneself. John Tindal wet a piece of cloth from their discarded tactical gear and began to clean up Riyad’s face and beard. It appeared that most of his injuries were aged, the result of his early days of captivity when the Kracori were having fun beating the snot out of him. Soon they had grown bored, and with the Human fleet still a few months away, the aliens elected for less-frequent beatings so as to preserve their prize possession for the time when he would prove his value.

It was the malnutrition that was causing the most harm now. Tindal wet Riyad’s lips with the cloth and allowed a few drops of water to fall on his tongue. It helped some, but it was food that Riyad needed most, and that was something none of them had.

“You should all try to get away,” Riyad said after a while. “I came to terms with my own mortality long ago. But you’re still strong and able.”

“If we get out of here, you’re coming with us,” Adam said, now able to stand without losing his balance. He filled his cupped hand with water from the pipe and splashed it on his head and the back of his neck. Though the water was warm, it definitely helped, even though his head still throbbed and his side burned from the cut.

Riyad grunted. “If we get out? That doesn’t sound like the Adam Cain I once knew and admired. To the old Adam Cain, captivity was just a temporary setback.”

“Well, the new Adam Cain is actually the much-older Adam Cain, and if anyone has any suggestions on how we can get out of here, I’m all ears.”

“What about the Formilians ... and Sherri?” John Tindal asked.

“I was in contact with Sherri telepathically through a small radio beacon in my pack,” Adam said. “I sent her a warning just before the ATD was removed. I’m sure she got it—those kinds of messages can’t be ignored. Whether or not they were able to get away is anyone’s guess, but the fact that the power is back on here doesn’t look good.” He shook his head. “No, if we do anything, it will have to be on our own. Any of my backup plans involved using the ATD’s. I hadn’t planned on McCarthy cutting them out of us.”

“It’s been impossible to anticipate any of this, Captain,” Admiral Tobias said. “McCarthy was supposedly public enemy number one here on Elision. Who would have guessed that he would betray us to the Kracori and live to tell about it?”

Adam looked around the dimly lit room. It was made of a concrete-like material with no windows and only one very solid-looking metal door. The building that housed the cell was also located on a heavy-gravity world—just like Earth—and therefore the density of the building materials and the construction engineering would have to be such as to support the weight based on normal forces. There would be no smashing through balsawood-like walls, not on Elision.

John Tindal stood next to Riyad’s wheelchair. “A diversion.” he stated. “Riyad’s in pretty sad shape—sorry, dude—so we could say he’s having a seizure and needs medical care. That would at least get the frickin aliens to open the door again.”

“That’s if they even care what happens to Riyad now that they know it’ll be the Juireans arriving here first,” Chief Rutledge offered. “But it’s worth a try.”

“That’s a good idea; let’s think on that for a while,” Adam said. “We also have the confusion and chaos of the Juirean attack. Again that’s assuming they can even get to Elision. If the entire Nebula has joined the Kracori, then the Juireans may not make it this far. Still, there’ll be a lot of confusion around here.”

“That’s still a few days away,” Tobias said. “And the longer we wait, the weaker we’ll all become. I don’t think the Kracori have any intention on feeding us. That would be a waste of their resources.”

“If they even keep us alive all that time,” said John Tindal.

“Then we can’t wait,” Adam said. “Look around the room to see if anything can be used as a weapon. John, check the wheelchair.”

Admiral Tobias tipped one of the cots onto its side and began to tug on the lateral supports. “McCarthy did say that the Kracori were not used to imprisoning their own kind—let alone aliens—and when they did, they were mainly political prisoners. They may not have considered the will to escape when they built this place.” He withdrew a seven-foot-long metal rod from the cot and held it up for all to see, a wide grin painting his face. “Idiots,” he said, punctuating his prior comment.

“Improvise, overcome and adapt,” John stated as he tipped his own cot onto its side.

Chief Rutledge grunted. “That’s a damn Marine saying, Tindal.”

“It fits, Chief, it fits.”

Within minutes, all the able-bodied Humans in the cell were armed with seven-foot-long metal rods—spears—and anxious to use them.

“We need a plan for when we get out,” Adam said. “I was unconscious when moved here, so did any of you get a good lay of the land outside the cell?”

Chief Rutledge stepped up to Adam. “Yeah, we all did. We’re pretty deep in the building, with a lot of turns. And I believe we’re about three stories below ground level.” He looked to his colleagues for confirmation. Both Tindal and Tobias nodded their agreement.

“I’m sure it’s still night outside,” Admiral Tobias offered.

“The place seemed pretty deserted when they brought me here,” Riyad said. He coughed before continuing. “Again, my friends, I will only slow you down. I’m perfectly at peace with you leaving me here.”

“Yeah, but we’re not,” Adam said. “Besides, dickhead, you’re our mission. It wouldn’t do to come all this way and then leave you here. So cut out that line of talk. We all go or none of us go.”

“Hoo-rah!” John Tindal grunted. The other SEALs nodded. It was game time.

Chapter 15

Jym was in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, practicing controlling the ship’s systems with his ATD when Kaylor entered.

“I think something has gone wrong with the mission.”

Jym swung his seat around and sat up straighter. “Why do you say that?”

“Adam has been in contact with me surreptitiously so that McCarthy would not be aware of our following, and the last contact was when they were leaving the main ship for the surface of Elision. Nothing since, and when I try to communicate back in his direction all I get is nothing. You’re much better at using the ATD; can you try?”

“Of course, but I will need a normal comm link between here and there. Have you tried contacting Sherri and the Formilians?”

“I get nothing there, too.”

Jym frowned, which simply meant his ears drooped some and his eyes narrowed. “No communication with any of the assault team?”

“Not for four hours or more.”

“I think you need to get Ruszel up here; I’ll try bursting a navigation beacon through the Shield and see if anyone picks it up, but comm through all that turmoil is nearly impossible without a direct link. If it does get picked up, then that ship may be in contact with Elision, and I can gain access then.”

Ruszel had spent plenty of time in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, enough time to grow envious of the large, concentrated-array spaceship. His ship—the one he’d acquired from Riyad Tarazi—employed a similar gravity drive, but it was half the size of the Pegasus. Even at that, it was still the fastest ship in the Nebula. However, the grass was always greener....

“I am linked into Elision through a series of other ships that have joined the Kracori forces,” Jym announced as Kaylor and Ruszel entered the pilothouse. “So far no security alerts. Either the mission is proceeding with stealth, or the fate of the team is not being broadcast. And still nothing from the Volseen ship and Sherri.”

“So the rescue has failed?” asked Ruszel, his tone more curious than concerned. Even though he resented being taken captive by a splinter group of the rescue team, he did owe his current fortune to Riyad Tarazi. Just from a peripheral viewpoint, he was curious about the results of the mission.

“We cannot determine that. We have no comm links with any of the Humans or the Formilians.” Kaylor answered. “It seems strange that we would lose contact with both the surface team and those still in orbit.”

“Wait one…” Jym said, holding up a hand. “I have a link with an orbiting ship reporting a hazardous debris field not on any of the charts. It is the only debris field in orbit around the planet and the reporting vessel is concerned at the sudden appearance of the hazard.”

“That could be the remains of the ship containing the orbiting team, the one with Sherri still aboard,” Kaylor said, his voice trembling.

“Then we could have had a catastrophic failure of the mission,” Jym added.

“Then there is no reason to stay here,” Ruszel said, suddenly energized at the prospect of returning home. “I promise I will not report any of this to the enforcers if we return to Tel’or now.”

“No,” Kaylor said forcefully. “We are going through the Shield. We must know what happened to the surface team.”

“You cannot go into the Dysion Shield!” Ruszel stated. “The transit will be too difficult for you to attempt, and if you do by chance make it to the other side, this ship will draw too much attention. The drive signature is unique and not of any kind in the Nebula. We will be detected.”

“Line us up, Jym,” Kaylor said, ignoring Ruszel’s protestations. He slipped into the pilot seat and began to activate the drive.

“You cannot do this!” Ruszel grabbed Kaylor by the shoulder and spun his chair around. “It is too dangerous. You do not know the Shield.”

Kaylor looked up at the green alien with no emotion on his face. “We’re going through—or at least we will attempt it. We’re part of the mission to rescue Riyad, and as such, we have a responsibility to learn the fate of the other elements of the team. We may not make it through the Shield, but at least we will then die serving the mission. Now leave me alone and let me concentrate.”

Kaylor shrugged off Ruszel’s grip and spun the chair back around to the command console. “I’m creating a shallow well to move us in closer. Jym, can you help with detection and course corrections. This is going to be difficult.”

Jym moved to the navigation station and lit up his screen. “Ready when you are.”

“Okay, let us get this started—”

“Wait!” Ruszel cried out. Kaylor didn’t bother turning to look at him. “You cannot do this—but I can.”

Now Kaylor spun around. “Yes you can, but are you willing?”

“Yes,” Ruszel stated. “I do not want to die, yet if you attempt a crossing yourself, then we all will.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

“But I am not. Please give me the seat. I will take us through.”

“Don’t do anything foolish or contradictory,” Kaylor warned as he stood up. Ruszel fell into the chair and spun it around.

“Do not worry. I will do all I can ... but you already knew I would relinquish.”

“I was hoping. You didn’t strike me as the type of being who would passively give in to death, especially when there was something you could do to prevent it.”

The Pegasus moved into the first dense layers of the Shield; already Ruszel was making minor course corrections. “We are not through yet. Whether I succeed or fail will be known in about an hour.”

Chapter 16

With no one paying much attention to the escape pod, Trimen activated the tiny gravity drive and moved it out of the major traffic lanes surrounding the planet Elision. They moved off in the opposite direction from the Volseen Corridor, since that was where most of the space traffic was entering and leaving the Void. Within five hours, they were a light-year away and barreling towards the brilliant haze that was the Dysion Shield.

Trimen didn’t ask Sherri about the call sign for the Pegasus in all that time, content to let her mysterious mental process play out. Of course, his silence didn’t relieve the pressure she was feeling. She knew the numbers, she just couldn’t recall them. And the more she tried, the harder the task became.

There was food and water in the pod to last two people ten days if they were frugal, and the power would last ten times that. So except for the cramped conditions and lack of privacy, life within the pod was bearable. Even the lack of gravity could be tolerated for the duration of their other supplies without any lasting effects.

Sherri was confident she could recall the numbers if she could just find something to distract her. But with nothing to do in the pod except sit and stare at the forward control panel or out the tiny porthole, her mind kept continually wandering back to the call sign numbers. This only made her more frustrated.

Finally out of desperation, she decided to devote one hundred percent of her mental effort to remembering the numbers. Trying to ignore them and let them just pop into her head hadn’t worked. Maybe a full-on effort would do the trick.

She began by mentally recalling each number from zero to nine, to see if any would seem more prominent than others. She often did this when trying to recall names and was surprised when she would reach a letter and suddenly the name would just appear out of her subconscious. Maybe the same would work with numbers.

After several runs through the digits—with no success—she decided to run them backwards. When she did, the number eight seemed to stick. Eight what? She tried the sequence again, and this time eight seemed to stick in her mind again. Two eights? Was that possible? Or was she just concentrating too much on eight—?

Eight-eight-four-six-two-two.

What was that? She thought. The numbers just seemed to explode in her head. But were they the right ones? The number seemed to bounce off her mental tongue.

“I think I have it,” she said. Her voice cracked and failed to project too much confidence. Trimen picked up on this.

“Are you sure? Your tone is not that confident.”

“I know, but the number keeps repeating itself. It won’t hurt to try.”

“Of course not. What is the call sign?”

She gave him the number. The Formilian entered in the frequency and then pressed the comm button. “Calling the Pegasus. Calling the Pegasus. If this frequency is correct, please respond. Security issues prevail.”

The interior of the pod was completely quiet, except for the roar of their breathing. Every breath was like a siren, and Sherri was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hear a response through the noise. Of course, her perception was amplified by the total lack of a countering sound.

After a minute, Trimen repeated the message. As the time clicked by, he turned to Sherri. “Maybe your memory is faulty. I would suggest you try—”

“This is the Pegasus! Who is this?” The voice was that of Jym and carried with it all the emotion the tiny bear-like creature could muster.

Sherri leaned into the command console. “Jym it’s Sherri! I’m so glad to hear your voice!”

“The same here. We were under the belief that your ship had been destroyed.”

Trimen also leaned forward. “Can you switch to a secure channel? There is other traffic in the region.”

“Of course; switching now.” There was a slight pause before Jym’s voice blasted through the pod’s speakers again. “Can you still hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Jym!” Sherri said with glee.

“Are you safe?”

“Our ship was destroyed, but Trimen and I managed to escape in a pod. We’re about a light-year from Elision and headed two hundred-thirty degrees azimuth from Elision.”

“Wait one,” Jym said. Sherri knew Jym to be a superb navigator. He would be plotting the general vicinity of the pod.

“We have about ten days’ worth of supplies. You should be able to make the run from Tel’or to the Shield in about three days in the Pegasus—”

“We are already within the Dysion Void, Sherri.” Jym interrupted.

“You’re in the Void? Where?”

“Just one minute. Okay, we are approximately five light-years from your location. Ruszel finally agreed to help us navigate the Shield and when we lost contact with you and Adam, Kaylor decided to enter and investigate.”

“So you have had no contact with Adam either?”

“Not since he left McCarthy’s ship for the surface. Have you had any further communication?”

She hesitated while gathering her resolve. She knew her voice would betray her emotions. “I received a message from Adam that McCarthy had betrayed us again, and then our ship was attacked. Trimen and I were the only ones to escape. But Adam and the team are on Elision. They are either dead or being held captive.”

“Riyad was kept captive. I’m sure it is the same fate for the others.”

“Let’s hope so.” Her voice cracked. She knew that the situation was hopeless, so even if they were being held captive, there was nothing she could do about it.

“Kaylor here, Sherri,” said the new voice on the comm. “We are moving to your position. Time of arrival should be three hours in the Pegasus, assuming no unwarranted distractions.”

“Good,” Sherri said, feeling better now that Kaylor was on the way. The pale-skinned alien was very competent in most things he attempted.

“Once we have you onboard, we will then plan the rescue together.”

“Rescue?” Sherri was taken aback by the word.

“Of course,” Kaylor said his own voice strong and confident. “We are still a viable team. And the Kracori will not be expecting a second rescue attempt. The advantage will be ours.”

Chapter 17

Riyad managed to lift himself out of the wheelchair just long enough for Tindal and Adam to lower him to the floor of the cell. They positioned him so that the moment the door was opened he could be seen. Since the door was hinged and swung inward, there was a natural hiding place where Tobias and Rutledge stationed themselves.

Adam and John Tindal hid their metal rods along the side of the wheelchair, hidden from the view of the door. They would have only a split second to lift them as they moved toward the door.

Adam finally gave his nod, and Admiral Tobias began to bang on the door. “Help! Riyad Tarazi is having a seizure. He could die! Please help!” His voice echoed loudly off the concrete walls of the cell, surely loud enough to be heard outside.

Thirty seconds went by and still no one had come to the door. “It’s not going to work, Adam,” Riyad said. “They don’t give a fuck about us anymore.”

Tobias ignored him and yelled out again. Halfway through his call the latch to the door suddenly clicked. Everyone tensed.

The door swung open and two frowning Kracori took a step into the cell. “Be quiet. The medical condition of you Humans is of no—”

Tobias stepped around the door and brought the thin metal rod down hard on the arms of the lead Kracori, dislodging his flash weapon. Simultaneously, Chief Rutledge thrust his spear into the chest of the other guard. The rod didn’t penetrate the skin, but it did send the alien tumbling backwards into the outer corridor. Soon all four of the able-bodied Humans were outside the cell, having disarmed the two guards.

The hallway made a sharp turn to the right about fifteen feet away and two startled Kracori appeared just in time to have metal rods slash across their faces. Adam and Tindal grabbed the weapons from the two unconscious aliens while Tobias and the Chief went back in the cell to retrieve Riyad.

A moment later, the five Humans were turning the bend in the corridor ... when they encountered five more Kracori crouching with weapons at the ready. Adam and Tindal lifted their weapons and fingered the triggers. Nothing happened. Instinctively they did it again. Still nothing.

Immediately, Adam knew what was happening. He lowered his weapon and stood in the middle of the corridor, waiting.

A slow clapping sound was heard from behind the row of armed Kracori, and soon Nigel McCarthy was winding his way through the line of aliens. “Congratulations, Mr. Cain,” he said with a wide smile. “Seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes since I left the cell and you have already managed to escape, acquire weapons, and probably would have made it out of the building if I hadn’t anticipated your move.”

He stepped up to Adam and jerked the MK-17 from his hand. “I also saw the cots, you bloody idiot,” he said with fire in his eyes. “I’m just like you, you seem to forget. I was checking the cell for weapons while you were doing the same.” He then reached inside his shirt and pulled out the silver medallion he wore around his neck. “And you also forgot I have one of these. I’m just glad I didn’t have to wait long for your escape attempt. Every extra minute I spend on this bloody planet is keeping me from starting my new life.”

A Kracori with a white sash across his chest stepped up next to McCarthy. “You were right,” the alien said with conviction. “But now the Langril wishes to speak to this one. I will be sure to include ample guards for the journey to his chambers.”

“That would be wise, my Ludif,” McCarthy said without taking his eyes off of Adam. “This one can be very slippery.”

“Slippery? I do not—”

“Never mind. Just take him. And Cain, this will be the last time we meet, so have a nice life, what’s left of it—”

Adam was knocked aside as John Tindal forced his way up to McCarthy. “You rotten son-of-bitch!” he yelled, as several Kracori rushed to restrain him.

McCarthy waved his hand at the guards. “That’s okay. Me and Mr. Tindal are old friends. He just wants to say goodbye in his own special way.”

“You’re such a coward, McCarthy,” Tindal said, his eyes fierce, his face only inches from Nigel’s. “Why don’t we just settle this once and for all—like men. You think you’re so tough—”

The flash of the MK lit up the hallway, along with a sharp crack as the level-one bolt entered Tindal’s chest. The petty officer’s face shuddered with a look of utter surprise, his eyes bulging and red. He stepped back slightly and looked down at the gaping wound just above his abdomen. He looked back at McCarthy’s face, just as his eyes rolled back in his head, and the body of John Tindal crumpled to the floor.

Adam’s knees grew weak and he slumped against the wall of the corridor. Rutledge and Tobias rushed past him to where John had fallen, scooping up the body and checking his vitals. When they realized he was beyond saving, the two of them glared up at McCarthy, held in check only by the still lethal weapon held firmly in the hand of the Brit.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Adam queried, too much in shock to react more.

“He has always challenged me, thinking he was more a man than me.”

“And he just proved it!” Rutledge yelled. “You sadistic bastard!”

“But I’m still standing, Master Chief.”

“You killed him in cold blood. What kind of soldier are you?” It was Andy’s turn to face McCarthy. He stood and thrust his chest against the barrel of the MK.

Adam took Andy by the arm. “Don’t, Admiral,” he said. “He’s liable to take the coward’s way out with you, too.”

McCarthy smiled, not allowing the insults to faze him. “I’ve been kicking around this galaxy for over twenty years—longer than any of you—and I have to say the only thing I have truly feared is another Human. Maybe it’s because I know what we’re capable of. So as long as any of you live, you’re a danger.” He looked down at Tindal’s inert body. “Now there’s one less. Don’t tempt me into eliminating all my threats.”

“This one is summoned before the Langril,” the white-sashed Kracori reiterated.

McCarthy nodded without taking his eyes off Adam. “Don’t worry, Commander, I won’t spoil Nomar’s fun. You can take him ... and return the others to their cell. But this time don’t let your guards fall for the oldest trick in the book.”

“What book?”

McCarthy shook his head. “Never mind, just do your job.” He then addressed Adam. “Goodbye Mr. Cain. May you rot in Hell.”

“Right alongside you.”

“No doubt, no doubt.” McCarthy turned away and pressed himself through the rush of Kracori guards coming down the corridor.

Adam watched the ginger-haired man until he disappeared around another bend in the hallway. I swear we will meet again, if I have to make it my life’s mission, Adam chanted under his breath. I will kill you Nigel McCarthy. I will kill you dead!

Chapter 18

The position of Langril was that of supreme leader of the Kracori race, an elected title granted from the Ludif Council. Daninf Kicon was the most-prior Langril, having served for over forty years in that position. As such, he had inherited the Kracori affiliation with the Klin, as had the last fifty-plus office-holders before him, spanning a timeframe of over eight hundred years.

Daninf had also personally groomed his replacement, and when the time came, had fully endorsed Nomar Polimic for the position. The former Langril now served as an unofficial advisor to the Council and the new Langril, and even though Daninf had lived through the tense years since McCarthy’s disappearance from Elision, he had also recommended that Nomar accept the terms the renegade Human was offering. Adam Cain was a much larger prize than was McCarthy.

Daninf had been informed that Adam Cain was now in the custody of Kracori guards and would be arriving in the Langril’s private chambers at any time. Nomar didn’t resent the fact that the former leader wanted to be present for the interview with the Human, it was just that he wanted to make sure Cain knew who was in charge.

Nomar chuckled when he considered the absurdity of his thoughts. Adam Cain’s life expectancy was now measured in hours, so why should the Langril be concerned with what the Human believed or did not believe? If it was completely up to Nomar, he would simply have the Human and his companions put to death immediately. However, out of deference to Daninf’s long support for Nomar’s career and position, he had agreed to this conference. He knew Daninf had a personal grudge against the Human and this was his way of finding satisfaction. If the roles were reversed, Nomar would have insisted on the same.

When Adam Cain was brought before the two most-powerful Kracori leaders, Nomar took a moment to study the Human.

He was smaller than the average Kracori, with pale pink skin with a smooth texture. Physically, he was a Prime; two legs, two arms, hands with five digits, stereoscopic eyes—the same as thousands of other races throughout the galaxy. However, Nomar also knew that the Human was unique among those thousands of races. They shared many of the same characteristics that set the Kracori apart from the rest as well. They were both heavy-gravity beings, which in itself was not unique. And yet on their planets the two brother races had evolved to be swift of feet, strong and coordinated. To counter the gravity of their homeworlds, their bone and muscle systems had developed to be much tighter and durable than others. Heavy-gravity beings were certainly not unique in the galaxy, but it was an almost strange mutation that made it appear as if both Kracori and Human alike were not of their planets of origin. They developed beyond their worlds, to dominate them through strength, quickness and intelligence. And when placed on the thousands of normal worlds throughout the galaxy, Kracori and Humans excelled.

And according to the Klin—who had searched the galaxy for thousands of years looking for just this strange type of mutated creature—the Kracori and the Humans were unique, an entirely separate class of being beyond Prime: Super-Prime; or as the Klin called them, Prime-D.

Comparing the Kracori directly to the Humans—as Nomar was now doing—he found the designation to be confusing at best. The Kracori were much more massive, taller and with a toughness to their skin that made them perfect examples of what Prime-D’s should be. But not so the Humans. They appeared smaller and weaker than the bulk of races making up the galaxy. Yet Nomar was wise enough to know that looks are deceiving. These tiny pink creatures had once conquered the galaxy, defeating the combined forces of the Juireans, the Kracori and the Klin. And they did it as newcomers to the galactic community.

No matter what impressions they exuded, the Humans were not to be underestimated nor discounted. They were every bit the equal of the Kracori, even if the pride of most did not let their Legends admit such.

Daninf was the first to approach the alien. He stood from his chair and walked up to the Human, who wore a bloodied green cloth around his bare chest, while displaying a prominent and angry gash on his forehead. Nomar had already received the report of how the Humans had escaped their cell moments before, only to be recaptured with the help of Nigel McCarthy. Indeed, the Humans were a dangerous species, and according to all indications, the one standing in the room with him was one of the most-lethal of them all.

“I am former-Langril Daninf Kicon. I was the Langril at the time of our foray to Juir and the time of the Human-Juirean War.”

“Nice to meet you,” the Human said. “How’s your day going?”

Both of the Kracori blinked their eyes rapidly, at a loss as to the incongruent tone of the alien. “My day is going well, especially with the capture of you and your associates.”

“I imagine it would. You should be congratulated. We are not that easy to catch.”

Daninf looked to Nomar with an expression of confusion. Nomar simply shook his head.

The former Langril turned back to the Human. “Would you care to take a seat? We have had very little interaction with Humans and our curiosity is heightened, yet it is your particular contribution to Kracori-Human relations that is of most concern to us.” Nomar noticed that Daninf’s tone had grown more severe as his sentence progressed, his demeanor now returning to normal.

The Human sat at the end of a long sofa, while Nomar remained seated in his large status-chair with Daninf pacing the floor.

“This sofa is very soft and comfortable. Needless to say, I have had a very rough few hours and this is truly a relief.”

“Stop what you are doing!” Daninf cried out.

“I’m not doing anything, just sitting here. My apologies if I’ve upset you in any way.”

“No, I mean stop being ... pleasant. You are a Human, the enemy. I know that your species does not normally interact such as this. You are trying to confuse us.”

The Human shook his head. “How do you want me to act? I am your prisoner, on your homeworld ... and you are the Kracori. You are not some inferior race like so many others throughout the galaxy. Our two races should be brothers—allies—instead of enemies.”

“We just attacked your homeworld and killed over a billion of your kind!” Nomar said, speaking for the first time.

The Human considered him for a moment before responding. “As I see it, we left you little choice. If we had found Elision before you came to Earth, we would have done the same to you. It’s simply what we do to survive.” The Human grinned. “We haven’t been introduced. I am Adam Cain.”

“I am Langril Nomar Polimic. And I know who you are. I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with this direction you are taking, but it will not work. Your fleet is due to arrive here in a few short months. Humans are the enemy of the Kracori race and no amount of silly conversation will change that.”

“That is correct,” Daninf confirmed. “And it was you, personally, who convinced your fleet to forgo its return to Earth and to continue to Juir. It was you who stole the Kracori Legend as rulers of the Expansion, making us appear weak in the eyes of the galaxy.”

“And it was you, personally, who issued the death-veil upon our race,” Nomar continued, “keeping us from even revealing ourselves to the rest of the galaxy when the time for doing so was at hand. For eight hundred years we had waited for that moment, promised by the Klin that if we waited we would share in their domination of the Expansion. While other races were traveling the galaxy, building empires and alliances, we remained hidden in the Dysion Void, known only to a few members of the Nebula community.”

The alien looked back and forth between the Langril and the former-Langril. “To me, this has all been the fault of the Klin. They’re the ones who devised this entire crazy scenario of replacing the Juireans. They couldn’t do it on their own, so they used both our races for their own purposes. My race had suffered over two billion deaths because of that, and your race is about to possibly meet its end, all because of the Klin.”

Nomar found the opportunity to smile for the first time since the Human entered the room. “I am pleased to see that you are still under the misguided impression that the Kracori are in danger. I assure you we are not.”

“McCarthy said you are aware that the Juireans are fast approaching the Nebula. They will arrive before the Humans.”

“Yes, we know this. As a matter of fact, we have known this even before McCarthy came to us with the news. You see, there are factions within the Expansion who do not wish to see the Juireans return to power—including the current Administrator of the Expansion.”

“Kroekus!” the Human exclaimed, for the first time breaking his aura of confidence.

“Yes, Kroekus. He informed us of the impending Juirean invasion weeks before McCarthy. He has even helped enlist mercenaries to help in our effort to repeal the attack.” Nomar looked to his associate. He knew that Daninf would find more pleasure in revealing the truth to the Human, as a way of diminishing his Legend before his final demise.

Daninf stopped his pacing in front of the alien. “You may have noticed that Elision is extremely difficult to reach. We are protected by the Dysion Shield as are few places. Ships of war cannot pass through without their gravity wells disrupting the very essence of the Shield. Simply passing through the barrier makes all the prior charts obsolete. That is why Guild navigators are so sought after in our society.

“The only reliable passage is through the Volseen Corridor between the planet Volsee and here, and that passage is located twenty-three light-years within the boundary of the Nebula. The Kracori currently have thirty-one of the forty-two Nebula races contributing defensive forces against the Juireans—and against the Humans. The others are supplying material goods to assist in our effort. In addition, we are enlisting the help of mercenaries from outside the region, many with the blessing of Kroekus, as mentioned before.”

“I can’t believe Kroekus is helping you.”

“I ask what happens to his power base if the Juireans are successful in reestablishing their position within the Expansion? He will lose all he has and will have to return to Silea, if the Juireans do not arrest him for high treason. He may not like Kracori, but he fears the Juireans even more.

“So you see, Adam Cain, Elision is very safe from both the Juireans and the Human fleet.”

It was now the Human’s turn to look confused. Gone was his relaxed demeanor, replaced by a look of anger. “So when McCarthy revealed the coordinates to Elision it wasn’t such a tragedy after all?”

“We have always been prepared to reveal ourselves—until the time you made that dangerous for us to do so. Yet when the time did come, we welcomed it. We are now allowed to put our defensive strategies into action. And when the Juirean fleet is destroyed—and need I say it, the Humans as well—then the Kracori will finally be free to assert our control over the Expansion.”

“Was McCarthy part of your plan all along?”

“No, he was not, yet he did play a part in helping to speed up the timetable. However, it is the Kracori who are well-prepared for the defense of our world, unlike the cobbled together elements of the invasion fleets.”

“Are you going to let him go?”

It seemed to Nomar that the Human was more concerned about the welfare of Nigel McCarthy than he was about that of his fleet—or even of himself. “Yes, we are honoring our commitment. It is a small price to pay to have a traitorous Human working for us. But he will leave within a few hours, never to be heard from again.”

“Where’s he going?” The Human’s tone had suddenly turned as cold as ice. Again, Nomar was confused.

“He is leaving to meet with Kroekus. It is my understanding they have a new business venture they are pursuing as partners. Kroekus knows that if the Kracori are victorious, then it will be we who assume control of the Expansion, replacing him. However, in our case we will allow Kroekus to retain much of his wealth, as long as he agrees not interfere with the politics of the galaxy henceforth. He and McCarthy will be gone and nevermore a concern for the Kracori.”

The Human forced a slight grin. “Since we are all being perfectly honest here, why don’t we make a deal. McCarthy is a mortal enemy of mine, more so than even the Kracori. So allow me and my men to go free and we will not interfere with your plans for galactic domination. Instead, we will hunt down and kill Nigel McCarthy.”

The two Kracori leaders looked at each other, stunned by the Human’s bold suggestion. It was Nomar who formulated a response. “Adam Cain, you are a truly fearless creature. Here you sit in the presence of the most supreme beings of your enemy—and we are your enemy—and you wish to make a deal, as you call it. That is to ignore the recent attack on your homeworld just so you may kill one of your own kind. McCarthy is of no concern to us, whether he lives or dies. You, however, are a concern. No, Adam Cain, there will be no deal. You will die here on Elision, and very soon. I do appreciate your hatred for Nigel McCarthy, yet that is a hatred you will have to pursue on another plane of existence, if your race believes in such things.”

Daninf now made a gesture as if he wanted to add to the diatribe. “Legend is paramount to the Kracori, both on an individual level and on a larger scale for the entire race. By your prior acts you have diminished our Legend on various levels. Both Nomar and I had bloodlings aboard the strike force that recently attacked your planet. Very few returned. How you were able to overcome the attack is a mystery to us, yet it was you again who was responsible. How one individual can play such a significant role in the affairs of the galaxy for so long is inconceivable to me. And yet in nearly every major event for the past twelve standard years, your name has appeared. How do you explain that?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” the Human replied, this time exposing a full smile with his teeth visible to all. Whether he meant the challenge to intimidate the two leaders, Nomar did not know. The Kracori did not subscribe to such foolish displays of territory and superiority. He had once believed neither did the Humans. This was just one more paradox surrounding this strange, mutant race.

“Our time with you has been interesting, and I must confess, confusing as well,” Nomar said looking to his colleague. “I wonder if we have gained any insight into your race. I cannot see how we have after all the incongruities in your manner. However, our time is finished. We are important beings with important things to do. Wasting it with further useless banter with a walking corpse is not one of them. I regret that you will not be alive to witness the final outcome of this millennia-long struggle for control of the galaxy—”

“I’d be willing to stick around for a while longer, just to see for myself.”

Nomar’s train of thought was broken by the alien’s rude interruption. He gathered his thoughts again and continued. “No, that would not be wise, not considering your propensity for pulling victory out of defeat.”

“Yeah, but you’ve laid out your plans so well, so impressively. It would be a shame to not show them off to someone who can truly appreciate them.”

Daninf waved his hand in front of the Human. “That will not happen. You are to die and die soon. It would be foolish for the Langril to allow you to live one moment longer than is necessary.”

Nomar cringed slightly at Daninf’s absolute assertion over the authority of his title. After so many years of having the final say in all Kracori affairs, Nomar could forgive his mentor. However, the decision was Nomar’s to make, not Daninf’s.

“I would like nothing more than to see the look on your face when the Kracori are victorious,” Nomar said. Daninf jerked his head in Nomar’s direction, a look of fiery anger in his eyes.

“You cannot be serious, Polimic?”

The use of Nomar’s minor name, especially in front of an alien, was insulting. Nomar locked his jaw and fought to control his heartbeat. “Forgive me, former-Langril Daninf, but I believe the final decision rests with me.”

“This is Adam Cain! You cannot be considering sparing his life?”

“Of course I am not. All I may consider is a reprieve, only until we have secured victory. Wouldn’t you gain more satisfaction seeing him completely destroyed emotionally, rather than this overconfident persona that has been toying with us this entire session?”

“And that is why he is so dangerous, my Ludif,” Daninf said, finally returning to an address of respect. “Every moment he and his colleagues remain alive they are a potential threat to us.”

“Listen to yourself, Daninf. They are the only five Humans on an entire planet of Kracori. And they are a threat to us?”

“History is my guide, Nomar. Leaving them alive, even for a few days longer, could prove to be disastrous.”

Nomar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that Daninf was growing old, yet he was not aware that paranoia now ruled his mind. The old Kracori had once ruled an entire race of superior warriors, the apex predators of the entire galaxy. Now he was cowering in fear of one frail-looking and injured alien, along with his four associates, one of which could barely walk. This was hardly the actions of a sane Kracori. And it was an insult to the Legend of the Kracori that such fear would be exhibited.

“Daninf, my Ludif, you have more experience with the Human species than do I, and yet the time when the Human fleet roamed the galaxy and the Kracori did the bidding of the Klin is over. We now control our destiny, and all that is transpiring within the Nebula of our design now, not others. I feel compelled now to temporarily spare the lives of the Humans—just to prove you wrong. I cannot accept that this small band of aliens could be a threat to us. I hope this does not cause an irreparable divide between us, but I am granting the stay of execution until the time I see fit to rescind that order.”

Nomar could see that Daninf was beyond angry. He shook in his stance, glaring first at Nomar and then at the Human. The Langril feared that Daninf was about to attack the Human bare-handed, within the Langril’s chambers. His mouth dropped open slightly, as he contemplated what he would do if Daninf struck.

And yet the moment passed. Daninf stopped shaking and he firmed his mouth and jaw. “You are the Langril, at least for now,” Daninf said. “I will obey your directives, even as I fail to respect them.”

“Daninf, your comments are treasonous! How can you say these things to me?”

“I am old, my Ludif. I have witnessed things and had to live with such a tragic loss of Legend as you cannot imagine. And it has all been because of this creature sitting here. I will withdraw my comments and support your decision ... if when the time comes it will be by my hand that Adam Cain dies. Otherwise, I will oppose you with all my power and in all decisions you make.”

“I do not take lightly to threats, Daninf.”

“We have been Ludif-mates for many years, Nomar. You know I do not act unreasonably very often. However, this creature brings out the savage in me. For our legacy, please grant me this one request.”

“Of course, Daninf, you may kill the Humans, yet only when I allow it. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, my Langril. And after the battle is concluded, and the Humans are dead, I will submit myself to you for whatever punishment you decide is appropriate.”

Nomar stepped up to the old Kracori. “You have let your emotions rule you today. That can be forgiven, at least here and in private. I will not seek retribution. However, I will be on guard to detect any disrespect of my authority and position while in public, and also for any subterfuge should you decide to pursue an undermining of my office.”

“I have held your position myself, Nomar I will not do anything to affect your office. As long as I can put an end to the life of Adam Cain, I will be satisfied.”

Nomar turned to Adam Cain, who had been sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed and an arm propped along the backrest, listening to the argument with an amused grin and a sparkle in his eye. “I am paying a terrible price for allowing you to live for a few days more, yet your continued survival is not a necessity. If I detect even a minor infraction of your imprisonment, I will hand the blade to Daninf myself and delight in his evisceration of your innards. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Adam Cain answered.

Nomar and Daninf looked at each other again, embarrassed to ask the alien to explain himself further. Rather, Nomar barked out a call to the guards outside the room and the obstinate Human was quickly hauled away. And then with Daninf also out of the room, Nomar collapsed in his chair and took a deep breath. That did not go as I had planned. Not nearly so.

And as he turned to stare out the large glass window in his chambers at the brightening morning sky, he hazarded a passing thought: What other plans of mine will not go as expected?

Chapter 19

The tiny rescue pod could fit easily within the landing bay of the Pegasus, and once it was securely inside and the atmosphere returned to the chamber, Kaylor, Jym and Sherri had an emotional reunion.

The two aliens also knew Trimen—he had helped supervise the implantation of their ATD’s—and yet they had not become friends. The three aliens acknowledged each other with nods, and then they all turned to stare at Ruszel.

Sherri could see the green-skinned Tel’oran suddenly turn nervous and self-conscious. She walked up to him. “I want to thank you for all the assistance you gave my friend Riyad Tarazi, as well as what you’ve done so far for Kaylor and Jym.”

The alien flinched a bit, but then quickly regained control of his expression. “I ... I welcome your thanks, I suppose. But you do know I am here against my will?”

“That I regret,” Sherri said. “But it’s for a good cause, I assure you. With the turmoil in your Nebula, I’m sure you will find that you’ve joined the winning side in the coming conflict.”

“I did not join any side,” Ruszel stated adamantly. “I am acting only out of self-preservation. Whichever side helps me to that end, I will support.”

Trimen stepped up to Ruszel. “His loyalties are now in question,” the handsome alien said.

“They always have been!” Ruszel exclaimed.

“At least he’s honest,” Sherri said with a grin. “But now we have real work ahead of us. We need to figure out a way of rescuing Adam and the rest of the team from the Kracori. That won’t be easy. But first things first ... I need to pee like a racehorse!”

Chapter 20

It was a rare event when the Elder of the Juirean Council Elite would accompany an attack fleet on its mission, yet Wydor bin Sulic wasn’t about to miss this engagement. After ten years of hiding in a remote corner of the galaxy, the Juirean people were about to reassert themselves and reclaim that which they had created—the Juirean Expansion. The destruction of the Kracori race was an essential part of that process, and Wydor would witness the glorious event first-hand, as few Elders before him ever had.

For millennia to come, Juirean historians would refer to this particular strike force as the Blood Fleet, a nomenclature chosen by the Council itself to signify the unique composition of its crew.

For the past two thousand years—half the age of the various Juirean empires and Expansions—battle fleets had been crewed by a conglomeration of various alien races, with barely a tenth of the crews consisting of Juireans. With the awesome size of the galaxy and the scarcity of Juirean natives, mixed crews were a necessity.

And yet this fleet was made up entirely of Juireans, one hundred eight thousand of them spread over four thousand ninety-two warships. The massive fleet ranged from the giant Class Six battlecruisers all the way down to tiny two-person attack arrows, designed primarily as guided missiles for suicide runs.

Prior to the current resurgence, the idea of intentionally sending Juireans off to commit suicide in battle would have been unheard of. Yet this mission was of the utmost importance. By obliterating the race of creatures that had wrecked such havoc on the planet Juir, Wydor would be sending a message to the rest of the galaxy that no race challenging the Juireans would go unpunished.

Even now, as the fleet neared the Juddle Nebula, another much smaller fleet was closing on the planet Juir. Their ancestral homeworld was less-guarded than Elision. Intelligence indicated that most of the planet had already been abandoned by the occupying usurpers. Even the interim Administrator of the Expansion—Kroekus of Silea—had relocated his fledgling government to places unknown. Wydor knew that once Juir was back in the hands of his people, the Silean would be found and dealt with, if not because of any actual criminal act he’d committed, but rather for symbolic reasons only.

The Juireans had been chased from their homeworld, as well as from their position of dominance within the galaxy. Now they would return, in force, and show all who doubted them that the Juireans were once again in control.

Wydor was aboard the massive Class Six fleet flagship, the UN-567, doing his best to stay out of the way and let the professionals run the show. Even though he had once been an Overlord he had been out of the war game for so long that he had little confidence in his ability to run a fleet. That task was assigned to Overlord Enulic bu Lornim. Even though the Command-Overlord was only a few standard years younger than Wydor, he had remained within the military service for all his tenure, rather than transferring to the political side of the government, as Wydor had many years before. As such, Enulic’s knowledge and skills with strategy and tactics were more refined and honed. Wydor had every confidence in the success of the mission, especially with Enulic in the command chair.

“Any updates on the Humans,” Wydor asked the Command-Overlord during one of the lulls in the ever-increasing activity on the bridge now that their target destination was in sight.

“Patchy, my Lord,” Enulic replied. “We do know for certain that elements of their fleet attacked and decimated the homeworlds of both the O’mly and the Jusepi Tribes. In a rather uncharacteristic display of brutality, they slaughtered officials and civilians alike.”

“That’s rather disturbing. Is this an indicator of a new philosophy among their leaders?”

“Their world has been attacked twice, my Lord. I believe this is signaling their anger at the loss of Human life. Over time this anger may fade.”

“Would it for us, Enulic? Even during the Kracori attack on the Core Worlds, we did not lose as many lives as have the Humans. And now we are intent on committing global genocide on the Kracori for what they did to us.”

Enulic stretched out a thin smile. “Better us than the Humans. The psychological effect this single act will have on the Expansion will be significant. It is fortunate that we shall beat the Humans to Elision.”

“Yet still no trace of the main Human fleet?”

“No, my Lord. This is odd, but they are not where they should be.”

“And you are still confident we shall beat them to Elision?”

“The distances are just too great. We know when the fleet departed Earth, yet once underway, we lost contact. Even still, they are three to four months away.”

“And we enter the Nebula tomorrow. If the Humans did manage to reach the area before us, we would have known by now.”

“Precisely, my Lord. I feel we do not have anything to fear from the Humans.”

“And the Kracori?”

“There appears to be more activity coming from within the Nebula than we had anticipated. They may have enlisted the help of others from within the region.”

“Are you concerned?”

“A little. It is my job to be concerned, and not to be overconfident. Undoubtedly the battle will be fierce and confined to the region of space near the Volseen Corridor. Yet once the location of Elision was determined to be within ancient charted territory—at least for Juireans—we have been able to better prepare a battle plan. This Shield of theirs will pose a problem, yet our forces are great ... and we do have Juireans at all controls. That has not been seen in a very long time.”

Wydor nodded and then gazed out at the brilliant glow of the Juddle Nebula now filling the entire forward viewport. “I have confidence in our skills, Command-Overlord. However, it has been many years since we have assumed such responsibility within an attack force.”

“Do you doubt our competence, my Lord?”

“Only a small fraction of the personnel within the fleet have seen any real combat in space. We can drill all we wish, and run simulations until the screens burn out, yet there is no substitute for experience.”

Command-Overlord Enulic stepped out of his command seat and moved up next to the Elder. “I would respectfully request that you do not speak of your doubts within earshot of the bridge crew. It would not do for the Council Elder to express his lack of confidence in our proficiency.”

“Calm yourself, Enulic. I am not questioning the outcome of the battle, just stating that this will be a time when tens of thousands of Juirean Guards will earn their campaign marks. This will be good for them. It will harden them for the future, as we reassert our will across the Expansion.”

“We will do our jobs, Elder Wydor. In less than seventeen standard hours we should be reaching their forward defenses. We will use whatever means necessary to defeat the Kracori. And then it will be on to Earth, where we will end our societal nightmare once and for all. No enemy of the Juireans shall remain intact. This is my pledge to you and to the Council.”

Wydor had no doubt that the Command-Overlord believed what he was saying, and yet Wydor knew the Humans better than most. He had personally met the warrior Adam Cain and had even expressed the misguided belief that Juireans and Human may one day become tacit allies, if not respected neighbors.

Yet the time spent sequestered in the bowels of the galaxy had hardened Wydor’s resolve and crystalized his thinking. The Juireans could leave no major force intact within the galaxy. History had proven time and again that rivals do not remain passive forever. Eventually a change of regime or attitude would sweep through the Human species and they would once again become a threat to the Juireans and to the Expansion. It was better to settle the issue now, while the fleet was strong and battle-ready, rather than wait for the Humans to dictate the timetable.

And yet Wydor also knew that both the Kracori and the Humans were unique within the family of species found in the galaxy. However, even as they had superior physical strength, quickness and agility, those traits were lost when ensconced within a metal starship, subject to the same destructive forces as normal creatures. No, Elder Wydor would not wish to confront a Human or a Kracori in physical combat, but he would engage them using the technology of the fleet. After all, an exploding starship would kill all occupants within the vessel, be they Juirean, Kracori ... or even Human.

Chapter 21

Adam was upset to see that John’s body had been removed by the Kracori before he’d had a chance for one more look upon his friend, teammate and brother-in-arms. He had played the Kracori as best he could, yet the tragic death of John Tindal was still only minutes old at the time of the meeting. It was all he could do at the time to remain in control of his emotions, especially when the subject of Nigel McCarthy came up.

Once back in the cell, Adam quickly updated the remaining sad and stern-faced Humans in the cell. They would have a few more days—at the most—to devise another escape plan. Fortunately, Nigel McCarthy would be gone off-planet, so it would only be Kracori perceptions and precautions they would have to contend with. But now the Kracori were even more on guard, and the Langril—Nomar something or another—wasn’t going to let them get away with any sort of overt disobedience. The other, older Kracori was chomping at the bit to take a blade to them all. So whatever plan they did come up they’d only have one chance to pull it off. Succeed ... or die.

Ain’t that how it always worked when it came to SEALs and their missions?

Master Chief Rutledge was especially distraught over Tindal’s death. They had shared a special bond, that of musicians and performers, as well as many more recent years together during a more tranquil time in their lives of challenge and adventure. The good thing about the Chief’s current emotional state: it made him even more focused on escaping. Adam had seen the old sailor operate for years, and he knew Rutledge didn’t let events control him; he controlled events. And he was even more determined than ever to control his way right off the planet Elision—and in pursuit of Nigel McCarthy.

Adam would do his best to channel all that anger and determination Rutledge carried in him to the benefit of the team. They all would. John Tindal—as well as Lee Schwartz and Jamal Dawson—would be avenged, one way or another.

The most-immediate good that came out of Adam’s meeting with the Kracori was that an ample supply of food and drink was brought to the cell. It seemed that the aliens wanted to make sure Adam and the rest of the Humans lived long enough so they could be killed. The irony was obvious, as was the improving condition of Riyad Tarazi once he got some food in his belly.

“Look at you,” Adam exclaimed. “You’re standing about as well as a drunken sailor trying to cross the quarterdeck after a night on the town. Congratulations.”

“You may rescind that compliment if I throw up on you.”

Adam smiled. “No shit! That’s one thing I cannot tolerate.” He looked over a Chief Rutledge and sent him a wink.

“That was a very long time ago, Mr. Cain.” Rutledge said, doing his best to join in the light banter. “And it was long before I had to call you Mister!”

“I should be fine,” Riyad said unconvincingly as he took a few steps across the room and back. “Just give me an hour or two to get my strength back and I won’t need that fucking wheelchair anymore.”

“That’s encouraging, Riyad,” Admiral Tobias said. Other than Riyad with his wheelchair, the other three Humans sat on the floor of the cell, leaning against the hard concrete walls. The Kracori had yet to replace their disassembled cots so they had nowhere else to sit. Tobias shifted his attention to Adam. “I assume the Kracori will want to give you—and maybe the rest of us—some other vantage point to the coming battle other than what we have here. Sounds like they want to humiliate us with their decisive victory over the Juireans.”

“That means moving us from the cell, I was thinking that, too, Admiral. Where and when is the question? And I’ll do my best to make sure the rest of you come with me.”

“We’ll have to be ready to react to the moment. There won’t be many, and the window of opportunity will close quickly.”

“I’ll be ready,” Riyad said. He was walking a little more confidently, with no apparent injuries to his legs or arms.

“I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I hope the Juireans get in here and start kicking ass,” the Master Chief said. “Nothing like a bunch of exploding munitions to distract the guards around you. That’s basic Get-The-Fuck-Outta-Here 101.”

“Exactly,” Adam said. “But it sounds like the Kracori are prepared for whatever the Juireans throw against them, and we have Kroekus to thank for that!”

“Just goes to show that the political ramifications of all this are more complicated than what we simple foot-soldiers can fathom,” Tobias said, with everyone in the room knowing that he had done his share of politicking as a consequence of his flag rank.

Riyad had done about as much exercise as he could handle for the time being and sat back in his wheelchair. “And what of our fleet? What do you think they’ll do if they see the Juireans getting their asses handed to them?”

Adam smiled again at his friend. Even though he had been born in Lebanon, he had spent enough time in America and around Americans to learn to speak like a native, crude trash talking and all.

“I don’t think we can count on them stepping in to help the Juireans,” Adam said. “No matter what the Kracori think, they’re still going to take a beating. That’s what our fleet is counting on; let the two alien races slug it out. The Kracori may emerge with fewer casualties, yet every little bit will help. Unfortunately, I don’t think that older Kracori fucker is going to let us slide any longer than the first decisive Juirean-Kracori dustup. I’ll try to get them to use us as a deterrent to a Human attack, but I don’t think they’ll fall for it. We’re just too insignificant.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Cain,” Admiral Tobias said with a smile. “I know that I’m a Legend—in my own mind!”

“You are in our minds, too, Andy,” Adam said as he shuffled over to Riyad’s chair on his hands and knees. “And now that it looks like Riyad won’t be needing this anymore, let’s see if we can break out some of these spokes? They’ll be easier to conceal and can still cause a fair amount of damage if we find a soft spot in that tough Kracori skin.”

“Glad to see it’s back,” Riyad said, “that old Adam Cain can-do spirit. I feel more confident about our chances already.”

Chapter 22

“It won’t work, I keep telling you that!” Kaylor was saying, again. “There’s no way of controlling it, and besides, they will not let us sweep over the city, not with the Juireans so close.”

“But I’ve seen the effects,” Sherri countered. “And we’ve done it before—or Adam and Riyad have—on that planet Yaki, or Yikke … something like that.”

Ruszel had been made part of their strategizing session, not because of a willingness on his part to help, but as a way of using his instinctive need for survival to force his input. As a skilled pilot, with knowledge of local space, his contribution was invaluable, if only to point out what couldn’t be done.

Yet at the time, it was Kaylor who Sherri had to convince.

“The Pegasus has a more-focused gravitational influence. I’m saying we could sweep in over that facility where they’re probably holding them and let the well rip things apart. That could be the distraction they need to escape.”

“You could end up killing them, too,” Kaylor said. “And once we get blown out of the air, how will that help, well, any of us?”

“The Belsonian is correct,” Ruszel joined in. “All that you’ll accomplish is our own deaths.”

Sherri looked the green-skinned alien in the eye. “You know what these concentrated-array ships are capable of—you own one. We can outrun anything they have on Elision. And I’m not saying we drop down from orbit like a banshee, trailing a plume of fire behind us. We get down to the surface first—somehow—scope out the area, and then take off and do a low gravity run over the target.”

“What is a banshee?” Ruszel asked; soon all the other alien eyes zeroed in on her with inquisitive expressions.

She shook her head with impatience. “Never fucking mind. It’s a god-damn animal. That’s not the point. Three of us are equipped with ATD’s. When we get to the surface, we can disrupt all kinds of electronics, and may even be able to locate the team before we move. The Kracori use flash weapons exclusively, as far as I know. We can handle those kinds of weapons close-in.”

Ruszel was physically agitated. “I understand you intend on taking me with you on your suicidal mission, so I have a vested interest in knowing what you are talking about. What is an A-T-D?”

“I’ll show you,” Sherri said. She pulled out her MK-17 bolt launcher and set it on the table in front of Ruszel. “Pick it up and shoot me.”

The alien eyed the weapon with suspicion. “I will not! Is this some kind of trick?”

Trimen met the alien’s eye. “Do it. It will be fine.”

After receiving acknowledging nods from Jym and Kaylor, Ruszel snatched up the weapon and pointed it not only at Sherri but the others as well sitting at the table. He stood up and began to back away. “You are all truly insane. I do not wish to kill any of you, but I can no longer be part of this crazy talk about raiding Elision.”

“Don’t you think you should check the weapon before you go commandeering the ship,” Sherri said softly.

Ruszel hesitated, but then did a quick systems check of the MK. Everything appeared in order. “The targeting computer has already locked on to you, female. I can fire when I desire.”

“Then do it. Do it and the ship will be yours and you can go home to your billions of credits.”

Ruszel’s eyes narrowed and he jutted his pointy-tipped chin in Sherri’s direction. “Wait ... I have seen this before. Is this how you and your tiny companion were able to disable the weapons at my home?” he said addressing Kaylor. “This weapon will not fire, and that is why you have given it to me.”

“Not bad, Ruszel. You’re pretty quick,” Sherri said.

And then the door to the conference room suddenly opened and closed behind him, as the lights began to flicker on and off.

“How can you control such devices?”

“It’s not important for you to know how, just that we can. And when we’re on the surface of Elision, we can disable the flash weapons the Kracori bring against us.”

Ruszel said nothing as he placed the MK-17 back on the table.

“So you see, we have some extra skills that help make this plan a real possibility. Stick with us, Ruszel, and no flash weapon can harm you.”

“Hand weapons are one thing, but can you prevent us from taking a bolt to the side of the ship while we rip up the Kracori’s governmental headquarters building?”

He picked up on Sherri’s hesitation. “I didn’t think so. This is still a suicide mission, no matter what fancy tricks you can dazzle the Kracori with.”

“But you have to admit, it does improve our odds of winning.”

“And how is that so?”

Sherri looked around at the faces of the other three aliens in the room. They were now looking back at her, conveying nods and firm determination on their faces. Sherri grinned.

“It has brought all the rest of us together behind the plan.” She then followed up on Ruszel’s rhetorical question with an inquiry of her own. “With a team like this, how can we lose?”

After the meeting broke up, Trimen followed Sherri to her stateroom. The Pegasus only had two, and since she had boarded the ship, Kaylor had given up his to her. Ruszel was in the other, simply because he could be locked inside so he wouldn’t try anything stupid, like attempting to hijack the ship. After the recent demonstration of the ATD’s, Sherri was pretty sure he now saw the futility in any such effort.

Trimen said nothing during the short walk to her room, nor asked for permission as they both entered and he shut the door.

“What’s bothering you, Trimen,” Sherri asked, always slightly flushed when in close proximity to the incredibly virile alien. She had hoped their time together in the confined space of the escape pod would have cured her of her schoolgirl fascination, but it was obvious now that it hadn’t.

“I am not aware how Humans approach the planning for an operation such as we are contemplating,” he began, “but you do realize that ripping apart a building with a gravity drive, while trying to rescue beings from within that same building, is contradictory to the ultimate goal of said operation?”

Sherri had to laugh out loud at the rather formal and polite way Trimen had just told her that her plan was pure shit, from beginning to end. She was sure he was just being honest with his feelings and meant no insult, but he did recoil slightly from her chuckle.

“I will be the first to admit that it does seem a bit extreme,” she said with a grin. “But I had to say something to get the others onboard.”

“They are onboard ... but I doubt if they support your plan, especially the pilot Ruszel.”

“I meant onboard with the plan—supporting it.”

“Which I do not believe they do,” he reiterated.

Sherri could see the frustration on Trimen’s smooth, tanned face. “It was something I made up on the spur of the moment. I’m sure we can refine the plan so it makes more sense. And Trimen, I do understand that you are more important to your people than to run off on a possible suicide mission with me. I would have no problem letting you take the shuttle and get someplace safe.”

Sherri saw Trimen’s face now turn an even darker shade of brown. “When I volunteered for this rescue mission I fully intended on participating in its more dangerous aspects. Leaving McCarthy’s ship in the escape pod was simply an attempt not to waste my life—or yours—when nothing could be achieved by that loss of life. If I die while engaged in an activity linked directly to the rescue attempt, then that is perfectly acceptable, by me and those of the Order. My only question is whether your plan is the best use of our resources? Humans have much more experience with this sort of activity, yet I cannot ignore my logic and reason when I look dispassionately at the proposed operation.”

Indeed, Sherri had simply spouted out an idea without fully thinking it through. However, it was something, anything. Just voicing on option for saving her friends on Elision—no matter how improbable—made her feel better. It sure beat sitting around doing nothing.

When she didn’t respond to his last statement, Trimen continued. “And you propose reaching the surface of Elision with this ship. If that were a possibility, why did we not use it in the original plan, since it does possess superior speed? That was a rhetorical question. I know why: because the ship could not reach the surface without proper access codes. We still do not have those codes, and what codes we did have were destroyed with the Volseen ship.”

“You’re right, Captain Obvious!” Sherri said a little too loudly. Even though the reference was lost completely on the alien, she was growing frustrated with his lack of contribution to solving the problem. She knew the questions; what she needed were some answers. “So use that superior logic and reason to help me out. Come up with something we haven’t thought of before.”

Trimen was silent for a long moment, staring at Sherri with unblinking eyes. “The answer is obvious ... ah, I see the reference now!” He paused to gather his thoughts again before continuing: “We must abandon the team on Elision and return to Expansion space while we are still able.”

Sherri’s jaw dropped open. “That’s no solution!” she cried out. “That’s surrender—giving up—and I’m not about to do that. If no one will follow me, then I will drop you all off on the nearest rock somewhere and go do it myself!”

Just as Trimen was about to respond the intercom on the wall of the stateroom chimed. Trimen looked perturbed by the interruption, yet Sherri saw it as a blessing. He was probably about to say something that would only piss her off more.

“What is it?” Sherri barked into the box on the wall.

“It is Kaylor. Am I disturbing you?”

“No, sorry, just having a pointless conversation with Trimen. Do you also have a complaint about my plan? If so, then shove it!”

“Shove your plan ... or my complaint? I do not understand.”

Sherri placed her forehead against the bulkhead and began to bang it against the metal wall softly, yet repeatedly. After three hits she responded to Kaylor. “What did you call me for?”

“It is just that Ruszel appears to have solved our problem about getting the Pegasus to the surface of Elision.”

Sherri stood up straight and stared at Trimen. “Go ahead, tell me!”

“He said that during the time that Riyad was being removed from his ship—Riyad’s ship at the time, now Ruszel’s—the Kracori commander gave him his name and mentioned the superior nature of the ship’s energy signature. The pilot now proposes he contact this same Kracori, and now that Tel’or and the Kracori are allies, tell him that he has acquired one of these superior drive vessels for study as a possible breakthrough in Kracori gravity-drive technology.”

“He’s willing to do this? I thought he wasn’t taking sides?”

“He appears to have had a change of opinion. Of course, he may also be looking for a way to transfer to the custody of the Kracori rather than remain our prisoner. Yet if I were this Kracori officer, I would accept the gift of the Pegasus, and once we have access to Kracori airspace, then your plan might have merit.”

“Thank you very much for that, Kaylor,” Sherri said with heartfelt emotion; she glared at Trimen as she spoke the words. “We don’t have a lot of time, Kaylor. We’ll have to attempt to contact Elision right now. Will Ruszel do it?”

“He has indicated so. If this plan does work, we could be on the surface of Elision within a few hours. From our estimates, that should get us to the planet just as the Juirean fleet reaches the outer Nebula. That should add to the confusion we would be instigating on Elision.”

“Get Ruszel to the CW-comm room. I’m on my way.” She switched off the intercom and turned to face Trimen. “Well, are you in or out?”

“If you mean will I accompany you on your mission or not ... then yes. I am in.”

Ruszel had surprised himself with the fact that he could remember the name of the imposing Kracori officer who had allowed him and Canos to go their way with what was Riyad’s ship at the time. It was Furlon Dor, and he was a white-sashed vice-commander of the united Kracori defense corps. It had only been two months since the Kracori had stood on the deck of the Ifrit and commented on the uniqueness of the ship’s gravity drive. Looking back on it now, it was a wonder that the officer hadn’t confiscated the ship at that time and turned it over to their propulsion research division.

A lot of things had happened during those fateful five days with the Human that had Ruszel almost believing that some omnipotent god of some sort was looking after him. Almost.

With the intense Human female Sherri—he had not caught her minor name—sitting off to the side of him off camera in the comm room, Ruszel began the arduous task of trying to locate the Kracori vice-commander. With the Human fleet three months away—and with no knowledge of the Juireans closing on the Nebula—Ruszel was pretty certain the military officer would be located in the vicinity of Elision. The odds were greatly in his favor, since up to only a few days before, the Kracori seldom ventured beyond the Void. That had changed recently, but only over the course of the past week or so.

Forming a CW-link with Elision was fairly easy; at least it was now that the Kracori had revealed their presence to the Nebula. However, finding one particular vice-commander would be the hard part.

“This is Senior Guild Pilot Ruszel Crin, requesting a link with Vice-Commander Furlon Dor,” he announced once the link with Elision comm central was established.

“You are wishing to contact an active military officer, through a CW-link, and you are a civilian, a Guild pilot?” the voice and demeanor of the Kracori on the screen seemed incredulous. “What is your business with this officer, Tel’oran?”

Ruszel had been anticipating the question. “Now that Tel’or and Elision are allies against the invading Humans, I offer him a prize of incredible value. It is a Human starship capable of amazing speeds, much greater than any the Kracori possess ... and it can accomplish these speeds within stellar systems. Vice-Commander Dor witnessed a smaller version of this ship two months ago when he and I met at that time. I was hoping that he would allow me to deliver this gift to him personally. It will be the highlight of his career and a much needed boost to the security of the Nebula.”

The gray Kracori communications technician on the screen looked confused. “That is a lot of information to be sharing, especially in light of the new openness we are attempting to establish with other races within the Nebula. Our comm links are overwhelmed at this time and there is no clear procedure for doing what you request. I can take your information and pass it along to my supervisor, yet there is no guarantee that you will receive a reply within a reasonable period.”

Ruszel had dealt with admins from a variety of planetary governments for most of his adult life. Even though this was a Kracori he was speaking with, they all suffered from the same disorder, namely lack of imagination. Only when they could imagine themselves getting in trouble would they act.

“I will require your name and contact information,” Ruszel said, hoisting a datapad from the console so the tech could see him begin to enter the data. “This vessel is a one-of-a-kind acquisition from the gravest enemy the Nebula has ever known and can offer an invaluable insight into the technology and weaponry of the Humans. I cannot maintain it for more than a few hours more before the Human spies who operate the craft will begin to look for it. At that time the opportunity for the Kracori to learn its secrets will be gone. I will not be held responsible for the loss of the single-most important piece of physical intelligence to ever come our way. The entire war effort could turn on the technology this craft will reveal, and yet we, as allies and co-inhabitants of the Silvean Nebula, could suffer a devastating defeat because the Humans possess this technology and we do not. And all of this could come about because you do not have a procedure in place to track down one Kracori vice-commander.”

Ruszel paused to watch the technician blanch, as his stare bored into the dark eyes of the Kracori as best he could over a distance of eighteen light-years. “Again, I will need your name and contact information to provide at the coming inquiry.”

“I do not know what you think I can do, Tel’oran?” the frazzled operator asked. “As I said, our communication protocols have not been established for such requests made outside the Kracori organization.”

“Do you have access to military personnel records? Can you attempt to search the name of this vice-commander?”

“Our systems are so linked. Yet that information is classified to outsiders.”

“I am not seeking this information for myself, but so that you can locate the vice-commander and relay this information to him. I am sure that once he learns what I am offering, he will initiate all necessary protocols. And I can assure you, he and all the high command on Elision, will reward you for your exemplary efforts and perseverance. The relationship between the Kracori and the other planets within the Nebula is only days old. This singular act on your part could be forever remembered as a seminal event in the history of the Nebula.”

The technician was shifting nervously in his seat. He reached over to another screen and began entering data. “I will do what I can, but there are no guarantees. I can access the military personnel records, and you may not realize this, but our entire society is built around the military. Nearly every Kracori of age is in the military database. Finding one particular officer could be imposs—oh, wait ... here he is. Vice-Commander Furlon Dor, Third Access Fleet, 2nd Brigade. He is presently assigned to Command Regiment Fourteen here in the capital.”

“Do you have contact information?” Ruszel asked, astonished that the tech had actually come through. He risked a gaze off camera at the Human and the Formilian who were monitoring the conversation and raised an eyebrow in their direction. The Human female gave an odd gesture with her fingers where the digits were wrapped into the palm and the thumb was projecting upwards. The pilot looked away before the meaning of the gesture confused him enough that the tech would notice that he was not alone in the comm room.

“Yes, I have a direct comm link for VC Dor. I will attempt to open the link, yet I believe it is best if you communicate to him what you are proposing. I am pretty confused by now as to just what you have in your possession.”

“I would prefer that as well. I will remain on the link until you are successful.”

It took the distraught comm tech a full ten minutes before he was able to locate Furlon Dor and convey enough of the subject matter to the vice-commander that he agreed to speak with Ruszel. When the stern, leathery face of the Kracori officer appeared on the screen, Ruszel did not recognize him; as a matter of fact, he was having trouble distinguishing any differences in the Kracori from one to the other. They all looked large, tough and perpetually angry.

“You say we have met?” Dor literally growled at Ruszel through the CW comm link.

“Yes, my Lord. Forgive me if that is not the proper greeting for a Kracori. I have not been informed as to the proper manner of respect.”

“Commander will suffice.” And then the Kracori narrowed his eyes at Ruszel. “Yes, I do recall. You and your Tel’oran companion were on the ship where the Human spy was captured. That was a major event on Elision. There had not been another Human on our planet for over three years, or so I was informed. If memory serves me, I offered your freedom so you may prepare the Nebula for our eventual reveal. By that time the events of the previous few weeks had already been set in motion.”

“My colleague and I are eternally grateful for your generosity that day, Commander. We truly believed we would suffer the same fate as the Human.”

“If the Human threat had not already been identified, you would have,” the Kracori said, much to Ruszel’s chagrin.

“Then we are even more fortunate,” Ruszel said with a slight tremor in his voice. “But now I am here to return the favor.”

“Yes, what is this of a prize you offer ... some sort of spaceship?

“Yes, the Humans have ships which employ an array of eight focusing rings in unison. It is technology beyond any in the Nebula possess, including the Kracori.”

“That’s impossible,” the Kracori stated flatly. “That many focusing rings would be unmanageable and extremely dangerous.”

“And yet you were on such a vessel only two months ago.”

Furlon Dor hesitated while staring at Ruszel. “I seem to recall that the ship we found you and the Human on did have a particular gravity signature. It was unclassified at the time, so I did not think any more of it.”

“That was a concentrated-array gravity-drive starship.”

“And you are offering to turn over that ship to the Kracori?”

“Not that ship, Commander, but one twice as large, and not to be turned over to the Kracori, but to you personally.”

“Why would you do that?

“You saved my life and you rescued my associate and me from the imprisonment of the Human. I wish to return that good fortune.”

The Kracori continued to narrow his eyes at Ruszel. “And how have you acquired yet another Human starship of such advanced design?”

“I was sought out and employed by yet another group of Human infiltrators all on account of my association with the Human spy you now have in custody. He is still among the living, I imagine? You did say at the time that he was to be used as propaganda against the Humans at the time of their invasion.”

“I have not heard the fate of that particular Human since I turned him over to the Security Directorate. Yet I have heard that possibly another set of Human infiltrators and saboteurs may have been captured recently. I believe this will be a more common occurrence as the time for their attack grows closer. Now what of this ship? Where are the Humans operating it?”

“I believe some of them may be your new prisoners,” Ruszel offered. “There is only one other Human onboard and I have her subdued.”

“Where are you now?”

“We are within the Dysion Void, approximately eighteen light-years from Elision.”

“I will send an escort.”

“I could bring the ship to Elision and present it to you personally, for all your superiors to witness. Transit time in this vessel will be two hours.”

Ruszel saw the look of shock on the face of the Kracori officer. Normal transit time for an eighteen light-year journey was approximately fifteen hours, depending on the gravity sources in the region. Even the largest deep space transports, operating within designated space lanes, would take four times as long as Ruszel’s estimate. The implication of such technology was just now beginning to dawn on the Kracori.

“Yes, Commander,” Ruszel began, baiting the Kracori even more, “the technology from this spacecraft could revolutionize the Kracori fleet, making it the most-powerful in the galaxy. The other races of the Nebula now share the ambitions of the Kracori. We look forward to the time when our brothers from within the Nebula will rule the galaxy. We will share in the pride and glory of that moment.”

“Yes, bring the ship to Elision immediately. I will transmit clearance codes and location coordinates. And yet you say this is Human technology? The Human fleet approaching Elision could be so equipped.”

“It is my understanding from both sets of Humans who have employed me that this technology is used sparingly at this point. It may become more prevalent—if the Kracori do not stop the Humans first.”

Ruszel could see the Kracori Vice-Commander growing anxious. “Proceed at your best possible speed to Elision, Ruszel. Your name is Ruszel; forgive me if I’ve forgotten.”

“Yes, it is Ruszel. Ruszel Crin. And I will begin preparations for departure now. Please relay the access codes as soon as possible. I will be at Elision in a much shorter time than any of your current vessels could make the transit. I am sure when you see the ship you will be truly amazed at what it can do.”

“I have every confidence that you are correct, Ruszel of Tel’or. What you do today will be remembered and will be of immense benefit to Tel’or, Elision and all the other worlds of the Nebula. You are to be commended for your patriotism and honor. Your Legend will be greatly enhanced.”

Ruszel cut the link and leaned back in the comm chair, exhausted yet satisfied with the outcome of the long conversation. What had started out as a mere thread of an idea had blossomed into a full-blown plan, and all the pieces were falling into place.

The Human female approached him with a wide grin. “You did a great job Ruszel; couldn’t have been better.”

“I was surprised myself at how successful the plan has been.”

And then it was the muscular Formilian’s turn to address him. There was no smile the Formilian’s face. “You did indeed do an excellent job. I just hope your loyalties remain with us and not your brothers within the Nebula, as you called them. I will be watching to assure your efforts are not part of a larger plan to escape our captivity.”

Ruszel wasn’t intimidated by the alien. Instead, he looked the creature straight in the eye and said, “After what I have just done here I would expect you, and your associates, to no longer consider me a prisoner, but rather a colleague from now on.”

“I would like nothing better than to do that, Ruszel. Unfortunately I cannot at this time.”

“Then when?”

“When the surviving members of our team are safely off Elision and are no longer in danger. At that point I might consider it.”

Chapter 23

As a result of the mind-boggling immensity of space, it was fairly easy to hide a fleet of four thousand warships from detection. And with the enemies of Humanity monitoring the more-established deep space lanes for the passage of Earth’s massive warships, they were unaware that the Cain Drive-equipped ships had slipped past them and were now stationed on the outer side of the Dysion Shield.

Another factor contributing to the fleet’s stealthy success was the fact that they were arriving a full three months before they were expected. Three months in the timeline of a battle plan was an eternity, so no scouts or spies recorded the presence of the invasion fleet, nor did they note the fifty-ship phalanx that approached the dense dust cloud and the circular arrangement of the craft. So when the Humans began to bore a clean hole through the treacherous debris field three thousand miles in diameter using the concentrated gravity wells of the ship’s generators, the work went quickly and with no distractions from the defenders of the Juddle Nebula.

Intelligence was sketchy regarding the region beyond the Shield, even as the forces from Earth prepared to engage the enemy on their ground. Under normal circumstances, this practice would be amateurish and risky. Yet a few of the facts the planners were aware of made the risk acceptable.

First was the recent revelation that only one major gap existed in the protective bubble that made up the Shield: the Volseen Corridor. This was where the Kracori would mount their concentrated defense and where the Juireans would focus their efforts to gain entry into the Void.

Second was that the new gravity-drive now incorporated into all the Human starships was capable of clearing a path through the Shield that was narrow enough not to be detected, unless one was looking specifically in that direction.

And so the Human strategists had picked one of the most-isolated and obscure sections of the Shield and began the process of opening a pathway through which the fleet would enter the Void, undetected and in full strength. Even if they weren’t counting on the Juireans to weaken the Kracori defenses substantially, the plan would nearly guarantee success against an undamaged Kracori fleet.

Jacob Nash carried the rank of Fleet Admiral, even though the rank did not officially exist within the structure of the new Earth Defense Force. Even his British rank of Admiral of the Fleet no longer applied yet was a fairly close match. Technically he was a full Admiral and the highest ranking officer in the fleet.

No matter what his official title, Nash was the top-dog when it came to the four thousand starships clustered near the blazingly brilliant wall of the Shield. His flagship, The Trident, was positioned so close to the roiling mass of ejected stellar material that it covered the entire span of his view from the bridge. And one of the most curious features of the Shield was that it was still expanding at approximately thirty-six thousand miles per hour from its point of origin, requiring the fleet to be continually back-peddling to avoid being gobbled up by the debris cloud.

Vice-Admiral Christian Bergmann stepped next to Nash’s command chair and the two officers shared a silent moment gazing out at the unbelievably massive structure outside the ship. Bergmann was the ship’s captain, and as such had his own command chair at the starboard side of the bridge.

“Makes us all look small and insignificant, doesn’t it, Chris?” Nash said without taking his eyes from the viewport.

“Yes, sir. It’s almost impossible to imagine something that big could exist. Did you know that even at this distance, the section of the Shield we can see here could hold a thousand Earths?”

“Damn, that’s big. And here we are, not even the size of ants by comparison, attempting to impact the affairs of the galaxy.”

“Waxing philosophical tonight, are we Admiral?” Bergmann said with a smile.

Nash chuckled and broke his attention from the viewport. “Bloody well have to in the presence of that.” He then cast his gaze across the vast, ship-wide expanse of the nearly-deserted bridge. It was just past oh-three-hundred hours, and only the mid-watch was at their stations—along with the two highest ranking officers of the fleet.

“How’s the boring coming along,” Nash asked, as he fought back an all-consuming yawn. The struggle only contorted his face into a palsy-like mask of hideous portions, and infected Bergmann a moment later with an unabashed yawn of his own.

“Damn, it’s late,” he managed to say, his eyes now watery and his narrow face flushed from the effort. “The boring is coming along fine, Admiral. We’re nearly through and the opening appears to be holding. However, it won’t last for more than a day. I have follow-up ships in the tunnel now cleaning up the stray material that’s trying to fill the gap. We should be able to begin the transit in another four hours.”

Nash noticed that Bergmann was taking an inordinate amount of pride in the progress of the boring ships. Even though he already had his considerable duties as captain of The Trident, Bergmann had insisted on supervising the boring operation himself. It was because of his name the vice-admiral had told him. In German, the root origin of the surname Bergmann came from the word for miner, and the fifty-two year-old German was in the process of creating the longest, widest tunnel ever constructed. When done, the opening through the Dysion Shield would be three thousand miles wide and sixteen million miles long.

Nash marveled at Bergmann’s energy and enthusiasm. This was a common trait of nearly ever German he had ever met, even though technically the country of Germany no longer existed. Neither did England for that matter. Now the Earth was one big happy family ... simply Humans one and all.

At least that was the goal. The peoples of the Earth still voluntarily segregated themselves into ethnic groupings. That was something impossible to overcome with a stroke of a pen. Yet Admiral Nash knew that as long as an enemy existed outside the planet, then they were all Humans at this moment in time, with no regard to race, nationality or even religion.

Fighting aliens for a living had that effect on people.

“Better try to get some sleep, Chris,” Nash told his subordinate. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“And of course, Fleet Admirals don’t need something as mundane as sleep themselves, now do they?”

“That luxury went away with the promotion, Admiral, which I imagine applies to lowly ship’s captains as well.”

“They’ll be time enough to sleep ... when we’re all dead and buried. Until then, I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Six hours later Fleet Admiral Nash entered the darkened cavern of The Trident’s CIC to find Christian Bergmann hunched over a magnetic-detection monitor, along with a handful of other officers and two chiefs.

“Fill me in, Admiral,” Nash commanded as a spot was cleared for him at the monitor.

“Yes, sir. They’re huge magnetic anomalies, twenty or more of them. They’re at the extreme range of our detectors, but they are definitely there.”

“What could be causing them?”

Senior Chief Ernesto Salazar was the ship’s foremost expert in advanced monitoring equipment. “Sir, anomalies such as these could be the result of heavy metal concentrations within meteors or asteroids, yet these appear to be uniform in density and strength.”

“How uniform?”

“They appear to be identical, sir.”

“How large are they?”

“Hard to tell at this range, Admiral. They could be very large and a great distance, or small and closer in. We’ve only just now entered the Void with our drones, and the readings are preliminary.”

“But you’re convinced they’re not natural occurrences?”

The Chief looked around at all the eyes cast upon him. “No sir. They have to be artificial.”

Everyone straightened up from over the monitor and looked to the Fleet Admiral. “So we could have twenty incredibly large and massive alien-made objects sitting off at the inner edge of the Shield, far away from any planet or defensive position.”

“Alien-made, Admiral,” Christian Bergmann corrected. “We know for certain they aren’t man-made.”

“I stand corrected, Mr. Bergmann, which makes the situation even more worrisome. With the accumulation of opposing forces all about to clash within the Void, the presence of these objects cannot be a coincidence. Have we been detected Chief?”

Salazar shook his head. “We’re picking up no emissions from the objects, at least none in our direction. Our drones only have them on density meters, which are entirely passive from our side.”

“And what happens when the bulk of the fleet begins to pass through the tunnel? No doubt we’ll be detectable then.”

“It will be impossible to hide the gravity signatures of so many ships.” Admiral Bergmann replied.

Nash sent him a curt nod. “Until we have more intel we have to assume these objects are some secret weapon of the Kracori, something they’ve hidden away in this deserted region of the Void. I can imagine they’ll be pretty surprised to see us pop out right next door.”

“If we proceed with our timeline, Admiral, then the Kracori—and this possible secret fleet—will have to engage us before the Juireans have had a chance to soften up our targets,” Commander Paul Crossman pointed out. “It could take away our element of surprise and weaken us in comparison to both the Kracori and Juirean fleets. It was never our intention to go up against both fleets with them at full capacity.”

Nash looked back at the monitor and the faint cluster of white dots at the far edge of the screen. The objects were waiting for something, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the Human fleet. It was Command’s selection of this far-off location along the Shield that had allowed this chance encounter with the anomalies. The builders of the objects had chosen this location for the same reason as the Humans. It was intentional.

“I’m delaying the entry, gentlemen,” Nash announced to his assembled staff. “We’ll do our best to keep the tunnel clear and send out an appropriate number of passive drones to investigate the anomalies further.”

None of the assembled officers and enlisted men raised a protest. They all knew that revealing the fleet before they learned more about the magnetic anomalies could defeat the entire purpose of the rapid arrival at the Shield and the secret entry into Kracori space.

“Our delay will only be for a day or so. By then the Juireans should be in the Void and their battle with the Kracori will be joined. Also by that time, the intentions of the anomalies should be known, if they are indeed some kind of secret fleet waiting to surprise the Juireans. Chris, pull back the forward units and keep the tunnel clear. When we do enter the Void, it will have to quicker than originally planned.”

“Will do, sir. I guess it’s fortunate we detected the anomalies before they detected us. Otherwise this operation could have gotten a lot more dangerous.”

The Klin supervisor looked at the data line once again and shook his head. “I do not see it, Annaliss. Are you sure you are correct?”

“I believe so. First there was drop in the background radiation, and then a surge of energy.”

“But it is gone now?”

“Most of it. I still detect some energy streaks in the region.”

“Could this be from a comet or other such collision with the Shield?”

“That is possible; however I would expect some residual traces at the impact zone. Instead I still get this decrease in density, rather than a rippling effect.”

“I do not wish to bother the Pleabaen and his staff with this, not at this time. There are so many other events about to take place within the Nebula that they would only find this a distraction. Send out a probe or two to the region yet keep their energy signatures to a minimum. It would not serve to be detected, not at this critical time.”

“I will do as you say, Simiss. Yet this is strange. I will keep you informed of any new developments.”

Senior Tech Simiss left the monitoring facility and returned to his compartment; he would attempt to get a few hours of rest before the start of the major scanning efforts scheduled for the following day.

He was sure he had instructed his young associate as to the proper course of action to take regarding the odd readings he had detected. After all, they could not be distracted with every collision occurring along the inner wall of the Shield. If that were the case, then every Klin monitoring tech in the Colony would be so engaged, rather than surveying for the monumental events about to unfold at the other side of Void, events which will provide the Klin with the final resolution to their four-thousand-year-long quest.

Having reminded himself of the importance to the Klin race of the next few days within the Silvean Nebula, Simiss knew he had effectively destroyed any prospect he’d held for sleep this night. The anticipation would simply not allow it.

Chapter 24

“First contact, my Lord,” Command-Overlord Enulic announced.

The proclamation wasn’t necessary as Elder Wydor bin Sulic could see the action on the tac screen as well as he. This was just a feeling-out of each other, a testing to see how committed each side was to the fight. The Juireans were fully-committed, Wydor knew. It was the hastily assembled allies of the Kracori who had to prove their will and determination.

A static defensive line consisting of forty-eight defenders formed up at the edge of the Juddle Nebula. Wydor watched with fascination as his massive fleet of nearly five thousand ships neared the line, expecting that at any moment the ships of the Nebula would turn and run. Yet they didn’t run. Instead, they broke into several attack squadrons of four ships each and shot off to mingle within the clouds of asteroids lingering at the edge of the Nebula.

Command-Overlord Enulic ordered six hundred of his fleet to follow.

Over the course of the next few hours, Wydor sat in utter disgust as he watched the hit-and-run strategy of the defenders pick off several of his ships, including a few of the Class-4’s. The rag-tag Nebula units, consisting of Volseen and Tel’oran warships, were slow and lightly armored, yet they knew the battlefield better and were able to dart in and out from behind the huge space rocks with impunity. The Juireans, on the other hand, had to go carefully through the minefield of deadly debris so as to not draw in any of the larger ones into collisions with their hulls. Even then, a few of the Juirean cruisers were riddled with punctures from the asteroids, knocking out shields and power to their weapons. Once this was done, they became easy targets for the swarming defenders.

Yet with such overwhelming numbers, the Juireans managed to destroy all forty-eight of the defenders, although it took nearly three hours to do so.

“This does not bode well,” Wydor commented, more to himself than to the Command-Overlord. “The Nebula defenders seem determined beyond reason.”

“True. They did little more than sacrifice themselves to our forces. It would have been a better strategy to withdraw and join up with a larger force near the Corridor.”

Wydor scanned the banner along the left side of the tac screen. “We lost nine ships in the engagement? That is rather high, is it not?”

“First contact jitters, my Lord. My units will settle down the further we penetrate the Nebula.”

Wydor shook his head. He was old enough to remember a time when nervous jitters and trepidation were not part of Juirean vocabulary. His race would strut around the galaxy with pride and confidence in every encounter. Now they were inexperienced and unsure of themselves, and with very little time to become battle hardened.

“Overlord Enulic, we do not have an adequate estimate of the numerical strength of the defenders, so attrition rates of our units will have to be closely monitored. We cannot simply order up reinforcements as once we could.”

“Understood, my Lord.”

Wydor could see that his fleet commander was also angry and embarrassed with the performance of his units. Embarrassment was another of those ancient emotions being resurrected from the Juirean past. What have we become? Wydor ruminated. And how will this war salvage what was once great about my race?

Another defensive force was beginning to form up, bolting in from various directions and attempting to block the fleet’s approach to the Volseen Corridor. Enulic’s forces were a few hours out and it was looking as though this countering movement would be substantially larger, between five hundred to a thousand ships—yet even more were coming. These defenders also appeared to be taking up positions near planets and moons, rather than out in open space, following the strategy of the unfortunate forty-eight. This coming battle would be much harder, Wydor knew. Why was it he had an unfamiliar knot in his stomach? Had the Juireans indeed lost everything that had once made them great? The Council Elder was bound and determined to regain that special quality that had allowed his race to conquer a galaxy, even if it meant taking drastic measures.

Wydor slipped out of his command chair and moved toward the rear exit of the bridge. “I will be in my quarters, Command-Overlord. Inform me when we are about to engage.” He stepped past the still-visibly upset officer and then stopped and leaned in close so others on the bridge couldn’t hear. “I have trust in you, Enulic,” he said in a harsh whisper. “It is the competency of your minor officers and crews I question. Six hundred against forty-eight; we should not have lost a single ship. The Kracori and their allies could have ten thousand ships at their disposal, so even though we may win the battle, we could lose the war. We do not have the replacement units, and even now I am having doubts concerning our ability to conduct a follow-up invasion of Earth.”

“It was one engagement, my Lord,” Enulic snarled, a tone bordering on insubordination. “This is hardly the time to pass judgment on the entire mission.”

“Calm yourself, Overlord. You are still in command of the fleet—for now. I am merely offering my opinion.”

“The opinion of the Council Elder is hardly a mere opinion, my Lord. From this moment on I will take a more-active role in the command and control of the next and future engagements. I can assure you we will perform to your satisfaction.”

“It is not for my satisfaction that we battle, Enulic, or why I offer critique. It is for the good of the Juirean people. Please pass that sentiment along to your commanders. They must be reminded of that for which they fight.” He hesitated momentarily to let Enulic absorb his last comments, and then he concluded. “I will endeavor to remain in the background during the subsequent engagements. I do not wish the fleet to lose confidence in you and then look to me for guidance. That is not my purpose here.” Wydor leaned in even closer, until he was only six inches from Enulic’s rock-hard face. “Get us to Elision, Lord Enulic. Get us to Elision and your name will be remembered forever in the annals Juirean history.”

“We are on our way, my Lord. Two days from now the fleet will be setting fire to the very rock of Elision. That I promise.”

Chapter 25

The access code and coordinates arrived twenty minutes later in digital form, yet Kaylor was able to detect the subtle bounce-back indicator inserted in the signal. Within seconds, the Kracori knew the location of the Pegasus.

Kaylor initiated a gravity-well of modest depth and the Pegasus shot off in the direction of Elision eighteen light-years distant.

Not everyone aboard was fully behind the plan, although none wanted to go up against Sherri and her single-minded determination to do something–anything–to help rescue her fellow Humans. Kaylor and Jym were about seventy-five percent with her, believing that flying their wonder ship directly into the maw of the Kracori homeworld was probably not the best idea. Neither was the more radical part of the plan to rip off the top of the Kracori capital building using the ship’s gravity well. But the two aliens were anxious to use their ATD’s to their fullest, and if it weren’t for the tiny metallic implants, they would have never agreed to go along with the Human’s plan.

Halfway to Elision, the Pegasus picked up her first escorts. Having been forewarned as to the course of the Human ship, Vice-Commander Dor had sent a number of Kracori warships to intercept and monitor the Pegasus. Simply vectoring to an intercept, the much slower Kracori ships were able to close within a reasonable distance before gradually losing ground.

With the pilothouse full of all the occupants of the small ship, Kaylor waited until there were five Kracori ships on his screens before he cranked up the well intensity and bolted away from the escorts as if they were on chemical drive. A short forty-one seconds later they were off the screens.

“That should give them something to report back to your Kracori officer,” Kaylor said to Ruszel. “Nothing like an actual demonstration to build anticipation.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t get too impressed and invites the Kracori Langril to the landing,” Sherri said. “He’ll come with a whole army of escorts and guards. It might be a little difficult to bolt out under those circumstances.”

Kaylor checked the chronometer. “Now thirty-six minutes out. We will know very soon.”

“Are we sure that this city of Goruis your Kracori officer has us going to is the capital of Elision?” Trimen asked.

No one offered an immediate answer; Ruszel eventually filled the silence. “Elision is a mystery to even us in the Nebula. Until thirty days ago, I believed the planet was in the Nebula, yet I would not have staked my life upon it. And now my planet is an ally of the Kracori and preparing to fight both the Juireans and the Humans, from what you tell me. I’m sure that if we had known it would be both of these races, Tel’or would have voted differently.”

Trimen looked hard at the green-skinned alien. “It is only as a result of the small confines of this ship that you have learned of the Juirean attack on the Nebula, as well as the accelerated timetable for the Human’s attack.”

“And yet you say the Juirean battle may already be joined, and the Humans will join when they feel it is prudent.”

Kaylor could see the animosity evident between the Tel’oran and the Formilian. Ruszel was still speaking: “You have questioned my loyalty repeatedly, and I have said I will only do what is best for me. In light of the two major races about to attack the Nebula, I would say the least of my support should be with the Kracori. There are just too many forces aligning against them. Yet your continued suspicions as to my intentions insult me, Trimen of Formil.”

Kaylor saw Sherri place a hand on Trimen’s arm. The gesture seemed to immediately calm the Formilian. “Perhaps he’s right,” Sherri said. “He may not be allied with us for the right reasons, but he doesn’t seem to have much of a choice. It’s a pretty good bet that the Kracori are going to lose this war, and by extension, so is the Nebula. There’s nothing wrong with handicapping the outcome.”

All the aliens in the room turned to her with quizzical looks. “Sorry,” she offered with a smile. “I come from a place on Earth where they have racehorses—steeds, you call them—and we try to figure the odds that a particular horse is going to win or not. It’s called handicapping.”

“Yes!” Ruszel said. “That is what I have done. The chances of the Kracori winning are slim, and I would honestly like to live long enough to enjoy the ruiens your colleague has paid me. I have lived a hard life and I believe I deserve it. Betraying you to Kracori would not help me to that goal.”

Sherri looked at Trimen, still with the wide grin on her face. An eyebrow flicked upwards. Trimen appeared to grit his teeth as he furrowed his own brow. “I concede the logic of your argument, Ruszel. I will now consider you a full member of the team—”

“I did not say I wanted to be a member of your team, just that I did not want to be treated as a prisoner.”

“But you can’t exist aboard without responsibilities to the rescue effort. Otherwise you will just be in the way.”

“Was I in the way when I negotiated our passage to Elision?”

“Stop it, both of you!” Sherri cried out. “You are like a couple of children arguing over the last piece of candy. As the only Human aboard a Human-owned starship, I’m asserting myself as Captain ... and I order the two of you to get along. We have about thirty minutes before we drop down to the surface of the most dangerous place in the entire galaxy, and the two of you are arguing over bullshit.”

Sherri threw back her head and let a primal scream when she saw the jaws of both aliens drop open at the mention of the word bullshit. “I swear to god, the moment we get Adam and the rest of them back onboard the Pegasus, I’m beating feet straight back to Earth, and never leave again! I’m getting sick and tired of all you fucking aliens!”

Kaylor sat in stunned silence as he watched Sherri storm from the pilothouse. He had watched the conflict between Ruszel and Trimen, yet he did not understand what had made Sherri so upset? However, he did breathe a sigh of relief that she was gone. After all, there was nothing more dangerous in the galaxy than an upset Human—male or female.

Elision was not a particularly pretty world, at least from orbit. It had its obligatory blue oceans, white clouds and ruddy brown surface regions, yet there was a misty haze that surrounded the planet, muting the colors and giving the place a somber aura.

As the Pegasus entered the Elision star system, it continued to plow through the area faster than any ship the Kracori had ever seen. And although several ships attempted to stay up with her, they all fell to the wayside eventually. However, Kaylor did slow the ship to normal in-system speeds as Elision grew on the viewscreen; he didn’t want anyone on the surface to mistake him for a runaway. He circled the planet once while acquiring the beacon for their landing in the city of Goruis, and then the really tense part of the operation began. With several military ships covering them from the high ground, the Pegasus soon reached the point of no return—at least up until the point where she set out to destroy a fair amount of the city below.

Sherri and Trimen were frantically trying to locate what was the capital building complex—The Citadel—that McCarthy had identified as the probable location for high-valued prisoners. They only had moments to scour the skyline before Kaylor had to land the ship.

Fortunately, as the beacon guided them in, a large, ornate building complex with spires and domes appeared along their path. It made sense that such an important prize as the Pegasus should be placed next to the main governmental buildings, the same complex Furlon Dor was probably stationed within. This made the rest of the plan a little easier. Not a lot, but some.

“Everyone start searching!” Sherri commanded. The four crewmembers with ATD’s understood what she meant; Ruszel sat at the comm console in the pilothouse, trying to stay out of the way, and being ready to communicate with Furlon Dor when he linked in.

“I’m picking up dozens of energy weapons approaching the ship. And there is a small spacecraft positioned immediately above us,” Jym reported.

“We don’t need a narration, Jym; I see them, too. Try to get into the building complex and look for any mention of Humans or prisoners.”

Jym was momentarily distracted by Sherri’s blunt condemnation, so it took him a second or two to regain his concentration. There were literally hundreds of communications running from the local vicinity and into and out of the main building complex. The Citadel itself was just outside the range of the ATD’s from where the ship landed, so Jym had to piggyback—Adam had called it that—on one of these links into the buildings. With a finesse few would have suspected, Jym caught one of the stronger signals and suddenly found his awareness transferred a mile or so beyond the landing zone and into a comm room within the Citadel. There was such a cacophony of crossing messages here that Jym almost withdrew, unable to handle the noise. But eventually he was able to isolate the messages into single lines and the noise in his mind quieted.

Suddenly the comm speaker within the pilothouse crackled to life. “Pilot Ruszel Crin, this is Vice-Commander Dor, open a link.”

All eyes turned to Ruszel, who in turn looked to Sherri for guidance. She saw Jym bat his eyes several times. “Jym, stick with what you’re doing; same for you, Trimen. Kaylor, remain at the pilot controls.” She then nodded to Ruszel, and the Tel’oran flicked the comm switch.

The hard gray face of Vice-Commander Dor instantly appeared on the screen before Ruszel. All the others in the pilothouse were out of view of the camera.

“Commander Dor,” Ruszel greeted trying to appear as calm as possible under the circumstances. He was failing miserably. “It is good to see you again.”

“I have been monitoring your journey, Senior Pilot. If I did not trust the personnel who filed the reports, I would not have believed them. You have indeed brought a prize worthy of my attention. I will be arriving in five minutes with a technical team to take possession of the ship. What of the Human you have in custody? Is it still subdued?”

“Yes, Commander, drugged actually.”

Sherri and Ruszel had discussed the possibility that the Kracori may enter the ship before they had a chance to survey the building they were about to destroy. With their ATD’s and weapons of their own, they had debated whether it was preferred to let him come aboard just so he could be taken hostage. That would buy them more time to plan an escape route. Unfortunately, with the lack of a fully-developed plan, a decision regarding VC Dor had not been reached, leaving Ruszel up to his own devices.

“I commend you again, Senior Pilot,” Dor said. Ruszel could see that the image of the Kracori was moving as he spoke through a datapad. Ruszel’s heart was pounding in his throat, knowing that the Kracori warrior was on his way to the Pegasus even as they spoke. “Humans are of superior strength compared to Tel’orans. Keeping the alien subdued as such was a very wise decision.”

“I have seen what Humans can do, Commander. I did not want to take the risk. May I ask as to how many of your technical crew will be boarding? The space within is very confined, also you may wish to have a private tour so you may present yourself as an expert to all your superiors. Some of your Legend may be diminished if they seek answers from mere technicians.”

Ruszel was relieved to see the Kracori nod. “That is very prescient of you, Ruszel. I was not aware your kind was aware of our concept of Legend.”

“It was something I learned about your kind at the time of the destruction of Juir, although I have not experienced it personally. And you did mention my Legend beforehand.”

“Yes I did; I remember now.” The Kracori officer seemed to be in an ecstatic mood. He had seen the reports on the capabilities of the Human ship, and now the vessel was resting on the surface of Elision, and all because of his relationship with Ruszel. The delivery of the ship to the Kracori Military Command would be forever remembered and honored. Ruszel did his best to imagine what a boost in Dor’s Legend the Pegasus would bring. And then just as suddenly as he had formed the thought, it went away. Vice-Commander Furlon Dor was about to get the surprise of his life when he boarded the Pegasus. And it would do nothing to enhance his Legend.

“Any luck, Jym?” Sherri whispered from her position within the pilothouse.

“There is much chatter, mostly about the strange ship that has just landed outside the complex. I am also hearing that the Juireans have advanced to the opposite side of the Volseen Corridor and a large battle is commencing. Wait, I hear something!” Jym closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the telepathic messages filtering through his mind. “A group has been summoned to a place called the command viewing room. They are to be escorted under heavy guard, definitely not welcomed guests.”

“Where is the viewing room?”

“I do not know. The beings on the link already know and are not describing the location.”

Sherri leaned back in her chair and then looked over at Ruszel. There was a lull in the conversation between him and the Kracori but she knew Dor was probably right outside the ship and just waiting for entry. She motioned to get Ruszel’s attention. The Tel’oran jerked his head around faster than he should have out of nervous energy. Fortunately, the image of Furlon Dor had also looked away for a moment, speaking with the technicians.

Sherri rapidly nodded her head. Ruszel frowned back.

Frustrated, Sherri whispered, “Let him in.”

At first Ruszel didn’t understand her, but just as she went to whisper a little louder, the alien opened his mouth and nodded his understanding. She got up from her chair and sprinted to the rear of the ship and the landing bay airlock.

“I am here, Senior Pilot. Please open the hatch. I will enter alone first, yet the technicians must have access soon. As you may not be aware, we are engaged in a conflict at this time. The secrets of this ship must be learned quickly so they can be incorporated into our defense force.”

“Have the Humans attacked already?” Ruszel asked, playing his part of the uninformed local.

Dor’s expression changed suddenly to one of dourness and concern. “No, it is the Juireans ... of all beings.”

“Juireans!” Ruszel exclaimed. He knew this fact already but he felt it best that he show his disbelief—which was not far off from his true feelings. He was still in awe of the idea that Juireans were here. The Nebula had never been part of the Expansion, although they did have peripheral dealings with it through trade. Yet even in the Silvean Nebula, Juireans were the creatures of myth.

“Not to worry, Senior Pilot. With the help of our brother races within the Nebula—yours included—we vastly outnumber the invaders. We will overwhelm them with defenders, and with their fleet deployed so far from their home base, they will be forced to withdraw once their own numbers reach a critical level. It is the Humans for which we must prepare, and your gift of this ship will be the weapon which will turn the war in our favor. Please open the hatch.”

“Oh, forgive me, Commander. I became so engrossed in our conversation regarding Juireans and Humans that I forgot.”

True to his word, the seven-foot tall gray alien, with the white sash across the chest of his blue uniform, entered the Pegasus alone, having not even drawn his weapon. The moment he was through, the hatch closed remotely and the lock engaged. The Kracori was too busy ducking his head to avoid an overhead support stanchion to notice.

He did, however, notice the much shorter figure with the yellow hair standing in the landing bay ... and with an MK-17 flash weapon aimed at him.

“It’s set on level-one, dickhead,” the creature said, even though the translation of dickhead was a scrambled mess and obscene to some degree.

Out of reflex, Dor withdrew his own weapon and leveled it at the alien. “You’re the Human, are you not?”

“That’s right. Welcome aboard my ship.”

Anger surged in Dor, and even though the Human may discharge her weapon just as he did, he pulled the trigger anyway.

And yet nothing happened. The yellow-haired Human stood patiently as Dor triggered the weapon several more times, before accepting the fact that he had been given a faulty issue. Of all the chances he would draw a defective weapon at the one time he needed it most....

“I suppose not killing me is your goal, since you have not discharged your weapon. You know you cannot kill all the Kracori on Elision with that single weapon, or even using this spacecraft, so I do not know what you have accomplished by coming here under such deception.”

“You will find out soon enough, Furlon Dor,” said the tiny creature.

Seeing his first Human in the flesh made him wonder just what made these creatures the equal of Kracori in strength and agility. He understood the origin of their evolution, however—they are such tiny beasts!

“Let’s go up to the pilothouse and have a talk.” The Human motioned with her weapon for him to move up the central corridor of the ship, and soon he entered a large room occupied by four other creatures, all of differing species. He immediately recognized the Tel’oran. He sent him a deadly glare.

“You are a traitor to your race and to the Nebula, Ruszel Crin of Tel’or—the first of this war and bound to be remembered as such. Your Legend will be that of pond scum.”

“I do apologize, Vice-Commander,” Ruszel said with passion. “I only do this out of a need for self-preservation.”

“They forced you to do this?”

Ruszel looked to the others in the room before answering. “No. But I have chosen to be a member of the winning team in the coming conflict.”

Trimen nodded his appreciation to the Tel’oran as the Kracori officer spoke again. “You have made a grave mistake, Ruszel. It will be the Kracori who prevail.”

“Commander, I believe it is you who are mistaken. For the Kracori to claim victory the Humans must be defeated, and from what I know of them and their capabilities, that is something the Kracori cannot do.”

“Enough chit-chat, aliens,” Sherri said. “We need to know where the command viewing room is inside the complex over there.”

The Kracori shook his head slightly, not to resist, but rather as a reaction to the sudden shift in topic. “The view room, why?”

“Because there’s a new Bradly Cooper movie playing there and I don’t want to miss it.”

Even in the pressure cooker that was the tension growing in the pilothouse, Sherri enjoyed the look of confusion on the Kracori’s face. “Just tell me, and don’t worry about why.”

“Are all Humans as rude and obnoxious as you?” Dor asked.

“No, not really,” Sherri said, batting her eyes at the alien. “I’m one of a kind. Now answer me.”

“I will not—”

Sherri dialed the MK down one level, and then without warning discharged it into the chest of the Kracori. The brilliant blue bolt splashed against his white sash, burning it to charcoal instantly, while the force of the bolt threw him against the side bulkhead and to the deck. An acrid, sickly smell filled the room, as a pale white vapor lifted from the perfect circle burnt in his uniform. The alien gasped for breath and clenched at his chest. Normally, a level-two bolt would have killed an alien, yet this was a Kracori. They were just as tough as Humans, and the bolt simply marked the alien with a second-degree burn, bordering on third-degree.

“I can mark every inch of your body with flash bolts,” Sherri said, now standing menacingly over the still-writhing body of the Kracori officer. “It will hurt like hell, but it won’t kill you. Now just tell me where the viewing room’s located.”

To Sherri’s rather morbid admiration, it took two more shots from the MK before the Kracori finally told her what she needed to know. She then had the officer bound securely and moved to a rear equipment compartment. With that was coming, it was probably the safest place for him to be.

Chapter 26

The rattle of the locking mechanism unlatching roused everyone from their complacency, and instantly the three SEALs and Riyad were alert and on their feet. This was the moment they had been waiting for; whatever opportunity they’d have for escape would reveal itself with only a split-second to react.

A cadre of heavily-armed Kracori swept into the room. Adam was standing at the phalanx of this team and therefore was the first person the green-sashed officer approached.

“You are to come with us to the viewing room,” the steely-eyed alien said.

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. “What of the others?”

The alien looked past him to the others in the room. “They are to come as well.”

Adam tried not to show his relief. Without the rest of his men, escape would become proportionally more difficult. He wouldn’t go alone, so he would have come back for them—and that could prove disastrous.

The Kracori officer seemed genuinely confused when Riyad refused to sit in his wheelchair. “I’ll walk.” He was stronger now, yet still very weak and unsure of his footing. Chief Rutledge stepped up to him and offered a shoulder. Riyad accepted the help with a nod and then flashed a white, toothy grin at the stone-faced Kracori.

Seemingly a whole army of Kracori awaited the four Humans in the corridor. The lead officer pushed his way through the ranks, heading off to his right, the same direction where the last escape attempt had taken place. They were herded down the hallway, only to defiantly stop at the point where the tile floor still carried the traces of John Tindal’s blood.

The officer noticed the stoppage of his entourage and returned to the Humans. His gaze locked on Adam. “The same fate awaits you and all your spies. I am surprised I have not received the order to terminate your lives by now.”

“It’s because me and your Langril are tight—best friends. Watch what you say to me, or I’ll have you terminated.”

The alien’s mouth dropped open and he looked nervously at the troops nearest him. Adam could tell he was confused. Adam had earlier been called into a conference with the supreme Kracori, and yet still he lived. And now all of them were summoned to the viewing room, not the executioner’s chambers. Adam risked a thin smile as he saw that the Kracori—at least for a moment—actually believed what he said.

“Don’t resist,” the officer finally said. “You are expected.”

“I’m not resisting. Does it look like I’m resisting?”

The green-sash blinked his eyes several times, then to nearest enlisted soldier said, “Bring them, and accept no more delays.” The officer then returned to his position at the head of the entourage.

Adam looked at the others and smiled. Even faced with imminent death, they couldn’t help but smile back.

The viewing room—supposedly the place where Adam and his men would watch the final victorious battle between the Kracori and Juireans—was located two buildings over within the Citadel complex from the prison dome. It was the largest structure in the complex and Adam only got a glimpse of it when they passed through an enclosed causeway with a glass canopy.

The viewing room itself turned out to be a terraced amphitheater with seating to accommodate a hundred Kracori or more, all in a semi-circle facing a viewscreen easily measuring a hundred feet across and thirty tall. The large screen currently displayed several images and data streams at various locations on its surface, with a large, blank grid dominating the center.

The auditorium was sparsely populated at the moment, with not more than twenty Kracori all crowded into the seats nearest the huge screen. Another cluster of Kracori was standing to the right and turned when the parade of guards entered the room with Adam and his team. Adam immediately recognized Langril Nomar Polimic among the group. And so was Daninf. The elder Kracori’s hate-filled glare could be seen from across the vast room.

A Kracori guard shoved a Xan-Fi rifle barrel in his back and pushed, herding Adam down a steep succession of stairs until he and his men reached the Langril.

“Is the war over?” Adam asked. “Did you ... lose?”

“Why do you try to antagonize me, Human?” Nomar asked. “Nothing that has transpired between your race and mine has been of a personal nature. We are all simply following our destinies within the scheme of galactic politics.”

“And your destiny called for you to kill billions of innocent men, women and children on my world?”

“It was required to assure our security. But I did not bring you here to replay our last meeting.” Nomar swept a hand indicating the vast screen dominating the room, and which looked positively gigantic this close up. “I said I wanted you to witness the destruction of the Juirean invasion fleet.” He paused to cast a furtive glance at Daninf. “The battle you are about to witness may not spell the end of the Juirean presence in the Nebula, yet it will serve to show that their defeat is inevitable. My colleague here has convinced me that keeping you alive until our final victory is no longer a necessity for me to receive the satisfaction I seek. This victory will serve my purpose ... and will hasten the time when former-Langril Daninf can take out his vengeance on you and the rest of your Humans.”

Daninf’s face appeared to light up with the mentioned prospect of his revenge on Adam. For the hard-faced aliens, Adam had never seen a Kracori look happy, and he couldn’t allow the moment to last. He puckered up and smacked a loud kiss at the gruff old Kracori.

The gesture had the desired effect. Before he could be stopped, Daninf stepped forward and laid a strong backhand across Adam’s face. The blow was powerful, snapping Adam’s head over to the right. Absorbing the blow, Adam looked back at the Kracori, just as a tiny droplet of blood fell on his upper lip. He ran his tongue across his lip. “Yum … nothing better in the galaxy than Human blood.”

Kaylor had lifted the blastshield on the forward viewport once they touched down on Elision so that inquiring eyes would not be able to see into the pilothouse, yet he still had the remote cameras to see outside. Sherri came to huddle next to him.

“Zoom in on the dome in the center,” she commanded, an electric excitement now in her voice.

The color image on the screen grew in size as the vivid details of the ornate building became clear. The central dome of the government complex had a huge spire rising up out of it, with a curious double-circle ornament attached to it about two-thirds of the way up. It didn’t appear to be a communication array, so Sherri reasoned it was some kind of icon representing the Kracori race. The spire itself looked fragile. That was good; she may have to knock it down to get close enough to the main dome.

“He said the viewing room is in the middle of that building. Being in the middle should protect it from what I have in mind.”

“Won’t the upper floors fall down upon the room, killing all inside?” Kaylor asked.

Sherri grinned wickedly. “Hopefully that’s not going to happen. Remember, the upper part of the building is going to be falling upwards, toward the gravity-well.”

Genuine surprise crossed Kaylor’s face. “Of course! I was confused.”

“Join the club. Now I have another idea, something to let Adam and the others know we’re here.”

Jym crowded in next to Sherri and Kaylor. “That is wonderful; what is it you have planned?”

“You can help with this, Jym. See if you can find the power controls for the building. There has to be central line that comes in, and everything here is controlled by microprocessors. Let me know when you’ve found it.”

Jym moved to the co-pilot seat and closed his eyes as he began a probe of the building along one of the comm lines he had linked to previously. Trimen walked up to him. “You do not have to close your eyes to access the gift—the ATD.”

The diminutive creature cocked his head upward slightly and opened one eye. “I realize that, Trimen. It just works best for me—so that I can eliminate all distractions.”

The Formilian caught the not-so-subtle meaning of the statement and backed away, slightly embarrassed. As it was with most times Trimen moved about a room, Sherri had been watching him. She smiled, both at the blushing hunk of male virility, as well as the new cockiness Jym was exhibiting. They were truly a diverse yet competent team. For a moment, Sherri actually believed they could pull this off....

“I have entered the computer controlling the power within the building. What now?”

At the moment, Sherri really wished she knew Morse code; the SEALs being held prisoner within the domed building undoubtedly did. It would have made the task much easier.

“Begin shutting down the power and then rebooting it, but do it following this pattern: off/on, pause, then off/on, off/on, off/on, pause off/on, and then a longer pause and then off/on, off/on. Wait a minute and then repeat.”

“That seems complicated.”

“It’s meant to. It has to look like a pattern.” But only one a Human would recognize. ‘Shave … and a hair … cut … two bits!’ Something her father used to say way too often as she was growing up.

Jym closed his eyes again and began to follow Sherri’s instructions. It was a gamble on her part, but if Adam and the others knew she was in the area—and close enough to use the ATD—then when the fireworks started they could be ready. It just might save their lives.

“Daninf!” Nomar cried out. “Your time will come soon enough. Do not give in to his childish taunts.”

The Langril stepped between Adam and Daninf and pushed the Human down into one of the nearby seats. He looked at the others in Adam’s group, who stood glaring at him, appearing ready to strike. “All of you sit and do nothing foolish. If you wish death to come now, simply say so and I will forgo the presentation. If I will not gain your acknowledgment as to the fate of the Juirean fleet, then I see no reason to continue with this demonstration. I will be disappointed, yet that will quickly pass.” He looked down at Adam. “Which shall it be?”

Adam wiped more blood from his upper lip. “Sit down, guys. Let’s watch the show. Who knows, it may have a surprise ending.”

“There will be no surprises here—”

Just then the lights flickered off, and then came back on a moment later. The big screen had gone blank, and it instantly rebooted. Then the power flickered on/off in rapid succession several more times, before a hesitation and then two more flashes again. When the lights eventually stabilized, Nomar looked around at the others in the room. “This has happened before. What is the matter with the power grid?” he called out. Several underlings reached for comm pads, while two others actually ran from the room to investigate from another location.

The Kracori leader turned to the screen. “Bring up the graphic,” he commanded.

The center section of the large screen was instantly filled with a remarkably detailed 3-D representation of a small cluster of stars and planets, all in brilliant, vibrant colors. The image would rival the best CGI work of Hollywood’s special effect departments, and the vantage point was not static, either. It was constantly moving, sweeping in to show lines of defensive ships forming behind the various planets, while a huge wave of what were obviously Juirean ships approached the Corridor from between a pair of stars. And off to the bottom edge of the screen could be seen a fairly accurate depiction of the Shield, with all its roiling mass of hot stellar gases, all in startling colors.

“This is the entrance to the Volseen Corridor where the next battle will soon be joined,” Nomar said, beginning his narration. “The Juirean fleet is approximately five thousand ships strong and they will be met by a force numbering nearly their equal, comprised of ships from the neighboring worlds in the Nebula—”

The power suddenly shut off again and ran through the same annoying pattern as it had before. When it finally settled down again, Nomar was visibly upset, but this time he simply glared at one of the senior Kracori standing near him. The confused alien looked back at his superior with wide, pleading eyes. He shook his head as his narrow mouth fell open slightly.

Nomar’s own mouth became a pinpoint as he tightened his jaw in frustration. He turned back to the screen. “The Juireans will no doubt prevail in the coming engagement, with the first units joining ... now.”

Indeed, a line of green and red-designated icons came together near the center of the gap between the stars.

“Having underestimated the defensive force which they are facing, the Juireans will suffer many more casualties than they had anticipated, yet they will clear the entrance to the Corridor and enter the Void. It will be at that time they encounter the thirty-five hundred ships of the Kracori defensive fleet. Fighting within our territory, the Kracori will lure the Juireans into designated killing zones where mines and other passive deterrents will reduce their numbers even more. With no replacements available, the Juireans will either elect to withdraw—or more desired—will fight to the last ship. Either way, the Juireans will lose all their strategic strength, here and throughout the Expansion. And the Kracori, thanks to the fodder provided by our useful allies in the Nebula, will emerge nearly fully intact … and ready to confront the Human fleet a few months later.”

He stopped and turned back to Adam. “Yes, we have analyzed the strategy that would be used by your fleet. We have to assume they are aware of the Juireans, and as such, will let the two of us fight amongst ourselves before facing the weakened victor. Yet we will not be weakened—”

For the third time, the power cycled through its odd fluctuations, causing the Langril this time to completely lose control. He grabbed the nearest chair that was not bolted to the floor and heaved it across the room.

All Adam needed was this third time to have complete confidence in his assumption. He turned his head slightly both ways so he could see the faces of the others. With steady gazes and ever-so-slight nods, Adam knew they had recognized the pattern as well. Only a few days earlier, the team had initiated a sporadic disruption of the Kracori power grid themselves. Now it was happening again, and with a regular pattern: dot … dot/dot/dot … dot … dot/dot. He recognized it, as one of the most-common door-knocking sequences on Earth, whose origins he knew were much older than the dorm rooms where it was most practiced.

Some of the other members of his team had survived, and they were here, on Elision, and very, very close. Something was about to happen, and they were letting Adam and the rest of them to get ready.

“Kaylor, where are all the military and security people around the ship?”

“There is still the small ship circling above, using chemical power.” He rotated the exterior cameras around until he had scanned the entire perimeter of the ship. “The tech crew is still outside the rear airlock, and there is a contingent of impatient-looking Kracori military—about thirty of them—almost directly in front of us.”

Sherri reached out with her own ATD and tried to detect any flash weapons larger than a Xan-Fi in the area. There was a cannon of some kind mounted to the left of the domed complex, just within her range, probably a defensive battery for the Citadel.

“Trimen, can you get control of the cannon and disable it?”

Trimen’s expression went blank as he, too, reached out with his telepathy device. “I have acquired control of the processor. It is done.”

“Good. I’m not that worried about the MK’s and Xan-Fi’s, but the cannon could have stung some.”

“What of the craft above us?” Kaylor asked.

Again Sherri flashed her devilish smile. “For lift-off, where will you be aiming the gravity-well?”

Kaylor’s eyes grew wide. “Upward! Why is it that I cannot think like you?” There was more frustration in Kaylor’s words than compliment.

“It’s because you aren’t as devious as we Humans. I think it’s one of the traits that sets us apart from all the rest.”

“I will not argue with you on that point,” Kaylor said as he rapidly flicked switches on his pilot’s console. “I have to assume we are nearly ready.”

Sherri took a deep breath and looked around the pilothouse. Trimen had taken a seat at the nav console and strapped in. Jym and Kaylor were in the co-pilot and pilot seats respectively, also strapped in. Ruszel was in a flip-down seat attached to the rear bulkhead, just then strapping in. Sherri slipped into the observation seat behind the pilot and pulled the straps around her chest.

All eyes were now on her. “How’s the buildup coming, Kaylor?”

Kaylor looked back at his station. “Gaining compression; another thirty seconds and we reach lift-off mass.”

“Give it sixty seconds; I want us to really make an impact when the well forms.”

“I will monitor it. That will be close to critical mass, however.”

“I know. Do it ... just don’t let us explode.”

Kaylor turned back to his screen. The tension in the pilothouse increased exponentially over the next few seconds. There was a dull humming coming from the rear of the ship, growing rapidly in intensity.

“Five seconds ... four ... three....”

Kaylor gripped the controls tighter—and suddenly the air in the pilothouse was ripped from their lungs as a sharp, electric crackling echoed against the metal walls….

It began with a sudden distant boom that refused to fade away after the initial shock. Nomar and the other Kracori looked around the room, suddenly aware of the bass rumbling growing within the building.

“Find out what is happening!” Nomar yelled to no one in particular. Adam had no idea if earthquakes were common in this part of Elision, but it did appear as though the Kracori were surprised by the tremors. Already they were scrambling about the room.

Daninf turned to the cadre of guards positioned behind Adam and his men. “Watch them carefully,” he commanded. “They are not to move from this spot. If they do ... kill them.”

With no countermanding orders coming from Nomar, Adam knew the guards would follow through—if they could. For at that very moment, the distant rumbling sound wasn’t so distant anymore. Instead, the entire building now shook violently, with ceiling tiles raining down on everyone in the room. Flooring buckled, and the massive video screen suddenly exploded outward.

Everyone along the front rows of the auditorium—the Humans included—all dove for cover as sharp shards of glass cut into their flesh. Yet the glass cuts soon became the least of their worries, as the very ceiling in the room began to crack and break apart. Yet instead of falling dangerously to the floor below, the shattered ceiling appeared to lift away, moving upwards slightly before some of the larger chunks began to fall off to the side, crashing down on the opposite side of the room, killing several huddling Kracori.

Through the ever-increasing dust and debris filling the room, Adam could see that Nomar and Daninf had been spirited away by not only the entourage around them, but also by the Kracori who had been guarding them.

Adam did his best to protect himself from the falling debris by squeezing under several of the broken chairs they had once been sitting in. Whatever the others were doing outside, they were definitely having an impact.

The Pegasus surged upward off the concrete landing pad, lifting with it a perfectly round section of ground ten feet deep from the surface of Elision. Dozens of Kracori who were within the hundred-foot diameter of the gravity-well simply ceased to exist, their bodies ripped to shreds as they were pulled into the series of microscopic singularities being formed a few hundred yards above the Pegasus.

The monitor aircraft in the skies above the spaceship was right near where the back hole formed and its entire mass was pulled into the pinpoint in space that was the singularity. It didn’t explode before entering the event horizon; just one moment it was there, and the next it was gone.

The internal gravity-wells activated simultaneously with the drive singularities, yet the compensators took a split second to adjust to the added strength of the well. All the people in the pilothouse were jerked upward, their safety harnesses digging painfully into soft, pliable flesh. Fortunately, this only lasted a moment otherwise their fragile bodies would have been torn to pieces, to become nothing more than thin pools of bloody flesh painting the ceiling of the pilothouse.

“Let’s go, Kaylor!” Sherri yelled once air returned to her lungs.

Kaylor didn’t say a word. Instead the Pegasus began to approach the Citadel complex, gaining altitude as it went. The cluster of buildings was only a mile from the landing zone, so it was only seconds before the ship was hovering above the target building. Already there were blinding clouds of dust, dirt and debris spinning around the ship, creating a tornado of tremendous proportions out to half a mile from the Pegasus.

And then pieces of the dome began to fragment and splinter apart. Through the remote cameras on the exterior of the ship, Sherri could see large chunks of concrete and steel fly off the dome, in a weird reversal of traditional gravity. The ship was buffeted by violent collisions, as parts of the building impacted the underbelly of the ship. Watching the swirling scene below, through the vantage point of several camera angles, Sherri suddenly became very nauseous, and within seconds couldn’t keep from spewing a sickening mass of brown and white matter in Kaylor’s direction.

The Belsonian felt the wet, sickly-smelling gunk on his back and cranked his head around to cast Sherri one of the angriest looks she had ever seen from an alien.

“Sorry!”

Kaylor merely grunted before turning back to his duties.

The entire top of the dome was now gone, as were the roofs of several of the nearby buildings. “Set us down in the gap!” Sherri yelled through the roar of all that was going on in and around the ship.

Kaylor banked the Pegasus over to port, decreased the well-intensity, and let the hundred-foot long craft drop onto the gaping hole that had once been the top of the dome covering the main governmental building. There was a deafening squealing sound, accompanied by crashing and a series of heavy thumps against the hull. The Pegasus settled down at a twenty-degree angle to starboard, semi-resting on the abutments remaining in the building, with the remainder of the ship’s bulk supported by the greatly diminished gravity-well above.

“I think they’re trying to kill us instead of rescue us!” Geoffrey Rutledge cried out from next to him. Adam caught Riyad’s eye and winked. They knew what was happening. They’d done the same thing less than a year before.

“I hope they don’t expect us to get sucked up with all this. I don’t think I’m up for it, no pun intended!” Riyad called out.

“I’m sure this is just their idea of a diversion.”

“No shit?” Admiral Tobias yelled. “Your call, Captain, what do we do now?”

“Like in any earthquake, find a strong doorway and get in it. Let’s go!”

The Kracori guards were nowhere to be found. What aliens who did remain were either dead or injured from the falling debris. Adam sprinted up the long flight of stairs between shattered rows of chairs, followed closely by Rutledge and Tobias, who were now literally carrying Riyad as they went. At the top of the stairs, they all crowded into the wide portal that was the entrance to the auditorium.

“Shouldn’t we try to move deeper into the building instead of higher” Tobias coughed through the suffocating dust.

“I can’t imagine this going on much longer. The damage has already been done.”

No sooner had he spoken the words, when the rumbling dropped in intensity by clearly ninety-percent. What reverberations remained seemed to come from throughout the entire structure, as ceilings, walls and floors continued to crumble and settle in the aftermath.

Adam looked up to the sky above, now peeking through gaping holes in the ceiling, just as a large dark shadow passed overhead, blocking out the light from outside. And then the entire building shuddered again, but this time accompanied by a loud thud that threatened to bring down the entire structure. Something huge had just hit the building, and from the direction of the most-prominent creaks and crumbling, whatever it was appeared to be sitting almost directly on top of them.

Sherri unbuckled and jumped from her seat, grabbing various handholds to keep from sliding down the steep angle of the deck. She fought her way to the rear of the ship—to the airlock—and slapped the controls to open the hatch. She braced herself against a bulkhead and withdrew her weapon.

Her ATD provided her with a preview of what threats existed outside the ship, and while flash weapons were prevalent, none were moving in her direction. Understandably, there was mass confusion inside the building.

The warm air from outside swept into the airlock, filled with thick, choking dust. The swirling clouds outside made it difficult for her to see more than a few feet beyond the entry hatch, and she sheltered her eyes from the burning and stinging effects of the dust now entering the ship. She hesitated going outside. Just give it a few seconds, she thought. Just a few more seconds….

In the relative reprieve from the more violent quaking, Adam took Riyad by the arm and began to pull him through the shattered remains of the building, climbing onto huge chunks of fallen concrete and steel supports. Like climbing blocks of a giant pyramid, they moved ever higher to what was now the new roof of the dome. Tobias and Rutledge helped by pushing on Riyad’s butt, and the team moved from foothold to foothold, reaching for a point where daylight still penetrated the dust and gloom....

At first she wasn’t sure, but then she could definitely make out a set of dark objects within the shattered skeleton of the building. They were moving haphazardly, yet definitely towards the ship. Her ATD didn’t detect any energy signatures coming from the figures, but still she lifted her weapon and aimed it at the outer doorway of the airlock.

Through the haze and dust outside, the dark figures grew larger and more defined, until suddenly a familiar face greeted her with a smile.

“Is this elevator taken?”

Sherri let out a laugh-cry and embraced the bloodied and dust-covered body of Adam Cain, feeling his warmth and heartbeat through her thin tunic. The reunion only lasted a second, however, as they were both shoved further into the airlock by the other men entering the small room. She looked around at the dust-caked faces, taking a quick inventory. Andy ... the Chief ... Riyad!

She broke away from Adam and rushed into the arms of Riyad Tarazi. He grimaced as she squeezed tight. She pulled away so she could get a good look at him. “Are you all right?”

“That is a matter of perspective, my lovely Sherri Valentine,” Riyad answered, his brilliant white smile unfazed by the dirt and grime on his face and accentuated by the darkness of this thick, black beard.

Sherri looked around again; there was something wrong. Her eyes locked on Adam. Adam’s mouth tightened. “That fucker McCarthy killed John.”

Tears began to flow freely down Sherri’s now equally dusty and grimy checks, creating dark trails that gave her face the look of a native warrior painted for battle. She was relieved when Adam took her by the arm and led her out of the airlock and forward to the pilothouse. She vaguely heard him bark out an order to Kaylor to get the ship back in the air and out into space as fast as the tub could fly, and soon she was placed back in the observation chair with the safety harness secured around her.

Never had she felt so exhausted, so worn down. She let her head fall to one side and she closed her eyes. Maybe just a little rest. Yes, I just need a little rest….

Adam lifted Sherri’s limp head and pulled open an eyelid. He smiled as he gently let her chin fall to her chest.

“Is she okay?” Riyad asked, shuffling unsteadily along the radical slope of the ship’s deck.

“Yeah, she just fainted. Let the old girl rest.”

“Don’t let her hear you call her old. You may live to regret it.”

There was a sudden righting of the ship’s plane and Adam could see through the monitors lit up before him that the Pegasus was now blazing through the atmosphere of Elision, heading for the heavens. The gravity-well just off the forward section of the ship was drawing in the atmosphere from around them, creating a bubble of extremely low air pressure, allowing the Pegasus to bolt out of the atmosphere at a rate of speed that would melt other spaceships.

The transit from surface to space lasted only eight seconds before the Pegasus entered the vacuum of space and where Kaylor could initiate the deepest gravity-well ever recorded this close to the planet Elision. All their pursuers—and there were dozens—were left in the dust, grappling to understand what had just happened.

Fifteen minutes from the surface, the Pegasus was clear of all pursuit and blasting through space, alone and safe. At least for the time being….

Chapter 27

Although he remained in his luxurious stateroom aboard the UN-567, Wydor bin Sulic could still monitor the activity taking place on the bridge of his flagship. He also had access to all the monitors and data available to his officers. What he was seeing didn’t make any sense.

The defenders at the head of the Volseen Corridor were still growing in number. The computers automatically tallied the ships as they moved within monitoring range, and they now indicated over four thousand spacecraft, with more being added by the minute. The computers were also able to discern the gravity signatures of the ship’s drives, and it was this information that gave Wydor the most concern. None of the signatures matched those known to belong to Kracori warships.

All the defenders were ships from other Nebula worlds, and although they appeared to be smaller and ill-equipped to counter the Juirean invasion of the Dysion Void, it also meant that the Kracori forces would be fully-intact and waiting for them on the other side of the Corridor.

Even though Wydor admired the Kracori strategy of sending expendable units up first while preserving their own forces, he wondered what attrition rate he would see within his own fleet just trying to pass through the haze of ragtag defenders spread out before him? This circumstance was not something the Council or the military planners had foreseen. The Kracori had kept hidden from the rest of the Nebula. It should only have been them that his fleet engaged, and not this incredible number of disposable fodder, evidently designed to inflict as much damage on the Juireans in yet a losing cause. The Juireans may win this battle, yet at the price of losing the war.

Wydor left his stateroom and went to the bridge. Even though he knew Command-Overlord Enulic would consider it a distraction, the Juirean Elder had to confirm that his fleet commander also saw the trap being set for them.

The stern and concerned look on Enulic’s face spoke volumes. Units from both fleets had barely engaged. Normally it would be too early to carry such an expression on the face of the commander.

“Have you developed a counter strategy?” Wydor asked, giving his Fleet Commander the benefit of the doubt that he would understand the question.

“They intend for us to remain here and eliminate this fleet, no matter the cost. I propose we do not.”

“Explain.”

There was a grouping of other high-level Overlords gathered around the Command-Overlord. They had obviously been in discussion with Enulic when the Elder arrived on the bridge. “We are working on a strategy at this time.”

Enulic led his entourage to a flat tactical table which mirrored the larger screen at the head of the bridge. The graphic clearly showed the space between a series of three stars that constituted the entrance to the Volseen Corridor. Even though ‘corridor’ was not the appropriate word for the gap in the relatively thin Shield wall surrounding the Void, it did demonstrate how over time these stars had cleared the stellar ejecta to open a pathway into the interior.

And it was within these closely aligned star systems where the bulk of the defenders were stationed. Sending units into these systems to chase down and destroy the ships of the Nebula, with the parity in numbers both sides enjoyed, would only cause further delay and more casualties. On the other hand, attempting to run the gauntlet down the center of the Corridor would allow the defenders to strip off valuable assets from the edges of the fleet, until only a sliver of the full force remained by the time they encountered the Kracori.

“We must find a way to get the bulk of our fleet inside the Void without suffering undue attrition,” Lord Enulic said, stating the problem before them. “Suggestions?”

Another of the Overlords reached out a long, boney finger and traced a line on the screen along the left side of the Corridor. The screen traced his movements with a white line. “If we skirted along only one side of the Corridor with the bulk of our forces, then the defenders on the other side would have to leave their shelters to engage us. By the time they arrive on station, we would already be through.”

“And what of the defenders closest to our path” asked another of the senior Overlords. There was no condescension in his voice, only curiosity.

“We will take casualties; that is guaranteed. Yet if we could supply a buffer between us and the defenders, then we could preserve our best and strongest units for the Kracori.”

“The arrows?” Wydor asked.

The young Overlord with the ideas thought for a moment, feeling no intimidation keeping the leader of the Juirean race waiting for a reply. “We have several hundred of these units. They are quick and agile, and could inflict disproportionate damage on the defenders, distracting them from their main targets, namely the Class 4’s and higher. However, we would lose them all in the maneuver, including their crews.”

All eyes turned to Enulic. “That is acceptable. These units were designed for possible suicide missions. The loss of the entire squadron would still be less than the destruction of one Class 4.”

The Command-Overlord huddled over the tactical screen again. This time it was his finger that drew the lines. “We feign a separation of our forces to each side of the Corridor, causing the defenders to pull back further into their protective systems. Our strongest units will be along this line; the quicker ships to the opposite. In the meantime, we deploy the arrows along this line, as Overlord Krymic has suggested. At the appropriate time, the quicker contingent pulls away and races through the Corridor, while the arrows engage the defenders along this line. Our stronger units will do their best not to engage the enemy, rather letting the arrows serve as Lord Krymic’s buffer. Once through, our units will reassemble and proceed to Elision at flank speed.”

“And what of the Nebula defenders? Will they not follow?” another of the officers asked.

Lord Krymic spoke up again. “Undoubtedly, yet the superior speed of our fleet will keep them at bay. And once we engage the Kracori around their homeworld, the ally defenders from the Nebula may not wish to confront us while their protectors are being destroyed in mass. It is only the myth of Kracori battle-worthiness that is giving their allies the will to fight. Once that myth has been shattered, the alliance will dissolve as quickly as it formed.”

“You sound rather sure of your analysis, Lord Krymic,” Wydor said.

“Yes, My Lord,” Krymic said evenly. “Either we trust in this outcome ... or we retreat from the Nebula. If we are to resume our position in the galaxy, the Kracori must be destroyed, at whatever cost as is necessary. Retreat will only serve to further damage our own myth.”

Wydor raised an eyebrow at the blunt nature of the junior Overlord’s statement. However, blunt as it was, the statement was true. The Juirean fleet could not withdraw. That action would be worse than suffering total defeat at the hands of a numerically superior force. The Juireans had additional assets, just none on station. The destruction of the Blood Fleet would be tragic, yet not devastating. Retreat would be, even though considerable assets would be spared for future battles. It was the myth and the reputation of the Juirean war machine that required a resurrection. Fighting to the death, while inflicting incalculable damage on the enemy, would preserve the Juirean myth.

The young Overlord could see that, and from the determined looks on the other officers at the tac table, Wydor could tell they believed as well.

“Very good, Lord Krymic. Of course it is Command-Overlord Enulic’s ultimate decision....”

“I concur, My Lord,” Enulic said quickly. “We must fight to win, and lacking that, we must leave the Kracori much weaker and damaged in their own right.”

“And what of the Humans?” one of the others asked.

Wydor looked away, toward the vast viewport at the forward section of the bridge. Only stars appeared through the port, with no other Juirean spacecraft visible at this distance. It appeared as though the UN-567 was alone in space, rather than at the head of a massive fleet of deadly warcraft. “The final demise of the Human race may have to wait for another time,” Wydor finally said without looking from the viewport. “In the meantime, we will allow them to solve the Kracori problem for us. The galaxy is large, and there will be time for us to regain our leadership of the Expansion. We know where the Humans live. They will be there when we are ready.”

Chapter 28

Nomar Polimic had suffered a broken arm in the destruction of his capital building, the worst injury experienced by any of his senior staff in the viewing room. He felt diminished by the injury; even Daninf had escaped unscathed.

When the rumbling began, Nomar had been quickly moved to a lower vault in the building, one designed specifically to protect the Langril against an attack on the Citadel. Emerging an hour later after learning the true nature of the attack, Nomar was so angry he was sick. He vomited twice in the shattered hallways, each time only serving to increase his anger and his anxiety. Although underlings came to assist him, he felt no embarrassment at his uncontrollable illness. He did not have time to be embarrassed.

The military command headquarters, located a few blocks from the Citadel, had escaped the attack undamaged, and Nomar set up his temporary office within that building. Once settled in, with a blue cast wrapping his injured left arm, it didn’t take long for the series of events over the past few hours to be deciphered.

Somehow, the Humans had gained access to the surface of Elision, and not only that, but right outside the Citadel. And then in a reckless and brazen maneuver, the Humans had used the gravity drive of their spacecraft to destroy most of the central building. Experts poured over the data from various sensors around the complex and found that the gravity drive of the unknown craft was of an odd and unique quality, one which allowed the attackers to control the effects of the gravity-well with more precision than thought possible.

And then another hour later, Nomar received disturbing news that the Human ship had been passed through to the surface by one of his own Vice-Commanders, ostensibly to be offered to him as a gift. The details of the exchange escaped logic, and when the Vice-Commander could not be located in the aftermath, Nomar assumed he had been killed in the attack. The possibility that a Kracori officer could have been involved in a treasonous act did not even cross his mind.

As for the Human prisoners, they were nowhere to be found, not even their shattered bodies in the wreckage. Video surveillance showed that the alien spacecraft had landed on the remains of the capital building; Adam Cain and the others must have made their escape at that time.

And escape they did. Further data showed how the alien spaceship had bolted through the atmosphere of Elision at a rate far higher than thought possible, and then once clear, had warped space to such a degree that the spacecraft had essentially vanished from the monitors. No known spacecraft was capable of such speeds, and especially not within a stellar system. And yet no residual gravitational effects were tracked from the passage of the craft.

Even through his anger, as well as the pain in his arm, the existence of such a craft worried Nomar to the core. This signaled a major breakthrough in propulsion technology, and worst of all, it was present in a Human-controlled spaceship.

Unfortunately, Langril Nomar only had a few moments to contemplate the consequences of a Human fleet comprised of superships within the overall scheme of events taking place within the Nebula. His military commanders had suddenly become very agitated and were now demanding his attention.

The monitoring equipment within his capital building was now in shambles, and Nomar had not had an update on the battle being waged at the head of the Volseen Corridor for nearly three hours. Now the commanders were anxious to fill him in, and they looked nervous as they began.

Command-Tactician Galix Junin was the supreme military commander on the planet Elision. In the hierarchy of the Kracori power structure, he was only four steps below the Langril, with the other two positions held solely within the Ludif Council. Nomar joined Galix, as well as about a dozen other ranking officers, in the Combat Planning Center.

“Update, Tactician,” Nomar commanded. “I have to assume you have carried on even through the turmoil that has transpired recently.”

“Of course, my Ludif. I will show you where we stand at this moment.” Galix stepped up to the large screen in the CPC displaying the battle at the entrance to the Volseen Corridor in a dynamic and stark reality.

At first, all Nomar could see was mish-mash of clustered targets, both allied and Juirean. “Is the battlefield in such disarray intentionally? I fail to see a pattern.”

“The battle has not gone exactly according to plan, my Ludif,” Galix admitted.

Nomar’s mouth fell open. In light all that had happened recently, this was not news he could handle graciously. “Do not delay, Galix, complete your report!” he barked at his senior military officer.

There was only a moment’s delay as Galix composed himself after the Langril’s outburst; the Command-Tactician was not some common underling of the Langril’s, and therefore was not accustomed to such a disrespectful tone. “It appeared at first that the Juireans would pursue the allies into their systems as planned, yet that has not transpired. Rather, they sent out a screen of small, very fast vessels along the Volseen side of the Corridor and then passed large numbers of their capital ships through before they could be stopped.”

“The Juireans have entered the Void?” Nomar could not remain seated. He jumped up and neared the large monitor. “How many?”

“Most, my Ludif,” Galix answered. “With many traveling along one side of the Corridor, the opposite side defenders could not get there in time to assist those within the Volsee system. And the small Juirean units forming the screen have proved to be more suicidal than true warcraft. The allied units have suffered extraordinary losses to these small ships.”

“Have we not stopped any of their capital ships?”

“Some, yet most of the larger Juirean ships are electing not to engage the allies, but rather enter the Void on full power.”

“Where are the Juireans now?”

Galix highlighted a section of the screen at the lower right with a control stick. “They are regrouping near Naylic.”

“And what of the Nebula forces? They are pursuing are they not?”

“Yes, my Ludif, yet the Juirean ships are faster. If they choose not to engage the defenders, then the Juireans can advance on Elision with clear space before them.”

“Clear except for Kracori forces, Tactician!” Nomar exclaimed. “When will you move to engage?”

“My staff is working on the strategy at this time, my Ludif. The original plan of leading the surviving Juirean units to our killing zones is no longer viable. The Juireans will be too strong to be guided. And it also appears that they have a singular goal of reaching Elision in the shortest time possible, even with massive forces in pursuit.”

“To what end, Galix?” Nomar asked as he studied the screen with more understanding than before. “With the combined forces of the Kracori and our allies, the Juireans will be bottled in, with no path for retreat.”

“That is correct,” Galix stated flatly.

A moment later the implication of the Juirean strategy became clear to Nomar. “They intend to fight to the last ship?”

“They have left themselves with no other option,” the Tactician added.

“Have you analyzed scenarios for this strategy?”

“Not completely, my Ludif. Yet it does not take much analysis to conclude that both sides will suffer catastrophic losses. Command had not planned for the Juireans to sacrifice their entire fleet to defeat us. That is not how they have fought in the past.”

“Galix, I need alternatives, and quickly. There must be a way to defeat the Juireans.”

“Langril Nomar, we will defeat the Juirean fleet; that is inevitable. We will emerge as the victors in this new series of battles.” Galix paused and then looked directly into the eyes of the supreme Kracori. “However, we will be only a shadow of what we once were before the engagement. The toll will be tragic, and we will survive with a fleet about as large that of the Volsee or the Tel’orans.”

Nomar felt a cold shiver pass through his body. A new thought had just invaded his consciousness. He had to speak the words, even though he knew the answer even before asking the question. “What of the Humans? They are only a few months away. Can we rebuild our fleet in time?” He didn’t feel this was the time to tell the Tactician about the supership the Human Adam Cain was now in control of. There were far more pressing issues facing them all in the present.

“We will not be able to mount an effective defense against them. It had already been determined that the Humans possess a superior fleet to the Juireans. And now after this ... we will have nothing with which to counter them. I am sorry, my Ludif, but the Kracori race will not survive the coming Human invasion.”

Nomar Polimic, Langril of the Kracori race, fell back into his seat. He no longer felt the throbbing pain in his broken arm. In fact, he felt nothing. He was numb—exhausted, defeated and numb.

He had just been told his race would be exterminated, to be relegated to the back pages of galactic history, if even that. He tried to raise his anger level when he thought of the root cause of their demise, but he had not the energy left for such an emotion. It was the Klin. They had approached the Kracori hundreds of years before, infecting them with their promises of galactic domination—the ultimate expression of Kracori Legend. Without the interference of the Klin, the Kracori would have lived out their natural existence safely hidden within the Dysion Void, unconcerned with the vagaries of galactic politics and ambitions. But now they would suffer the ultimate loss of Legend: the complete destruction of their race. And they could do nothing except watch it happen.

And where were the Klin now at the Kracori’s hour of need? Where?

Chapter 29

The dozen unmanned probes launched from the Klin Colony fanned out toward the source of the Shield disturbance, their miniature gravity drives designed to barely register on magnetometers and other such scanning devices.

Senior sensor tech Simiss had used his authority to dispatch the drones, up to the maximum he was allowed without approval from his superiors. He was taking a chance sending out even this small number, since the Void was now filling rapidly with dangerous forces, and any detection of the Colony could prove catastrophic. The fact that he sent them in the opposite direction from where most of the activity was taking place offered him some comfort. After all, there was nothing in this section of the Void, no major stars, no habitable planets. This area truly was a void, and it was the reason the Klin had selected this part of space to hide their Colony, in notorious defiance of the forces seeking to destroy them, and right in the backyard of the traitorous Kracori.

Pleabaen Wesselian Velsum had been experiencing an incredible amount of anxiety recently. As the leader of the Klin Colony, he blamed himself for the circumstances that now found him and his fellow Klin still cloistered deep within the Dysion Void, essentially prisoners and unable to escape.

With all the vast resources at their disposal with regards to intelligence gathering, Velsum had allowed the Klin to be caught flat-footed with the arrival of the Juirean fleet. Even though they had learned of the fleet’s intentions long before it arrived at the Silvean Nebula, by that time the Kracori and their newfound allies had effectively closed off the Volseen Corridor before the Klin could make their escape.

The plans for the departure had been in the works for many years, only accelerated now by two recent developments. The first was the Kracori failure to fully eradicate the Human race on Earth. Even though the Humans had suffered another unimaginable loss of life during the attack, they still emerged as a powerful force, and now reenergized by the sly and duplicitous act. The Humans were coming for the Kracori, and the Klin did not want to be anywhere in the area when they arrived.

The second was the chance discovery of the Colony by a rogue Guild trader a few months back. He had come innocently enough, seeking out new markets for his wares. Yet even though the Klin did not reveal their true identity to the trader—and the record of the encounter had been erased from the databank of the trader’s ship—the Tel’oran could still spread news of the discovery by word-of-mouth, if he chose to do so.

At the time, the Klin hadn’t worried too much about the encounter, fully intending to be out of the Void and well on the way to their new hiding place by the time any news of this mysterious contact became public. Yet the premature arrival of the Juireans did not allow that to happen.

Now the Klin would do their best to remain hidden in this faraway region of the Void, while the three main antagonists in the galaxy destroyed each other in a spectacular show of bravado and stupidity.

Depending on how thorough the destruction of the Kracori, Juireans and the Humans, it was the Klin who would be the last surviving superpower in the galaxy. It had taken four thousand years to reach this point in history, and although much of what was transpiring at this time was not of Klin design, Velsum was ready to take advantage of circumstances as they were offered.

All he had to do now was to keep the Colony from being detected, at least for another month or so. After that, the Klin would proudly announce their presence to the galaxy.

And it was this nearing of the ultimate timetable for the Klin’s final salvation that was causing his excess anxiety. There was just too much at stake not to worry.

“Where to, boss?” Andy Tobias asked as the Kracori pursuers continued to fade far away.

Adam was standing behind Kaylor in the pilot seat, wondering the same thing. “Trying to get through the Corridor is out of the question, at least until the Juireans and Kracori get done screwing with each other.” He turned to Ruszel Crin, the Tel’oran pilot who had guided Riyad into the Void a few months before. “There are other ways in and out of the Void, aren’t there?”

Ruszel considered him for a moment, scanning up and down his bloodied and grim-covered body. “I have to assume you are the Adam Cain the others speak of?”

“Yep, now what have you got for me?”

“There are many ways for an individual ship to make it through the Shield. The problem has always come from larger and multiple craft passing through. Too much disruption of the material making up the Shield for a safe passage and immediately upon the transit, the passage closes up again.”

“But you got Riyad and Kaylor through.”

“Yes, I did, and I can do it for you as well. There is a relatively thin region of the Shield where I can attempt transit. It is not where I brought Kaylor through; that region is now much too close to the action within the Void. It is the location where I brought in Riyad.”

“Where’s that?”

“I will send the coordinates to Kaylor. He can take us to the Shield, however I will have to pilot the ship through.”

“Great.” Adam turned to Kaylor. “You know where we’re going?”

Kaylor considered the coordinates just sent to his computer. He projected them on a graphic of the Dysion Void. “Yes, Adam, a distant, unpopulated region far away from the fighting.”

“I like the sound of that. It will be good to relax a little without the whole universe trying to kill us. Take us there, Kaylor. And now, I really have to take a shower.”

“Yes, you truly must,” Kaylor agreed, his nostrils twitching.

That’s a first, Adam thought. An alien complaining about the smell!

Chapter 30

Langril Nomar Polimic had several residences where he could have moved to after his accommodations within the Citadel had been destroyed. Instead, he chose to remain in the military headquarters complex, in one of the large, luxurious apartments reserved for the highest ranking Kracori officers. With so much to think about, he did not want to be lulled into a false sense of security by surrounding himself with all the decadent trappings of his office.

He paced the room, trying his best to find a solution to the gravest crisis to ever face his race. He agreed that by looking only at the short term the Kracori would come out ahead in the looming battle with the Juireans, even if at a tremendous cost in personnel and material. And that would have been an acceptable tradeoff ... if it were not for the Humans.

And where are the Klin? They had always been acutely aware of all that was transpiring within the galaxy, yet Nomar had not heard a word from them in over three months. He firmed his jaw and walked to the huge desk that was located in the office alcove of the executive suite. He picked up a comm pad and began pressing the secret code that only a Langril of the Kracori would know.

The Klin and Kracori had still not fully reconciled over their last disagreement, and still they had teamed to help eradicate the Human threat from both their lives. However, since the failed attempt on the Earth, there had been no communication between the two leaders. Yet Nomar did have a way of contacting the Klin Pleabaen Wesselian Velsum.

When the Continuous-Wormhole link was established, Nomar switched the communication to a video monitor on the desk. He sat in a large chair and leaned forward toward the screen.

His counterpart within the Klin race appeared. Velsum was pale-skinned, and with a strange luster to his flesh that often caused his race to be called silver in color. They accentuated this effect by almost always wearing garments white in color, or with a translucent sheen.

“Langril Nomar, I have been expecting your link.”

“Then why have you not initiated one of your own? You must know what is transpiring within the Void. Where are you?” Nomar was in no mood for the dance most politicians engage in ad nauseam.

“We are far away, and yes, we are aware of the Juireans within your midst.”

“Can you help?”

“I am confused, Nomar,” said the Klin, frowning. “I have been informed that your forces will defeat the Juireans.”

“Yet then the Humans will be upon us, and we will not be able to mount a defense. Surely you must be thinking beyond just this current conflict?”

Velsum hesitated before answering; Nomar could detect a trace of impatience in the Klin’s gestures. “The Human situation is a difficult one.”

“I am fully aware of that, Pleabaen. My question is can the Klin render any assistance?”

The Klin nodded slightly. Nomar knew already that the meaning of this movement was the opposite as one might expect. Velsum had just indicated a negative.

“The Klin are not a race who engage in direct combat. We have always been the ones to provide technical and strategical support.”

“Just as you did for our attack on Earth? That support proved to be lacking.”

“We had not counted on the effectiveness of the defense orchestrated by Adam Cain.”

Nomar’s insides tightened at the mention of the Human’s name. He debated whether to inform the Klin leader that he had had Adam Cain in his custody, and out of a warped sense of bravado, had not killed him when he had the chance.”

As if reading the Langril’s mind, Velsum spoke: “You should have killed him when the opportunity first presented itself.”

“Ah! So you do have spies on Elision!”

“Of course we do, as we do on nearly every important world with the Nebula and the Expansion.”

“And on Earth; do you know when the Human fleet is expected?”

Velsum hesitated slightly once more. “To be honest, we have not been able to discern. After your failed attack on the planet, our sources have either lost their valuable contacts, or else the Humans are keeping their plans within a very narrow universe.”

“So you will not provide material support for a defense against the Humans and you cannot provide an insight into when they will arrive? Is that correct?”

“I am afraid we have no other choice. The Klin are not violent beings—”

“And yet you manipulate others into doing the fighting for you!”

“The Kracori have been willing participants since the beginning.”

“It was not to end like this! We were to rule the galaxy!”

Velsum looked away from the screen for a few moments, distracted by something. When his attention returned he gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Plans are always in flux, Nomar. I regret if you are not content with how they have transpired for you and the Kracori.”

“Content? My race is about to be exterminated! How can I be content with that?”

“That is not the concern of the Klin any longer, Nomar. Events have progressed too far for us to influence them at this point. I would suggest you surrender to the inevitability of your situation and begin to make the appropriate arrangements.”

Nomar was incensed. The Klin leader was simply dismissing the Kracori’s fate as if they were a piece on a gaming board.

The Klin continued: “This will be our last communication. I will be dissolving this link once we are done and scrambling the source. I would express my confidence in a positive resolution to your current dilemma, if I truly had such confidence. But alas, I do not. Farewell, Nomar Polimic. That is all.”

True to his word, the comm screen suddenly displayed only static. The abrupt and disrespectful end to the Kracori’s eight-hundred-year relationship with the Klin left Nomar stunned and gasping for breath. He began to sweat, and the pounding of his heart became so pronounced that he feared it could not sustain this pace much longer. Heart failure was a leading cause of death among Kracori.

Nomar closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. He would give it a moment more before calling his physicians.

In the blackness of his vision, he heard the words of the Klin echo in his mind: Surrender to the inevitability of the situation. The very thought was anathema to the Kracori—surrender was not a concept his race understood well. It was so....

His eyes suddenly shot open and he rose up straighter in the chair. Even though his heart still continued to beat at a far greater rate than was healthy, now it beat from excitement.

An idea—not an entire strategy—had just burst forth in his mind. Even though gaps still existed in its understanding, he sought to pull the concept—the vision—more into focus.

Yes, it was radical, yet what other choice did he have?

Nomar reached for the comm pad again, but this time he summoned Daninf and Command-Tactician Galix to his quarters. He would need their input and feedback to further define the strategy, even though he was already committed.

The next link he made was to arrange a starship to be at his disposal; the fastest ship the Kracori had in their arsenal. After all, the Juireans would be arriving at the Kracori star system within twenty hours. He had no time to waste.

Chapter 31

The tiny probe reached the source of the disturbance in the Shield and instantly recorded the lack of density in the structure. There was a wide gap, nearly devoid of all the stellar ejecta that made up the Dysion Shield. The craft began to move slowly into the opening....

Seven minutes later the craft shot back out into the Void, and immediately sent a burst message toward the Colony. Seconds later, the probe exploded. With no oxygen present in either the probe or that of the ballistic missile that struck it, the parts of both simply flew apart with no accompanying flash.

“Goddammit! Goddammit all to Hell!” Admiral Nash shoved the small stack of papers off his desk in an angry display and glared at Christian Bergmann. “No doubt about the signal?”

“No sir,” Bergmann answered, just as angry as Nash. “The burst was recorded heading straight for the anomalies.”

“They’re no longer anomalies, Chris. They’re bogies and they carry the mass of our entire fleet in only twenty vessels.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, sir, but we need a decision. Go or no go?” Bergmann said, impatiently. He was visibly impatient.

“If it weren’t for the Cain Drive, I’d say we break off and return to Earth. But that’s not what we came here for. I’m sure we can run circles around anything the Kracori have ... but now this. We don’t know what those things are.”

“Go or no go, sir? The fleet’s got its ass hanging out.”

Nash slammed his fist down on the desk. “Go, dammit! We’ve come too far to turn back. Get the fleet through as fast as you can.”

Bergmann had already turned from the desk and was sprinting for the doorway leading directly into the CIC from the Fleet Admiral’s quarters. He was barking orders even before Nash finished his last word.

There was a small dining room and lounge area in the Pegasus, which now served as a bunk bay for all the excess passengers aboard. Once he had showered and changed into a dark blue tunic, Adam took his bruised, cut and aching body to get some real food in his stomach.

Rutledge and Riyad were in the room, as was a frankly hideous-looking Sherri Valentine, just now coming out of her much-needed slumber. She passed to a sink and splashed water on her face. Even then, her long, blonde hair—matted into a spider’s nest of greasy confusion—only served to accentuate the still caked-on streaks of dirt and grim on her face. The brief rinsing at the wash basin, without the benefit of a mirror, did little to improve her look.

Still, Adam’s heart warmed at the sight of her. He truly believed she had died as the result of McCarthy’s betrayal.

She scooted into a booth at one of the two dining tables in the room next to Riyad Tarazi. She ran a hand over his chest and along his side. “Are you sure nothing is broken?” she asked. “It’s amazing that you had the will to survive. I would have given up after the first few hours knowing there was no chance of rescue or escape.”

“No you wouldn’t have, Sherri,” Riyad said warmly. “We Humans have a very strong will to live.”

“But what could you have possibly been living for?”

Riyad looked over as Adam took a seat next to Chief Rutledge and opposite the pair. “I don’t know; maybe just more minutes, more seeing, more breathing, more experiencing life ... no matter how tragic it may all be.”

“That’s deep, Riyad,” Adam said with a smile.

“We have all been in difficult situations, yet we will ourselves to go on. I can’t say why, except that the need to last a little while longer on this plane of existence is a powerful force.” He smiled broadly and then turned to Sherri with large, dark eyes. “Besides, I knew you would come to save me.”

“Bullshit!” Chief Rutledge said from next to Adam. “You had no idea we’d even try.”

“It’s called faith, Mr. Rutledge.”

“Then I can’t argue with that. If there’s anything to be based on an absolute lack of empirical evidence, then it has to be fact that we’re all sitting around here together—”

Geoffrey Rutledge’s face suddenly went dark.

“I am sorry that you had to trade John Tindal’s life for mine, Master Chief. I truly am. I know you were friends.”

“He wouldn’t see it that way, Mr. Tarazi. We don’t go around comparing the value of one life with another, at least not as SEALs. It’s the mission that is most important, and as a mission, we succeeded. John would have been happy just to know that.”

“I’m sure he knows, Chief,” Riyad said. “And I am beyond the power of words to express my gratitude to all of you for what you have done for me.”

“Yeah, well you owe me a beer—a real beer—when we get back to Earth,” Adam said trying to lighten the mood.

“So where are we?’ Sherri asked in a dusty voice. The relief of being away from Elision and on the downhill slide towards safety was having the effect of sapping all her energy. Others may feel ecstatic after such an ordeal; Sherri was having an opposite reaction.

“We’re headed for a spot in the Shield where Ruszel first brought Riyad into the Void. It’s a thinner part, he says, and he’ll get us through—”

“You mean where we found the Klin?” Riyad interrupted, tensing as he spoke.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Klin; when we came through the first time we landed right in the middle of a whole mess of huge Klin spaceships, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Where?”

“Here ... in the Void. Like I said, right where we came through.”

Adam slipped out of the booth; they all did. He shook his head. “You’re saying the Klin are here, in the Void?”

“They were. The Klin who made contact with us did say they would be moving soon. But that was only three-four months ago, and with all that’s happened here, who knows?”

Adam ran from the room, and in the process, slammed his head against the top of the doorway as he bounded higher in the light gravity of the Pegasus, set low to accommodate all the aliens they had onboard. He stumbled backwards and was caught by the other Humans directly behind him. It was like a scene out of a Keystone Cops movie.

“Fuck!” he yelled. He recovered, and the four of them rushed down the corridor to the bridge.

“Why didn’t you mention the Klin?” Adam yelled at Ruszel as they entered. The alien was seated at the nav console next to Jym.

“Klin? Oh ... the white creature?” Ruszel blinked his eyes several times, overwhelmed by the intense presence of the Humans all staring at him. “I forgot. He did seem very intimidating yet did say they would be leaving soon. Is there a problem?”

“You don’t think it’s an incredible coincidence that the Klin and Kracori would be so close to each other, and with the Juireans and Humans on the way?”

Ruszel shook his head. “At the time, I knew nothing of this, and the Kracori were only a rumor within the Nebula.”

“I mean now!”

“Like I said, I forgot.” Ruszel was angry. “Then we can change course and attempt passage at another location.”

“No shit!” Adam didn’t wait for the customary confusion to register on the alien’s face. “Find us another place, and quickly. Kaylor! Turn us to port.”

“Port?”

“Left; turn us left.”

“I’m picking up some huge gravity sources, Adam,” Jym said from his station. “Just coming in range.”

“Don’t tell me ... dead ahead?”

“Ahead certainly,” the small alien said. “Not sure about dead and how it relates.”

Adam stepped to Jym’s station. “Are those readings normal?” he asked, seeing that the brightness of the contacts was particularly strong, especially for semi-stationary objects.

“No,” Jym answered. “That is because they are very large, generating a minor gravity field of their own. And the metallic content of the objects is very high. This is all having an effect—” And then he leaned in closer to his screen. “And they have just activated gravity drives.”

“Course?”

“Calculating,” Jym said, the tension evident in his voice . “Away! Away from us now that Kaylor has made his course correction.”

“So they’re not pursuing?”

“That is correct. They are moving away!”

Adam fell back into the observation chair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Give us maximum speed, Kaylor,” he said softly. “Let’s get as much distance between those contacts and us as possible.”

“We have a little more speed available, Adam. Applying now.”

“New contacts!” Jym screamed a minute later, his voice now as high-pitched as Adam had ever heard it.

Adam didn’t even lift his head out of his cradling hand. “Where, Jym, where?”

“Ahead! Dead … ahead.”

“I could have guessed.”

“Multiple contacts, closing at incredible speed.”

This did get Adam’s attention. He looked over at the screen and saw a whole cloud of contacts coming their way. “Can you measure the gravity signatures?” he asked.

“They are strange, like nothing I have measured before ... except. They match those of the Pegasus, Adam!”

“It’s our fleet!” Sherri cried out from behind Adam.

He slipped out of the chair and leaned in towards Jym’s screen. “Is that true?” he asked the alien.

“I cannot confirm. No transponders are recording. I only have the signatures, and the speed as evidence.”

“Let’s hope they’re ours,” Admiral Tobias said soberly as he entered the pilothouse. “If any of the alien fleets have ships that can go that fast, then we’re all screwed.”

“The last one just came through, Admiral.”

Nash was buckled into his command chair on the bridge of The Trident, watching the data stream across the various monitors on the wall before him.

“Good,” he said to Christian Bergmann. “I don’t see the bogies anymore.”

“They’ve moved off, away from our position.”

“No shit? They’re running?”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Admiral,” Bergmann said with a smile. “From the last reading we got, each of those things was over twenty miles in diameter. And sir, they’re disk-shaped.”

Nash immediately recognized the significance of Bergmann’s statement. All disk-shaped spacecraft originated with the Klin. Other races now had similarly-shaped vessels—the Humans included—but that was because they all followed the basic Kiln design.

“What have we stumbled upon, Chris?”

“Probably just what you’re thinking, sir. We’ve often wondered how the Klin could stay hidden from the Juireans for four thousand years. Maybe it’s because they travel in huge mobile fleets, or colonies.”

“And here they are, in the same area as the Kracori.”

“The two of them did just plan and execute the latest attack on the Earth. It makes sense that they would be this tight.”

A monitor on the forward wall of the bridge suddenly flashed to life. On it were several bright dots with tracking lines.

“Looks like our forward units have them back on their screens,” Bergmann said. “They’re huge, but not terribly fast.”

“You know, Chris, if they’re so tight, then it’s a pretty good bet the Klin have let the Kracori know we’re here. That could screw up our plans. Any intel on the Juireans yet?”

“Nothing Admiral. We don’t have assets in that theater.”

“Using our speed advantage, we better get some out there. It’s not a good idea to be the fastest runner on the track, if you’re also blind.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“And Admiral,” Nash said. “Leave a few units behind to keep this tunnel open. We may need a quick way out if things go to shit.”

“I’m ahead of you on that one, sir. Already in place.”

“We cannot outrun them, Pleabaen.” Moisee Linuss reported.

Wesselian Velsum was afraid of this. The generators on the largest spacecraft ever built were beyond massive, yet they also had that much more bulk to attract. And the gravity-wells required were so much deeper than conventional wells that the Colony had to separate at extreme degrees just to keep from having them overlap.

Velsum eyed his executive assistant. “Do you have a track established yet?”

“Yes, they are pursuing, yet presently it is just to match our speed, not to overtake.”

At first Velsum had not believed the data that had come to him not more than two hours before. It was sketchy as to exactly how this information came to light, yet as the burst of information was deciphered it became clear that a fleet of alien vessels was gaining entry to the Void through a hole cut in the Dysion Shield. The only fleet expected in the region that wasn’t already accounted for was that of the Humans, and yet the distance to be traveled over the time allotted made that impossible. And yet the data did not lie, and as the first units of the mystery fleet were analyzed, there was no doubt that it was indeed the Humans.

Velsum’s first responsibility was to the Colony, so he ordered an immediate evacuation of the region. They would move off, away from the breach in the Shield, yet still far enough away from the conflict being waged at the far side of the Void.

Once his ships were on the move, Velsum had a little more time to try and piece together the puzzle and formulate the proper questions.

It was an incontrovertible fact that the Human fleet had been in the vicinity of Earth only a month before. And it was also undeniable that it was now here, in the Silvean Nebula. Considering the distance traveled within that short time, the Humans must be in possession of some radically new propulsion technique.

Once he accepted this as fact, then other scenarios could be postulated.

With vastly superior speed now added to the Human tactical skills and overall talent for war, the fleet now occupying the Void should be able to defeat any force brought against it. And when coupled with the present situation involving the near stalemate battle between the Juireans and the Kracori, this Human fleet may find very little to occupy its time. The clean-up of any surviving units, be they Juirean, Kracori or even the Nebula allies, will not pose much of a challenge to the Humans.

That would leave the bulk of the Human fleet to concentrate on the Klin Colony.

The thought made Velsum cringe. Where only hours before he had been contemplating the realization of the Klin’s ultimate resolution, he now found that his Colony may have only hours left in its lifetime. The Humans hated the Kracori, but they also hated the Klin just as much—if not more.

Yet this new information he had just received through his assistant made little sense. The Klin ships were essentially unarmed; they would make soft targets for the Humans. The Humans were not grouping for an attack. Why were they not?

“Moisee, what is the latest status on the Kracori-Juirean confrontation. Have they engaged?”

Linuss checked his datapad. “Not yet, Pleabaen. It appears they are within twenty hours or so of meeting.”

The Klin Colony would not last twenty hours, Velsum thought, not unless he could keep the Humans from attacking. He had an idea. He pressed a button on his arm comm bracelet.

“Pilot-Guide, I would like a course correction.”

“Of course, Pleabaen,” said the voice through the tiny speaker.

“Have pods Six through Twenty move to sector three. The remaining units will steer for sector eleven.”

“Is not sector eleven Kracori territory?”

“That is correct. Have those pods accelerate at maximum well-depth.”

“I will obey. Is there more?”

“Not at this time.”

Velsum saw Linuss’ look of confusion. “I wish to lead the Humans closer to the current conflict raging,” the Pleabaen explained.

“A distraction?”

“More of an invitation to join the fray. The Humans came here to fight Kracori, not Klin, at least not yet. We will show them a more challenging target. If they are aware of our defenseless status, then they will assume they can always return to us later. And if we can introduce them to the battlefield before the Kracori and Juireans destroy each other, then we may still find a satisfactory outcome for the Klin.”

“Can we not create our own tunnel through the Shield, Pleabaen, just as the Humans did?”

Velsum nodded, acknowledging the value of Linuss’ question. “Please establish a study group to investigate that question. Desperate times may require us to sacrifice part of the Colony to save the rest. Our pods are large and sturdy vessels. Perhaps to have one lead the way may open the Shield for the others. The Humans have proved it is possible to create an artificial pathway. Please expedite the study. We may have only hours to implement a strategy.”

“I will convene the experts immediately.”

“You are commended for your thinking, Moisee.”

“I only hope it works and that we are not too late.”

“The entire Colony shares your wish. Please go now.”

Within his private thoughts, Velsum began to see horrible visions. Not of his Colony being destroyed by the Humans, but of him having to send several of his pods through the Shield to break open a path. He could see the lead ships exploding, victims of the deadly debris field that made up the Shield. How many pods would it take to push through? How many tens of thousands of Klin would have to die—all on his command—to save a few?

He did not have an answer. All he knew was that he would try everything possible to save the Colony, at least all he could. That is, of course, unless the Humans chose to destroy it all within the next few minutes....

“Their units are separating, Admiral,” a petty officer first-class called out from the near side of the bridge. “Three quarters are moving away at a ninety-degree vector to the others.”

Admiral Christian Bergmann joined the petty officer at the scanner. He studied the tracks of both sections of the Klin fleet. The larger one was still hugging the edge of the Shield, while the other was heading straight in. Bergmann fingered a dial and the view on the screen expanded. There, at the point that had become known as the McCarthy Coordinates, was the planet Elision. It didn’t take a navigator plotting a course to know that the breakaway section of the Klin fleet was headed there—straight for Elision.

“Mr. Perry, new course.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh-six-five, down four. Confirm.”

“Oh-six-five, down four.”

“Execute.”

“Aye, sir. Oh-six-five, down four, execute.”

Across a million miles of space, the four thousand, nine hundred, forty-eight starships of Task Force Bravo-Victor-Nine—the official designation of the Human vengeance fleet—changed course directly toward the planet Elision. Earlier, the Admiral had dispatched a dozen swift-effect ships to the region of space surrounding the stellar system of the Kracori. Until he had his first reconnaissance reports, he would keep the fleet at normal gravity speed, essentially matching that of the breakaway Klin behemoths.

“Threat report.” Bergmann called out.

“Negative, Admiral,” a voice answered. “We’re alone except for the bogies moving ahead of us.”

“Time to target.”

“Thirty-one hours at present speed,” another voice called out. “Six at flank.”

“Very good. Set condition Yellow. I’ll be in my quarters.”

“The Admiral has left the bridge!”

“Shit!” Bergmann said aloud. He had not so much as kicked off his shoes before the threat assessment changed and he was called back to the bridge.

“What do we have?”

“A single craft just reaching the outer marker. Point of origin appears to be from the direction of Elision.”

“A single craft?” Bergmann said. “Get Alpha-Four Squadron to GQ and send them to investigate. One ship shouldn’t cause us much harm. Authorize A-4 to go Rings-Up.”

“Aye, aye.”

Rings-Up was the new call-sign for the squadron of forward units to go full power with their concentrated-array gravity drives. By bringing all focusing rings online, the ships would be capable of velocities ten times or more what other craft could achieve, even in the relative clear space of the Void. Bergmann didn’t want to reveal too much of the fleet’s capabilities until absolutely necessary. Alpha-Four Squadron was only nine ships; they would be able to get in and assess the threat from this new bogie without lighting up too many screens—if any were even focused in this direction.

Whoever’s piloting that craft will soon be in for a rude awakening, Bergmann thought. They’re about to see what a Cain Drive warship is capable of.

“They’re not answering!” Jym called out from his station. He was near panic as he watched a series of strong gravity contacts break away from the main fleet and head their way.

“They’re probably in scramble mode,” Admiral Tobias said. “Comm within the fleet, but nothing beyond that. They don’t want a lot of random chatter giving away their position.”

“They will not fire upon us, not until they have us identified, will they?” Ruszel was frightened. His long, pointed ears twitched incessantly, tempting Adam to walk up to him and tie a damn rag around his knobby head.

“They shouldn’t,” Adam said. “All the ships should have the capability of analyzing a gravity signature. Once they do that, then they’ll know we’re one of them. So everyone just stay frosty.”

“Adam Cain, I—”

“Calm ... stay calm!”

“Time to contact, three minutes—no wait!” Jym said. “They have accelerated. Contact in ten seconds!”

So as to not rush head-long into the oncoming fleet, Kaylor had backed off on the speed of the Pegasus. Still, they were traveling faster than most vessels within populated space, yet far below the velocities of the squadron of ships that invisibly streaked by them. Only on the monitors could the paths of the faster-than-light vessels be tracked, but once past, the ships circled back, covering a quarter million miles in the less than ten seconds. And then they slowed, matching the speed of the Pegasus. They were still too far away to be visible in the vastness of space, yet each one was well within the range of flash-cannon or gravity-assisted missiles.

“I now have a broadband inquiry coming over, Adam!” Jym cried out.

“Unknown craft: identify yourself immediately,” the very official and no-nonsense voice blasted from the speakers in the pilothouse.

“I’ll take the comm over here,” Adam said as he slipped into the observation seat and toggled a switch.

Adam smiled. “Captain Adam Cain, aboard the private vessel Pegasus. I’m really glad to hear your voice,” he said into the room.

There was an inordinately long delay before a response came through the speakers. “Repeat your last. Response not understood.”

“This is Captain Adam Cain aboard the Pegasus. Please check your grav-sig readings. We are in a concentrated-array vessel, same as you. None of the hostiles carry such a signature.”

Again there was a long delay. “Wait one. I am patching you through to fleet command.”

A moment later another voice came over the speakers. “This is Admiral Christian Bergmann. Please confirm your identity.”

Andy Tobias stepped up next to Adam. “I’ll take this, Captain. Chris, I hope they have a putting green and drive simulator aboard that tub. But even with more practice, I’ll still beat you by ten strokes.”

“Andy—you son-of-a-bitch—you guys made it!”

“You sound surprised; just another extraction, the bread and butter of SEAL ops.”

“Yeah, but for the young pups, not old dogs like you.”

“Can you pass us through? It sure will be nice to see you again.”

“As we speak, Admiral. Follow the escorts. We’ll take you in landing bay P-2. By the way, have you seen those big motherfuckers we’re following?”

“They’re Klin, if you haven’t already figured that out.”

“That was our assessment, too. Get aboard, Admiral Tobias; I’m sure we have a lot to talk about. And did you get Mr. Tarazi? Any casualties?”

“Roger on both, Chris. We lost John Tindal.”

“Sorry to hear that. I have one of his CD’s. And the Master Chief?”

“Safe and sound, Admiral,” Rutledge spoke up.

They heard a laugh through the speakers. “I am so glad to hear that, Chief. Sorry about Tindal.”

“Died doing what he loved, sir.”

“Hur-rah.”

“Hur-rah, sir. See you soon.”

“Bergmann out.”

Chapter 32

Command-Tactician Galix was on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching. His eyes were wide and his mouth only a tiny circle in his tense, gray face. Nomar could see the huge military officer was close to physically accosting his own Langril.

“Stand down Tactician!”

Still Galix hovered near the desk, glaring at Nomar.

“Galix, calm yourself. Let us hear him out.” It was Daninf pleading for reason. Nomar was relieved to see Galix break his attack-stare to glance at Daninf.

“You do not concur with the Langril, do you?”

“I have not heard enough of his plan to decide either way, and neither have you. Please. Back off your stance. This is the Langril of the Kracori you are stalking.”

“I once believed that. Not now.”

“Tactician, you must hear me out. There is logic in my argument.”

“The Kracori do not surrender!”

“I realize that,” Nomar said. He had removed a small laser weapon from a hidden compartment under the desk and now held it his right hand. The weapon could kill the Tactician, if it struck just the right area. Otherwise it would still cause considerable pain. Whether that would stop a Kracori warrior so incensed, he was not sure.

Finally, Galix stepped back from the desk. He walked to a corner of the room and turned to face the two Kracori politicians. “I will listen. Yet if I feel you are acting against the well-being of the Kracori people, I will end this conspiracy immediately and suffer the consequences as they come.”

Even though Nomar was relieved that Galix had held back his attack, what he truly regretted at the time was inviting him to the meeting in the first place. He should have revealed his plan to Daninf first and gauged his reaction before bringing in the more-excitable military officer.

“Ludif Galix, everything I propose is for the good of the Kracori people,” Nomar said. He felt annoyed that he had to convince others as to the worthiness of his plan. In Nomar’s opinion, they had no option.

“Your own analysis—given to me only hours ago—show how the Kracori will eventually succumb to the Human assault, even though we will survive that of the Juireans. If we do nothing, the Humans will salt the surface of Elision after killing every last one of us. The planet—our homeworld—will cease to exist as a viable location for advanced life. Nevermore will a Kracori walk upon its surface. Only by following my plan will we have a chance to survive. Do you elect extinction over the alternative?”

“Do you not understand Legend, Langril Nomar Polimic? Without Legend there will be no survival.”

“That is nonsense, Galix. A race of dead beings has no Legend. Legend only exists if the Kracori exist to note the Legend of their fellow beings. After we are all gone, who will record the Legend of the Kracori?”

“Yet you propose surrender to the Juireans. We can defeat the Juireans!”

“Yes we can, but not then the Humans.”

“You are not even allowing us a chance, Nomar. You have assumed our defeat.”

“It was you who initially told me of this, Galix. Do you now amend your assessment?”

Nomar watched as the Tactician struggled internally for an answer. After a moment, Galix appeared to slump some in his posture, and he made a quick nod of his head. “No, I do not amend.”

“So a rational assessment shows that within a few short months, the Kracori will be extinct, following the current timeline.”

“Can we not evacuate much of the population before the Humans arrive?” Daninf said, trying to find a middle ground on which to rest their hopes.

“And where would we go, Daninf?” Nomar asked. “We are not like the Juireans who controlled an empire with thousands of worlds from which they could find refuge.”

“And our fleet will be depleted to such a degree that very few could even be given passage.”

Nomar was surprised—and relieved—to hear Galix offer his input. His initial shock and anger had passed; now he had only his logical, professional mind to cope with the reality of the situation.

“Tactician Galix,” Nomar began, “you must realize that the term surrender is used here as merely a placeholder for a more complicated relationship I hope to broker with the Juireans. I have many approaches to take, and all of them offer us a better future than doing nothing at all.”

“I wish to accompany you to meet the Juireans,” Daninf stated firmly.

“I, too,” said Galix.

“I will take Daninf, but not you, Galix. You are our supreme military commander. I wish us to appear completely at the mercy of the Juireans and offer myself as security for the confab. If the meeting goes badly, then you, Galix, will have to carry out our defeat of the Juireans, and then do what you can against the Humans. You are too valuable to risk on this overture.”

“And the Langril of the Kracori is not?”

“I am a political figure, Tactician. I talk; you fight.”

Nomar turned to his friend and mentor. “You may amend your offer, my Ludif. There will be no shame.”

Daninf smiled, a weak, almost forlorn smile. “I am old, Nomar. I have one last campaign ahead of me. This will be for the survival of our race. I do not wish to amend.”

“Good. It is agreed. Now we must get to the ship. The meeting of our two forces is only hours away. If we are to prevent this, we must go now.”

Chapter 33

Command-Overlord Enulic stared unbelieving at the messenger before him.

The campaign had been long and hard, and the prospect of losing his entire force—including his own life—was weighing on his mind. Yet was he also beginning to hear things that had not been said?

“Repeat the message,” he said slowly.

“It is from Nomar Polimic, the Langril—leader of the Kracori people.”

“I know what the Langril is. Continue.”

“He reports that he is in a ship heading for the fleet. He desires a meeting with you. He comes alone, except for a creature called Daninf, who has been identified as the prior Langril.”

“So I am to believe that the leader of the Kracori is coming to us ... unescorted.”

“That is the message, my Lord. He requests docking instructions—”

“No! He is not to bring a vessel near the flagship. Order him to a point midway between our forces. I will send a Juirean ship to bring him. Relay that message and then bring me his reply.”

Enulic fingered a control on his comm band. “Yes, Lord Enulic.”

“My Lord, I have just had the most extraordinary communication relayed to me.”

“The content?”

“It is from Langril Nomar Polimic. He is wishing a meeting with the fleet commander.”

“Do you have the channel?”

“He requests it in person, my Lord. He is presently in a spaceship nearing the fleet.”

There was silence on the comm for a moment before Wydor spoke again. “Have precautions been taken?”

“If he accepts them, I will have a Juirean shuttle bring him to the UN-567.”

“When is this meeting to take place?”

The messenger approached Enulic again. “Please wait, my Lord. I have a reply.” The Overlord read over the message quickly. “He agrees to the shuttle, my Lord. He will be here in an hour.”

“Bring him to the Ornate Room. Oh, and Lord Enulic, have the passage corridors cleared of all personnel except for the security escorts. The destruction of Juir is still fresh on the minds of many aboard. It would not serve our purpose to have the Langril killed before the meeting.”

“Understood my Lord. This has been a strange and unexpected turn of events.”

“You speak the truth, Command-Overlord. I will prepare the chamber. Let us find out what this Kracori wants—and if I am not mistaken, this will be the first Kracori either of us will have met in the flesh. This meeting will be revealing on many levels.”

The Ornate Room aboard the massive Juirean flagship was just that: a room of opulence and excess designed to impress and overwhelm any visitor. The pride, strength and dominance of the Juirean culture was on full display within the chamber, having been designed to give any foreign power pause when contemplating a challenge to Juirean control.

For the Kracori, that opportunity to pause and reconsider a course of action had been forfeited when one of their senior commanders had dropped a huge rock on the planet Juir, causing both an environmental, as well as climatic upheaval that would last far beyond the time when the Juireans would reclaim their homeworld.

Even now, a force of over one thousand Juirean warships was entering the Juirean stellar system, determined to defeat any resistance the New Expansion threw against it. Even through the patchy comm link—as a result of interference by the Dysion Shield—Council Elder Wydor bin Sulic had received reports that the fleet was meeting no resistance, and in a few short hours, Juireans would once again walk upon the surface of their homeworld.

The thought brought such a surge of both excitement and relief that Wydor had trouble concentrating on the current state of affairs within the Dysion Void. Yet with the Kracori Langril Nomar Polimic just now arriving onboard the flagship, his mind returned to the problem at hand.

And that problem was that his fleet—the Blood Fleet—was about to be completely destroyed. That depressing thought was not mitigated by the fact that Wydor would soon be placed aboard a starship and escorted out of the Void. The rest of his fleet, along with the tens of thousands of his fellow Juireans, would not be so spared. In truth, there was no guarantee that Wydor would survive. However, the Juireans had already lost one Elder to the Kracori—the first Elder to ever be killed by an enemy—that they were not about to lose another to the same evil race without an attempt to save his life.

Wydor knew all the arguments, pro and con, for the decision to sacrifice the fleet. In the end, it made sense, and would guarantee the annihilation of the Kracori race. The Juireans would not accomplish that feat by themselves, yet their actions would allow others to complete it for them. Still, it was a terrible price to pay, especially in light of the fact that this fleet was crewed exclusively by Juireans. In another time, where the majority of the fleet was comprised of aliens, Wydor would not have given the strategy a second thought. Yet this was different; only the repatriation of Juir was giving him any reason to celebrate.

The swish of a door opening jolted him out of his conflicted reverie. He remained seated at the overly large and ornately carved crystal desk, adorned with depictions of gruesome battle scenes from the early years of Juirean conquest of the galaxy. His guests would also be required to pass larger-than-life statues of noble warriors, along with tapestries lining the walls detailing even more victories from a glorious Juirean past. Eventually, they would be led to the desk and the waiting Elder of the Juirean Council Elite, at one time—and soon to be again—the supreme being of the entire galaxy.

This meeting between Juirean and Kracori would be the first, and Wydor watched as the two huge, gray creatures approached the desk, escorted by Command-Overlord Enulic and four armed Guard Elites.

Wydor knew his enemy, and as a result was aware that these creatures were every bit a match for the physically-superior Human race. And yet this fact only added to his confusion as he watched the Kracori approach his desk. Compared to the eight-foot-tall Juireans, the slightly shorter Kracori appeared a more physical match to the Juireans rather than to the much smaller—and frankly—weaker-looking Humans. Yet differences in height did not translate into physical prowess or species toughness. Of the three races in comparison, the Juireans were the tallest and largest built, yet the weakest of the three. And the smallest, most-fragile looking Humans were, by a few degrees, the strongest, quickest and most-agile. Such were the verities of evolution.

Wydor had personal experience with the Humans. He had met and interacted with them on Juir, just as the Kracori were laying siege to the planet. At that time, the two races were allied against the Kracori; it was unfortunate that they were not at this time....

The younger of the two Kracori took an extra step forward to the desk and cast a questioning look at Lord Enulic. The Command-Overlord understood the Kracori’s confusion and offered a slight grin.

“Even though you have requested a meeting with the Fleet Commander—myself—I would like to present the Elder of the Juirean Council Elite, Wydor bin Sulic.”

There was genuine surprise on the gray faces of the Kracori. Wydor savored the moment by not rising from his seat or offering a greeting of his own.

“I was not aware the Council Elder was aboard the fleet,” said the Langril of the Kracori race. “I welcome the opportunity to negotiate with the leader of the Juirean people directly.”

“I was not aware this was a negotiation?” Wydor said in a firm voice. Wydor nodded to the Guard Elite, and they backed away, closer to the main door and out of earshot of the discussion to take place.

Lord Enulic—fully aware of the physical superiority of the Kracori—stepped up to the Langril. “This room is monitored, although the audio feed has been muted. The Guards will remain, yet they, too, will not be privy to the conversation. There are remotely-controlled flash weapons, set on enhanced level-one, which are presently locked and programmed to follow your every move. As a gesture of goodwill, it has been decided that at the conclusion of this meeting—if no hostile acts have been made by you and your second—you will be returned to your ship for safe passage back to Elision.”

“Your graciousness is unexpected, yet welcome, Lord Enulic.”

“Now what is it you wish to speak of, Langril Nomar Polimic?” Wydor asked, while offering the Kracori neither refreshments nor seats before the desk. He would make them stand before him for the duration of the meeting.

“Elder Wydor,” Nomar began, “we are all intelligent beings in this room, so the proposal I bring to you is not designed to deceive or condescend in any regard. Our analysts have determined that based upon the strength of opposing fleets, the Juireans will suffer a catastrophic defeat in the coming engagement. Do your analysts so concur?”

Wydor looked to Enulic. “It has been determined that the Kracori will also suffer comparable damage,” Lord Enulic replied.

“Although to a slightly lesser degree.”

Wydor saw Enulic’s jaw tighten. “Yes, to a slightly lesser degree.”

“So in this engagement, the Kracori will emerge victorious.”

“In this engagement.”

Nomar turned his attention back to Wydor. “In light of the pending defeat of your fleet, Lord Wydor, I offer you this compromise. I will order a stand down of Kracori forces, as well as ordering the Nebula defensive units to withdraw. And then I will allow your entire fleet to leave the Dysion Void unmolested.”

“And why would you do that?” Wydor had to ask, even though he knew the reason.

“It is to preserve both our forces. This senseless loss of life, for simply a near-stalemate in outcome, goes against all logic. We do not wish to suffer the losses we will suffer, and I believe you do not wish it as well.”

“Langril Nomar, our forces entered the Dysion Void knowing full-well the consequences of our actions. We are prepared to make this sacrifice knowing that our efforts will lead to the ultimate destruction of the Kracori race.”

“By the Humans,” Nomar said quickly. “Yes, we have also projected forward from this encounter. And yet by retreating, you will allow the Kracori to be able to mount an effective defense against the Humans when they arrive.”

Wydor shook his head. “I am confused; you wish us to assist you in defeating the Humans? To assist the Kracori, who while aligned with the Klin, wreaked havoc on our homeworld, killed billions of our kind—including our breeding farms, along with most of our females? And you did all this with no provocation on the part of the Juireans, but simply because you wished to replace us as head of the Expansion? And you request this so that your race may survive. Is this my understanding?”

“I understand this is a strange offer, yet I wish you to weigh it against the incredible loss of life you will suffer with the defeat of your fleet.”

“We are quite willing to trade our lives for that of the Kracori. The Juireans are much more than just this one fleet. Even now, we are reclaiming the planet Juir, and soon will begin to move our billions back to our homeworld. We will regain the leadership of the Expansion, and in a few short years, the galaxy will be back to the way it was before it had ever heard of the Kracori or the Humans. This attack upon Elision is simply to prove to the Expansion that the Juireans will suffer any loss to defeat our enemies. The destruction of my fleet will serve a much greater purpose than would its retreat from the battlefield—far greater. In truth, we cannot retreat. Retreat would be worse than a defeat and would tarnish the reputation of the Juireans beyond repair. No, Langril Nomar, I do not accept your offer.”

Nomar looked to the former Langril. Daninf, the evil former leader of the Kracori had been in power at the time of the destruction of Juir. It had been under his orders that the billions had died, and who Wydor’s friend and mentor had been paraded before. Daninf had killed Haydon, if not by his own hand then by his actions. Now he was standing before Wydor....

“I have another offer, Lord Wydor,” Nomar said as he turned his gaze from the former Langril and back to Wydor.

“I feel there is very little left for us to talk about, Nomar,” Wydor said. “You are only delaying the inevitable.”

“This new offer is one extremely hard for me to utter, and yet I do it for the good of the Kracori race—”

“We do not care about the good of the Kracori race,” Command-Overlord Enulic said.

Nomar seemed unfazed by the interruption. “Elder Wydor, as the Langril of the Kracori race, I hereby and humbly offer you the surrender of the Kracori forces to you and the Juirean fleet.”

Wydor couldn’t hide his shock. This was the last thing he had expected to hear from the mouth of the Kracori. He looked to Enulic, who was equally stunned.

“I must ask that you to repeat your last statement,” Wydor commanded.

“I offer the surrender of the Kracori to the Juireans.”

“Is this some kind of delaying tactic, one to throw us off guard while allowing additional forces to be called up for a more effective defense against the Humans?”

“I admit that this action is designed primarily as a deterrent to the Human invasion, yet I also do it to preserve the Kracori race. I feel it better to live as slaves under Juirean rule than to suffer a complete annihilation of my race.”

“And what if I accept your surrender, and then destroy Elision anyway? It would only be an equitable trade for what you—and Langril Daninf—did to Juir.” Wydor pushed back his chair and smiled at his Command-Overlord. “Yes, I like that idea best. The Blood Fleet will survive, and the Kracori will not. We can accomplish our mission, and without the help of the Humans. Yes, Langril Nomar, I accept your surrender!”

“Lord Wydor, I do not offer our surrender just so you can destroy us. I offer it as a form of annexation. The Kracori are superior warriors and can serve the Expansion well. We could help supplement your forces as you go about reclaiming the mantel of the Expansion.”

“Calm yourself, Nomar,” Wydor said with humor in his voice. “If I intended to destroy Elision after your surrender, I would not reveal such to you in advance. Your only warning would come when Juirean warcraft block out your sun and rain fire down upon the surface.”

The humor had faded from his tone, and he looked steely-eyed at the Kracori. “This is a serious proposal you bring to me. How will your forces react to such once they learn of it?”

“They will resist—at first. Yet we are all aware of the nearing Human fleet. The population can be shown that it has no choice if the Kracori are to survive.”

“So you would be willing to submit to the complete abdication of your planet and race to Juirean will? And what if Juirean will is that the Kracori are to be exterminated?”

“We will offer reparations—onerous and generous—all we can offer to make amends for what we did to the Juirean people, as we participated in the manipulations of the Klin against Juir—”

“Yes, the Klin!” Wydor interrupted. “You have allied with the Klin, both against us and against the Humans, and as recently as only a few months ago.” Wydor looked to Enulic again. “I will accept your offer ... on one condition.”

“And what is that, Lord Wydor?”

“That you surrender the Klin to us. Although the Kracori hold a special place in the hearts of all Juireans, it is the Klin who keep our offspring awake at night with terrible nightmares. Give us the Klin and I will spare your world.”

Wydor saw the tension on the face of the Kracori. That did not bode well for the growing excitement in Wydor’s gut. Destroying the Klin, after four thousand years of trying, would be even a greater accomplishment than destroying the Kracori.

“Is there a problem with my counteroffer? The Klin have done nothing but cause problems for the Kracori. You owe them no allegiance.”

“I realize that, Lord Wydor, however I must be honest with you. The Kracori and Klin do not share good relations at this time, not after the failed attack upon Earth.”

“Then allowing us to destroy them should be without question.”

“That is not the issue. We do not know where they are.”

“How can that be? You are allies—have been allies—for hundreds of years.”

“At one time the Klin resided on our sister world, yet no longer. However, Lord Wydor, if you accept our annexation—”

“—Surrender.”

“Yes, surrender, then the Kracori will do all we can to help you in your quest for the Klin. With our intimate knowledge of their past movements and involvements, we could be a valuable asset in your search. The Kracori now consider the Klin our enemy, just as you do.”

“This is a very interesting proposal, Langril Nomar.”

“And what of the Humans?” Command-Overlord Enulic interjected, interrupting his Elder.

‘Yes, what about the Humans, Nomar?” Wydor echoed, the humor returning to his voice.

“It is the belief of our analysts that the Humans are fully expecting to find both our fleets greatly damaged upon their arrival. They will see us as easy targets, both the Kracori and the Juireans. With our alliance—call it as you will—they will arrive to face a combined force of Kracori, Juirean and Nebula defenders. They will be crushed.”

“I do like the sound of that,” Wydor said. He knew if the Human fleet was destroyed, then the path to Earth would be clear. And with a fully-intact Blood Fleet, his dream of razing Earth would become a reality.

The Juirean Council Elder remained quiet for several moments as he ran the various scenarios through his mind. In one fell swoop, he could conquer the Kracori, making them subjects—no servants—of the Juirean Expansion. And yet it went deeper still. His people could receive needed reparations, along with a supplemental military force comprised of beings physically-superior to all other races in the galaxy—except for the Humans. And yet this offer would also allow Wydor the opportunity to turn the Humans into a non-factor in galactic affairs.

When this meeting began Wydor could not have imagined a more advantageous outcome for Juir or himself. And all the while he was accepting the unconditional surrender of the race of beings that had so viciously ravaged the planet Juir, his beloved homeworld was in the process of being repatriated. In a few short weeks, Wydor bin Sulic, Elder of the Juirean race, could be standing on the surface of Juir once again, victorious in all arenas.

“Langril Nomar Polimic, you have just saved your race from extinction.”

Wydor saw the immense relief flow through both Kracori. Now it was time for him to voice his final condition.

“However, there is one more thing I must ask of you before final acceptance.”

“Anything Lord Wydor,” Nomar announced before hearing the new terms.

Wydor turned his intense glare on Daninf. “The former-Langril will be turned over to me, to pay for the war crimes committed under his reign. It was by his order that Juir was ransacked. And it was also by his order that former Elder Hydon Ra Un was murdered. Accept this final condition ... or else we meet on the battlefield and the process that will lead to the extinction of the Kracori will be put in motion.”

Wydor reveled in the shock and distress now painted on Daninf’s face. He looked panicked. He turned to Nomar Polimic. “Nomar, is there another way?”

“When we embarked for the Juirean fleet, we both accepted the possibility that we may not live beyond this meeting. You must realize that I have no option but to accept Lord Wydor’s terms. I am sorry.”

The shoulders of the old Kracori slumped and his eyes turned blank and emotionless.

“Be comforted, Langril Daninf,” Wydor began, “that your sacrifice will save your race. Most creatures would be proud of this opportunity and accept it without reservation.”

“I agree, Lord Wydor. Even then, the reality is not easy to accept.”

“I am sparing your entire race; however someone must be held accountable for the atrocities the Kracori have committed against the Juireans. Your death will represent the symbolic death of billions.”

“I accept,” Nomar Polimic said softly.

“Good!” Wydor now stood, a new vitality flowing within his body. “Lord Enulic will return the current Langril to his ship, and then he will move the fleet to an obscure region of the Dysion Void to await the arrival of the Humans. I would suggest, Nomar, that you use the Nebula defenders to help stage a convincing display for them. They will come expecting to see a shattered fleet. They must enter the trap unsuspecting, and then we will strike—the combined forces of the Juireans and the Kracori will strike. The Humans will not stand a chance.”

Chapter 34

“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” Jacob Nash said warmly, grasping the outstretched hand of Andy Tobias.

“Glad to be here. The quarters on the Pegasus were getting kinda crowded, and alien body odor was reaching critical mass.”

“I can imagine. So your alien friends will be okay with hanging out aboard her by themselves? I understand there’s a little tension between a couple of them?”

“They’ll be fine. The gravity is too strong for them here, and the tension is mainly between the Formilian and the Tel’oran.”

“The Formilian is that good-looking dude, right?”

“There’s a whole goddamn planet of them, Jake. And the women—holy crap! But enough of that; did you get the package?”

Nash broke away from the greeting and moved to the beverage processing center in the Fleet Commander’s away cabin. “Sure did. It’s amazing, but that’s the first Kracori prisoner we’ve ever had.” And then he chuckled. “That Sherri Valentine is one tough cookie; she really messed up that dude.”

“We owe our lives to her. But she did what she had to do.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Andy. I think she’d make one heluva good SEAL–tenacious, courageous and fearless to a fault.”

“Just be glad she’s on our side.” Tobias took the offered drink and downed half of it in one gulp. “Oh, how I have missed you, my little friend,” he said to the half-empty glass.

“So it’s been a tough few months for you? I was concerned when I heard that an old geezer like you had hitched a ride with Adam Cain. He always seems to end up smack dab in the middle of some big-time shit.”

Andy Tobias laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. But it looks like we may be on the downhill slide. You guys got here ahead of schedule, didn’t you?”

“The refit to the Cain Drives—see what I mean, even our new engines are named after him! The refit took less time. I’d say we’re a good two months ahead of schedule.”

“Couldn’t have come at a better time.”

Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash suddenly turned serious. “Yeah, let’s get down to brass-tacks, Andy.” Nash moved behind his desk and took out a notepad and pen. Tobias sat in a chair on the other side of the desk and finished his drink. “So the huge spaceships we’re following belong to the Klin? We originally thought they were some secret weapon that the Kracori were waiting to spring on us or the Juireans.”

“They may still be. The breakaway group is heading straight for Elision.”

“Yeah, and each of those ships is like a small Deathstar. You would think they would have turned on us by now.”

“I was talking to Cain about that and it’s his opinion that the Klin ships don’t carry much firepower. They’ve never had to; others have done the dirty work for them.”

“So what are they doing here?”

“Camping out, under the protection of the Kracori, I would imagine. Big colony ships where most—if not all—of their population resides. Remember, both races have warrants out on them. Only makes sense that they would gravitate to one another. And they did just gang up on us for that f-ing nuke attack on Earth.”

Nash made some notes and then shook his head. “This has actually screwed up some of our planning, Andy. We were counting on slipping into the Void unseen and then hanging out until the Juireans and the Kracori slugged it out. Not sure how the knowledge of our presence here is going to affect that battle.”

“Any updated intel yet?”

“Not yet. The scouts are about a day out from reaching the theater of operations.”

“If the Kracori leader’s timetable was followed, as Cain related, the Juireans should already be hurting pretty badly. And I don’t care what that Nomar character said, the Kracori have to suffer major casualties as well.”

“In a worst case scenario we’ll face a near-full strength Kracori force. We’re prepared for that. It’s this surprise element of the Klin that has me worried. It wouldn’t take much to tip the battle one way or the other.”

“I suppose the one ace we have up our sleeve is the Cain Drive.”

“In more ways than one, Andy,” Nash said with a serious look on his face.

“How’s that, Admiral?”

“If things get dicey, we can sure beat a quick retreat.”

Chapter 35

Command-Tactician Galix was waiting at the landing zone when Nomar’s ship returned. Once the heat from the chemical exhaust cleared, he stepped up to the entrance hatch. The Langril had already relayed the news of the accepted surrender to his senior military officer; Galix had absorbed the news with very little comment. Yet Nomar hadn’t told him everything.

“Where is former-Langril Daninf? Galix asked as he accompanied his leader to a waiting transport.

“The Juireans kept him. He is to be made the symbol for our attack on Juir and pay the ultimate price.”

“We were all involved, my Ludif. I was Command-Tactician at that time and you were on the Council.”

“The Juireans do not need to be aware of that; and I am confused as to what you are intimating?”

“Forgive me, my Ludif, I am still in a mild state of shock over what has just transpired. Your plan may have saved the Kracori at this time, yet what guarantee do we have that the Juireans will keep their word? And then we have the populace to contend with.”

Nomar cringed. Yes, he had glossed over the Council Elder’s question about the Kracori population and how they would react to the news of the surrender. He had made it out to be so simple. Theoretically, it should be; the Kracori people have no choice if they wish to survive. And yet Nomar knew there would be resistance—major resistance. However, the one consolation he could take from the current status quo with the Juireans was it would free up most of his military forces to help quell any civil uprising here on Elision.

“I have just received word that Lord Huric’s fleet has met no resistance, and that landings are taking place as we speak.” Command-Overlord Enulic’s excitement could barely be contained.

Wydor shared his emotions. Juireans were once more standing upon the surface of Juir. And yet he had seen the reports. The planet was not the same one they had abandoned ten years before. It was now a cold, desolate wasteland. Even though tenacious trees and other vegetation were recovering, it would still take a generation for the climate to return to even somewhat normal tolerances. Life on Juir would be tough until then, and yet it would be done. The Juireans were home.

“Where are we at the moment, Enulic?”

“Nearing two parsecs beyond Elision; the Shield is another three from here. I have selected a location near the barrier where we may lie in wait for the Humans.”

Enulic then paused, a question covering his face.

“What is it, Enulic? You may speak freely,” Wydor said.

“Do you truly intend to honor these surrender terms? Even now we are preparing to assist the Kracori in defending their homeworld, which is ironic in light of their history with Juir.”

“I understand, Lord Enulic. And the life of a single Kracori leader—former leader—will not satisfy the blood-lust of the race for vengeance. Yet you must admit, Nomar’s proposal has appeared to meet most, if not all, of our most pressing issues. It also affords us the opportunity to diminish the influence of the Humans on the affairs of the Expansion, and without having to mount an immediate and long-distance campaign against Earth.”

“You may have as much of a public relations problem as Nomar, my Lord.”

Wydor actually let out an audible laugh, something rarely heard from an adult Juirean. “That I very much doubt, Lord Enulic. I truly believe that the Langril’s term in office will be coming to an end very soon, and at that point it may become necessary for us to amend the terms of the agreement. The future is in flux, Enulic, yet it is the Juireans who are now in control—as it should be. Be content in knowing that there is a very good chance that the Kracori race does not last much beyond the present.”

Wydor relaxed back in his satisfied reverie as Overlord Enulic took an incoming link over his wrist comm. The moment didn’t last long as Enulic concluded his link: “Our forward units have detected fast-moving ships directly ahead,” Enulic reported.

“How many? Source?”

“Only two, spread over a wide vector; origin unknown.”

“Is there more to report; you appear worried.”

“The vessels are traveling at five times our maximum speed, and the track they follow is from deep within the Void, away from Elision.”

“I understand your concern, Lord Enulic. We must endeavor to avoid these ships; their gravity-wells must be highly disruptive.”

“Curiously, my Lord, they are not. I must leave now to investigate further. I am placing the fleet on full alert.”

“Very good, Command-Overlord. I wish to assume my presence on your bridge.”

“As you wish.”

Chapter 36

“Holy crap! Do you see that, Steve?”

“How can I miss it? That looks like a whole damn fleet.” Lieutenant Steve Kimball couldn’t take his eyes off his regional scan screen, now alight with hundreds—if not thousands—of contacts. The pilot of the other scout ship, Lieutenant Junior Grade Evan March, and he were in direct comm link, aboard two of the swift-effect scouts sent out ahead of the fleet. Two other scouts were also on patrol, but they hadn’t reported the mass of contacts—not yet.

“They’ve seen us! We were right on top of them before we knew it,” Kimball continued.

“This wasn’t what we were expecting to run into,” March said in their defense. “I’m dumping a burst to the fleet, then we’ve gotta get out of here.”

“I’m seeing about thirty contacts breaking my way; the same for you!” Kimball pulled the stick over and made a wide loop—made wider by the incredible speed at which he was traveling.

“In-coming!” March cried out, himself in a wide bank away from the cluster of contacts. “Shit!”

The spread of deadly flash bolts closed off the loop that March was executing. He tried to compensate, yet it was too late. The bolts were designed to penetrate the defenses of huge capital ships, so they made quick work of March’s lightly-armored scout.

Lt. Kimball saw the green contact light wink out on his board, yet he didn’t have time to mourn the loss of his friend, not if he was to avoid suffering the same fate. He dumped a burst link to the fleet as well, and then rather than line up directly with the Human fleet, he bolted out at a forty degree vector, plus-twenty. He was a scout, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead this massive alien force to back to his own. If he was lucky, they would follow him, allowing the Humans to approach this hostile fleet on their six.

Yet as Lt. Kimball watched the view-encompassing pale pink glow of the Shield spread out before him—a constant in any direction one looked within the Void—he knew that the presence of this many apparently active and undamaged starships within the area meant that plans would have to be revised. They were not supposed to be here.

“This is not a drill, General Quarters, General Quarters! All hands man your battle stations!” The GQ claxon shocked Adam out of a light slumber in the small officer’s stateroom he’d been assigned.

The accommodations aboard The Trident were not the best—nor the worst—he’d experienced, but space aboard the starship was limited. The giant flying saucer was operating so far from any possible friendly base that every square inch aboard had to be used for critical missions. And sleeping arrangements weren’t deemed as critical a mission as others.

Wearing one of the new steel gray uniform pants and white tee shirt, he quickly slipped on his shoes and stepped out into the passageway. He was so new to the ship that he had yet to be assigned a GQ station, so he stood for a moment wondering which direction to go.

Just then the door to another of the small staterooms opened down the passageway and Riyad Tarazi stepped out. He was wearing matching pants but was bare-chested and carrying a tee shirt. He stopped abruptly in the doorway when he saw Adam—his mouth forming an ‘O’—while someone ran into him from behind.

“What the fuck, Riyad!” a female voice cried out. And then Sherri Valentine shoved her way around him, buttoning up her steel-gray blouse as she did.

The three of them stood in stunned silence staring at one another....

Just then more sailors began to fill the passageway; Adam was forced to join a group heading forward, while Riyad and Sherri chose to go aft. With his mind slightly numb, Adam found himself entering the CIC. There was a professional, yet frenetic buzz filling the space, although it still took Adam another moment or two to focus on his surroundings.

What had he just seen? Was it what it looked like?

A pair of hands was placed on his shoulders and Captain Adam Cain was gently pushed out of the way. “Excuse me sir, but I need this station,” said the petty officer 2nd class.

“Oh, sorry,” was all he managed to say.

“Captain, glad you’re here,” a voice said off to his right. His eyes were just now adjusting to the dimness of the CIC and he recognized Admiral Christian Bergmann.

“Thank you, sir; what’s going on?”

“Scouts just picked up a massive fleet heading this way coming from the Elision region.”

It took Adam a moment for the news to sink in. I really need to concentrate!

“Kracori?”

“Unknown at this point; the techs are analyzing the burst data that just came in. We should have a reading on the grav-sigs pretty soon. Care to join me on the bridge?”

The bridge of The Trident was a study in organized chaos. There were uniformed sailors darting back and forth, and yet everyone seemed to know where they were going and what they had to do. Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash was just now slipping into his command seat at the portside of the bridge and noticed Adam and Bergmann enter from the CIC.

“Best laid plans....” he said as the two officers approached his station. “This thing is huge, and apparently fully intact.”

All three scanned the data streams crossing the various screens in front of them. None of this made sense, Adam thought. There shouldn’t be an intact fleet this size operating within the Void—except that of the Humans.

“Preliminary readings are in, sirs,” a chief petty officer called out from a nearby workstation. “Sigs match those of Juirean capital ships. Estimated fleet size over four thousand vessels.”

“Roger that, Chief,” Bergmann acknowledged. Then both the admirals turned to stare at Adam.

“The Kracori and Nebula forces were set to strike the Juireans just as Sherri—Ms. Valentine—initiated her rescue maneuvers, sir. After that all hell broke loose. But this ... this doesn’t make sense. This appears to be the entire Juirean fleet.”

“That’s exactly what it is, Captain,” Nash said sternly. “How they got past the defenders is anyone’s guess, but right now they’re here and heading straight for us.”

“How could they have known—”

“One scout reported lost, Admiral,” said the chief. “Eyes three, two and four are scrambling. Lt. Kimball and the others are attempting to lead the fleet away from our location.”

“Plot the location of the main fleet and put it on the board, Chief. Let me know the moment we learn if Kimball’s plan is working.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Well, this changes everything,” Bergmann said turning his attention back to the other two officers. “With Kimball and his scouts scrambling, we’re going to lose any reliable eyes we have out there. And if the Juireans have emerged from that pending clash at the head of the Corridor unscathed, what’s the state of the Kracori fleet?”

“Chris, get my senior staff to my ready room in ten minutes with all the data they can gather about the capabilities of both fleets. We’ll have to rework our game plan, and apparently on a grand scale.”

“Admiral Nash, let me take the Pegasus back toward Elision,” Adam said. “I know the lay of the land better than anyone—even though that’s not saying much. We need to know the status of the Kracori fleet and what really happened at the Corridor.”

“Go, Captain,” Nash said without hesitation. “Without competent intel, it’s going to be hard to continue with this mission. Contingency plans had us going up against an intact Kracori defense, but never against two fleets. And then the Klin are mucking things up, too. I need intel, Cain; get it for me.”

“Will do, sir.”

Adam nearly sprinted from the bridge and headed back to his stateroom. He would grab his gear and commandeer a shuttle for the flit out to the Pegasus. Presently, there were four aliens residing aboard the small starship. Now Adam ran through his mind who else he needed to bring on the flight. Admiral Andy Tobias would be one, as would the Master Chief. And Sherri and Riyad? They would insist on going, but in light of the encounter in the passageway, Adam wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. He knew he shouldn’t let personal factors weigh in his decision, but that was easier said than done.

Seeing that this was simply a reconnaissance mission, he opted not to call them. Instead, he called Tobias and Rutledge from his stateroom and then headed for the landing bay.

What he hadn’t counted on was that Sherri and Riyad would be with Tobias when he made his brief call. By the time Adam reached the landing bay, all four of the others were there—including Riyad and Sherri.

Adam noticed a concerned look on Riyad’s face, yet Sherri was livid. “You were just going to cut us out? What’s wrong with you, dickhead; we’re a fucking team.”

“It’s just a quick in and out for intel. We’re not going to be engaging anyone.”

“I don’t care,” Sherri said as she snatched up her go-bag and began to step on the shuttle.

“You have a lot to learn about chain-of-command and command protocols, Valentine!” Adam yelled after her.

“Like I said, I don’t care,” was the echoed reply from inside the shuttle.

Riyad stepped up to Adam. “I’d really like to go, too, my friend,” he said sheepishly.

Adam sighed deeply. “Get onboard, but we’ll probably have to send some of the aliens back with the shuttle. The Pegasus wasn’t built for a crew of nine.”

There was a moment of eye contact between the two men, as they both understood that crew capacity of the Pegasus had nothing to do with Adam’s decision not to call him.

There was a look of extreme sadness on the face of Riyad Tarazi.

“We’re going!” Jym said as he bounded toward Adam. “And we have the ATD’s. They might come in handy.”

The little bear was right. He, Kaylor and Trimen still had functioning ATD’s under their skin—as did Sherri Valentine. And although Adam wasn’t expecting any actual combat where the artificial telepathy devices might be needed, he did see a need for the communications capabilities of the units.

He turned to Ruszel Crin.

The Tel’oran looked at all the other eyes staring at him. “Well, I do know the politics of the Nebula better than all of you. And if what you say is true about a pending clash between the Human and Juirean fleets, then being out with you, Adam Cain, may prove to be the safer course to take. I will go.”

Adam sent him a curt nod. “Kaylor, take the pilot seat,” Adam commanded. “Jym, Ruszel: navigation; Trimen: the comm station. The rest of you lay to the common room and standby for when we have actual intel to analyze and relay back to the fleet. I’ll be here, in the pilothouse. Now everyone ... to your stations; Kaylor, take us out of here.”

“Yes sir!” Kaylor said with a thin smile. After all these years, he had finally learned to say sir.

“The three ships—there are now three of them—have merged and are following a track right of our present course and about twenty degrees up,” a Guard-tech was informing Command-Overlord Enulic. Wydor could hear the report from his command chair. “There is no chance of catching them; their drives are too deep.”

“And yet no undue disruptions?”

“No, my Lord, very minimal and very contained.”

Enulic nodded to the tech, who then turned and left. “How can they travel at such speeds and not send gravity wakes all around them?” he asked more rhetorically than expecting the Juirean Elder to provide an answer.

“They are scouts, Lord Enulic. Perhaps they are built for such high-speed to enhance their mission. And yet if the technology exists for these vessels ... then why not more?”

“Precisely, my Lord. The only race with the capability to build such ships—with a breakthrough in technology—would be the Humans.”

“Or the Klin.” Wydor added.

The comment stopped Enulic in his tracks. For so long the Command-Overlord had been preparing for a military clash with both the Kracori and the Humans, that he had almost completely disregarded the Klin as a viable threat in that regard.

“They are technologically superior to every other race in the galaxy. It would not be unusual for them to have advanced gravity-drive technology. It would also explain why we have not been able to locate any substantial Klin concentrations in space.”

Wydor smiled. He hated to play such what-if games with his fleet commander, but it was the Elder’s job to assess all sides of an issue and then select the best course of action for the Juirean people. “However, Enulic, if the Humans did possess such technology, then the presence of these odd ships could be explained.”

“My Lord?” Enulic said with a frown.

“This new drive could have allowed them to reach the Nebula ahead of schedule, which would explain the screen scouts placed out before a hidden Human fleet.”

“So which is it, my Lord?” Wydor could detect the frustration in Enulic’s voice.

“That is what you must learn, Command-Overlord—and learn quickly.”

It was thirty minutes after Lord Enulic dispatched his own forward scouts that reports of unknown contacts began to filter back to the fleet. The contents of the reports only added to Wydor’s confusion and concern.

“That’s impossible,” Wydor could hear Enulic exclaim. “Twenty miles or more? Are you sure they are constructs?”

“Yes my Lord. The mass of the vessels is so great that the scans are undeniable. They are spaceships, five of them.”

“Course?”

“Not directly in our direction, yet about twenty-degrees relative left.”

Wydor was already collating the data in his mind. The scouts they had detected earlier were now traveling away from the fleet to the right. These new contacts were located to the fleet’s left. So either the scouts were attempting to deceive, or else there are two unknown forces operating within the Void. It was Wydor’s conclusion that the scouts and the large spacecraft were of the same origin, otherwise the coincidence was too improbable. And yet who could build spaceships over twenty miles in diameter....

“Forgive the interruption,” Lord Wydor said. All the others nearby stopped and waited in deference to the status of the Council Elder. “Has the shape of these huge ships been yet discerned?”

The question caught the tech off guard. “I have no knowledge of that, my Lord, yet I will ask for an immediate analysis.”

“Very good.”

The tech left, without waiting for Command-Overlord Enulic to dismiss him.

“We shall soon learn, Enulic,” Wydor said, a tinge of excitement building in his tone.

“Could it be possible? Would not the Langril have known?”

“He may have known, and yet did not reveal the truth to me.”

Lord Enulic tightened his jaw. “Deceit on this level—”

“Yes, Command-Overlord,” Wydor interrupted, “could cause our prior agreement to be set aside. And although it was my idea to sequester the fleet in this part of the Void, I feel we may have underestimated Langril Nomar Polimic’s talents at persuasion and subliminal suggestion.”

“We must beware of a trap, my Lord.”

“Yes. The presence of these massive spaceships, accompanied by the remarkable gravity-drives of the smaller vessels, could prove that we are about to confront something entirely new and unexpected, and possibly for this reason Nomar believed it would spell the end of our fleet and without the massive loses of his own. Send out more scouts and probes. I want to know all that occupies this part of the Void. There is much more here than was originally surmised.”

“They cannot be the Kracori,” the Klin Pleabaen Wesselian Velsum exclaimed, “so it must be the Juireans.”

“We concur,” said the senior military strategist for the Klin, Annis Corshum. Velsum was with the main section of the Colony now skirting the wall of the Shield, many light years from the five pods now under surveillance by the Juireans. “There may be an opportunity for a clash between the Juireans and the pursuing Humans.”

“Can you effect a joining, Annis? In the confusion, the pods may be allowed to escape.”

“The Humans are being cautious about closing the gap between their fleet and our pods. They may still be unaware who we are.”

“I could instruct the pods to turn back on the Humans.”

“They could see that as a hostile act and fire upon them,” Velsum said. He thought for a moment, studying the track screen. “Have the pods steer left ninety-degrees. That will force both fleets to turn to follow and they should join up on their flanks. All that is required is a mutual detection on the part of the two great fleets. After that natural forces will take over. And on their new course, the pods should be able to rendezvous with us as the mighty fleets smash each other to atoms.”

“And yet, my Pleabaen, the questions remains: What are the Juireans doing this far into the Void, and seemingly to have suffered no losses to the Kracori and Nebula forces?”

“That I do not know, yet this fortuitous event may serve to save our fellow Klin within the pods. It has indeed been a strange few hours within the Dysion Void, but it is apparent that we Klin are now fighting for our very survival. Of all the forces now moving about the Void, we are the most unprotected. Drastic measures may be needed if we are to escape.”

Chapter 37

“The large targets are moving away, my Lord, turning to our right ninety-degrees. Gravity readings have increased yet are now holding steady within deep-space range.”

“Acknowledged, Guard-tech, continue to monitor.”

Enulic studied the track of the large objects. Only moments before, it had been confirmed that the objects were indeed disk-shaped and almost twenty-five miles in diameter. They were undoubtedly Klin, and each vessel that large could easily carry a population of twenty-five thousand or more individuals.

The Command-Overlord shook his head in disbelief when first the thought of one hundred thousand Klin housed within those ships had dawned on him. There had never been a good estimate as to the current strength of the Klin population, yet none of even the wildest speculations put them at more than a million. And to find such a huge number of them contained within only five spacecraft meant that the Juireans may finally have solved the mystery of the Klin survival throughout the millennia.

It also raised the specter of more such vessels—arks in a manner—existing within the Void. Where there were five, surely there were more.

And Enulic bu Lornim was now absolutely positive that the Kracori Langril Nomar Polimic knew of their existence.

“Navigator!” Enulic called out. “Change course to heading one-eight-zero, down four. Execute on my command.” He paused so the various personnel involved in a fleet course change could perform their pre-turn tasks.

“Execute!” And with that command, the lead elements of Enulic’s nearly five thousand unit-strong force began to take a serpentine track following the giant Klin starships. The entire fleet did not turn in unison; rather the head of the fleet led the way, while other units began to fan out from the main body to create a large cone-shaped formation. Nearly a thousand ships now had a clear view of the space ahead—an extremely strong defensive posture against attack—while the bulk of the force remained safe within the cone.

In addition to the added defensive posture of the fleet, dozens of scout ships flashed ahead and to the flanks, while even more streaked off in multiple directions intending to survey this entire section of the Void. With each passing minute a more detailed picture of what lay beyond their current sensor horizons would be revealed to the Command-Overlord and his Elder. Enulic was filled with excitement as to what the survey might reveal.

Fueled by an almost in-bred fear and hatred, Enulic hoped he would find more Klin. More than anything accomplished in the time since the Reckoning, the final extermination of the Klin race would prove to be the fulfillment of a passion every Juirean shared, and had shared, throughout the ages. Enulic’s chest swelled as he felt an overwhelming sense of pride and purpose in his current mission. Today could be the day: the day of the Final Reckoning.

Chapter 38

The Pegasus shot off from the main Human fleet at near maximum acceleration for the concentrated-array gravity-drive. Adam knew they didn’t have much time to find the answers to what had happened to the Kracori fleet. The huge Klin ships were leading the fleet directly towards Elision—and the Juireans—and within ten hours, at the most, Kracori sensors should begin to detect the lead elements.

However, an hour into the flight, Adam received a message from Command. The Klin had changed course and were now moving away from Elision following a more portside track. The course change had come abruptly and radically, and the Human fleet had slowed its forward speed and shifted course to compensate, at least temporarily.

With the three scouts in Lt. Kimball’s squadron running for their lives, no new data had come in with regards to the location and activities of the Juirean fleet. Drones had been dispatched, capable of more stealthy observations, yet without the speed of the manned scout ships, any new data was still an hour or so from coming in.

Fleet Command had wished to remain on course for Elision, yet with the unknown strength and condition of the Kracori—along with this menacing Juirean fleet in the vicinity—Admiral Nash was holding off committing his forces fully. Adam would be in Kracori territory in five hours. If the fleet could remain hidden from the Juireans until then, Nash would have more options—possibly.

At the present time, the Humans and Juireans were not at war, however, it was unknown what would result from a direct contact of the forces. With Humanity’s new directive of punishing any alien race that had wronged them, the Juireans definitely were on the list. Yet with a full fleet—and the Kracori to fight, too—Nash wasn’t anxious to open a two-front war.

The message from Fleet almost begged Adam for quick results. Until he reported back, Nash would be unable to finalize his plans. And Adam also knew that if it turned out that both the Kracori and Juirean fleets were at full strength, then probably the most prudent route for Admiral Nash to take would be right back through the hole in Shield. The fleet was nine thousand light-years from Earth; it could not sustain substantial loses and still function as a viable force, not this far from home. Support units were being moved into place along the path from Earth to Elision, but they would arrive too late to make a difference, not with the accelerated timeline for action within the Void.

As Adam watched the light from the Shield fill the very space within the Void in an almost iridescent glow, he instinctively knew something had gone terribly wrong with the planning for the Kracori assault. He was at a loss as to what could have happened over the course of five days to completely change the dynamic within the Dysion Void. As hard as he fought for an answer, nothing came to him. He would just have to find the answers in real time, and that was never a good way to go about military operations.

Chapter 39

“Lead Commander, we have detected a vessel entering one of the outer kill zones,” said the young Kracori conscript.

The steely-eyed Kracori officer approached the Operator’s station. “Which one?”

“Eighty-Nine, my Ludif.”

“That one is located on the opposite side of the planet from the Corridor. It is a single vessel?”

“Yes, my Ludif. Remote sensors picked it up traveling at incredible velocity.”

Lead-Commander Ioniff raised a bony eyebrow. As all Kracori at the central command on Elision knew, the ship that had wreaked havoc on the Citadel had fled the planet at an equally unbelievable speed, leaving all the pursuers far behind, until it had quickly disappeared off their screens. Could this be the same ship returning for another destructive pass on the planet?

“Activate the mines, Operator. If this is the ship that destroyed the Citadel, then it must be stopped before it can return to Elision.”

“Understood, Commander.” The young Kracori placed a series of commands into the computer. “It is estimated the ship will be through the kill zone in fourteen minutes, however, on their current track, they will enter Seventy-Six shortly thereafter. There are multiple opportunities to destroy the target before it reaches the planet.”

“Good,” said LC Ioniff. “I am creating a task-unit to monitor and destroy the vessel. You will be in that unit.”

“Most appreciated, my Ludif.”

“Do not let the vessel through, Operator.”

“As ordered, Lead-Commander.”

“This is odd,” Ruszel Crin said to Jym seated next to him at the nav console.

Before Jym could respond, Adam had already bolted from his seat and rushed to the station. “What’s odd, Ruszel?”

“These intermittent magnetic readings,” the green-skinned Tel’oran said. “They appear random, yet they fade as we pass and then gain strength as we draw near.”

“You said magnetic?”

“Yes. There does not appear to be any outgoing radiation, just a strengthening and diminishing of the readings, almost as if whatever is out there is gaining magnetism as we near, and then losing it as we pass.”

“What can do that?’ Adam asked.

“The only knowledge I have of any such occurrence is with passive detection devices—actually manufactured by the Formilians.”

Adam reached across the console and pressed an intercom button. “Trimen, to the pilothouse, immediately.”

Almost before the sound of Adam’s voice finished echoing against the steel bulkheads of the Pegasus, Trimen was in the pilothouse. Andy Tobias and Sherri Valentine lingered at the doorway, curious what was going on but not wanting to add to the crowded conditions within the room.

Ruszel quickly filled Trimen in the odd readings he was picking up.

Trimen shook his head. “I am sorry, Adam, but I am a Celebrant, which is a religious post. I am a scientist as well, yet my specialty is in biology, not electronic technology. However, if I was to guess, I would say this is some kind of proximity trigger.” He pointed at the series of readings on the screen Jym had posted. “You see the correlation between the strength of the reading and our distance from them. They are stronger the closer to them we come at perigee.”

“What kind of devices would use such triggers?”

“Beacons, comm relays, magnetic mines—”

“Mines?”

The word instantly brought shocked looks to all in the pilothouse. Tobias entered the room. “This could be some kind of minefield the Kracori set for the Juireans, and maybe for us. If we get close enough to one of these mines, it could lock on. So far, we’ve been lucky.”

“All stop, Kaylor! Back-wells on full.”

“Be careful Captain that you don’t disrupt the gravity field in the area with a full-array back-well,” Tobias said. “You don’t want to pull one of those things into us.”

“You heard him, Kaylor. Slow down ... slowly. Ruszel and Jym, now that you know what to look for can you see them coming?”

“We will try,” Jym said.

“That was close. Good job Ruszel,” Adam said, patting Ruszel on the back. “You’ve earned your pay for today.”

“Am I to be paid for my assistance? I was not aware. You know that is not necessary.”

The pointy-eared alien actually smiled, sending his ears into a flutter, before burying his attention back into the readings scrolling across the screen.

Adam opened his mouth to explain the figure of speech, but then changed his mind. Sometimes it was better just to let the aliens figure things out on their own.

Adam had no idea how extensive the minefield was, so with each passing minute his frustration grew. They didn’t have time for this; Admiral Nash was counting on his intel.

After half an hour, the aliens at the navigation console no longer detected any of the magnetic mines, so Adam ordered full power and the Pegasus resumed its headlong rush toward Elision. But now they had to be especially careful knowing that passive defensive measures were being employed by the Kracori.

As it turned out, the Pegasus had been luckier than first thought. When the tracks of the magnetic mines had been plotted, it was found that the narrow focus of the gravity-well forward of the ship had been absorbing the mines directly in front of them. With a traditional, more diffused and distant gravity-well, the mines would have been able to operate as designed. The Pegasus would have been blown to bits within minutes of entering the minefield using a standard three-ring drive.

So when forty-five minutes later more mines began to appear on the screen, Kaylor was able to proceed through the field simply by keeping the side mines at a safe distance. They were also able to maintain their speed, which it was learned was the reason the side mines had not had an opportunity to lock-on earlier. All this new information was organized and relayed back to the fleet.

Operator Mannes Kelsum and the other three members of the task-unit established by the Lead-Commander were at a loss as to why none of the mines had locked on. The alien ship had cleared Zone Eighty-Nine without incident, and now they were in Seventy-Six, and still no lock or detonation.

LC Ioniff was furious. He called in his own lead, and soon a squadron of Kracori warships was dispatched to the area. Ioniff had wanted desperately for it to be his department that defeated the alien; now he would have to let that honor go to others.

And then Operator Kelsum noticed something strange. One of the mines was moving, not fast, not having locked on, yet it was moving along the exact same line as the alien spacecraft as plotted by the passive sensors. It took him a moment before he realized what had happened. He summoned LC Ioniff to his station.

“The mine appears to have been caught up in the narrow gravity wake of the alien craft,” he explained. “It is falling into the well, just the same as is the alien spacecraft, yet at a much slower rate.”

“But it has not locked-on?”

“No, it is operating independently of the metallic hull of the ship and simply following the gravity-well. It is a most-unusual event. The mine must have been situated in just the right location for this to happen.”

“Accelerate the mine to contact, Operator.”

“The mine will not make contact, not until the alien craft slows, my Ludif. The generators on the mine are not strong enough to effect an intercept.”

Ioniff thought hard for a moment. The mine would continue to follow the well, yet would always be far behind the vessel until it slowed. Yet the alien craft may not slow until it reached Elision, and the squadron sent to seek and destroy the craft might possibly cause it to speed away, not slow.

“Are there other minefields along its path?”

“No, my Ludif, and the vessel has not slowed during its transit of Seventy-Six.”

“No slowing at all?”

“None.”

“How could they do that and still survive?”

“Their very speed may be helping to prevent the mines from locking on. Those aboard the vessel have learned quickly.”

“Save your admiration for after they are destroyed, Operator,” Ioniff scolded. “How long until they are within the system?”

“Two hours at present speed, Lead-Commander.”

“And to squadron intercept?”

“The same. Most of our units were on station near the Corridor. In-system units are rare and located to the opposite side, the Corridor side.”

“They will have to slow when entering the system. That may be the time when we can stop them, either with the fleet vessels or with your mine, Operator.”

“I will continue to think on ways of slowing the vessel, my Ludif.”

“Very good, Operator Kelsum. You have done well.”

Chapter 40

“We have contacts! Multiple contacts!” a petty officer on the bridge of The Trident called out.

“Identify,” Admiral Christian Bergmann commanded.

“Small ... probes—and active.”

“Activate jamming and countermeasures.”

“Eight confirmed bogies, located at various locations along the fleet. We’ve been seen, Admiral.”

“Shit! Lieutenant Porter, is our jamming having any effect?”

“Not much sir. They came on us so fast that even a second’s worth of data would have confirmed our presence, and a burst transmission could carry an incredible amount of data. Jamming appears to have restricted any outgoing transmissions now, yet the probes may be storing data for later transmission, once clear of our jamming. That’s how our probes operate.”

“Then we have to assume our location has been compromised,” Bergmann announced to the bridge. “Get those damned probes out of our space. Any word yet on the position of the Juirean fleet?”

“Give it another five, ten minutes, sir,” Lt. Porter said. “Our own drones are just now arriving on station.”

Bergmann bit his bottom lip as he paced the bridge deck. “Let me know the moment the probes have been either destroyed or chased away.”

“Aye, sir,” another voice said from across the bridge.

“Petty Officer Levinson, get the Fleet Commander up here.”

“Yes sir.”

“Clear, Admiral,” a voice cried out. “Clear space surrounding the fleet.”

“Helm, prepare for course change. Come about to one-six-five, up five, on my mark.”

“Helm aye.”

“Ready, on my mark ... mark!”

The huge Human fleet began a strong turn to starboard. It would take five to six minutes for all units to be on the new heading, but hopefully making a turn straight for Elision once more would hide them from the Juireans.

“Sit rep, Chris,” Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash ordered as he entered the bridge.

“We’ve been spotted. I just made a ninety-degree turn to starboard. That will head us back in the direction of Elision. To port would have aimed us for the Shield.”

“Good maneuver, Admiral,” Nash said. “Eventually we’re going to have to fight someone. I’d prefer it to be the Kracori and not the damn Juireans. This puts us in that position. Any word from Cain?”

“Just that they passed through a couple of minefields unscathed and that they’re nearing the Kracori system. He’s going to sweep around to the Corridor side and see if he can detect any units.”

“And if he finds the fleet?”

“Then he’s counting on the Pegasus to get him out of there fast.”

Nash stepped over to his command chair and slipped in. He called an enlisted man over and asked him to get a couple of coffees for the two admirals. “I think this seat is going to be my new home for the next few hours, Chris,” Nash said with a humorless smile. “It’s all coming down to the wire.”

Chapter 41

There was a lot of space traffic in and around the Kracori star system, but most was commercial in nature. Adam didn’t know what to make of that, yet. Either it could be from the Kracori military having suffered a catastrophic defeat, or they were fully intact and on station in another part of the Void. The fact that the system wasn’t full of military craft was the clue he was looking for.

He ordered Kaylor not to enter the system, but rather to sweep to port and circle the system over to the Volseen Corridor side. It was in this region where Adam last knew the Kracori fleet to be on station.

“I have new contacts, Adam,” Jym reported.

“Where?”

“Below us and definitely vectoring in. Strong sigs; military craft without a doubt.”

Adam had wondered if they were being tracked through the minefields. It wouldn’t have taken much to do so. Tiny, passive monitors would have seen them come and go and then reported the course back to Elision. He was actually surprised the intercept units had not appeared before they reached the system; an indicator of a smaller, damaged fleet?

Five minutes later, he had his answer.

By then the pilothouse of the Pegasus was packed with all the inhabitants of the ship. “Holy crap! That’s a full fleet,” Andy Tobias exclaimed.

The long-range tracking screen was displaying a near solid line of contacts at the extreme range of their detectors. The computers were already analyzing the data and counting ships.

“Over three thousand,” Jym reported in a concerned voice.

“Any debris, any intermittent or weakened grav-sigs?” Adam asked, hope evident in his tone.

“None; this is an intact fleet, undamaged and ready for battle.”

“Send it, Jym. Get this to the fleet.”

“Yes sir.” Even Jym had taken to Human military protocol.

“I have a new spread of ships,” Ruszel cried out as Jym moved to the comm station to send the report to Admiral Nash. “Many spreads now. They are moving to block our progress.”

“Everyone not already strapped in, do so now!” Adam commanded.

“I have a CW-link coming in, Adam.”

“Put it on speaker—”

“It is not from your fleet.”

Adam craned his neck in Trimen’s direction. “It’s not, from where then?”

“Elision.”

“Our link was open? Shit!”

“Sorry, Adam, I was not aware to do otherwise,” Trimen said.

“It’s not your fault, Trimen. Go ahead and open the link.”

“Is that you, Adam Cain, back for another attempt to thwart the Kracori war effort?”

Adam elected to keep the link on audio only. He had no desire to look into the face of Langril Nomar Polimic again.

“In the flesh, Nomar. How are things down in your capital complex? I can recommend a good rehab contractor if you need one.”

“I assume that is some kind of witticism, now lost in translation. And still you keep trying. Nonetheless, I suppose you have come back to find out what happened to the glorious battle that was about to take place, just before you made your reckless and crude escape.”

“It worked; we escaped.”

“For now you are free. We shall see what the next few minutes will bring.”

“Speaking of that, can you get to the point? I’m a little busy right about now.”

“Of course you are. Now that your fleet has been discovered by the Juireans—and your fleet has discovered them—I assume you have much work to do, preparing for a battle against two full-strength fleets.”

“They reported this to you?”

“Yes, that is what allies do.”

Adam’s stomach tightened. “How the hell did you pull that one off?”

“I detect a question there, even with some rather odd phrasing, as usual. But if you must know, the Juireans have decided that it is the Humans who pose the greatest threat to them and not the Kracori, so we had common ground on which to build an agreement.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Ah, that phrase again. It is no bullshit, Adam Cain. And now with your fleet trapped inside the Dysion Void, it will be the Humans who shall all die this day. And how you did gloat over the demise of the Kracori. Our Legend will survive—in fact grow—now that this alliance has been formed. And your world will lie open and vulnerable to the combined forces of the Kracori and the Juireans.”

Jym had returned to his station and was now waving his stubby arms emphatically. Adam motioned for him to transfer his screen to the main forward monitor. Now Adam saw the reason for Jym’s concern.

The vectoring units had now closed on the Pegasus, as Kaylor had slowed the ship as it approached the wide cone of starships spreading out in front of it. The six ships closing on them were now moving into attack formation; they would be opening fire very soon.

“Listen, Nomar, it’s been fun chatting with you, but I really have to go. But one last thing for you to ponder as the events unfold over the next few days.”

“What is that?”

“It’s not over until the fat lady sings.”

“That comment makes no sense, even in translation, Adam Cain.”

“And that is why you’re going to lose, asshole.”

Adam nodded and Trimen cut the link.

“Prepare to come about, Kaylor. We’ll have a better chance going against six Kracori than two hundred.”

Kaylor turned to face Adam, a near-panicked and frightened look on his face. “I am afraid to ask, but what does prepare to come about mean?”

Adam merely smiled. “It means get ready to turn around. We’re heading back the other way. And Jym, help Trimen take the recording of the conversation with Nomar and send it to the fleet.”

“Captain, what would you like the rest of us to do?” Admiral Tobias asked.

“Get Riyad on the weapons. He’s done a lot of firing of flash-cannon in his day. You can hang with him and offer your technical advice. Sherri and the Chief—just hold on. I’ll have us out of here in no time. Bring us abo—turn the ship, Kaylor, back the way we came.”

Vice-Commander Wic Zimorin watched as the target ship made a tight loop in front of the spread of warships fanned out from the main fleet.

“Prepare for a blanket salvo,” Wic ordered. “This ship is fast, so we must anticipate its actions before they occur. Fire on my command.”

The alien ship had now completed its turn and was heading directly for VC Wic and his squadron. At the speed they were approaching, he would have to fire his flash-cannon long before he would have under normal circumstance. Which was....

“Fire!”

The massive electric-blue bolts shot out of three locations on each on the six ships, creating a spread of eighteen deadly, roiling balls of energy covering a wide area of space between them and the alien spacecraft. The craft took evasive maneuvers, yet it was still buffeted by the explosions that took place at the end of the bolts’ target range.

And then the alien opened fire. The bolts from this craft were not as wide or as powerful as those from the Kracori warships, yet they seemed to be very intense for their size and were extremely accurate. Two of Wic’s ships took direct hits on their shields, which were overloaded and went down briefly. And then, almost as if it had been anticipated, two more bolts shot out from the alien craft even before the shields failed on his. They aimed directly at Wic’s ships with the temporarily damaged shields ... and the Kracori commander sat in stunned silence as he saw two of his six ships disappear from the active monitor.

With a boiling anger, Wic and the surviving four ships sent out two more rapid salvos at the alien vessel, yet because of the unbelievable speed of his opponent, only two of the twenty-four bolts struck the vessel. As luck would have it, these two strikes were enough to cause a marked decrease in the speed of the craft.

Yet it could still fight. The next barrage released from the enemy took out another of Wic’s ships, however, when it lined up for another shot, nothing happened.

Immediately, the alien craft began to make radical course corrections attempting to avoid a lock-on by Wic’s weapons batteries. He smiled. The weapons were down on the alien spacecraft; all they had left was their speed and maneuverability, and the speed had suffered as a result of Wic’s prior salvos.

Mirroring the screens from the ships on his flanks, Vice-Commander Wic took control of the weapons aboard all three ships and prepared to send a battle-ending barrage of hot energy right into the mouth of the enemy. He personally gripped the fire control button and began to squeeze.

Just then he heard a loud clang and felt a reverberation move from the rear of his ship to the forward section. He looked to his executive officer.

“Something has just attached itself to our hull. It could be—”

Chief Rutledge lay on the deck with a serious amount of blood escaping from his head. Sherri knelt over him applying pressure to the wound. Tobias and Trimen manned fire extinguishers, trying to damper the electrical fire that had started near the comm station, and the pilothouse was clouded with smoke, making Adam’s view of the forward tactical screen nearly impossible to see.

They were running out of options, and with three focusing rings offline, speed was one of them.

Just then a tiny flash appeared off in the distance through the glass viewport. Adam squinted at the tac screen to see if a series of new bolt-tracks were emanating from the alien spaceships. There were none, and the more he looked at the screen, the more he became confused. The middle ship of the three aligned against them was now gone, and the other two were drifting slowly away to either side, their grav-sigs barely registering.

Not one to question good fortune for more than a moment, Adam ordered Kaylor to proceed at their best possible speed directly toward where the three craft had once been positioned. Even with three rings down, the Pegasus should still be able to stay ahead of the pursuing elements of the main Kracori fleet, assuming no other units moved in to cut off their escape route.

“What happened?” Ruszel shouted from the nav station. “I registered a massive explosion in the middle of their formation.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Adam said. “Right now, make sure we’re clear of all hostiles—and get us out of here as fast as possible.”

“Yes Adam Cain,” Ruszel said, a loud cough escaping his lungs as the room continued to fill with the excess smoke that was unable to be drawn away by the ship’s emergency ventilation system.

Adam looked around at the scene of controlled disorder. That’s when his eyes fell upon Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge. He unbuckled and ran to his side. There were tears actively flowing down Sherri’s cheeks as she held a blood-soaked bandage against the head of the ex-Navy SEAL.

Adam pressed his fingers against the carotid artery of the Chief’s bloody neck, shifting his fingers several times, all with the same results. The pulse was gone.

And so was Geoffrey Rutledge.

Operator Kelsum’s pulse was racing; it soared to an almost unbelievable level when Lead-Commander Ioniff stalked up to his station.

“What happened?” The LC’s voice was a high-pitched squeal, causing all eyes in the room to turn toward him.

“Apparently the pursuing spacecraft moved into the path of the mine, and once it caught up to the battle, it attached itself to a friendly vessel.”

“Could you not deactivate it?”

“It all happened so suddenly, my Ludif.”

“Ludif? I am not your Ludif—not now. You are relieved, Operator Kelsum, and are to report yourself to Command for disciplinary actions.”

“This was unanticipated, my Lud—Lead-Commander Ioniff.”

“That is why you must submit yourself; you should have anticipated such an outcome. And now the alien has escaped, and it will be I who will be held responsible as your lead—along with you, Operator Kelsum!”

“We have ships closing on us from in-system!” Jym cried out.

“Have any of you replaced focusing rings before,” Adam asked of all in the pilothouse. Kaylor and Ruszel said they had. “The two of you get to work. We need at least two more operating to get us out of this mess. I’ll take over the stick. Andy and Riyad, take the Chief to the landing bay and put him someplace safe.”

“Safe?” Sherri queried.

“I don’t want his body flying around if it gets rough. Sherri, can you clean up some of the blood?”

“In this light gravity I can help carry him. Why is it that the woman has to do the cleaning?” Sherri added.

Adam slipped into the pilot seat as he felt his anger growing. “I don’t have time for your insecurities at the moment, Sherri. You and Riyad take the body then. Andy would be more valuable on the bridge anyway. Stay in the damn landing bay if you want. That would be fine with me.”

“Is this because of what you saw in the hallway?”

“Dammit, Sherri, we’re fighting for our lives here. Just do what I say!”

“Aye, fucking, aye, sir!”

Riyad took hold of Sherri’s elbow. “Help me with Geoffrey,” he said gently. Sherri broke her fierce gaze from the back of Adam’s head. “Fine. I’ve had about as much of that jerk as I can stand.”

Kaylor and Ruszel had been frozen in inaction as the argument between the two Humans raged. Adam noticed them still in the pilothouse. “Get to work you two! Admiral, take Ruszel’s seat.”

“Yes sir.” Rear Admiral Andy Tobias said to Captain Adam Cain. Soon the pilothouse was five bodies lighter.

“Damn bitc—”

“More incoming!” Jym reported. “Transferring screen.”

Indeed, it appeared as though the whole of the Kracori military apparatus was after them. Undoubtedly the Langril had received the report of Adam’s survival—once again—and had gone berserk. Every Kracori spaceship in the area, be it military or not, had been ordered to pursue or contain. With the burst transmission already sent to the fleet containing all the intel regarding the Kracori fleet, this new action against them was strictly out of vengeance on Nomar’s part. It seemed he would go to any measures to see Adam dead.

Their original line of approach had been effectively cut off, so Adam spun the Pegasus to starboard and climbed high above the ecliptic. There were fewer ships here—at least for the moment. Yet without at least another focusing ring or two working, it was inevitable that some Kracori units would gain the angle on them.

Even though five rings were still functioning—compared to three in a traditional array—without them working in unison, the Pegasus was only slightly faster than the fleet units in a dead sprint. And another item weighing heavy on Adam’s mind was his personal experience with replacing focusing rings from the interior of a starship. It wasn’t the easiest of tasks to perform. But Kaylor and Ruszel were experienced pilots, with many more years of experience than Adam. If anyone could perform a ring replacement in record time, it would be those two. At least that’s what Adam kept chanting to himself.

Chapter 42

“My Pleabaen, the Humans have broken off their pursuit of the pods.”

“They have ... why?”

“It appears the Juireans have located the Human fleet and they changed course in response. It appears as though a major engagement is about to begin.” Even the young Klin messenger could see the possibilities, as evidenced by his slender smile and jovial tone of voice.

Velsum lifted a datapad and pulled up a graphic displaying this section of the Dysion Void. “Have Senior Fellow Huriniss proceed to the rendezvous point at maximum speed yet have him first lead the Juireans back to the Humans as he does so. It would appear the Juireans are following Huriniss’ every move. If there is a conflict to begin, then let us hasten its arrival. We are approaching the Shield at this moment, so there is hope that his pods can still reach the breach as the combatants make battle.”

“That would be magnificent, my Pleabaen.”

“Indeed. I had already accepted their sacrifice. This is a great relief—for all of us.”

Chapter 43

“This is unfucking believable!” Fleet Commander Nash yelled. He was known for his calm manner and iron nerves, yet the transcript he had just read sent him over the top. He was in the strategic planning room just off the CIC aboard The Trident, his senior staff gathered around him.

“Why on earth would the Juireans and the Kracori unite against us? We are not at war with the Juireans—and it wasn’t us who dropped a rock on their precious Juir. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“And yet it’s now confirmed that both fleets are still intact—and with the Juireans apparently out trolling for us,” said Commander Gordon Henley, the fleet’s intelligence officer. “Combined, we’re looking at over eighty-five hundred enemy combatants.”

There was a profound sense of disappointment in the room, not from a fear of defeat, but rather from the growing possibility of a retreat. They had come such a long way on a mission to avenge the deaths of so many, that to now tuck tail and run would be a sickening embarrassment. And yet all in the room were pragmatists as well. The integrity of the fleet had to be maintained.

“What’s the latest on the Juireans?” Nash asked, his tone more even now after his outburst.

“The Juireans are doing a good job of knocking out our drones, yet we do have some intel that indicates no significant change of course, Admiral,” Commander Henley replied.

“Then they haven’t noticed our change of course, not yet?”

“We’re still fighting off multiple drones ourselves, Admiral, but at the outer markers. That’s good, but we can’t be sure. As far as we know, the Juireans are still tracking the Klin ships.”

Nash grinned, a gesture not matched by the sadness in his eyes. “Maybe they consider the Klin a more valuable prize. Besides, with the Kracori and Nebula forces guarding the Corridor, they may think they have us trapped in the Void and can dispose of us whenever they feel like it. What’s the update on Cain and the Pegasus? I can only give him so much time to return to the fleet before we high-tail it out of here.”

There it is, Nash thought. I said it. But what option do I have? We can’t go up against over eighty-five hundred ships, even with the Cain Drive. What an incredible waste of time this has been....

“There is no doubt as to your analysis, Tech?” Command-Overlord Enulic asked pointedly.

“None, my Lord. The gravity signatures of the Human ships are completely unique and identifiable, based on the data sent the Kracori sent with regards to the one Human ship they’ve studied.”

“And yet now you can no longer detect them?”

“The Humans have changed course however, it is only a matter of time before we locate them again.”

“And the signatures do not match with the other large ships we are pursuing?”

“Those signatures are more conventional—albeit much more intense considering the size of the vessels. Unless the Humans are employing two different drive systems, we are looking at separate entities.”

“You can say it, Tech: We are following Klin vessels.”

“It would appear so, my Lord.”

Enulic was silent as he digested the information he now knew to be true: There was a large Human fleet very near—and now missing—and possessing a superior drive system, while a grouping of incredibly large Klin spaceship lay directly ahead of them. In the meantime, there was a fully-intact Kracori fleet of questionable loyalty to their rear, along with another group of allied starships willing to serve as fodder in defense of their precious Nebula.

“Your orders, my Lord,” the Tech said breaking his troubled thoughts.

“Maintain course and send out even more drones. Maintain all vigilance. I will confer with the Elder.”

Chapter 44

“One more online,” Kaylor’s voice reported through the ship’s intercom.

One wasn’t going to do, Adam thought. He could now see no less than four formations of Kracori ships vectoring for an intercept. And normally the two hundred or so ships behind him would not have been a concern, even with three rings down. But the slightest decrease of his forward speed would allow them to draw nearer.

Whatta bitch, he thought. Only thinking of herself!

Adam shook his head. For several minutes his thoughts were a conflicting jumble of unwanted distractions—all involving Sherri Valentine—even though he knew he needed complete concentration on his piloting skills. But it was hard. He was furious at her yet upset with himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. All she had to do was follow his orders. Why was she always giving him lip?

“Are you okay, Adam?” a voice said to his right. It was Andy Tobias, sitting at the navigation station with Jym.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he stated firmly with a determined frown clouding his face.

“It’s just that you look a little distracted. This is not the time to lose focus. Maybe someone else would do better at the helm.”

The statement really jarred Adam. Was his mood so transparent?

“You’re right, Admiral, but I’ll be fine.”

Tobias matched Adam’s frown. “Mission first, sailor.”

“Hur-rah.” There was no enthusiasm in his voice.

“Yeah, whatever, Captain. Just don’t get us all killed because you’re screwed up in the head. That would not serve the Master Chief’s legacy.”

Adam felt his knees go weak. Tobias was right. Rutledge had unbuckled from his seat to help fight the fire at Trimen’s comm station and fallen when one of the Kracori bolts struck the ship. His head hit a sharp edge of something, abruptly ending the life and career of a SEAL legend. The least Adam could do was get his body back to the fleet for proper honors.

“Thank you, Admiral,” Adam said. “Mission first; aye, sir.”

“Two just now going in,” a voice echoed in the pilothouse.

Adam pressed a button: “That was quick. I’m seeing a surge already. One more to go.”

“My ATD is helping—more control,” Kaylor’s voice replied.

Adam looked over at Trimen seated at the comm console. The Formilian returned his gaze with even emotion. He didn’t appear to be moved one way or the other that the tiny device provided by his people was helping to save all their lives.

Adam applied more power to the generators and the series of microscopic singularities in the space before them intensified. The increase in speed was noticeable and immediate as distances began to increase between them and all their pursuers.

Adam began to relax. Which all it did was make him think: Whatta bitch....

When the third focusing ring came back online the speed of the Pegasus increased by a full thirty-percent with the multiple effects of the rings now realized. There was clear space ahead, and Adam steered the ship towards the estimated location of the Human fleet.

He was now communicating with them only through coded bursts. They had lost contact with the Juirean fleet and open CW-links could be intercepted if directly aligned with the enemy. Exact coordinates could not be transmitted.

Sherri and Riyad wisely remained aft of the pilothouse, avoiding Adam even when he got up to go to the head. This thing with Sherri was really bothering him, and he wondered why? Their relationship had been tremulous at best over the years, with nothing firm ever laid down defining the actual parameters. She had taken other lovers in the past, even though Adam had not. He never seemed to have the time—and let’s face it, there weren’t a lot of other Humans females populating the outer reaches of the galaxy. So why was he so troubled by this recent incident?

And then it struck him: Riyad!

Never before had Sherri chosen one of his immediate circle of friends over him. This was definitely a territorial thing, and Adam wasn’t even upset with Riyad. He had just been through a terrible ordeal where all hope had been lost. Of course, he would welcome the company of a beautiful Human female, even if she was technically with his best friend and teammate. As in most male-female relationships, it was the woman who controlled most of the unions; she had focused in on Riyad, and the poor man had no choice but to go along for the ride.

As the hours passed, Adam began to place the complex love-triangle into better perspective. He had never felt he could satisfy Sherri’s many needs, not so much sexually, but emotionally. One moment she was restless for more adventure and excitement; the next she was longing for home and a family of her own. Adam had already had his family. They had been taken from him by the Juireans as a result of the evil plotting of the Klin and their sycophant accomplices. And he had been honest with her when he said that family life just didn’t appeal to him anymore. Too much risk of loss again? He didn’t know for sure—”

“I have some pop-up contacts to our right, Adam,” Jym announced. Kaylor had returned to the pilothouse and was now at the helm. Adam was in the observation seat, allowing his mind to wander now that they were in relatively safe space.

“Pop-ups?”

“Yes, they are at the extreme range of our sensors and are either moving away or we are losing contact from our forward motion. See, more of them now.”

“Same location?”

“No, these are new.” Concern was growing in Jym’s voice.

“Kaylor, move us a little to port—left.”

The Belsonian complied, which only made Jym slap his console. “Now I have pop-ups on the left.”

Adam’s stomach tightened; he knew immediately what was happening. “Admiral Tobias to the pilothouse!” he cried through the intercom.

Fifteen seconds later, Andy Tobias entered. Adam didn’t wait for the query.

“It looks like we have fleets to our left and our right, and we’re moving right down the middle.”

“Our fleet should be to port,” Tobias stated. “I’d steer that way.”

“Roger that, but that means the Juirean are right there!” He pointed at the rash of new contacts that suddenly rushed to fill the right side of his forward screen.

“And here we come,” said Riyad Tarazi as he entered the pilothouse, pointing at the screen himself.

The left side of the screen suddenly filled with white dots.

“Oh my god, this is it.” This time it was Sherri’s high-pitched voice that entered the pilothouse.

There were now so many contacts on the screen that it appeared as though the screen was whiting out from both sides. And the Pegasus was right in the middle.

Chapter 45

“Fire control, target count?” Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash called out from the bridge of The Trident. The voice from CIC came over the bridge 1-MC. “Too numerous to count, sir. We have to break them down by zone.”

“Then do it! Commander Woodlake, begin designating firing zones, assigning targets as they become known. Allocate assets as required.”

“Yes sir,” another voice said through the speakers.

“Admiral Bergmann, I’m heading to CIC,” said Nash as he jumped down from his command chair. “Move the flagship to the rear.”

“Aye, sir.” Gone was all the familiarity in the conversation. They all had on their battle faces.

“The Humans are aligning for an attack, Command-Overlord. Our ships are responding in kind, however, at the speed of the aliens, we are having trouble identifying individual targets.”

“Charge all batteries,” Lord Enulic commanded. “Spread disbursements will be required to catch the Humans in flight. Move my ship to the rear so I can maintain command as long as is possible.”

“Yes my Lord.”

Chapter 46

“This is crazy!” Adam yelled out. “The Juireans are not our enemy—not really. It’s the fucking Kracori!”

“Well from the look of things, it’s the Juireans and us who are going to annihilate each other. And who does that leave as the last man standing?” Admiral Tobias said, venom dripping from his voice.

“Well I can’t let this happen,” Adam declared. “Jym, can you set up a broadband signal to both fleets.”

“Yes I can, if anyone will respond.”

“Do it, and let’s find out.”

“What are you going to say?” Sherri asked as she and Riyad buckled into seats along the rear bulkhead.

“Heluva I know. But I have to try something.”

“Go ahead Adam; you’re broadcasting.”

“This is Captain Adam Cain aboard the Pegasus,” he announced. “I am presently located between the Human and Juirean fleets. Please respond.”

Almost immediately the speakers crackled. “Captain Cain, this is Fleet Admiral Nash. I acknowledge your location. Proceed to port at best possible speed. You will be cleared through the line.”

“Thank you sir, but I’m not leaving just yet.”

“What?”

“Adam, I have another link coming through,” Jym said.

“Link them all together, Jym.”

“This is Adam Cain; am I speaking with the Juirean fleet command?”

“This is Elder Wydor bu Sulic. Is this really Adam Cain I am speaking with?”

“Elder Wydor! I was not aware you were aboard the fleet. So you remember me?”

“How could I not? Our last physical encounter was on Juir, and then we had a conversation following that. You do tend to show up at the strangest times.”

Adam let out a small chuckle. Ain’t that right, he thought. “Elder Wydor, I also have Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash on this link. I believe we all need to talk before something drastic happens.”

“Adam Cain, your fleet is aligning for an attack upon my forces. We will defend ourselves.”

“It is your forces who have been stalking my fleet, Mr. Wydor,” Admiral Nash countered.

“Either way, we all need to take a moment and think about this,” Adam said. “If the two of you fight, it will be that bastard Nomar who comes out the winner.”

“Nomar?” Nash asked.

“He is the Langril of the Kracori race—their leader,” replied Elder Wydor. Adam smiled. At least he had the two sides talking.

“That’s right,” said Adam. “So my question to you, Lord Wydor, is why have the Juireans allied with the Kracori against the Humans? It was the Kracori who destroyed Juir, not us.”

“We have not allied with the Kracori, Adam Cain. That would presume an equal status of our races. The Kracori surrendered to the Juireans. They have offered their services at our direction.”

“That’s not what Nomar is telling us. He’s saying you are allies, and together you will defeat the Humans. And yet, where are his forces now?”

“It was not our intent to confront the Humans when we came to the Nebula. And yet, you must admit, your race has designs on the destruction of the Juireans.”

“Just as the Juireans have on us.” Nash again countered.

“That may be so,” Wydor said through the link. “Yet that is simply a natural dynamic between two powerful entities. Each seeks to absorb the other.”

“Chemistry lessons aside,” Adam said, “whatever our differences, the natural culmination of that situation would come at a future date—”

“Unless it comes now,” Wydor interrupted.

“To what end, Lord Wydor? Your fleet is larger, yet ours is swifter. We will end up destroying each other. And then the Klin—who you have sought for over four thousand years—will survive. And the Kracori, the enemy of both our races, will emerge as the strongest military force in the galaxy. Do you want them assuming control of the Expansion?”

“Juireans are once more on Juir, Adam Cain,” Wydor said. “The Juirean people are more than this fleet. We will survive to counter the Kracori insurgency.”

“But why should you? Let us do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Admiral Nash, your forces are fully capable of defeating the Kracori, even with a full fleet, are they not?”

“That’s what we came for.”

“And Lord Wydor, the Klin are directly in front of you. And from our information, there are twenty huge ships, not just the five you’ve been tracking. This may be all the Klin that are left. Are you prepared to let them escape while you fight a losing battle with the Humans?”

The speakers within the pilothouse of the Pegasus were quiet for an uncomfortably long time. Adam looked around the room at all the questioning eyes staring back at him. Damn, this is taking a while.

“Adam Cain ... and your Admiral Nash,” Wydor’s voice finally emerged from the speakers. “I will make you a proposal.”

“Go ahead,” said the voice of Fleet Admiral Nash.

“A ceasefire, as my forces pursue the Klin and your forces engage those of the Kracori—as Adam Cain has suggested. It is indeed more significant to the Juireans to defeat the Klin than anything else at this point in time. And we will accept as gratification of sorts that the Kracori will suffer at the hands of the Humans.”

“Admiral?” Adam said.

“I’m here Mr. Cain. I find the proposal acceptable, even though I wonder what is to keep the Juireans from attacking us after we’ve engaged the Kracori? Their defeat of the unarmed Klin ships will take little effort on their part. And after fighting the Kracori, our fleet would be vulnerable to a Juirean counter strike.”

“Spoken as a true warrior, Admiral Nash,” Wydor replied. “I understand your trepidation and would feel the same if the roles were reversed. So as an amendment to my last proposal, I offer half my fleet as a supplement to yours as you go to meet the Kracori. With such assistance, your fleet will not suffer as many losses, and yet my fleet will to some degree. I feel that is an equitable arrangement.”

Adam raised his eyebrows and looked to an equally-startled Admiral Andy Tobias.

“Lord Wydor,” Nash began, “I find your offer more than generous. We would have to work out the logistics—command structure and the like—but I believe that would work from our perspective. But how will your units feel about working with the Humans?”

“I am the Elder of the Juirean Council Elite, Admiral Nash; they will do as they are instructed.” Adam could almost hear the smile in Wydor’s voice.

“Then it’s settled!” Adam announced. “Now if you will both stand down your forces, maybe I can return to the fleet for a hot meal and beer.”

“It is agreed,” said Elder Wydor.

“Roger that, Captain. Proceed to docking. First round is on me.”

“The progress is very slow, Pleabaen,” the Klin on the screen was saying. “The path through the Shield can be cleared ahead of a pod, but then the orbits of other material is altered to fill the void and to also assault the pod. Another will be required to follow closely behind to keep the path clear.”

The glory of the Dysion Shield was evident in all its brilliance from the observation deck of the pod Wesselian Velsum was aboard. Even though he couldn’t see it from here, he knew that the first pod in the Colony was now slowly working its way through the Shield. And yet as the technician on the screen had related, the pod was taking considerable damage to its rear as more material was being drawn in by the enormous depth of the gravity-well required to move the massive spacecraft.

“Then send Twelve in behind. This passage is a learning experience for us all, and we must apply our new knowledge as it is acquired.”

“I will order it so.” The screen went blank.

Even though the going was slow and treacherous, Velsum was still feeling extremely energetic and pleased with himself. The bulk of his Colony had met no hostile forces on their approach to the Shield, and even now, there was news that Senior Fellow Huriniss’s five pods were now clear of their Juirean pursuers and due on station momentarily.

The last report Huriniss had made did indicate that the Juirean and Human forces had made contact and were positioning for an engagement. The five remaining elements of his Colony had proceeded out of the area on maximum drive and were now well clear of the combat zone.

Velsum tried to visualize the incredible energies now passing through space as the mighty fleets collided. It would be the largest single space battle to ever take place in the galaxy. And they would destroy each other, taking with them to the grave their knowledge of the Klin Colony. The Klin would live—as they had always lived—and would continue to plan for a time when they would assume their rightful place within the universe. The Klin had started it all, only to have their birthright stolen from them by the Juireans. And now those same Juireans were paying the ultimate price for their—

The datapad in Velsum’s hand chimed. Annoyed with the interruption of his fantasy musings, he pressed the connect button.

“What is it?” It was uncommon for the Pleabaen to sound so annoyed to others of his race.

“Extreme emergency, Pleabaen!” the excited voice cried out through the datapad. “There is a large force closing on our station.”

“Large force; has it been identified?”

“Yes, they are Juirean, and Senior Fellow Huriniss is just now reporting his pods are coming under fire.”

What has happened? What happened to the glorious battle taking place between the Juireans and the Humans?

Velsum had little time to contemplate.

“Order all pods through the Shield, with two providing clearing duties, while the rest proceed through the middle of the opening.”

“The two leading pods will surely take destructive damage.”

“So be it. Then replace them with others,” Velsum shouted, which was a total departure from Klin decorum. “If some pods do not make it through, then the entire Colony dies here.”

“Understood, Pleabaen.”

Velsum saw the stars around him begin to shift slightly, as the pod he was in began to move toward the Shield. He would have to vacate the observation dome soon since it was evident most pods would suffer terrible damage during the transit. Yet that was preferable to facing the unrelenting firepower of the Juirean fleet.

And as the incredible flood of emotions flowed through the Pleabaen, he could envision a future where no Klin made it through the Shield; another where the Juireans blasted half a million Klin into oblivion. So now, out of desperation, Velsum called out to the souls of his ancestors, that with whatever powers they may possess on another plane of existence, they could see fit to spare at least some of his pods. He knew it was much to ask, and even if some did manage to make it through the Shield, their numbers would be so diminished that it would take another thousand years to replenish their population to even current levels within the galaxy.

His depression was almost debilitating, and yet Wesselian Velsum could not succumb, not until he did everything in his power to save his race from extinction.

Chapter 47

Nomar Polimic was furious. He had sent all he had against the lone starship containing his nemesis, and yet still Adam Cain had escaped. Now Kracori forces were scattered throughout the region and that was causing a new problem for the beleaguered Kracori Langril.

Command-Tactician Galix stood before Nomar’s desk, even more upset with him than normal, having had his forces commandeered at the whim of the Langril. He glared at Nomar from across the desk in the military command center.

“Your obsession with this Human borders on the insane, Nomar.”

The Kracori Langril had given up trying to get Galix to respect him and his office, yet even then the Tactician was becoming more insubordinate and belligerent by the hour. The Langril was no idiot. He knew that his Legend was at considerable risk for the course he had chosen for his people. Yet he also knew he would find salvation when the Humans arrived and the Kracori’s new allies—the Juireans—rose to their defense. After that—after the Kracori race was saved from extinction—he would face whatever consequences that may come from his surrender tactic. Hopefully his people would praise him for the difficult decision he had reached so that his race could survive. There would be no middle ground; either he would be revered or reviled—or dead.

“It has been three days now, Tactician. Just gather your forces and set your sights on the main Human threat. I accept the fact that Adam Cain has escaped once more, so I am ready now to redirect my focus. Have the Juireans found a safe place to await the arrival of the Humans?”

“I do not know. My units have been too busy chasing your phantom Human to make a proper reconnaissance.”

“No communications?”

“None. The Juireans left, and except for our relaying of information and status reports to them, we have heard nothing back.”

“Is that not strange?”

“Not in the relationship of master to slave, as you have entered the Kracori into.”

“The deed is done, Galix. Why can you not accept that?”

“I do accept it. That is why I am so upset.”

“Let us not fight the last war, Tactician. And for all your protestations, the Juireans are now sided with the Kracori. That is preferable to them being aligned against us—as it was before I acted.”

“We shall see how long it takes the Juireans to break their word—”

Galix’s wrist comm buzzed. Welcoming the distraction, he answered it immediately, electing to establish the link between the device and his translation bug, keeping the incoming side of the conversation private—even from the Langril.

Nomar could see the Command-Tactician blanch, his face assuming a look of stoic dimensions. “Acknowledged,” was all Galix said. He pressed the cancel button on the device.

“What is it, Galix,” Nomar commanded, concerned with the odd expression on the Tactician’s face.

“That did not take even as long a time as I suspected.” He shifted his entire intense, hate-filled glare onto Nomar. “Massive enemy forces have been detected a mere five light-years from here and moving fast. An analysis of the gravity signatures of the approaching fleet show it is comprised of the uniquely Human signatures of their extremely swift ships—”

“The Humans are here?”

“Yes, Nomar,” Galix confirmed, even more upset with the interruption than normal, “And yet also detected within this fleet are the gravity signatures of your allies ... the Juireans.”

Nomar’s small mouth fell open. He must not have heard the Tactician correctly: Human and Juirean signatures? That could not be possible. Nomar could only offer a stammer as a reply.

“It is true, Langril Nomar Polimic. The Juireans and the Humans have united, and their forces are now about to strike at Elision. So much for your powers of negotiation and persuasion … you have now surely brought about the final demise of the Kracori Legend.”

Chapter 48

So as to not confuse established chains of command, the Human and Juirean elements of the newly combined fleet chose to operate more or less autonomously, although overall command was awarded to Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash. Overlord Oplim ra Duric—an ancient name and heritage within Juirean society—was given command of the smaller Juirean contingent, while Wydor and Command-Overlord Enulic continued in pursuit of the Klin. Rank had its privileges, and the destruction of hundreds of thousands of Klin was something not to be missed by the two highest ranking officials within the Juirean contingent.

As the Human and Juirean fleet elements neared the Elision star system, they detected a line of a thousand Kracori warships forming just beyond the outer-most planet, a gas giant called Ricnornan. These ships were remnants of the much larger thirty-five hundred vessel fleet that had awaited the arrival of the Juireans days earlier, which was now scattered about the region, some having been called away to search for Adam Cain. A desperate call now went out from Elision for all ships—merchant and warships—to return to the system at their best possible speed for an all-out defense of their homeworld. Command-Tactician Galix and his staff saw the massive fleet of seven thousand starships approaching and knew that even with every available starship—including the Nebula defenders—the odds were greatly against them staving off total defeat.

Even then the Kracori warriors were not to be taken lightly, and their tactics and strategies rivaled any within the galaxy. Even at a seven-to-one disadvantage, the Legend of the Kracori did not let them succumb to fatalism. The thousand ships would be lost—that was a given—yet their sacrifice would provide time for other units further in-system to mount a more effective defense.

The two allied fleets split the Kracori defenders in half, with the Juireans approaching from around Ricnornan. The Kracori turned to face the nearly twenty-five hundred Juirean warships.

When facing a much larger force, the Kracori knew it was best to attack at the flanks, where fewer guns could be brought to bear. So using the huge planet as a shield to one side, the Kracori attacked from starboard, bunching up the Juireans between them and the conflicting gravity of the gas giant. The huge Class-4s and -5s fought to maintain well-integrity so close to the planet, which served to narrow the battlefield even more, and the Kracori strategy worked initially. The forces facing each other were at near-parity, yet the Kracori gunners were quicker on the trigger. Within a few minutes, over four hundred Juirean warships had either exploded or were sent drifting helplessly as a result of crippling flash-fire, with some now caught in the deadly grip of the huge planet’s gravity well.

Even then, the Kracori were taking unsustainable losses. The Juireans were willing to take considerable casualties of their own, if only to whittle the defenders down to a more manageable level.

From his vantage point aboard The Trident, Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash watched with concern as the Juirean loses grew. He knew they would eventually be victorious, however, if the full Kracori fleet had been available for this first engagement, he had no doubt that the entire Juirean contingent would have been lost.

As the Juirean share of the battle was winding down, Nash knew this did not bode well for the excursion further into the system, where more defenders would be waiting. For that engagement, the Juireans would become a non-factor. So for all intents and purposes, it would the Humans—and the Humans only—facing the brunt of the Kracori forces.

To Nash’s delight, his own units were having a much easier time with their half of the Kracori defenders. The Kracori had attempted the same containment strategy against the Humans as they had with the Juireans. Yet with the added speed of the Human ships, the strategy wasn’t working. Rather, it was the Kracori who ended up being contained.

With no answer to the amazing speed of the smaller Human flying saucers, the five hundred Kracori defenders ended up fragmenting their own line as they reached out to engage the Humans. Yet instead of contacting the enemy, the Humans pulled away even further. The Kracori continued to follow, and soon they were a thinly diffused remnant of the more concentrated and organized sister force confronting the Juireans. And then the Humans swept in. With no solid line of defense, each Kracori ship was suddenly surrounded by four or five Human attackers. Staunchly, the Kracori raised their shields and charged their flash cannon.

But then the Humans unleashed a coordinated barrage of gravity-assisted guided missiles, not flash cannon. As the target tracks approached, the Kracori technicians tried desperately to analyze the strange weapons. They carried electronics within their signatures, yet they were not energy weapons per se. The alien officers had only seconds to realize that their diffusion shields would not stop the missiles. The sad conclusion was soon verified as ship after ship was struck without so much as a hesitation from the missiles as they passed cleanly through the shields. The hundreds of resulting explosions lit up a million miles of space surrounding the battlefield.

The victory on the part of the Humans was utterly overwhelming. Even though a few massive barrages of energy-weapon fire had taken out forty-one of the Human’s nearly five thousand ships, not a single one of the Kracori defenders escaped.

On the Juirean side of the ledger, they had suffered close to six hundred casualties compared to four hundred eighteen Kracori losses. The remainder of the Kracori defenders bolted in-system to form up with the over three thousand ships now gathering there.

Jacob Nash shook his head as the final casualty totals came in. Admiral Christian Bergmann mirrored Nash’s worried look.

“Damn, Admiral,” Bergmann said. “If the full Kracori and Juirean fleets had come together as planned, the Juireans would have got their asses kicked.”

“And without the Cain Drive, the same might have happened to us.”

That was a comment Bergmann did not wish to make, although he completely agreed with his commander. However, they did have the new gravity drive, and it had made a startling difference in the battle.

“The Juireans are bound to lose their entire force in the next battle,” Bergmann said. “Although they’ll take a lot of the Kracori with them, there won’t be much of them left.”

“That will make our victory even more of a guarantee, Chris,” Nash said. “I see that the Kracori are forming up near their sister world of Olypon. I guess they expect us to chase them around the planet for a while.”

“We could head straight for Elision. That’ll force them to send their defenders that way.”

Nash smiled. “Should we let the Juireans have the first crack at Elision, seeing what happened to Juir?”

“Hell no, sir!” Heads turned on the bridge at Bergmann’s outburst. “Our death toll was higher and more recent. We have to be the first to set fire to that hell of a planet.”

“I was just testing you, Chris,” Nash said, not losing his smile. “Of course we’re going in first. I’ll send the Juireans against Olypon. That’ll keep them occupied as we draw first blood on Elision. Relay the orders to the Juireans, Admiral, and then form up the fleet. Next stop: Elision.”

Having to cut back on their speed to accommodate the much slower Juirean starships, the allied fleet was still ten hours out from Elision when Admiral Nash and his Juirean counterpart, Overlord Oplim, received word of an emergency CW–link coming in from the planet they were approaching. It was the Langril Nomar Polimic, attempting to make contact with the fleet.

Nash had the link piped through to the Wardroom, where he, Admiral’s Bergmann, and Tobias and Captain Adam Cain were all having dinner. The Langril would be projected on a large screen mounted on the wall, while a smaller secondary screen showed the image of the Juirean Overlord.

When all was ready, Nash nodded to a petty officer to initiate the link.

Nomar Polimic was seated at a desk devoid of objects on its surface, and to his right stood a tall, hard-looking Kracori officer with a pale yellow sash across his chest. Adam had seen white sashes and purple sashes, but never a pale yellow one. The color had to be significant.

Adam smiled when he saw the Fleet Admiral take another forkful of mash potatoes into his mouth before looking up to address the leader of the Kracori race.

“You must be Polimic,” Nash said as he finally set down the fork and leaned back in his chair so he could look up at the monitor on the wall.

There was a slight pause as Nomar opened and then closed his mouth, not sure what to do about the blatant lack of formality and respect in the greeting. He eventually chose to let it pass; he was in no position to protest too loudly.

“That I am; Nomar Polimic, Langril of the Kracori people. And with me is Command-Tactician Galix Junin, the head of our military forces.”

“I’m Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash, and I have Overlord Oplim ra Duric representing the Juirean forces also on the link. Are you seeing that?”

“Yes I am. Yet where is Elder Wydor and his fleet commander? I would expect them to be on this link, seeing it is with a planetary head-of-state.”

“Elder Wydor and Command-Overlord Enulic are on another, more important, mission,” Oplim replied. “They are currently in the process of destroying the Klin colony we discovered hiding within the Dysion Void.”

“Klin ... in the Void?”

Adam had to admit, if Nomar did know of the Klin’s existence so close to Elision, he gave an Oscar-worthy performance of acting like he didn’t.

“That ... that is not possible,” Nomar stammered. He looked to the other Kracori in the room. “We have surveyed the entire Void. It is our home. How could we have not known of this?”

“Nevertheless, they’re here—or at least they are for now,” Admiral Nash said. “Twenty-five hundred Juirean warships are about to make a meal out of them. I find it hard to believe you were not aware of the presence of your real allies right here in your own backyard.”

Adam could see Nomar switch his gaze to that of the Juirean Overlord. “The Klin are not our allies. I once believed it to be the Juireans who held that honor.”

“From what Elder Wydor tells me, we were your masters, never your allies—for as brief a time as that agreement was in effect.”

Adam moved over closer to the Admiral, just to make sure that Nomar could see him on the screen. The move had the desired effect, as the Kracori’s expression suddenly went from shock to that of sour, rock-hard defiance.

“Howdy, Nomar, how’s it hanging?” Adam said with a wide grin.

“Greetings, Adam Cain,” the Langril said, his tone rough and the effort to speak like pulling teeth. “I see you have once again eluded me.”

“Are you familiar with the phrase, three strikes and you’re out? No, of course you’re not. It means that you’ve failed twice before—but there won’t be a third time in your case.” The smile vanished from Adam’s face.

“Perhaps.” Nomar turned his attention to the fleet admiral. “Admiral Nash, I have come to terms with the fact that the Juireans have switched allegiances and now side with the Humans. That is very unfortunate.”

“For the Kracori,” Nash punctuated the statement.

“Yes, for the Kracori. And that is the purpose of this overture. My forces are no match for the combined strength of both your fleets ... therefore I have no option but to offer our unconditional surrender to the superior forces of the Human-Juirean alliance.”

“You seem to have a habit of surrendering, Kracori,” Overlord Oplim said with venom. “At this point, it appears to be strategy rather than a true capitulation.”

“I assure you it is not,” said Nomar, an anxious tone to his voice. He was beginning to panic. “I am a pragmatic ruler, and I see no other option. And as an offer of goodwill, I will surrender my position as Langril immediately.”

“You will say and do anything to save your race, Polimic,” Admiral Nash said.

“That is correct! You would do the same, Admiral Nash. I am prepared to offer you anything you desire for your acceptance of my offer. Anything!”

Adam watched as Nash cocked his head to his right and cast his eyes to the overhead, as if in thought. Then he looked back at the alien while nodding and pursing his lips. “I accept your offer, Langril Nomar Polimic.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the Admiral’s words; he didn’t know what kept him from blurting out a protest. Yet there was something in Nash’s manner that made him hold back....

“You accept?” Nomar seemed as surprised as Adam. “You accept! That is most welcome news.” He turned to his stoic companion and smiled.

“I accept your offer of anything in return for my acceptance,” Nash said, interrupting Nomar’s revelry.

“Yes ... anything, Admiral Nash!”

“Then to save your race from immediate extinction, all you have to do is bring back to life the billion-and-a-half dead Humans that your recent attack on Earth has caused ... and then I will spare your planet.”

Nomar’s mouth fell open, and even across the trillions of miles of the CW-link, Adam saw the Langril go pale. “You cannot be serious? You know I am not capable of that!”

“Then maybe you should have thought of that before you dropped nukes on my planet.”

‘But I am offering our complete and unconditional surrender. Are you telling me you would still proceed to destroy an entire race of intelligent beings when you are not required to, simply for revenge?”

Admiral Nash smiled and turned his head toward Adam. “And Captain Cain here said you weren’t that smart. Yes, Polimic, that is exactly what I’m saying.” The humor vanished from Nash’s face and tone. He leaned in a little closer toward the big screen. “The Kracori are going die today, and by my hand. You sick, spineless, evil creatures don’t deserve to inhabit the galaxy. There is nothing—I repeat—nothing you can say or do to keep me from fulfilling my mission.”

Just then, the quiet Command-Tactician pulled an MK-17 flash weapon from his holster, and then without hesitation placed a level-one bolt through the head of Langril Nomar Polimic. A small cloud of smoke rose from the area around the desk where his head fell, in full view of all those watching on their monitors.

Adam was stunned, as were all the others in the Wardroom. It took a moment for Admiral Nash to recover. “That doesn’t change anything,” he said to the expressionless Kracori military officer.

“That I realize, Admiral Nash,” said the Command-Tactician. “That was something I wished to do for myself, before either he—or you—had an opportunity.”

“I am truly sorry it has come to this,” Nash said, “yet debts must be paid. The rabid dog must be put down.”

“I believe I understand your meaning, Admiral Nash. Yet you should also be warned that as the senior military officer for the Kracori, I will still put up a fierce defense of my planet. We will not succeed, yet we will die as warriors.”

“As would be expected, Command-Tactician.”

Nash turned to the other officers in the room, surveying their eyes and expressions. When it was obvious that no one had any additional comments, he turned to Overlord Oplim. “Is there anything you wish to say to the Kracori before I break the link?”

“It is only this: Juireans now stand upon the surface of Juir once more, and in time all there will be healed. Yet for your complicity in the Klin plan for galactic domination, the Kracori will not recover. Your race will become a footnote in history, yet not totally forgotten. Rather, you will be held up as an example to others who choose the wrong path. And even after the Humans are through ravaging your world, the Juireans will return and salt the ground, set fire to the forests—and as the technology advances—may even someday have the means to blow the entire planet apart so it will not even show as a mark on a stellar survey map.”

The Juirean shifted his attention back to Admiral Nash. “That is all I have to say.”

Nash was stunned, and for a moment said nothing, staring at the blank expression on the face of the blue-haired Juirean Overlord. Eventually, he nodded to the petty officer and all the links were cut.

Nash then turned to an equally stunned Adam Cain and said, “Remind me never to make the Juireans mad again. They don’t only bury their enemy, but they literally piss on their graves and then blow up the graveyard!”

Chapter 49

The buffeting was almost too much to take. Wesselian Velsum held onto the armrests of his seat, barely able to keep from flying out. The huge pod ships were not built for radical maneuvers, and therefore had very few seats with buckles or restraints. But now, as his ship fought through the unrelenting maelstrom of the Dysion Shield, he knew that this particular pod was doomed. Already fires raged throughout, and hull integrity had been breached in more areas than could be counted. At any moment, the weakened surface of the great spaceship would lose the strength required to contain the atmospheric pressure from within, and the craft would explode, just as pod Fifteen had done not more than five minutes before.

The savage Juireans had unceremoniously destroyed eight of his pods while they were still within the Dysion Void. His other twelve pods had entered the Shield, and Velsum’s only consolation at the end of his life was that three of the Colony had already made it through and into clear space. Surveying the condition of the other nine pods he was saddened to say those three would be the only ones to claim such success.

Seventy-five thousand survivors out of half-a-million Klin; the loss of so many of his precious Klin brethren was inconceivable. They had fought and struggled for so long for redemption and salvation, and now they were nearly gone, a catastrophic failure of mission and mind.

A sudden jolt to the left sent Pleabaen Velsum tumbling from his chair. He struck hard against a bulkhead and lay there stunned. There was a thunderous roar that shook the pod to its very core and Velsum could feel the air flowing rapidly over his supine body. In his last moments, before the last breath was pulled from his lungs, he thought of the other Colony, forming yet another silent prayer to the ancestors of Klinmon—so long lost and forgotten—to give long life and strength to the few survivors of his Colony, and to the others; their distant brothers. For the legacy of the Klin, they were the last hope.

Chapter 50

Twenty-two days later, the fleet was still in the Dysion Void. Supply ships had arrived, this time entering through the Volseen Corridor unchallenged, and the fleet was now filtering through the Nebula, seeking out the rare pocket of resistance that still existed.

The Juirean fleet was also in the Void, yet they were preparing to deploy for a journey to a repatriated planet Juir later that day.

That was when a request for a link from the Juirean Elder came to Adam’s attention.

“He wants to talk to me?” the bewildered Navy captain asked.

“That’s what he said, sir.” This was the first CW-link the young petty officer third class had ever received from a Juirean. He was in a mild state of shock.

“Where can I take it?”

“I can patch it into your stateroom.”

“Okay; let’s do it.”

The E-4 fingered his datapad and then beat a hasty retreat from the stateroom; aliens gave him the creeps.

The screen above Adam’s small in-cabin desk came to life. The large head of the Juirean Elder appeared, his great white mane rising up from his bronze forehead and then cascading down his back. Piecing blue eyes stared unblinking back at him.

“Elder Wydor, this is unexpected,” Adam said as he slipped into a chair in front of the monitor.

“We are preparing to depart and I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you—privately.”

“I’m honored—I think.”

Adam swore he saw a glimmer of a smile cross the alien’s face. “Even though our meetings have been brief and separated by many years, they have been meaningful and have come at pivotal times in the histories of our two races.”

Adam remained silent, letting the Juirean guide the conversation. After all, they were talking on his dime.

“I recall the valiant attempt you made to save the life of my friend and mentor, the former Elder Hydon. For that I offer you my appreciation.”

“Unfortunately, that didn’t work out as planned.”

“At no fault of your own, Adam Cain. And now you have brokered an unlikely alliance between the two most-powerful entities in the galaxy, helping guide our races to meaningful redemptions in the process. Again I offer you my appreciation.”

Adam frowned. Something wasn’t quite right. “My Lord, I get the impression you’re trying to prepare me for something.”

“You are prescient as ever, Adam Cain. You are correct, and I hope you realize that I say this with the utmost respect for you and your race. But this matter is not settled; this rivalry between the Juireans and Humans. I do not mean this as a threat, but as a simple statement of fact. Our two races possess a drive within us to always be growing, always seeking new challenges to conquer. Each, in own way, have a galaxy to conquer, which will eventually pit our two races against each other once more. It may not come in our lifetimes—I sincerely hope not; there has been too much fighting already. Yet eventually the empire of the Juireans will meet the empire of the Humans, and there will be a reckoning. As a race of warriors—to another race of warriors—I can say I could not ask for a more-worthy opponent than the Humans. And you, Adam Cain, I have found to the worthiest of them all.”

Adam’s mouth had slowly fallen open as the Elder spoke. Now he snapped it shut, hoping that the blush on his cheeks was not evident through the transmission. “Elder Wydor, I don’t know what to say, but I will bow to your expertise in these matters. And knowing Human nature as I do, I have no doubt that what you say is true. Before mankind took to the stars, we had dominated every environment on our planet. And when that wasn’t enough, we dominated each other. Maybe that’s just the force of nature in all living creatures, to grow, spread and dominate. Unfortunately, when you get to our level of technology, that domination can have dire consequences. But I do agree with you, Lord Wydor, there has been too much fighting.”

Wydor narrowed his eyes at Adam, as he saw a cloud come over Adam’s face. “I sense your war is not over, Adam Cain.”

“Now it’s your turn to be prescient,” Adam said, forcing a smile. “Justice hasn’t been done for some of the people I’ve known. Not yet”

“I hope that cause for justice does not involve another clash with the Juireans?”

“No, it doesn’t. As a matter of fact, this one concerns another Human.”

“Nigel McCarthy,” Wydor stated without question.

“That’s correct. That bastard managed to get away, and with the help of my ex-friend Kroekus of Silea.”

Again Wydor frowned. “Is this true?”

“Yep, and he even was helping the Kracori to defeat you. Seems he liked being boss of the galaxy, and a resurgent Juirean race was a definite threat to his position.”

“I find this information to be very disturbing, yet helpful. If there is anything I can do to assist in your coming mission, please just ask.”

“I appreciate that, Lord Wydor, but right now my plans are pretty scattered. All I know for sure is that this isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

“I wish you success, Adam Cain, and one last item before I break the link.”

“Yes, sir?”

“If ever you decide to wage war again on a personal level, please spare the Juireans. I have doubt we could survive another encounter with an alien with an attitude ... such as you.”

Chapter 51

The readings weren’t right, and no matter what he did, they were still off. Adam cut the power to the generators and let the Pegasus engines go dark. He slipped out of the pilot seat and headed aft out of the pilothouse.

Try as he might, he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at the dark discoloration in the deck behind the observation seat where Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge had died. Each time brought sorrow to his heart and a determination to his soul.

And as he made his way to the aft landing bay, he found his mind drifting back over the events of the past three months....

It had started while still aboard The Trident, when the time had come to confront Sherri and Riyad, not wanting to leave things hanging as they were.

“I’m sorry, Adam, but I need more. And if it hadn’t been for Riyad’s capture, I would still be on Earth and trying to make a new life—” she waved her hand out before her “—away from all this.”

Adam turned to Riyad, who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole affair. Riyad shrugged. “I have always found Sherri to be a beautiful, dynamic woman. And now as I, too, have had my fill of life in space, I wish to start a family back in the world I am most familiar with.”

“And I want kids, too!” Sherri’s eyes were moist as she desperately sought Adam’s understanding, if not his acceptance.

His eyes were moist as well.

“You’ve been very upfront with all this in the past, Sherri. I do understand.”

“Do you really?” Her question was a plea.

“Yes I do, and I know I couldn’t make you happy. My life is such a goddamn mess.”

Riyad flashed his trademark, blindingly-white smile. “Adam Cain, savior of the universe—and his life is a mess? You’re a hero, Adam Cain. Maybe it’s time you faced that reality.”

“I’m an imposter, Riyad—and you know it. You both know it. I’ve been lucky beyond belief. Anyone reading this story would need a hefty suspension of disbelief just to get through it.”

“It’s science fiction, Adam. You’re not supposed to look at it too closely. Just accept it for the entertainment that it is.”

Adam smiled, this time surrendering his macho countenance and letting the tears flow. He embraced his two best friends in the entire universe for a full minute before finally releasing them.

“I wish you both all the happiness in the world—in the universe. You deserve it.”

Through a torrent of tears Sherri cried out, “So do you Adam Cain, so do you!”

“Come back with us, my friend,” Riyad said.

“You know I can’t—not yet.”

“Your need for vengeance will bury you as well.”

“McCarthy and Kroekus have to pay for what they’ve done.”

“Why?” Sherri asked. “You can go home and live happily ever after. They’ll be on the run forever.”

“Only if people like me are after them. If I stop, then they’ll find peace. That’s something I can’t accept.”

He took Sherri by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I’ll come home someday, but after I’m done. Just right now is not the time to call it quits.”

And then they departed, leaving Adam to return to Formil in the Pegasus with Kaylor, Jym and Trimen.

His farewell with the two feisty aliens was nearly as heart-wrenching as it had been leaving Sherri and Riyad, but then they, too, were on their way back to their home planets and the lives they’d left long ago.

As Adam began to organize the equipment in the landing bay for the task ahead, he reminisced on his time on Formil.

Besides having another artificial telepathy device inserted, he had taken the opportunity to get reacquainted with the alluring Arieel Bol. This time, without the cloud of Sherri Valentine hanging over him, Adam had given in to the temptations of the unbelievably voluptuous alien.

That had been a mistake.

Months before, Arieel had warned him what sex with a Formilian would be like, yet the macho Human male had simply said bring it on. The affair with Arieel Bol lasted thirty-four hours; any longer and it would have killed him.

Even in the quiet of the landing bay, Adam smiled embarrassingly at the memories. If he was still on Earth and with his SEAL teammates, he would hesitate telling the stories. No one would believe him if he had.

In the end, the Formilian female had showed the galaxy’s super-being that there was more to the word super than simply strength, quickness and durability. He had left the planet humbled—yet with a silly grin painted on his face.

His sensual memories of Arieel were suddenly replaced by the image of a fat, blobby Kroekus, struggling under his grip, pleading for mercy. Yes, he had helped Nigel McCarthy and the Kracori, yet he did it to preserve the New Expansion, something that Adam had helped build.

The Silean had relocated to Formil after abandoning Juir and was unaware—until it was too late—that Adam was still alive. After first landing on the planet, even before letting Arieel or Convor know he was there, he had tracked down the fat Silean. McCarthy had passed through the area two months before, telling Kroekus of Adam’s presumed fate and then taking possession of a special package Kroekus had prepared for him.

“It’s a ship, like the Pegasus—concentrated-array—actually three of them.”

“And why would you do that, Kroekus? Why are you helping that bastard?”

“What would you do? I have been the most-powerful being in the galaxy for a very long time. My wealth is beyond compare. And yet the Juireans could take it all from me.”

“That doesn’t explain why you would help McCarthy.”

Kroekus had hesitated, until Adam tightened his grip on the hapless alien’s fat neck. “The Cloud!”

“What cloud, what are you talking about?”

“An alternative ... or a fresh start.”

“You’ve lost me; start from the beginning.”

He had released the huge Silean, and over the next half hour let him explain his plans in an ever-increasing state of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious?”

“But I am. It is what you Humans call the Large Magellanic Cloud, a sister galaxy to our own, one-hundred sixty thousand light-years away.”

“But that would take ages to reach.”

“Not in the CA-starships. Once in open space, a journey could be made in just under a year.”

“And that’s where McCarthy went—to blaze the trail for you?”

“The Cloud is virgin territory for a being like me. I supplied McCarthy with three large ships; even gave him Human crews and over a dozen Human females for his entertainment—all volunteers I must add. And he has cargo holds full of every imaginable precious metal, anything the natives there may covet.

“There have been intrepid voyagers in the past who made the passage, and when a one-way journey took ten years or more. They returned with stories of races who have never heard of Sileans, or Juireans or Humans. There is no Expansion, no Klin plotting, no thousand-year-long conspiracies.”

“Sounds like paradise,” Adam said sarcastically. “And McCarthy is to set up your criminal network in the Cloud before you show up and take over.”

“That is the plan. Just think, Adam Cain, I will be gone forever, as will be Nigel McCarthy. We will never again set foot in this galaxy. Your mission will be complete; never again will we bring you concern.”

Adam had thought long and hard on that last statement ... before contacting Elder Wydor and turning the distraught Silean over to the Juireans.

And then the ex-Navy SEAL had stood on the surface of Formil and looked up into the night sky at the white smudge in the heavens, wider than the moon appeared from Earth.

The Large Magellanic Cloud–the LMC—named for the Spanish explorer Ferdinand Magellan, was one of two smaller satellite galaxies to the Milky Way. Looking up at the LMC from Formil made the journey look less intimidating, less daunting. Yet a year in space, alone and heading for a place that knew nothing of Humans, Juireans, Klin or Kracori....

Adam had only been half kidding when he told Kroekus the Cloud sounded like paradise. Yet that aside, it was where Nigel McCarthy was heading, supplied with ships and even a Human crew. If nothing else, Adam Cain owed the unsuspecting inhabitants of the Cloud some help against the approaching threat to their peaceful existence.

The Humans were coming, and Nigel McCarthy would be their ambassador. That was something Adam Cain simply couldn’t allow.

Chapter 52

Having just left the boundary of the Milky Way Galaxy and now heading into the unknown expanse of intergalactic space, Adam was determined that Focusing Ring Number Six get back into alignment. For the journey ahead he would need all systems operating nominally, and every little blip or glitch had to be addressed immediately.

He took the gripper tool in his hand and slithered down the access tube until he came to the ninety-degree bend where the cradle for the focusing ring was housed. He opened the gripper mouth, and then extended his arms to their max, feeling around the blind bend for the bracket that held the ring in place. Working on focusing rings while in port was actually a piece of cake. Yet here in space, light-years from the nearest planet, that was not the case.

His first two stabs at the bracket ended in failure, as the poorly-designed gripper unit slipped off the ring-housing, as it was prone to do—repeatedly. With the antiquated tool, the job was hard enough. Yet when the housing bracket wasn’t even visible from where he worked, he wondered if the architects of the Pegasus ever figured a person would need access to the focus rings while in space? How could they not?

Now, as the job stretched out far beyond what was reasonable, his frustration only grew. Finally it boiled over, and Adam Cain, twisted in the portside access tube like some Castorian string dancer, cursed the poor planning that had gone into the Pegasus, proclaiming loudly and with all the sincerity he could muster:

“Whoever designed this ship should be shot!”

The End

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The Human Chronicles Saga #9

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

Raiders of the Shadow

War of Attrition

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

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Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series

Box Set #6 — Books 26-29 in the series

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REV: Rebirth

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Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

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Day of the Drone

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Captains Malicious

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