Alien Assassin

The Human Chronicles Saga Book #2

T.R. Harris

In this alien universe, WE are the Supermen

Copyright 2012

by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

ISBN: 978-0-9858849-1-8

Edited by

Lionel Dyck

Sherry Dixon

Grammarly

And of course…

Nikko, the Grammar Dog

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Human for Hire Series

Human For Hire

Human for Hire (2) - Soldier of Fortune

Human for Hire (3) — Devil’s Gate

The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

Raiders of the Shadow

War of Attrition

Secondary Protocol

Lifeforce

Battle Formation

Allied Command

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.

Contents

Adam Cain…

Cast of Characters…

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

Next up…

Adam Cain…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Adam Cain…

Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.

His story continues…

Cast of Characters…

Adam Cain:

Our hero. When the aliens abducted a Navy SEAL, they had no idea they’d bitten off more than they could chew. Now freed from his captives, Adam spends his time making the aliens pay for upsetting his comfortable life back on Earth, earning him the moniker of ‘The Alien with an Attitude.’ With Humans evolving on a heavy-gravity world, Adam discovers he’s faster, stronger and more coordinated than most of the aliens he encounters, making him—and his fellow Humans—the creatures to fear throughout the galaxy. And now, through a series of challenges and missions, Adam and his band of loyal warriors defend both the Earth and the galaxy against a multitude of threats, both alien and home-grown. Join Adam and his intrepid band of heroes for their latest escapades.

Riyad Tarazi:

Another abductee by the evil aliens known as the Klin, Riyad was once a high-ranking freedom fighter/terrorist back on Earth. Now free to roam an area of the Milky Way known as the Fringe, Riyad deftly uses his skills to climb the ranks of the Fringe Pirates, before becoming their feared and ruthless leader. Then he meets Adam Cain—and his whole life changes. The galaxy will never be the same.

Sherri Valentine:

Once a young and carefree veterinary student at the University of Arizona in Phoenix, Sherri took a fateful jog one evening and ended up like the others—as an alien abductee. Yet once she escapes, she goes on to make a very good living as an alien assassin, working for various cartels and criminal organizations in the Fringe. But now she has a competitor, someone just as deadly and unstoppable as she….

Chapter 1

Adam Cain had an alien to kill.

Yet before he set out on the mission, his training dictated that he take inventory of his equipment and check his weapons….

Adam was in a pressurized hotel room in the Hildorian city of Jaxas with a full array of energy weapons and other tactical gear spread out on the bed. Although the tactics and strategies from his Navy SEAL training had very little carryover to his present occupation, the habits developed during his military years were hard to break. So with methodical precision, Adam went down the mental checklist while steeling his resolve for the mission.

His formidable weapons cache ranged from the standard MK-17 and XF flash rifle, up to his prized MK-47 High-Energy Bolt Launcher. The ’47 had cost him nearly an entire commission, but it was well worth it. As the top-of-the-line for plasma handguns, the weapon boasted a standard level-one charge of twenty bolts, and its targeting computer carried the fastest rating in its class. Personally, Adam never used the targeting assist, but just carrying the ’47 often gave those out to challenge him second thoughts.

Honestly, Adam didn’t care if they made good with their challenges or not. He would kill anything that walked, slithered or crawled in this god-forsaken galaxy. In fact, Adam often called himself The Exterminator and felt as much remorse when he made a hit as The Orkin Man back home did when he wiped out a colony of termites.

Adam lifted the ’47, feeling its weight and the comfort of the grip. All his pistol grips were customized, as was the stock on his Xan-Fi flash rifle. With over eight thousand species in the Juirean Expansion, weapons manufacturers had to provide an extensive selection of grips and stocks to fit the variety of hands, tentacles and even robotic nerve attachments of their customers. Fortunately, human-style hands were quite common. Still, each of his weapons had custom-formed grips, molded to fit his hands exactly. Adam Cain was a professional and nothing but the best would satisfy him.

For the past three days, he had wriggled into the uncomfortable pressure suit to scout his target. His name was Kunnlar Bundnet, and he was a high-level gang leader who had offended an even higher-level gang leader sometime in the past. Now he had to pay the price. As it was back on Earth, most gang hits were within and between the gangs themselves. Adam didn’t care. As long as they paid, he would kill. It was the only thing he was good at.

Satisfied that all was in order, Adam packed up the tools of his trade and placed them in one of the two backpacks on the bed, while reserving the ’47 for his oiled leather holster. Next he strapped the clear plastic breathing cup over his nose and scooped up the other knapsack from the bed. Lastly, Adam Cain placed the camouflage boonie hat atop his head—the trademark of his SEAL persona—and cinched up the cord under his chin.

It was game time.

His target lived in a fortified compound on a hill about thirty klicks outside of town. Adam drove the rented transport to within a kilometer of the house, and after applying streaks of black and green grease to his face, slung the flash rifle across his back and secured four slide grenades to the MK’s utility belt. Then with the small knapsack secured across his left shoulder, he set off for the compound, covering the remaining distance in about a minute, through a combination of jogging and long leaps in the weak gravity.

In fact, gravity was an integral part of his attack plan. Rated at just .69 of Juirean-standard, Adam estimated the gravity of Hildoria to be a little less than half that of Earth’s. That was one of the reasons the atmosphere was so thin and the air pressure too low for him to function without the light pressure suit. It also produced a native population that was well-over seven feet tall with barrel chests. Apparently it required huge lungs to inhale enough oxygen to survive.

The singular yellow sun had set by the time Adam reached the compound, and a murky darkness descended on the landscape of thick woods and bristled bushes. The compound itself, however, stood out like a beacon, illuminated by dozens of floodlights, and patrolled by no less than twenty heavily-armed guards on both sides of the surrounding wall. The place was hard to miss.

His sources had told him Bundnet may have been tipped-off regarding the impending hit, and the activity at the compound confirmed it. Adam wasn’t concerned; now it came down to whether or not this would be a surgical strike or an all-out scorched-earth campaign. Factors on site would determine which.

Either way, The Exterminator would get paid.

Crouching in a clump of bushes at the tree line, Adam watched as the first set of guards covered their route, their flash rifles held casually at their side. Once they passed, Adam dashed off to a point at the wall that was his best point of entry. Leaning against the warm stone surface, he estimated the height of the barrier to be about five to six meters.

Now comes the fun part.

Adam jumped straight up, enjoying the brief sensation of flying as he easily reached the top of the wall with his outstretched arms—a move that would have made any NBA center green with envy. Then in a quick, fluid motion, he swung himself over the top and dropped—essentially in slow motion—to the ground below.

Alarms blared as motion sensors were tripped. Adam scrambled to a dark patch of trees and vegetation and lay on the cool, moist ground between the wall and the house. More guards rushed toward the clearing, each armed with flash rifles, their huge size and puffed out chests creating a menacing scene.

Adam took the small knapsack from his shoulder and released the binding cord, opening the pouch. With angry growls, two furry creatures—looking like large squirrels with spiked tails—sprung from the bag and ran off into the opening. The guards spotted the animals almost immediately and began chasing after them in a vain attempt to corral the elusive creatures.

As planned, one of the guards placed a communicator to his mouth, and a few seconds later the alarms fell silent. The obedient rodents continued their flight to freedom across the opening, with the guards following closely behind.

In a low crouch, Adam took off for the house. Without breaking stride, he leapt to the top of a small pagoda-like structure and then onto the roof of the main building. Slipping behind a tall chimney stack, he waited a few moments to see if he’d been spotted. Satisfied that he was unseen, he proceeded along the roof until he came upon a large skylight made of numerous individual glass panes. A dim light filtered up from a single source in the room below.

Adam peered over the edge and saw a large bedroom below, with an expansive bed set to one side, and a dresser and wooden writing desk butted against opposite walls.

Kunnlar Bundnet—his mark—was seated at the desk, leaning forward slightly with his arms resting on the desktop.

Suspecting the skylight frame would be wired for security, Adam removed a roll of tape from his bag and quietly covered one of the glass panes with a large ‘X,’ leaving a small rise of tape at the center. Next, he took a pen-laser—a special one with a muted tip—and silently cut through the glass along the edge of the frame. Next, he lifted the glass away by the tape handle and set it to one side.

Adam Cain withdrew his MK-47 from its holster and stood up. Then after taking a deep breath, he stepped into the skylight opening.

He landed with a muffled sound, crouching on one knee and pointing his weapon at Bundnet’s back, fully expecting the crime lord to spin in his chair toward the sound…but he didn’t move.

Adam approached the alien, weapon pressed against his cheek, sighting along the barrel. Still the crime boss remained motionless. At the side of the desk, Adam leaned over to look at Bundnet’s face.

The large, beady alien eyes were open, with a look of sheer terror frozen in the yellow orbs. And across his neck was a smooth razor cut, filled with dark, coagulated blood that had soaked into the front of his gold and green shirt.

He was dead.

But what surprised Adam the most…he was not Bundnet.

Another presence was in the room—

Adam dove to his left, just as a bolt of electric blue plasma slammed into the desk, sending splinters of wood trailing after him. Rolling on his shoulder, Adam came up on one knee just as a large, boxy figure appeared out of the shadows near the door to the bedroom. He leveled the MK-47 and fired. A shimmering film of blue light quickly enveloped the figure before dissipating. It was a diffusion screen, a device that fed on low-level energy bolts. Shots from his ’47 would be unable to penetrate the shield; he needed something larger—like the flash rifle.

But before Adam could un-sling his rifle, the large figure stepped further into the room and stopped. He made no threatening moves, so Adam stood up to face his attacker.

It was Bundnet, very much alive and encased in a mechanical exo-suit, an MK-17 leveled at Adam. The crime boss was smiling.

Hildorians often wear exo-suits when off-planet to help compensate for the heavier gravity they encounter on nearly every other world in the Fringe. The suits are mechanical transports, attached to the limbs of the wearer, providing added strength and mobility for their brittle-boned bodies. They also carry their own power supply, to which Bundnet had linked the diffusion screen. Because of their need for an external power source, the shields are impractical for personal protection—unless one has an exo-suit handy.

“So you are the assassin Amick sent to kill me?” Bundnet’s voice was rough and gravelly, and Adam noticed how the movements of his mouth didn’t sync with the words he heard, an effect of the translation bug Adam had implanted behind his right ear.

Adam remained silent, yet he jerked his head around at the sound of metal shutters clamping over the windows to the bedroom, effectively trapping him in the room with the mechanically-enhanced Hildorian crime boss.

“As you see, I have been expecting you,” Bundnet said. “I have my sources as well, and I can assure you there are plans underway that will leave Seton Amick paying a very steep price for sending you against me.”

Adam heard the servos whine as Bundnet stepped forward, until he was only a few feet from the Human. With the alien nearly eight feet tall to begin with, in the exo-suit he was a truly intimidating figure, towering over Adam by a good three feet or more.

“I have prior knowledge of you,” the alien continued, confident in his control of the situation. “At times, I have even considered enlisting your services for my own ends.”

“You should have,” Adam said. “You would’ve lived longer.”

A look of confusion crossed the alien’s face. “You appear not to realize the hopeless position you are in, assassin. I am speaking with the already-dead, and I have options as to how I will bring about your demise. I can either shoot you…or I could rip you apart limb by limb and revel in your agony. I believe I prefer the second option.”

Adam smiled, which didn’t fit into the Hildorian’s vision he had of this moment. Here we go again, Adam thought. Then aloud he said, “Bring it on, asshole!”

Against the diffusion shield the bolts from the weapon in Adam’s hand were useless, so instead of firing, he reeled back and heaved the gun at the huge mechanical contraption only a few feet away. Since the weapon carried no electrical charge of its own, the MK passed effortlessly through the screen and struck Bundnet’s hand with the force of a sledgehammer, knocking the alien’s weapon away.

Bundnet roared with anger and pain, as he lurched forward while swinging his right arm, the exo-suit adding quickness and agility. It wasn’t enough. Adam easily blocked the blow before stepping forward and lifting the entire mechanical/alien contraption off the floor and tossing it to his right. Automatic balance controls allowed the unit to remain upright, but now Bundnet was twisted around with Adam behind him.

But rather than attack, Adam simply waited for his opponent to regain his bearings and spin around. The smile was gone from Bundnet’s face.

“You missed,” Adam mocked through a wide, toothy grin of his own.

The Hildorian growled, displaying a double row of long, sharp teeth. He lunged again, but this time managed to clamp a mechanical hand onto Adam’s left bicep, creating a spasm of pain throughout his arm and up to his shoulder. In defense, Adam reached across with his free hand and violently ripped the clamp from his arm, breaking the thin metal from its joints.

Bundnet screamed, as his own flesh and blood hand—attached to the mechanical appendage—twisted and bones snapped. Out of desperation, the alien countered with a swipe of the other mechanical arm, catching Adam hard against the side of his head. He dropped to his knees, temporarily stunned. Bundnet stepped forward and planted his metal-encased left leg into Adam’s chest. The Human was sent flying backwards in the light gravity, falling heavily against the wooden dresser next to the bed.

Bundnet ran forward.

Adam pushed off the dresser…and the two combatants crashed into each other in the center of the room. Adam scrambled to the top of the suit’s metal frame and began ripping at the upper cage above Bundnet’s head. Metal bars broke from their joints as Bundnet’s mechanical arms flailed wildly, attempting to pull Adam from atop the cage.

After a moment, Adam dropped down behind the exo-suit and ripped the power cords from the battery pack.

The servos fell quiet, and the alien crime boss found himself trapped in the suit, unable to operate it with his own feeble strength. He stopped struggling and watched as Adam casually moved back in front of him.

Adam shook his head. “You don’t have any idea what you’re up against, do you?” The alien’s bottom lip trembled. He didn’t answer.

“This is what I do: I kill aliens for a living. And I’m very good at it—”

Adam reached out and clamped his right hand around the alien’s neck. He squeezed, feeling—and hearing—the crunch of bone and cartilage as Bundnet’s windpipe collapsed. In another moment…it was over.

Adam Cain—alien assassin—had fulfilled another contract.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Adam gathered up his backpack and recovered his MK-47—just as he became aware of the wailing of alarms outside the building. How long they’d been sounding he couldn’t tell; his mind had been on other matters.

He didn’t panic. Although the guards were aware of his presence, all Adam had to do now was get out of the compound….

The windows of the bedroom were shuttered and the exterior walls of the building made of stone, leaving his only escape route through the bedroom door. Gripping his ’47 firmly in his right hand, he flung open the door—and came face-to-face with two guards, just as shocked to see them as they were to see him. With lightning-quick reactions, Adam blasted the first alien through the chest with a bolt from the MK, while simultaneously swinging his left fist at the second guard. To his surprise, his fist sank all the way through the guard’s skull and exited out the back side, effectively hooking the alien’s head onto Adam’s forearm, all in a bloody spray of brains and shattered bone.

Damn! What else could go wrong?

Just then a shower of bolt-streaks filled the hallway, as another group of armed guards appeared to his right. Adam needed a new exit strategy….

One of the advantages of living on a low-gravity world was that construction didn’t have to be as strong and sturdy as it did on a heavy-gravity planet. Even though atoms were atoms everywhere in the universe, the strength of the compounds and building materials varied from world to world. What Adam had discovered about construction on Hildoria—and Bundnet’s house in particular—was that everything was essentially built of material about as strong as balsa wood and popsicle-sticks.

So he jumped across the hallway—through the blaze of energy bolts—and with little effort smashed through the opposite wall, dragging with him the dead alien still stuck on his arm.

After stumbling through a fallen metal shelving unit, Adam discovered he was in the kitchen area of the building. He ran off between rows of preparation tables, still saddled with the alien corpse on his arm. At that moment, he recalled the words of Riyad Tarazi—the Human leader of the Fringe Pirates—who had told him Humans are the supermen of the galaxy. As he feverishly tried to dislodge the lifeless guard from his arm, Adam was pretty sure Clark Kent never had to deal with a problem like this.

Eventually, the bloody body slipped from his arm. Adam holstered the ’47 and pulled the flash rifle from across his back. He whipped the weapon around and sprayed a barrage of bolts at the guards entering through the hole in the wall behind him. He continued the sweep, blasting more holes in the walls, cabinets and other aliens—kitchen staff he reckoned—in a full circle around him. The sights and sounds were deafening, of crumbling ceiling panels, burning wallboard and wailing creatures. Fires flared up, from grease, gas, fabric and burning wood. It all added to the confusion Adam was hoping to create.

He was out of the kitchen a moment later, blasting his way across a large dining area. More guards came rushing headlong into the hall, causing Adam to wonder how many of them Bundnet had on the grounds. There seemed to be a lot more than when he’d surveilled the compound over the past few days.

Oh well, just more score to rack up….

Adam felt a heavy thud hit his back. He flew forward and fell, sliding face first several feet on the polished stone floor. He’d taken a bolt to the back but was relieved to find that his makeshift diffusion screen had saved him. Plasma weapons fired balls of concentrated electricity, and Adam had fashioned a series of wires sewn onto the exterior of his pressure suit. Not as strong or long-lasting as a full-fledged diffusion screen, his experiments had shown that the electric charge would dissipate along the wires, heating them up and melting the wires, but also lessening the impact of the bolt. The concussion still knocked him off his feet, but that was about the extent of the damage. The drawback: the wire mesh was only good for one bolt. The next one could prove fatal.

He rolled on his back as he slid along the floor, aiming his flash rifle between his legs at the three guards behind him. His aim was true, and the bolts from the powerful energy rifle had a devastating effect on the thin-boned Hildorians. He was on his feet a second later and running for the main exit from the house.

The ornate, double front doors were made of metal, so instead of barreling through them, Adam jumped and crashed through the thin glass transom window above the doors. The seven remaining guards stationed on the landing outside weren’t expecting this. As he soared over them, they did their best to follow his flight with their weapons, but like most aliens, their shots came slow and several feet behind.

Landing softly on the brick walkway leading to the entrance, Adam rolled once and came up on one knee. With the flash rifle married to his chin, he sent a stream of bolts into the guards, literally ripping them apart at close range.

He remained in shooting-stance, scanning the front of the building, his movements and those of his rifle acting as one. When satisfied there were no further threats facing him, he rose to his feet.

Even through the crackling of the fire taking hold within the building, there was a strange silence. No creature stirred, and if any were left alive, they chose to stay indoors and face the fire, rather than the deadly Human outside. It was a wise move.

His boonie hat was still held in place by the snug cord under his chin; he pulled the hat down a little tighter and shouldered his rifle. After a slight nod, he turned and strolled casually down the long driveway, his solitary silhouette illuminated by the lashing fire now fully engulfing the building behind him.

Mission accomplished.

Chapter 2

Adam drove the transport to a small spaceport located on the other side of Jaxas, about one hundred fifty klicks from Bundnet’s compound. Even though the gang leader was—had been—a criminal, he still had a lot of contacts and support within the local government, military and law enforcement. It was imperative Adam get off the planet as soon as possible, especially after the carnage he’d created over the past three hours.

Although he was relatively new to the whole hitman occupation, the one issue that troubled him was the dichotomy associated with getting work. One couldn’t simply advertise assassin-for-hire. Yet you still had to get your résumé out, along with some way for potential clients to contact you. As it turned out—although his name wasn’t widely known—his species was gaining recognition. And since Humans were so rare in these parts, it wouldn’t be long before the authorities—as well as Bundnet’s criminal partners—place the hit squarely at his doorstep. He was undoubtedly the only Human on the entire planet.

Even though it was well past midnight on this part of Hildoria when Adam arrived at the spaceport, there was still quite a bit of activity at the facility. Every planet—and even every spaceship—operated mainly on its own internal time schedule, so spaceships were arriving and departing at all hours. This was actually good for Adam, since his arrival was masked by all the activity.

He parked the transport near the main gate and wiped the black grease from his face. Then he gathered up his duffle bag of weapons and walked the rest of the distance to his ship.

His spaceship created a problem of its own. The Cassie-1—named after his young daughter back on Earth—was a unique-looking ship that never failed to draw attention everywhere he went. Unfortunately, this was something a professional hitman tried desperately to avoid.

He had acquired the sleek, modern craft as a consequence of the events near Malfora Lum almost nine months before. It had belonged to the Juirean Counselor Deslor Lin Jul, and Adam and his two alien companions, Kaylor and Jym, had used it to escape from the Klin starship just before it exploded. Since the Counselor had been aboard the Klin ship when its atoms were sent hurdling into the universe, Adam figured the alien wouldn’t have much need for the shuttle after that.

Kaylor had attached the craft to the hull of his own ship and carried it back to Silea with them. There, with the help of some of Kaylor’s more unsavory associates, the ship was repainted and re-designated. Still, the unique design of the ship couldn’t be hidden from inquiring eyes.

He entered the ship and stowed his professional gear in the ship’s single stateroom, then proceeded to the pilothouse. The ship was small, yet powerful. It boasted dual 5,000-Unnis 2g/Generators that provided equal compression whether in a front- or back-well. Yet being as small as she was, the ship only had one internal gravity generator. This didn’t cause a problem for Adam; he always kept the internal gravity cranked up to what he estimated to be at least Earth’s level—if not a little higher—in order to maintain his strength and muscle tone. Yet it did present the rare visitor to his ship with difficulty moving about. That was all right; he never had that many visitors anyway.

Adam slipped into the pilot seat and began the lift-off procedures. Kaylor—probably his only real friend outside of Earth—had once told him that while on-planet he always kept one of his generators active just in case he had to make a quick exit. Adam had adopted the practice, and it had saved his hide on more than one occasion. So it wasn’t long before the Cassie-1 was lifting off the surface, first on a cloud of chem exhaust, then a few moments later within a shallow gravity-well, heading for open space.

As he reached the outer limits of the planet’s thin atmosphere, Adam spotted two contacts on his screen moving to intercept. This was expected. He made no attempt to evade; rather he watched to verify their intent before taking action.

The Cassie-1 was originally built and owned by the Juireans, and as a consequence, Adam had retained one special feature of that lineage—the ship’s original transponder. On Silea, he had a new primary transponder installed that masked the ship’s Juirean identity, otherwise everywhere he went local officials and luminaries would be swarming all over him and the ship, trying to make an impression and curious as to why a Juirean official would be arriving unannounced. The new transponder—although highly illegal—had solved that problem.

But with a simple flick of a switch, Adam once again activated the Juirean transponder. Almost immediately, the two ships following him slowed. They paralleled his course for a moment before finally veering off.

Even though he had no love lost for the Juireans, at times it was good to be the King.

After setting the coordinates for Castor, Adam shed the alien-blood-stained pressure suit and took a quick shower. He then dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and went to the ship’s small galley for something to eat. He took the plate of bland-tasting brown mush to his private quarters.

The stateroom aboard the Cassie-1 was the only internal part of the ship that screamed opulence. Designed so a high-ranking Juirean could travel in luxury, it was huge, measuring thirty-feet-square, with a full-size bed to accommodate the seven-foot-tall aliens, a private bathroom—grooming station, they called it—and an office area sporting a large metal desk and a ten-foot-long couch.

The trip to Castor would take two days and was the headquarters of Seton Amick, the crime lord who had hired him for the Bundnet hit. After finishing his meal, Adam lay on the couch and propped a pillow under his head. He had carried the boonie hat into the room with him, and now twirled it on his hand absent-mindedly. The floppy-brim cap had been made custom for him by tailors on K’ly. In fact, he had spent most of his first contract fee at the tailor shop where they made him ten pair of jeans, several white and olive-colored t-shirts, a couple of polo-style shirts, two light jackets and two pair of rubber-soled boots. As he figured, even though he had to live in an alien-dominated universe, he didn’t have to dress like one.

Adam didn’t close his eyes; instead, his gaze focused on the bulkhead at the end of the couch.

The wall was covered with various pieces of paper and plastic, each holding a clue of some kind as to the location of Earth or the Klin hiding place in the Fringe. For the past nine months, when he wasn’t off exterminating some smelly alien creature, Adam could be found scouring the Library or following other leads attempting to track down the location of his homeworld. It was a nearly impossible task, and yet without this activity and its thin sliver of hope, Adam Cain would have long ago placed his precious MK-47 to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Since being abducted nine months earlier, Adam Cain had had a birthday. He was now twenty-seven, and as he lay on the couch, he began to reflect on his recent past…as well as his prospects for the future.

In the blink of an eye, Petty Officer 2nd Class Adam Cain, U.S. Navy, was at one moment on a mission in the Hindu Kush Mountains separating Afghanistan from Pakistan…and the next he was waking up in a hibernation pod aboard a deserted Klin starship, naked and confused. That was where he first made contact with Kaylor Linn Todd, the gruff, Belsonian interstellar muleship-driver who had rescued him from certain death at the hands of the Fringe Pirates.

Along with his co-pilot Jym, the two aliens offered to help Adam find his way back to Earth—a mysterious planet in its own right—located somewhere in the unexplored Far Arm of the galaxy. However, as Kaylor salvaged the Klin ship, he took the opportunity to remove the ship’s computer core—a crucial piece of information he withheld from Adam—and hid it in an asteroid belt in the Nimorian star system. The computer core contained not only the location of Earth, but also the secret base of the Klin, a race of beings who the galaxy-ruling Juireans believed they had exterminated four thousand years before. Once the Juireans had learned of the computer core’s existence, they sent all the power their empire could muster after the two muleship-drivers and Adam, the sole survivor from the Klin ship after its attack by the Fringe Pirates.

In the course of tracking down the core and avoiding the Juireans, Adam had encountered the leader of the Fringe Pirates, the only other Human he’d seen since leaving Earth. His name was Riyad Tarazi, a former Islamic terrorist, who himself had been abducted six years earlier. Tarazi provided a wealth of knowledge regarding this strange, new reality Adam found himself in, having not only survived for all those years, but rising to the top of the pirate hierarchy in the process.

Riyad revealed a startling truth: that when compared to the vast majority of aliens, Humans were about as close to supermen as they came. As he explained, Humans combined the traits of quickness, strength, coordination and intelligence better than any creature he’d yet encountered. As a result, Riyad had challenged the other pirate captains for their positions, until he finally stood at the pinnacle of their ranks.

Adam had experienced this so-called superiority himself, first in a gunfight with the lizard-like Rigorians, and then in his escape from a jail cell in the Nimorian city of Gildemont. Using his superior strength on the lighter-gravity world, Adam had indeed felt like Superman, nearly able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Yet when Adam thought about it, this superman complex was easily understood.

Adam learned that nearly all the planets in the Fringe had lighter gravity than Earth, making him appear stronger than any of the natives based on the gravity differential. He also found that Human bone structure was thicker and more-dense than that of the various alien races in the region. This gave him added toughness and durability. And his quickness and coordination simply came from his training as a Navy SEAL as well as his natural athletic ability.

To others he appeared to possess super-powers. Yet as Adam Cain finally began to drift off to sleep, feeling the aches and pains from his encounter with Bundnet and his mechanical suit, he knew his mortality was very real and his super-abilities simply a product of fate. Still, he had no reservations about using them to better his fortunes.

As always, Adam’s sleep was fitful and filled with painful visions. His reality had been unexpectedly ripped away, taking from him his beautiful young wife Maria and their three-year-old daughter, Cassie, and plunging him into a nightmare world of aliens and exotic planets. His disappearance from Earth—while on a clandestine mission in Afghanistan—would have brought a heart-wrenching uncertainty to his family and friends. The Navy would have eventually closed the file on him, declaring him officially MIA—missing-in-action. The declaration would have been more symbolic than anything else. By then, everyone who had known him would have accepted the fact that he was dead.

It was for that reason that Adam so strongly despised aliens. He hadn’t asked for any of this to happen. He hadn’t asked to be an astronaut. Instead, he led a simple, happy life back on Earth. All that had been taken from him…by aliens.

Adam spent many days—if not months—conflicted regarding his ultimate fate. If he could never return home to his wife and kids, then why go on? He was utterly alone, more alone than any Human on Earth could possibly imagine.

And yet there was hope.

His abductors—the Klin—had been to Earth. They knew where the planet was located. In addition, there was Riyad Tarazi, another Human set adrift in this alien universe. That meant there were probably others wandering the galaxy as well, just as lost and desperate as he. It was this knowledge that kept Adam Cain going day after day.

In fact, there had been seventy-nine other Humans on the Klin ship with him, but they’d been killed by the Klin rather than have them fall into the hands of the Fringe Pirates. Tarazi had logically surmised that there must have been hundreds of such trips made by the Klin that had successfully navigated through The Void unmolested, shuttling abducted Humans from Earth to some secret location. The pirate had advanced the theory further, concluding that the purpose for abducting so many Humans must have been so the Klin could build a Human army capable of defeating their mortal enemy the Juireans. Why else would Humans be so important to the Klin?

It made sense. But how the Klin expected a single, non-spacefaring race like the Humans to defeat a galaxy-wide empire encompassing eight thousand systems was beyond Adam’s limited comprehension. Still, his existence in this strange universe—as well as Tarazi’s—meant something was definitely going on.

In fact, just before the nuclear bomb aboard the Klin ship had detonated, killing the Juirean Overlord, Counselor Deslor and Riyad, the technicians had been able to activate the Klin computer core. Information had been revealed about the Humans that terrified the Juireans—the mightiest race of beings in the galaxy. For a moment, just before Tarazi took the Overlord hostage, the two Juireans had expressed more fear of the Humans than they did for their archenemy the Klin.

Adam and his two alien companions had been fortunate to escape the Klin ship when they did, after which Adam witnessed his first nuclear explosion in space. But before they escaped, Adam had heard a word—Annan—that had profoundly affected the Juireans. It had to be important.

In his research, it wasn’t too difficult to find numerous references to the word Annan, the most-common of which was to a now-extinct, plant-like animal from Klinmon, the homeworld of the Klin. The creature had been quite remarkable. It was a small animal that would dig a shallow burrow in the ground and then separate into four or five equal parts, each with its own brain and higher body functions. Once separated, the Annan would send electronic signals through the ground for up to half-a-mile away, signals which carried the full memory of each individual part of the animal. Each segment would absorb these signals and integrate the memories into its own existence. This way the creature could survive the death of any of its separate parts, with fully intact memories and abilities. Only by destroying all the sections could the creature be killed. Fortunately, Annan were herbivores, and therefore no threat to other creatures around them, otherwise they would have been quite formidable.

So why the reaction to the reference? Adam didn’t know, but his research also produced other references. Annan also meant the strategy of diversifying your base of command, making it harder to be completely defeated should one of your bases be destroyed. Adam was no idiot, so he reasoned that the surviving Klin must have adopted an Annan strategy for survival after the destruction of their homeworld by the Juireans. There would be no single Klin hiding place, but rather numerous locations. And unless the Juireans could locate and destroy all of them, the Klin would remain an on-going threat.

Adam wasn’t out to defeat the Klin; all he wanted was their knowledge…and possibly a little revenge. As far as he knew, the Klin were the only creatures in this part of the galaxy who knew the location of Earth. So rather than head off into the unexplored Far Arm in a futile search for an unknown world, Adam began to concentrate on finding one of these Klin bases. If successful, he fully intended to wring some truth out of the silver-skinned aliens.

Chapter 3

Giodol felt good being back aboard his ship. It had been sixty-four days, and with his duties as the Interim-Overlord of Sector 17, he barely had enough time for adequate sleep periods, much less the opportunity to travel to his flagship in orbit around Melfora Lum. In fact, he still wore the light-green mane of a Guard, rather than the blue of an Overlord. He had not even had time to display the privileges of rank.

The duties of Overlord were well above his training and abilities. He knew it, as did most of the others who had to deal with him on a regular basis. This included his two Junior Counselors.

With Juirean society so rigid and planned, it was very rare for a Guard—such as himself—to be elevated to the rank of Overlord. From the earliest age, all Juirean males were screened and analyzed to determine their best role in the society, based upon aptitude, intelligence and physical abilities. They would then spend their formative years studying for that role exclusively. Since before he could remember, Giodol had been trained as a Guard, not as an Overlord.

The Guards were the soldiers, the backbone of The Expansion, manning the fleets and the ground forces, and doing the bidding of Counselors and Overlords, as well as the ultimate wishes of the Elites. They were the order-keepers of The Expansion.

Giodol had been perfectly content with this arrangement and quite proud of his life-long role and accomplishments. He was now an elder Juirean, nearing one hundred seventy-three standard years in age, and he had spent the majority of that time aboard starships. Before the unfortunate incident with the derelict Klin spaceship, Giodol had been a Fleet Commander, a glorious, if slightly misleading title for the head of the sixteen-ship Juirean contingent in Sector 17—commonly referred to as the Fringe. It was a hapless assignment, and one only a Juirean nearing the twilight of his career would covet. Nothing ever happened in the Fringe. It was a slow and boring existence. But Giodol had been okay with that.

That all changed when the Klin ship exploded, killing the young Overlord Oplim Ra Unis and his Senior Counselor Deslor Lin Jul. That devastating event left a gaping void in the Juirean hierarchy in the Sector and sent a ripple effect throughout the Expansion. Even then, there were no volunteers from other parts of the galaxy rushing in to fill the void.

So Giodol had been advanced—although temporarily—to the rank of Overlord, along with all the duties and responsibilities the job entailed.

And if all those responsibilities weren’t enough, it was all about to get a lot more complicated….

Giodol stood before the massive viewport of his flagship and watched as the newest members of his fleet came into view and took up positions near his ship, their chemical engines spitting out blue tongues of gas as they slowed to a stop. The space before him was littered with warships of all sizes and classifications, including one massive ship, larger than anything he’d ever seen before. In the span of an hour, his small fleet of sixteen ships had more than tripled.

The jewel of the additions was the UN-444, the only Class-7 starship he had ever seen. It dwarfed his own flagship by a factor of ten, and carried in its massive hold six light battlecruisers, the kind of which made up the bulk of his own fleet.

Overlord Yan’wal was aboard the UN-444, a Senior Overlord and personal envoy of the Juirean Council. He was a legend among the ruling class, slated for a position on the Council itself one day.

And he had come to see Giodol.

Since the Juirean race was so regimented and serious regarding their role as leaders of the known galaxy, rank normally did not intimidate them to any large degree. The vast majority of Juireans had their life-long designated positions and went about their jobs as efficiently as possible. They therefore had no fear of their superiors. And since their positions had been bred into them from an early age, ambition for advancement was also very rare. Juireans advanced solely through ability and accomplishment—and occasionally—through circumstance. That was the reason Giodol was more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life, and this strange feeling made him even more…apprehensive. He would say he was nervous, if he understood the concept.

At the proper time, Giodol and his contingent boarded a shuttle for the short journey to the UN-444. As he marveled at the immense size of the starship, Giodol forgot his trepidation. He had served aboard dozens of ships in his years but he had never seen anything as glorious as this. Each layer of the hull was built of progressively shorter lengths, with the longest section making up what would be the keel of the ship. Then each subsequent layer grew progressively shorter and offset slightly toward the stern of the ship. Finally, the skewed pyramid was topped off with a massive bridge section, aglow with light from its expansive, 180-degree forward viewport. The bridge section itself was nearly half the size of Giodol’s flagship.

Once aboard, it was still another ten minutes before his group made it to the enormous priority quarters where the Overlord was staying. The anteroom was easily thirty meters across, with ceilings reaching ten meters high. The sheer volume of the room, especially aboard a spaceship, was quite awe-inspiring.

His group was escorted into a smaller conference room, where the Overlord was waiting.

Giodol had been notified that Lord Yan’wal was not coming to the Fringe to replace him—another Overlord would soon arrive for that duty. Yan’wal was there to coordinate the search for the Klin.

Giodol was surprised to hear this news. As far as he knew, no one had relayed any communication to Juir regarding the possible existence of the Klin. Further, he had learned that Oplim and Deslor had hidden information regarding the Klin from everyone in their command—including Giodol. It wasn’t until he received the frantic link from Lord Oplim—just moments before he died—that Giodol learned of the presence of Klin—or at least the belief in their continued existence.

It was common knowledge among all members of the Expansion that nearly four thousand years before, right at the beginning of the Juirean rise to power in the galaxy, the Juireans had attacked and exterminated the Klin race. The Klin—the default leaders of the Seven World Common Alliance, the precursor to the Juirean Expansion—were the technological wizards of the Alliance, and it was their tight-fisted and unfair control of this technology that had made them the mortal enemy of the Juireans.

Yet the Juireans would get the last laugh.

At the time of The Reckoning, the Juireans raided the Klin homeworld and wiped it clean of all life forms higher than that of a rodent. Even now the planet was used primarily as a storage world for raw materials coming into the Juirean production centers near the Core.

Of course, rumors still persisted through the ages that some of the Klin survived and were in hiding, just waiting for the right time to make their presence known. Giodol had heard all these stories, but he had never seen any concrete evidence that would prove the rumors true.

Not until Oplim’s link.

Forever etched in Giodol’s memory would be the image of the beaten and bloodied Overlord, his great mane of blue hair matted and burnt, staring wide-eyed from the screen and declaring, “The Klin exist!”

Even then, the ramblings of the Overlord were quickly dismissed, at least within the Fringe. Yes, the mysterious ship he and Counselor Deslor were aboard had exploded, taking with it any proof of its origin. Yet the simple fact that all records of the ship had been removed from the Library only added to the mystery.

Giodol, at the direction of the Juirean Authority, had begun an immediate investigation into the mystery ship and the death of the Juirean officials. He soon found that technicians had been working on recovering data from the ship’s computer core, but they had been unsuccessful at the facilities on Melfora Lum. Out of desperation, the core had been transported to the alien ship in orbit.

And then the ship exploded, destroying the computer core with it.

And yet there were still traceable events surrounding the movements of the alien ship itself. Giodol had learned it had been brought to Melfora Lum from Nimor at about the same time the young Overlord was ordering him to recover the ship’s computer core from the Fringe Pirates. As it turned out, the pirates never had the core, but somehow Oplim acquired it from another source.

From the information Giodol had collected, his conclusion was that the mystery ship was more-than-likely a Klin starship. If this were true, then the whole dynamic of the galactic power structure would change. If the Klin did exist, and had been in hiding for four thousand years, what evil could they bring upon the Juirean race?

Overlord Yan’wal had spent the past seven months traveling from Juir to the Fringe. There were other Overlords much closer who could have led the hunt for the Klin, yet the Council had decided this information was much too important to be broadcast across the Expansion and left to a more junior Overlord. Even though rumors were bound to surface regarding Yan’wal’s mission, the Council felt it was better to keep the number of Juireans who actually knew of the Klin’s continued existence to a minimum.

So Yan’wal had come to lead the search. And his first task was to debrief Giodol, who was now seated to the Overlord’s right, while the other Juireans seated around the massive conference table stared at him.

There were twenty-two Juireans at the table, more of his race gathered in one location than he’d seen in over ten standard years. Being so small and inconsequential to the affairs of the Expansion, the Fringe had never had more than ten Juireans in the entire Sector. Until now.

As they stared, Giodol began to experience that strange feeling again, and he began to sweat…

“We have all spent a very long time getting to this point,” Lord Yan’wal began. Instantly, all eyes locked on him. “I will now summarize our tactical plans for the benefit of Lord Giodol and his staff.”

A screen on the wall behind Yan’wal came to life, displaying a graphic representation of the Fringe. Highlighted was the planet Nimor, near the center of the spread of twelve named-planets forming a crude crescent and bordering the vast emptiness of the Void. There was a short red line running to the left of Nimor on the inner edge of the Void, then a dotted straight line running from the solid red line until it intersected with the planet Dimloe.

“If we assume that the Klin ship continued on a straight-line course from the point of the attack,” Yan’wal continued, “we would place Dimloe as its final destination. We cannot be sure, since the ship may have taken evasive action once confronted by the pirates.

“So our strategy will be multi-fold. Fleet Commander Siegor will take a contingent to Dimloe and look for any trace of the Klin there. Meanwhile, Senior Guard Commander Lod’fin will take a force into the Far Arm and begin a systematic survey of the worlds there, ranging out to fifty light-years from the Barrier. We have crude records to work from, but they have not been updated for over seventy standard years when Sector 17 first entered the Expansion. It would be logical that if the Klin had a larger base of operations, they would have placed it beyond the Barrier, but close enough to the Fringe to maintain contact with the operations of the Expansion.”

He paused briefly as he swept a hand toward the left side of the table. “Lord Giodol, Senior Counselor Arolus and his assistants will assume most of the day-to-day responsibilities of governing the Sector to free you to pursue my bidding. You will be assigned two new Senior Counselors.” He looked down the table at Giodol’s current Counselors. “This is no reflection on your competency,” he said to them. There was no reaction on their faces. “You will be placed under the command of Counselor Arolus for reassignment of duties. Your experience with the functioning of the Sector will be of great value to them.”

Yan’wal then addressed the right side of the table. “Under direction of Specialist Eannwen, his team will be responsible for the investigating and correlation of all information regarding the Klin and their rumored presence in the Sector. He will coordinate with Lord Giodol for any information that can be gleaned from the former Overlord’s records, including his private notes, transmissions and the like.

“As it turns out, Lord Oplim and Counselor Deslor had been obsessed with the Klin myth for a very long time. Their suspicions appear now to have been correct. We must not take anything they may have said or done throughout their careers as wild ravings. If we do succeed in discovering the Klin, and eradicating their threat from the Expansion, their names will go down in Juirean history as heroes of our race.

“As usual, most of our operations off-planet will be performed by trusted agents. Lord Giodol and his staff will be invaluable in providing our teams with the names of these individuals.”

Again the Overlord paused and scanned the others seated at the table. The pause was for effect; it definitely emphasized the gravity of the meeting in Giodol’s mind. Since the time of that frantic link with Overlord Oplim, Giodol had been uncertain as to his role in upcoming events. Now he had a better idea. Still, he wasn’t sure he was up for the task.

Finally Yan’wal spoke: “All of you seated here have had ample time to weigh the significance of our mission. At this time we do not know the extent of the threat the Klin may pose to the Expansion. What little we do know of the Klin starship tells us that their mastery of technology has not suffered since The Reckoning. The fact that they could have built such a ship, while remaining completely hidden from us, is very troubling. Therefore we must assume that they are a grave threat, and that the confirmation of their existence is not information that can be openly discussed.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “We are here to find and destroy any remaining Klin—along with their allies, which we assume they have.” He glanced over at Giodol at that last comment, which caused him to shift in his seat. “Our mission is of the utmost importance to the Council and to our race. We must not fail.”

He turned to the Juirean seated directly to his left. “Counselor Haden is my Senior Counselor. He will be your direct link to me. All contacts must go through him unless directed personally by me. I will remain aboard the UN-444, along with my staff. The rest of you, who are not attached to a fleet, will set up operations on Melfora Lum. That is all.”

Immediately, and without a word, every Juirean at the table rose and headed for the exit. Yan’wal reached out a hand and placed it on Giodol’s arm. “Please join me in my quarters in ten minutes,” he commanded, and then the Senior Overlord left the room.

Chapter 4

Precisely ten minutes later, Giodol entered Lord Yan’wal’s quarters, and was momentarily stunned by what he saw. The room was gigantic, even by Juirean standards. Like most Juirean living quarters, it consisted of one huge room with partitions separating the sleeping and working quarters. But along the two opposite side walls were massive, twenty-meter high drapes of purple, orange and green, flowing from floor to ceiling in swaths of fabric. The varying angles of the drapes produced deep black shadows, contrasting with the vibrant colors; recessed spot lights cast brilliant pyramids of light on the drapes and accentuated the sharpness of the colors. The effect was stunning and reminded Giodol of a fiery sunset on Juir.

Overlord Yan’wal sat behind an ornate stone desk at the far end of the room. Giodol approached and was motioned to take a seat facing the Overlord. To the left of the desk was a two-meter-square monitor resting atop a marble stand. On the monitor was a frozen image of what Giodol recognized as the office of the late Counselor Deslor. In the image, the Counselor was seated at his desk, and standing before him, also frozen in time, stood four other creatures, guarded by a handful of heavily-armed Rigorians.

Yan’wal looked up from his inlaid desk monitor. “Lord Giodol, I know the present situation has disrupted your normal career path,” he began, “but I assure you that your efforts on behalf of the Expansion will be rewarded.”

“That is not necessary, my Lord. I only live to serve.”

“Very admirable, but nonetheless your efforts are appreciated.” He turned his attention to the large monitor. “As you know, the activities of Overlord Oplim and his Senior Counselor did not go unnoticed by the Authority. Oplim was a very gifted and promising young Overlord. As you know, all of our abilities are carefully monitored, and from such monitoring, career paths—and expectations—are formulated.” He slowly shook his head. “So when a promising young talent such as Oplim requests assignment to an obscure Sector, notice was taken and questions asked.

“You may not know, but Oplim’s obsession with the Klin myths and rumors goes back over twenty years. He has been tracked following up on Klin folklore throughout most of the Expansion. So it was concluded that his request for assignment to the Fringe must have been as a direct result of his research. Therefore, he was monitored even more closely.”

Giodol was only slightly surprised by this revelation. He monitored the activities of his senior staff; it was common practice among Juireans, not because of any nefarious suspicions, but rather as a way of sorting out the best prospects for advancement. Juireans seldom requested promotion on their own. Most times it was offered to them based upon performance. And the best way to judge a person’s performance was to keep a watchful eye on all their activities.

“The transmission I’m about to show you was taken in Counselor Deslor’s office just minutes before he departed for the Klin ship—and his inevitable demise. I need your help identifying the individuals he’s addressing.”

There were four creatures standing before the desk. One was a Fulquin, a small, rodent-looking creature about a meter-and-a-half tall. Another was a Belsonian; taller with the distinctive appendages that dangled below their ears and was part of their sexual organs. The other two creatures were of the same species—both Primes—about two meters tall, with slim, muscular builds. Giodol did not recognize the species.

Not seeing a reaction in Giodol’s face, Yan’wal filled the silence. “Those two are called Humans.”

Immediately, the significance of the transmission became clear. Giodol’s eyes widened and he looked closer at the image. “Are these the Humans Lord Oplim spoke of in his transmission?”

“They are of the same species. From your report, the Overlord mentioned that the real threat was from this race, not the Klin, but the Humans.”

“He had first-hand experience with them prior to his death? I was not aware of this.”

“Yes, he did,” Yan’wal confirmed. “But whatever knowledge he acquired that promoted his link with you must have come after this meeting with Counselor Deslor on Melfora Lum. The Overlord was already aboard the Klin ship at the time and had not come in contact with the Humans. However, when I play the recording, you will see that Deslor did have previous contact with the light-haired Human, but not the dark-haired one.”

He pressed a button on his desk and the recording began playing. Giodol was shocked by the crudeness of the Humans, as they showed no respect for Counselor Deslor, nor any fear concerning their fate.

So these are Humans, he thought. An arrogant, disrespectful race of barbarians….

The recording ended when everyone in the room left to board the Counselor’s shuttle to the Klin starship. Yan’wal then pressed another button and an image of the Counselor’s shuttlecraft appeared.

“It’s been our belief until now that everyone aboard the Klin ship perished in the explosion, including these two Humans.” The Overlord turned his attention from the monitor and faced Giodol. “Is this your belief as well, after your months of investigating the incident?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Giodol replied evenly. “The last shuttle to arrive was carrying the technicians who brought the computer core to the ship. However, there was the transmission from the Klin ship indicating that our forces were under attack, and that the Overlord had been taken hostage. I received this information well after the Overlord’s last transmission.”

Yan’wal nodded. “I have more information regarding that attack,” he stated bluntly. “From long-range sensors on the third moon of Melfora Lum, we have recently learned that at least one shuttle departed from the Klin ship just moments before the explosion, possibly another.”

Giodol was shocked. He wanted to react more emphatically to the news but held back out of deference to the Senior Overlord’s position. “Why have I not learned of this before, my Lord? Who was aboard the shuttle?”

“The shuttle was of a Silean configuration and was reported as part of a pirate attack that occurred over four years ago in the Void. As to why you were not informed of this? Shortly after the incident, the Authority had all information regarding the Klin ship diverted to Juir until an assessment could be made as to its significance.”

Giodol was not surprised. “Pirates attacked the Klin ship, and then departed just before it exploded? Why would they risk such an attack?”

“That is why I wanted to speak with you in private,” Yan’wal said. “The Fringe Pirates attacked the Klin ship initially, and now we learn they came to the Juirean stronghold of Melfora Lum and blatantly attacked it again—”

“They know!” Giodol declared. “They know it was Klin!”

“That was the Council’s conclusion as well,” said Yan’wal. “And if they knew they were attacking a Klin ship in the first place, then they must have some knowledge as to the Klin’s movements within the Sector.”

Giodol shook his head. “My Lord, I personally interviewed two of the three pirate captains who attacked that ship. Overlord Oplim had tasked me with recovering the missing computer core, believing the pirates had it in their possession. I was convinced they did not, nor did they know of the significance of the ship.”

“The captains may not have known, but their leader may have.”

“I know the name of the pirate leader,” Giodol said enthusiastically. “He is Riyad Tarazi. His reputation is well-known within the criminal elements of the Fringe.”

Yan’wal was silent for a moment as he thought. Then he asked: “Do you know the race of this creature?”

“No, my Lord, only that his pirates fear him, as I’m sure any leader of a band of renegades must elicit.”

“Lord Giodol, I need you to find this pirate leader. I have reason to believe that he is one of the Humans who was aboard the Klin ship.”

Giodol nodded. “That would make sense and give cause for why the pirates risked an attack on the Klin ship in orbit above Melfora Lum?”

“And there’s one more thing,” Yan’wal said, turning his attention to the image of the shuttlecraft on the large monitor. “This is Counselor Deslor’s shuttle. It was presumed to be destroyed in the explosion.” He paused again for effect before continuing. “The transponder for this particular shuttle was activated a little over two days ago.”

Giodol was shocked into a momentary silence. Recovering, he asked, “Where, my Lord?”

“A planet called Hildoria.”

“That would mean someone else escaped in the shuttle before the explosion.” The implications were streaming through Giodol’s head. The voice of the Overlord broke through his thoughts.

“I also want you, through your most-trusted agents, to track this shuttle and discover who is operating it. Obviously, no Juireans are in possession of the shuttle. My suspicions are that both of these Humans somehow escaped from the Klin ship and that they may have even been responsible for its destruction.”

“From a nuclear device?”

“That is what I want you to find out. The pirates and this missing shuttle are our two most-direct leads to the Klin at this time.” Yan’wal then looked hard into Giodol’s eyes. “Only you, my Counselor, the Council and I know all the details of the last transmission by Overlord Oplim. Only we know of the Humans. Until we assess this new threat, it shall remain so.”

There was no doubt in Giodol’s mind that the Overlord was serious.

Giodol was provided a luxurious stateroom aboard the UN-444; it was actually more opulent than his Sector Overlord quarters on Melfora Lum, or even those aboard his flagship. Once settled in, he set about devising a plan for assisting the Senior Overlord in finding the Klin. This could be an incredible opportunity for him to earn the trust Yan’wal had expressed in him.

One of the trails Giodol had only superficially followed during his initial investigation was the connection between the mystery Klin ship and the planet Nimor. He knew the ship had been brought to Melfora Lum from the planet, and backtracking from there, he had been able to piece together a rough history of the ship over the eight days or so from its initial discovery until its destruction.

When Giodol’s fleet had attacked the pirate base on K’ly, he had learned that the Klin ship had been originally attacked by the Fringe Pirates. After that, the picture became rather murky. For some unknown reason, the pirates abandoned the kill before having a chance to fully strip it of its valuables. Then the ship had been brought to Nimor as a salvage. And it was from here that the records had been erased from the Library.

Overlord Oplim had sent him on a mission to find the missing computer core, which Giodol now knew contained the location of the Klin’s ultimate destination. But how did the Overlord know the core was missing in the first place? Giodol was so frustrated with the actions of Oplim and his Senior Counselor. They had erased vital information that would have made his job easier….

Once the ship was at Nimor, the initial salvage survey would have noted the missing computer core. That was probably when Oplim sent him after the pirates to recover it.

But the pirates never had the core. That left only the salvagers as the likely thieves. Could they have activated the core and learned of the Klin’s location?

Giodol became excited. The Overlord had eventually recovered the core—and he didn’t get it from the pirates. It had to have come from the salvagers.

So who were these scavengers, these beings who could not only chase away a contingent of Fringe Pirates, but also manage to abscond with the most valuable computer core in the galaxy?

Giodol was determined to find out.

Giodol already had an agent in mind to track down the Counselor’s shuttle, so he checked his list for another agent he could trust to follow up on the Nimorian lead.

One stood out from the rest. But he hesitated. This agent was undercover, a Nimorian himself, who had been feeding intelligence to the Juireans for many years. By giving him this assignment, Giodol would be instructing the being to reveal himself as an agent for the Juireans. It would destroy his value to him, not to mention the alien’s continued existence on Nimor.

Giodol would probably have to offer the agent a severance package of some sort to gain his cooperation, and relocation far away from his native planet. That could be arranged. If these scavengers did indeed have information regarding the location of the Klin, then the price would be well worth it.

Giodol wrote out the orders, and then sent the secure transmission to Nimor. All he had to do now was wait to see what his agent discovered….

Chapter 5

Adam sat askew in the pilot’s seat of the Cassie-1 and watched as the planet Castor grew in size until it nearly filled the entire viewport. He’d seen some glorious planets before, many looking as if they’d come straight out of the CGI computers at Industrial Light and Magic—George Lucas’s company—and destined for an IMAX screen somewhere. These were magical worlds, full of vibrant, vivid colors and inviting blue oceans.

Castor wasn’t one of them.

In fact, it was a hellish-looking place, nearly all brown and dusty, with only a thin band of green around the equator, along with three small patches of brackish ocean.

But people didn’t come to Castor for the scenery. They came for the treasures under the surface.

Castor was the mining capital of the Fringe, so rich in iron, bauxite, sulfur and other metals and minerals that for thousands of years—long before the Juireans arrived—the natives had literally scraped their planet clean to get at them. With the surface now so dry, dusty and light in oxygen—making breathing virtually impossible without a respirator and O2-assist—the Castorians had turned their obsession into their salvation. The entire civilization had moved underground, now occupying a labyrinth of tunnels cut through solid rock over the centuries in search of their precious resources. Vast cities, with populations numbering in the hundreds of thousands, now thrived in these tunnels, and in the massive central chambers bore out to accommodate the every-growing population.

Castor was growing—and prospering. There were very few commodities that the Fringe supplied to the Expansion. The mines of Castor provided about the only money-making export in the entire Sector.

And with a dense population and prosperous economy came the criminal element.

Seton Amick was one of a dozen high-level crime lords who catered to the vices of the Castorian population—and indeed—the entire Fringe. He dealt in anything illegal, from drugs to technology. And with the loose monopoly on the latter imposed by the Juireans, bootleg technology was one of Amick’s biggest profit centers.

So when an upstart from Hildoria—the late Kunnlar Bundnet—had infringed on some of Amick’s territory with the sale of wave transmitters and linking devices, Amick had sent Adam out to make a statement. That was what Adam was good at—making statements. Amick employed several other, more stealthy assassins. But when he wanted to punctuate the hit with a message, he sent the Human.

Adam hadn’t intended on leveling Bundnet’s compound; he just wanted to get in and out without much fanfare and collect his fee. But more often than not, Adam’s hits turned into massive firefights with high body counts. He’d been trained as a Navy SEAL, and their entire motto called for deadly stealth, not flashy and excessive overkill. However, it always seemed to work out that way.

Maybe he was just getting lazy, Adam thought. Since being set loose in this new existence, Adam had yet to meet anything even approaching his equal in strength, coordination or cunning. So with such a lack of competition, he was growing complacent, and had to admit…a little bored. Killing aliens for a living at first seemed like the perfect occupation. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

As always, though, he held out for the promise that his situation was only temporary, and that one day he would return to Earth and to whatever life he could salvage there. The fee for Bundnet’s killing would be sizeable and help sustain him a little while longer, as he continued his search for a way home.

The spaceport for the Castorian capital city of Krune was massive and exposed to the harsh elements on the surface. Even though the labyrinth system was extensive, the Castorians could not justify using up precious living space underground for the ships of the realm. So Adam placed the Cassie-1 in a clearing about two kilometers from the nearest access port and donned an uncomfortable full-face breathing respirator and oxygen supplement for the brief walk through the blowing dust.

Castor’s gravity was standard for the Expansion, which made it equivalent to three-quarters of Earth’s. Adam could have jogged the distance in just a few minutes with little effort, but he decided to stretch his legs and enjoy the wide open spaces for a change.

Gravity was both his ally and his bane. In order to maintain his strength and muscle mass, he had to spend as little time on-planet as possible. That meant staying cooped up in his spaceship for the majority of the time. Any sane being would have gone stir-crazy after only a few days in such confinement, and Adam had endured this routine for going on nine months.

Adam took an elevator down twenty-three levels and was deposited in the middle of a bustling metropolis with shoulder-to-shoulder beings, chaotic wheeled transports and a noisy train system that was actually the envy of the Fringe. Luckily for Adam, the respirator helped filter out most of the foul stench emanating from the crush of alien bodies. Over the months, he had grown to expect the odor, although one could never completely ignore it. Recently, however, he had begun to wonder if the aliens felt the same about his own distinctive scent. If they did—or even felt the same about the scent of other aliens—they never let on.

He boarded a west-bound train for the half-hour journey to the section of Krune where Amick lived. It was upscale, made up of very wide caverns with paved surfaces and lined with towering trees and bushes of vibrant green, yellow and red. The artificial lighting set high in the distant ceiling added warmth to the air, and the powers-that-be even incorporated a gentle summer’s breeze circulating throughout the neighborhood. Wealth had its privileges—even on Castor.

The taxi dropped him off at the head of Amick’s street. As Adam made his way toward the gated entrance to the residence, he knew he was under surveillance; you didn’t survive in Amick’s game as long as he had by being careless.

He approached the gate and was immediately met by four burly Castorian guards carrying flash rifles and serious attitudes. Adam had been to Amick’s house on numerous occasions, but still the guards frisked him, scanned for explosives and took his precious MK-47 for safekeeping, placing it in a lockbox near the gate.

Entering the house itself was an awe-inspiring event. The foyer was massive, carved out of solid rock that had been polished to a brilliant luster and displaying striations of dozens of bright colors. And beyond the entry was the great room, a fifty-meter long chamber that ended at a vast glass dome overlooking the desolate exterior landscape of Castor. Only the wealthiest Castorians could afford homes that overlooked the outside world, and Amick was among the wealthiest.

Near the dome—and peering out at the late afternoon shadows creeping slowly across the jagged mountains in the distance—stood Seton Amick, a communicator pressed to his ear and speaking loudly to someone on the other end. Adam approached and stood silently as two husky Castorian guards moved closer to him, just in case.

Amick was about Adam’s height, stockier and bald except for a thick crop of hair that grew on his back. Castorian males wore outfits that accentuated this feature and was equivalent to women back home displaying their cleavage. Besides his wealth and power, Adam understood that Amick was considered quite a catch to Castorian females. Good for him.

Amick acknowledged Adam’s presence by holding up a hand, signifying that he would be done with his conversation in a moment. Adam nodded and glanced at the two flanking guards. They looked tough, but Adam knew their bone density was about half that of his own and the bulk of their stockiness came from their furry torsos. Hardly a challenge, Adam thought to himself. I could take out both of them in under five seconds.

Amick closed the communicator, placed it in a pocket and turned to greet his guest. He didn’t smile; most aliens didn’t. It was often considered a sign of a death-challenge to do so. But his eyes lit up as he walked up to Adam.

“My friend, you have returned,” he said graciously in a deep, bellowing voice. “Another successful adventure from what I’m told.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Twenty-three dead and Bundnet’s home in ruins; you never cease to amaze me with the subtlety of your skills.”

He placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and led him over to the bar. After a few taps of the screen, two cold drinks rotated out of the wall; Amick scooped them up and handed one to Adam. Adam’s blood chemistry had long ago been programmed into Amick’s dietary computer, so he knew the drink was safe. The two of them clinked glasses and Amick took a deep gulp of the potent beverage.

Adam liked Amick, as much as he could any alien. He was pragmatic, intelligent and actually fun to be around. He was at the top of the food chain in his world and with that position came a relaxed attitude and a joy at being alive. His spirit was contagious.

Adam removed the full-face mask but kept the respirator over his nose. Lifting the respirator briefly, he took a long swig of the drink then replaced it. The air underground was clean of any contaminants, but the oxygen level was still too low for Adam to keep the respirator off for more than a few minutes.

“I suppose now you’ll want your fee?” Amick said cheerfully. “I can never get you to relax and stay for a while. I’ve been so curious as to your origins and how you are able to accomplish what you do so effortlessly? We never get the chance at a prolonged conversation.”

“Sorry about that, Seton,” Adam said after another sip of the drink. “If our oxygen levels were more compatible I’d spend more time here. But wearing this damn mask irritates my delicate skin.”

Amick burst out laughing, a deep, violent shaking that rocked his entire body. When he had first seen the alien laugh many months ago, Adam had thought Seton was having a seizure, but it was simply how Castorians did it. Adam kept his lips shut but spread his mouth into a wide grin as he joined in the alien’s jovial mood.

“Come, my friend. I will get you your credits.”

Amick led him down a wide hallway and through a double-door entry into his office. Encased in the solid rock of the room’s far wall was an electronic safe. Adam waited patiently as Amick open the safe and began to count out stacks of thin Juirean credits, each about the size of a standard credit card made of a plastic-like material. The cards were encoded with specific denominations and were legal tender throughout the Expansion. After counting out a sizeable stack, Amick brought the credits to his desk and set them down. Twenty-thousand credits for the hit on Bundnet. Not a bad payday for about two weeks of work.

Adam didn’t bother to count the credits, but instead picked up the six-inch-tall stack and placed it in a satchel he wore on the holster belt for his MK-47.

“Did you get the message about Bundnet threatening you?” Adam asked once the transaction was complete.

Amick grew serious. “Yes, I did, and thank you for that. Now that he’s dead, I hope the threat does not materialize. Without someone to pay the fee, it would make no sense to carry out the action.”

“Hopefully they weren’t paid in advance.”

Amick laughed again, but this time not so enthusiastically. “That’s another reason I wish you would stay around a little longer. I can recall at least two specific times—when you first came to work for me—that you were instrumental in saving my life directly.”

It was true. Only a few weeks after the explosion of the Klin starship, Kaylor had introduced the two of them, with Kaylor singing the praises of Adam’s worth as a bodyguard and/or assassin. Adam kept very tight-lipped back in those days and hid his abilities as best he could.

He began doing freelance bodyguard work for Amick, choosing to live aboard the Cassie-1 rather than risk losing his strength advantage over time to the lighter gravity of Castor. In fact, Amick had used Adam’s ship to transport him to Silea and Nimor on a couple of occasions to tend to business on the planets. It was during one of these trips to Silea that Adam managed to foil two determined assassination attempts on the crime lord. This helped ingratiate Adam into Amick’s organization and his inner circle.

But Adam chose to remain independent rather than take a more active role in Amick’s criminal empire. So the crime boss instead offered him freelance wet work—and paid him generously for it. It was this arrangement that allowed Adam to survive in this alien universe and continue his hunt for the Klin…and for Earth. When he thought about it, Adam owed Amick a huge debt of gratitude.

Thirty minutes later, Adam left Amick’s residence, having graciously declined an elaborate meal and more conversation. The respirator really did irritate his skin, and the sooner he got back aboard the Cassie-1 the better. He also had to pick up some supplies before the markets closed for the evening.

The artificial lighting was beginning to dim in the neighborhood, signifying the coming of night in the underground world. As he stepped out of the residence, he felt the soft breeze and heard the rustling of the branches on the spectacular trees lining the grounds, ablaze in the accent lighting for the estate. For a moment, Adam almost forgot he was on an alien planet and hundreds—if not thousands—of light-years from home. But reality quickly returned, as it always did, along with the familiar pang of homesickness welling up inside.

He walked down the brick sidewalk toward the front gate, feeling slightly melancholy and distracted. In his saddened state, he hardly noticed when no guards came out to greet him at the gate. They were probably lurking somewhere just out of sight. At the open gate, he stopped and waited for someone to come out and give him his ’47. After a few moments—and still no guards—he walked to the lockbox and removed the weapon himself.

A transport had been called for him and was waiting at the head of the street, its Castorian driver standing outside the vehicle, inhaling a drag off either a smokestick or one of its tamer cousins. Since the native would be driving, Adam hoped it was the latter.

Still, something didn’t feel right. He stopped midway down the street and turned to look back at the estate. The gate was still open, having not even closed automatically after he passed through. And he had never had to recover his own weapon before….

Placing a hand on the butt of his MK-47, Adam returned to the estate. As he passed through the gate—and still no guards—he knew something was up. Leaving the grounds without escort was common, but just walking through the front gate uncontested—that never happened.

Adam moved to his left and skirted the side of the home, making his way toward the entrance while avoiding the main walkway. Quietly opening the front door, he crouched and slipped inside as silently as possible, drawing his weapon as he did so. No sound, no presence. Hell, he’d only left the home a few minutes ago. Where was everyone?

Just then he heard the distinctive pop of a bolt launcher, and his eyes were drawn to the electric blue flash coming from the other end of the long hallway to the left of the great room. Then he heard footsteps, running on the hard stone floors, from the direction of Amick’s office.

Two more quick pops – then silence.

Adam slid past the bar area and did a quick glance around the corner of the hallway leading to the office. There was just a slight blue haze hanging in the air, but no one was in the hallway. Still in a crouch, Adam entered the corridor, hugging the right side wall as he began to move cautiously toward the office.

Just then, a hand appeared from low down on the doorframe to the office and tossed something into the hallway. The metal object skidded along the floor toward Adam. Recognizing the device for what it was, Adam took two quick steps back and dove around the corner—just as the grenade exploded.

The concussion threw him over the bar and into the great room, where he landed on the back of a soft fabric sofa. He rolled over and came to his feet, then immediately ran back to the hallway. The stone walls had withstood most of the blast, but now the corridor was filled with thick smoke and burning material from the decorations that had lined the walls.

Using the smoke as cover, Adam was at the office doorway in a flash. He dove inside, rolling on this shoulder and coming up on one knee, his ’47 held by both hands at eye level. He quickly scanned the room for any movement but found none. What he did find were two of Amick’s guards lying dead to his right. And at the desk, leaning back in his chair, was Seton Amick, his eyes wide open and his jaw slack. A splash of red blood stained his brightly-colored shirt, emanating from a level-one bolt-hole burned into the fabric at about mid-chest.

Adam locked his jaw and shook his head. There goes my gravy-train, Adam thought as he looked at the body of his benefactor. And then he noticed the open safe in the wall.

Adam jumped to his feet and ran to it. Some of the credits had been taken, but Adam’s arrival had cut short the full robbery/assassination. Never one to let an opportunity pass by, Adam scooped up stacks of credits and crammed them into his satchel. When that was full, he stuffed more into his pockets—

There came the sound of a slamming door; Adam froze and brought the ’47 to bear on the door to the office. Then he heard the sound of light running, growing fainter as the sprinter added distance.

There was a side entrance to the home not far from Amick’s office. Adam ran for the exit, just in time to see a thin, dark figure shoot through the open gate of the estate. Adam took off after the dark figure.

The assassin was extremely fast and reached the end of the street just as Adam was passing through the front gate. His cab driver was standing next to his vehicle, watching the assassin dart around the corner to Adam’s right. Adam reached the end of the street only a breath later, just as another vehicle sped off. Turning to the confused driver, Adam shoved him hard in the chest, sending him tumbling over a low stone wall and into a crop of bushes.

“I need to borrow your car,” Adam shouted at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat. He grasped the center joystick and twisted the top toggle to his right as he shoved the stick forward. The transport spun around 180 degrees; Adam corrected the turn and took off after the other vehicle, the whining of the electric motor reverberating throughout the darkening and once-quiet neighborhood.

The other driver was good, weaving in and out of traffic like a NASCAR driver back home. Definitely not a Castorian, Adam thought. In fact, Castorians were notorious for their bad driving habits. Since the subterranean cities were so over-crowded and their roads clogged with traffic, all of their vehicles were lined with thick rubber bumpers encircling the entire car. As they drove through traffic, Castorians would continually bounce off one another like some bizarre, over-the-top Disney ride. It didn’t seem to bother the Castorians much, but it sure made weaving through their chaotic traffic a challenge.

The assassin’s car merged onto the main thoroughfare for this section of Krune, bouncing hard off half a dozen vehicles and sending them crashing into others. Adam did his best to keep up, but the remnants of the assassin’s passage were piling up exponentially as they proceeded deeper into the traffic.

Finally it happened. Up ahead, Adam saw the assassin’s vehicle fly into the air, turn on its side and then disappear in a mass of flying metal, bodies and smoke. Adam pulled back on the joystick. His own transport skidded to a stop, but not before slamming broadside into another car. Adam was thrown through the thin glass of the windshield and flew through the air until he contacted the side of another vehicle. Momentarily stunned, he quickly shook off the cobwebs and jumped to his feet. Peering over the tops of the now-stopped traffic—looking like so many dominoes laid helter-skelter in the street—Adam spotted the assassin’s car. It was resting on its side, its wheels still turning and smoke drifting out of the rear motor compartment.

Adam set off for the car, hopping from hood to hood in the stalled traffic, MK-47 held tightly in his right hand. He arrived moments later and shoved the barrel of his weapon through the open window. The vehicle was empty.

Standing tall on the side of the car, Adam scanned the road and sidewalks. There, a disturbance along the pedestrian sidewalk, as aliens of all shapes and sizes were thrown out of the way as the assassin barreled through the crowd. Then the disturbance stopped where a side alley intersected the main road.

Adam took off again, making excellent time hopping from car hood to car hood. Then he jumped, clearing the crush of screaming and upset alien pedestrians before landing softly on the surface of the near-deserted alley.

A gaggle of upset creatures entered the alleyway behind him, but they quickly retreated when they spotted Adam’s MK-47.

He was alone in the darkening alleyway. The street was about fifty meters long, ending as it intersected with another road; on each side of it were numerous dumpsters, crates, boxes and more—just as you would expect to see in any side alley on Earth.

Adam ducked behind a dumpster and listened for any movement. All was quiet, or as much as he could tell through the din of chaotic street noise filtering in from behind him. He moved further down the alley. He knew his reactions were quite a bit faster than any alien he’d yet encountered, but still he could never be sure. Somewhere there had to be something that was faster.

He sensed a movement behind him. As he turned, something smashed against the back of his head and splintered wood flew past his line of sight. He fell forward, hitting hard on the stone surface of the alley. A strong hand grasped his right shoulder and flipped him over. Still in a daze, Adam felt a body mount him, just as the warm barrel of a bolt launcher was shoved against his chin, just under the face mask.

His vision cleared, and he stared up at the creature straddling him. It was also wearing a full-face mask, but in the darkness of the alley he couldn’t see through the lens.

The assassin’s body trembled noticeably, before it reached forward with its free hand and ripped off Adam’s mask. The effect was immediate. The creature recoiled as if hit by a bolt. Then it slowly pulled the weapon from under his chin. It slid off him and stood up in the middle of the alley…while lowering its weapon. Next, the assassin reached up and slipped off its own face mask.

It was the face of a Human woman.

Adam lay in stunned disbelief, until the woman reached down and recovered his MK-47 and helped him to his feet. She handed him the weapon and then took a quick look around the alley. Behind them was the chaos and confusion of the main road. At the other end was a more tranquil street setting.

Taking him by the hand, the woman pulled him along with her toward the street. Once there, she stopped and scanned the road. On the other side and about halfway down the block, her gaze focused on a Rest Facility—like a hotel on Earth—and she set off for it, pulling him along with her, Adam still in a stunned state of disbelief.

Adam still couldn’t read alien very well, but he was able to recognize certain phrases. He could make out the lighted sign outside the entrance indicating Pressurized Rooms and Atmosphere Control. Still without a word and holding his hand firmly in hers, the woman entered the hotel, pulled credits out of a pocket and slammed them down on the counter.

“I need a room,” she said forcefully in English. Adam noticed a slight Southern accent as she spoke for the first time.

The stunned clerk took the chips and handed her a metal key, indicating room eight, down the corridor to their right. In a moment they were through the door and into the outer airlock. Entering the main room, the blonde-haired woman finally released his hand and moved to the control panel. Almost instantly, Adam felt a rush of fresh, oxygen-rich air fill the room; the woman turned and removed her respirator.

Adam removed his as well, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, the woman fell against him, locking her lips on his.

Adam’s eyes rolled back in his head; it was an amazing feeling, the softness, the warmth of her lips. It was greater than anything he could remember feeling before. What the hell, he thought as he pulled the woman tighter to his body. We can always talk later!

And with that, the two Humans tumbled onto the bed, shedding clothing as they fell.

Chapter 6

Twenty minutes later and drenched in sweat, Adam rose from the crumpled sheets and made his way into the grooming station. After relieving himself, he took a moment to reflect on his image in the mirror. He had to admit, he’d let himself go. His hair was oily and stringy—and like his beard—was long in places and short in others where he’d casually hacked away at it when it got in his way. His skin was sallow from not enough natural sunlight, and he’d acquired bags under his 27-year-old eyes. He did, however, brush his teeth on a regular basis, but that was mainly so he wouldn’t have to experience alien dentists, or whatever passed as dentists out here. The thought sent a shudder through his body. And on top of everything else, he hadn’t found anything that adequately passed as deodorant in nearly nine months.

My god, I must smell like shit!

He almost didn’t return to the room; he was embarrassed, not only for himself, but for all man-kind.

Wrapping a towel around his naked lower torso, Adam stood in the doorway of the grooming station and looked at the woman. She was sitting up in the bed, wrapping a sheet around her nakedness. For the first time since they’d met—a brief thirty minutes ago—he took a really good look at her. Her hair was blonde, and like his, it too was long and oily with no curl in it whatsoever. She wore no make-up on her pale skin, which was understandable in an alien universe. She had hair in her armpits and her exposed leg also displayed a generous amount of fuzzy blonde stubble. Still, she was the most glorious thing he’d seen in a long, long time….

A generous, dark-nipple breast flashed itself at him as she attempted to wrap the sheet around her body. Noticing him in the doorway; she blushed and pulled the sheet up over herself. He smiled back, raised his eyebrows a couple of times and shrugged. The woman coyishly smiled back, nodded, and let the sheet fall back on the bed.

And with that, Adam dropped the towel and dove back onto the bed, ready and willing for round two.

Now fully-exhausted, the two naked Humans lie wrapped in each other’s arms, the woman’s head resting on Adam’s chest. After a while, she lifted herself away from him and looked into his eyes. He stared back.

Then simultaneously, they burst out laughing.

With tears streaming down their faces, a flood of questions erupted from their throats.

“Who are you?” Adam asked first.

“I’m Sherri Valentine,” she answered in a sweet Southern accent. Seeing the reaction on his face, she quickly added, “I know, it sounds like a porn star. I’ve been dealing with that my whole life. What’s yours?”

“I’m Adam Cain.”

They shook hands.

“You’re from the South somewhere, right?”

“How’d you guess? Kentucky. A little town called Owensboro.”

“I know where Owensboro is,” Adam said a little too enthusiastically. “It’s near the Indiana border?”

Sherri nodded. “How ’bout you? What’s your story?”

“I’m from southern California, but I’m in the Navy now—or I was. Now…I don’t know.” He was feeling as nervous as a schoolboy.

Sherri smiled. “I’m sure we both have some stories to tell. How long have you been out here?”

“Around nine months, as best I can tell. Time is all fucked up here—” He stopped, embarrassed with his language; it had been so long since he had to be careful around a lady, especially a Human lady.

“It’s okay, stud,” she said to him, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot worse than that. Relax. We’re just a couple of lost Humans a long way from home.”

“You’re actually the only other Human woman I’ve seen here. There was another Human male, but he’s dead now.” Adam noticed a cloud come over Sherri’s face and the smile drained away. “How about you?” Adam asked. “How long have you been here? And have you seen any other Humans?”

She looked away, at the solitary window in the room. “It’s probably been three years. You’re right, time is hard to track.” And then she looked back at him. “As far as seeing other Humans, you’re the first free one I’ve seen.”

“What do you mean…free?”

She frowned back at him. “You know… Weren’t you abducted like the rest of us?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, but I was never a prisoner.” He went on to explain how he’d awaken aboard the alien spaceship and run off to hide while the ship was attacked by pirates. He related the story of Kaylor and Jym and of his arrest on Nimor, before telling her of Riyad Tarazi and their encounter with the Juireans. Lastly, he concluded his story with the explosion of the Klin spaceship.

“Klin!” she exclaimed. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. And I’ve been looking for them ever since. They know the location of Earth.”

Sherri wrinkled her nose and frowned again. “Yeah, right,” she said. “I’ve heard rumors of the Klin, and I don’t believe it. There’s only one group of people who can tell us where Earth is – and they’re other people just like us.”

Adam was shocked by her statement. “What do you mean?”

“Let me tell you my story.” Sherri sat up on the bed and wrapped the sheet around her. Adam was glad she did so; the continued sight of her naked breasts would have been very distracting.

“I woke up in one of those pods myself,” she began in her cute Southern drawl, “but I was being helped out by other people—other Humans. There were a lot of us being revived, and even though I was groggy at the time, I knew something wasn’t right.

“These young men—mostly—gave us robes to wear then herded us down a long corridor to a room with bench seats running along each side. I didn’t know it at the time, but we were being put on a shuttle, and when the gravity shifted, several of us vomited. These other Humans just stood there and didn’t offer to help.”

Adam could tell it pained her to recall the story, but he needed her to continue. This was valuable information he needed to know.

She took a deep breath and continued.

“Once we got to where we were going, they separated us into two groups, taking the men away while the women were paraded through a shower and given orange tunics to wear. One of the women protested to a male guard and he bashed her in the face with a baton. He told that talk wasn’t allowed unless we were asked a question. I was getting pissed. Then in a large room, a male doctor came in and examined us—it was all so embarrassing and sterile. He was real rough and didn’t seem to care at all. A few of the women looked sickly, and they were taken away and we never saw them again. The rest of us, about thirty women, were moved to a barracks and fed plates of mush that we could hardly keep down.

“That night, some of us talked. We had all been out by ourselves, either jogging or returning from work or whatever, when we felt a hot bright light. Next thing we knew, we were being helped out of the pods. The time lapse was non-existent.”

“I know. I felt the same thing,” Adam said, letting Sherri take a break from her story. “I was on a mission in Afghanistan when they took me.”

“I was on a jog in the desert,” countered Sherri. “I was a student at the University of Arizona in Phoenix—a veterinary major—when I was taken.”

“Sorry,” was all Adam could say.

Sherri shook her head and continued: “The next day, this older asshole came into the barracks and announced that we were to be breeders, doing our duty for the common good, whatever that meant. By this time, I had had enough. I was raised in the country and I’m pretty tough.” She sent him a smirk. “You also have to understand, at this time I had no idea I wasn’t on Earth anymore. In fact, we all thought this was some super-elaborate sex-trade operation; we hadn’t run into any fucking aliens at the time, and I wasn’t about to let these assholes turn me into a sex slave.”

Adam smiled slightly and relaxed. It was refreshing to hear the two of them shared the same vocabulary coach—

“So I attacked one of the guards and kicked the shit out of him,” she continued, not noticing his smile. “I tried to get away but was stopped by five more guards…and the first alien I’d ever seen. Needless to say, I was scared shitless.”

“What did it look like…the alien?” Adam asked.

“It was tall and pale, with long white hair. It looked something like that wizard-guy from Lord of the Rings, if you ever saw it.”

Adam nodded. “I think you saw a Klin.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, her eyes wide. “I thought it was just another stinking alien that the Humans were in bed with. A Klin in the flesh, oh well. Needless to say, the other Humans didn’t like the idea that a girl could beat one of their buddies to a pulp, so they did a real number on me, and I ended up in a hospital bed. That actually saved my life.”

“How so?”

“When I woke up, there was no one else in the room and I wasn’t even restrained. So I took off. I was still in shock about seeing the alien. In fact, at that time, I thought I was hallucinating. Anyway, after a while, I made it to a loading dock in a large warehouse and climbed into a crate full of green containers. It was tight as hell, but at least I felt safe. Then someone came and loaded the crate onto a spaceship. I still thought I was on Earth, so I thought I was on a truck. After several hours, I’d pissed myself—is this too graphic for you?” she asked.

“Nah, go ahead. It’s fascinating.”

“So I climbed out of the crate and made my way into a series of metal hallways. That’s when I encountered the ship’s crew for the first time. There were eight of them, all aliens, mainly Sileans I found out later. Well, needless to say, they didn’t take too kindly to me being on their ship uninvited.” She winked at Adam. “You know we Humans can be pretty badass when we want to be?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve noticed. It’s really comes in handy being out here with all these aliens. Tarazi said we were the Supermen—eh, super-people—in this part of the galaxy.”

“He’s right and knock off the politically-correct bullshit. I’m just your average little Southern Republican woman. I don’t get all twisted up over the way things are said. It’s the meaning that counts to me.

“But continuing: I spent a day or so killing off all except one of the crewmembers. It was mainly self-defense, but I was also pretty pissed off at the time. I’d come to the conclusion that I was not in Kansas anymore, and that my whole life had been hijacked. I took it out on any fucking alien I could find.

“But this one slippery little bitch was able to lock me in a metal-lined storage locker until she could get her ship to Silea. Once there, I was in for the shock of my life—as I’m sure you’ve been through as well. There was nothing but aliens everywhere. Big ones, small ones, smelly ones and things that would make you puke just to look at them. I was arrested and placed in a prison cell for a while, maybe about two months, as best as I could guess. If the day-night cycle on Silea is close to Earth’s, then it was about two months.

“Then one day, a fat, pimply Silean named Kroekus came and put me in some gladiator-type fight with another female thing with six breasts. I know now she was a Melforean. It wasn’t much of a fight. I whipped her in about a minute flat.”

Sherri was growing more at ease with her story and Adam reasoned this was the first time she’d been able to tell it to someone who could relate. As she spoke, Adam felt a bond developing that went beyond the fact that they were both Human. Yes, she was a woman, and they had just had incredible sex—multiple times. Of course, that could have had something to do with the feelings he was experiencing.

Yet he didn’t experience any such bond when he’d first met Riyad Tarazi, that’s for sure. All he’d felt from the beginning was fear and apprehension. Many times Adam had attempted to understand his irrational feelings upon meeting another Human, but the best he could come up with as to why he felt no attachment was the instinctive male-to-male competitiveness and distrust that was part of his DNA. It had to be a primal, territorial thing.

Of course, at the time he’d met Riyad, he’d only been away from Earth for a couple of days, as far as his perception was concerned. Yet even by then, he’d already met a whole cadre of various aliens and was fully aware of his situation. Still, he’d felt nothing but distrust for Riyad Tarazi.

Yet a female didn’t bring out that instinctive distrust in him. Instead, it brought out other instinctive urges that were much easier to explain.

“I’ve heard of this Kroekus character before,” Adam said aloud, as the thoughts continued to swirl around in his head.

“Yeah, he’s some big-wig on Silea. But to make a long story short, he got me out of jail and hired me to perform in more of his games. I was so good at killing that soon I started performing hit jobs for him and some of his friends. We all have to make a living, you know, and alien prostitutes are not in much demand unless you share the same genetic make-up as your Johns.” She laughed, and it made him feel good that she was letting it all out. Her spirit and personality were refreshing.

“So you became an assassin?”

“Yep. It’s really not that hard to do, not out here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Sherri stopped speaking and stared hard at Adam. Then her eyes began to grow big and bright. “Wait just a damn minute,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Are you the one that’s been going around blowing up shit and whacking dozens of aliens at a time? The Exterminator, they call him?”

Adam flashed a big grin. “That’s me,” he said with pride.

“Well fuck me!” she said loudly. “What are the chances that two stranded Humans would end up in the same profession?”

“Hey, it’s just killing aliens, just like in a video game. And besides, you said it yourself: We all have to make a living!”

Chapter 7

De’ronin Balmor sat in his office in the Nimorian Commerce Department and frowned at the secure message he read on the screen. This was a life-changer. The Overlord was ordering him to pursue a line of inquiry and a timeframe which would not allow him his normal cautious diligence. It would involve exposing himself to his associates whom he’d worked with for over twelve standard years. Not only would it destroy any future relationships with them, it would also cost him his job, as well as an unbearable amount of humiliation that he and his family would have to endure.

Apparently, the new Overlord had thought this through as well. Within his order was the promise of relocation to a world further into the Expansion, as well as a handsome monetary reward.

After a few minutes of contemplation, De’ronin instructed his computer to create a hard copy of the authorization Giodol had sent with the order. It would allow him full access to all Nimorian records and facilities.

It would also make a lot of people mad, including his mate. Yet when the Overlord for the Sector called, you jumped, and with no questions asked.

De’ronin packed his desk and placed the mementos of twelve years of employment in his transport. He would not be returning to his job at the Commerce Department.

Next, he walked over to Building Five in the Ministry complex. This was where planetary arrivals and departures were registered, including derelict salvages. He didn’t have any experience with salvages, but he knew someone he could ask.

Caal looked up from his desk when his friend De’ronin entered. “It’s a little early for midmeal,” Caal said, nodding at his friend.

“This won’t take much time,” De’ronin said without sitting. He did not want to dwell on any personal level of interaction, not knowing the scandal that his association with the Juireans would soon unleash. “Just looking for where salvages are registered.”

Caal pushed back from his desk, frowning. “For space or land vehicles?”

“Specifically, spaceships.”

“That would be on the second floor, room twelve. Not sure who’s in charge at this time. What is your concern?”

“Nothing important. Just need to check on something.”

Caal looked at his friend for a moment before shrugging. It wouldn’t be long before he would be exposed. De’ronin felt sick inside, and this was only the beginning. Even in light of the credits that had been promised by the Juireans, this was not going to be easy.

De’ronin climbed the stairs and entered the designated office. A large Nimorian female greeted him. “Your business?” she asked.

Now it began. “I’m investigating the salvage of a derelict spaceship from around nine months ago. I need to know who would have registered the vessel into the system?”

The female frowned. “From your uniform, I see you are not of this department. You are not authorized this information.”

De’ronin handed her his Juirean documentation. The bureaucrat scanned the papers, and then looked up at him with anger burning in her eyes. Nimorians were an independent lot; they only tolerated the Juireans to a certain point. They remembered the time before the Juireans came, only seventy short years ago, and still resented the superior attitude the beings from the galactic center displayed and the rules they imposed.

“This states that you are an official agent of the Juirean Authority. Is this true? You are a Nimorian.” The female glared at him, having difficulty with the concept.

“Yes, I have authorization to access all records. Please assist me.”

“I have seen you before. I was not aware you were an agent for the Juireans.”

He sighed deeply. This was not going to be easy. Her attitude left him no choice. “I demand that you provide me assistance. I have noted your name, and you will be included in my report.”

Even this did not seem to faze the female, but eventually she did turn to her screen and began entering data from her keyboard. After a few minutes, she looked up at De’ronin, to whom she had never offered a seat.

“Nine months ago, the department was headed by Fredic Dess. He has since retired. What specific vessel do you seek?”

“It was a class-five, unknown origin.”

The female returned to her screen.

“I have no record of such a salvage being registered, not then or since. There have been no class-five salvages on record.”

“I have information that this event was indeed received through this office,” De’ronin stated.

“I have no doubt you do,” she replied pointedly. “But I have no such records. I cannot help you.” She then turned from him and back to her screen, ignoring him.

“I must speak with this Fredic Dess.”

“He has retired.”

“I understand that. Where can I find information on him?”

“Personnel,” was all she said.

By the time De’ronin reached the Ministry personnel department, word had already spread about the Juirean/Nimorian agent. He faced an even colder reception there, but eventually was able to retrieve information from the clerk about Fredic Dess. It was De’ronin’s hope that Dess would remember the circumstances of the salvage, even if no records currently existed. He was finding that the salvage of class-five starships was very rare indeed.

Fredic Dess had worked in the Ministry for nearly ten years, and De’ronin found it curious that about nine months ago he had abruptly retired from his position and moved to a residence in an exclusive area of Gildemont. He checked the Library for information regarding the residence and was surprised to find the property was a mansion. On Ministry retirement pay? There was something odd here.

He drove to the residence and was immediately impressed by the size of the home, as well as the massive stone wall surrounding it. It took De’ronin nearly half an hour to gain entry to the grounds, having to become more and more belligerent regarding his authority for entry.

Finally, he was buzzed through.

A youngish, burly Fredic Dess met him at the main entrance. There was no warmth in the greeting. Dess led him to a large room, had him sit, but did not offer any refreshments.

“Why are you here?” Dess asked bluntly.

De’ronin had devised a strategy for the interview during his trip to the residence. “I’m here regarding the salvage of a class-five starship which you registered nine months ago.”

Dess did a good job of hiding his shock, but De’ronin still saw through it. “I have no recollection of such a salvage. I would remember a class-five.”

“You did record the salvage. The Juireans know this. They had the records removed for everyone but themselves.”

De’ronin saw Dess turn pale. His strategy appeared to be working. “Yes, I seem to vaguely recall the salvage. It came about the time of the attack on the facility. You may recall it?”

Dess was right. De’ronin suddenly remembered when the Ministry had been viciously assaulted—and that was about nine months ago. The event had been so out of the ordinary and so sudden, that it left most Nimorians completely in shock. No adequate explanation had ever been circulated, so the event still remained a mystery. Now De’ronin began to suspect that the salvage and the assault were related.

De’ronin decided to get ruthless. He only had so much time to produce results for the Overlord, and dancing around the issue with Dess was not going to fit within his time constraints.

“I see that you suddenly came into wealth right around that time,” he said to the nervous-looking Dess. “And this is a very nice home. I believe I have the authority to seize all your assets if I find they have been acquired from ill-gotten gains.”

He watched as his fellow Nimorian began to visibly tremble. Fredic Dess was ready.

“Of course, for the proper cooperation, I can also leave things as they are. The choice is yours, Fredic Dess.”

“Yes, I did record the salvage,” Dess blurted out. “And I did reveal to the Fringe Pirates the location of the prisoners in the Ministry.”

De’ronin was taken aback. He had no information regarding prisoners. But Dess was still rambling…

“My blood-cousin is one of the pirates. His name is Angar. I was paid for information regarding the Klin starship, but I did not assist in the attack.”

Klin! What was he talking about? De’ronin tried his best to conceal his own shock. Could this be why the Juireans are so agitated and desperate for information? A Klin starship! By the gods, this was huge!

“Who brought in the salvage? Do you remember?”

“Yes. It was Kaylor and his co-pilot. He is a muleship-driver, fairly well-known in this part of the Fringe. They were being held in the prison building, along with the Human.”

De’ronin was completely at a loss. He was receiving information that he had no idea what to do with. He was tasked with simply tracking down the beings who had brought in the class-five salvage. He had no idea it would lead to the Klin, and to Ministry attacks, and to something called a Human.

But now he did know the name of the salvager, and this would satisfy the Overlord. As far as De’ronin knowing that the derelict was a Klin starship, this was knowledge he would probably take to the grave. After all, revealing to the Overlord that he had this knowledge might prove detrimental to his health.

De’ronin departed the residence, leaving Fredic Dess a shattered mess of nerves. He didn’t care. Once in his transport, he quickly relayed the information to the Overlord. He wanted to be rid of this assignment as soon as possible. Then he turned towards his own residence, to begin his new life as a Nimorian turncoat.

Chapter 8

Riyad Tarazi hated the planet Dimloe. It was hot and humid, and filled with natives who would just as soon eat you raw than give you the time of day. Most beings in the Fringe avoided the place like the plague, which made it a perfect location for the fallback base for his pirate fleet.

Riyad had planned ahead in the eventuality that his base on K’ly would one day be attacked. He’d practiced this strategy countless times in his other life, with backup safe houses for backup safe houses. He never planned an action without having a fallback.

His planning had paid off nine months ago, when sixteen Juirean light battlecruisers dropped out of deep gravity-wells a couple of million kilometers off the planet. He’d only lost five ships that day; twenty-three others made it safely to the backup base.

The base on Dimloe was small and crude, carved out of the side of a mountain and overlooking a vast field of sulfur-spewing geysers. There were other parts of the planet that were more hospitable, but they were also more densely populated. Until he could find a more permanent location for his pirates, he chose to keep a low-profile. The setting up of the new base, and the licking of their wounds, also provided his pirates with a diversion from their normal activities, which fit well into Riyad’s current state of mind.

At the time, Riyad was only devoting about a quarter of his attention to running the pirate organization. The rest of his energies were spent trying to locate the Klin.

He would be on-planet only for the day, meeting with his second, Belfor Angar, to settle a conflict between two of his captains. He spent the bulk of his time aboard his ship in orbit around the planet, more comfortable and secure in the gravity the ship provided. Besides interrupting his research into the Klin, dropping down to the planet was such a physical inconvenience.

His captains were fighting over an equitable split of the booty from a merchant ship they’d recently attacked. It wasn’t a lot of credits, and these trivial tasks were beginning to really piss him off. Angar should have been able to settle this without his input. He had more important things to do.

Ever since Angar had pulled his unconscious body from the Klin starship just moments before it exploded, Riyad had counted that fortunate incident as a sign from God that he was destined for greater things. Even though he had been only seconds away from learning the location of Earth, without Angar’s intervention, he would have died on the ship that day, taking the knowledge with him.

But he did manage to get a clue. Ecliptic Plane Minus 4, Section 21. One-half of the coordinates needed. With only half, he was still able to produce a graphic slice of the Far Arm, 4-degrees below the ecliptic and section 21 out of 92. It was something, but not much. He had effectively narrowed his search down to about a million stars.

So he decided to take a different tack. Since Riyad firmly believed the Klin were building an army of Humans to confront their mortal enemies—the Juireans—they must be devoting all this time and energy because they saw something in the Human race that was unique and substantial, something that could counter the power of the Juireans. Having survived for almost seven years in this alien universe, Riyad believed he knew what that something was.

It has to be our strength, he often chanted to himself. After all, he had used his superior strength and coordination to defeat numerous challengers in the past. He had even coined the phrase “Human-Supermen,” if only to himself, since the only other Human he’d encountered was the now the dearly-departed Adam Cain. Cain had died aboard the Klin ship blew up, along with his two alien companions.

Too bad, Riyad often thought. Together we could have made a formidable duo.

Using logic to now track the Klin, Riyad reasoned that for the Humans to maintain their superior strength, they would have to be housed at a location with a substantial gravity, just as Riyad himself did by staying aboard his ship. He also reasoned that trying to train and maintain an army of Humans aboard gravity-controlled spaceships would have required a fleet too large to be hidden for very long.

No, it would have to be a planet, and if they were indeed hiding in the Fringe, that narrowed the possibilities considerably.

In fact, his former pirate base of K’ly, along with his current base of Dimloe, were the only two candidates out of the twelve habitable worlds in the Fringe that even came close to Earth-like gravity. Their high gravity was also the reason Riyad had chosen them as his base of operations—much to the consternation of his crews. The added gravity did, however, keep his crews itching for more action off-planet, just so they could escape the punishing effects of the higher-than-normal gravity.

Even then, these two planets could only muster about eight-tenths of Earth’s gravity. That was not a lot of difference, but over time, the weakened gravity would take its toll on the muscle systems and bone density of his fellow Humans and diminish their effectiveness as a fighting force.

Of course, there were numerous other candidates to be found in the non-habitable worlds of the Fringe. Three of these had gravity right at Earth-norm, as best as Riyad could determine. Two of these were close-in rock worlds, scorching hot on half their surfaces and frigid cold on the other. Still, technology allowed for vast underground colonies, so he wasn’t ruling them out completely.

But one planet in particular held the most promise. It was just outside the habitable zone in the New Regian system and was called Zylim-4. It was cold, with barely an atmosphere, but it supported a flourishing uranium mining industry that was cloistered well below the surface.

And so it was decided. Once Riyad dispensed with his most immediate chores as head of the Fringe Pirates, he would pay a visit to Zylim-4.

Captain Belfor Angar met Riyad’s shuttle at landing bay five. The trek from his quarters to the bay was only about half a kilometer, but already he was exhausted. The blasted gravity on this stinking excuse for a planet was beginning to take its toll, both on him, and on his fellow pirates. When one is constantly tired and out of breath, one tends to become very irritable, and fights among the renegades were becoming more frequent as the weeks went by. Angar knew the reason why General Tarazi had picked Dimloe as his alternative base of operations. It was great for Tarazi—even though he still spent very little time on-planet—but it was torture for his pirates.

The General wore a permanent scowl these days, accented by the crimson scar that cut across his forehead and split half his right eyebrow. He had acquired the mark in the battle aboard the Klin starship, just moments before Angar had pulled him to safety. Seeming more and more distracted as the months went by, Angar knew Tarazi was troubled by something. He was delegating more of the responsibilities for running the pirate organization to him, and unfortunately, the results were not in Angar’s favor.

Five years ago, when Tarazi had first assumed the reins of the organization, there had been a marked improvement in attack strategies and their resulting profits. Everyone was making credits, and the ever-growing ranks of pirates would do anything for their beloved leader.

Not so anymore. Since the Juirean raid on K’ly, the General had changed. It seemed as though running the Fringe Pirates was more of a nuisance to him, and he spent most of his time aboard his ship, engrossed in research.

“How long is this going to take, Captain?”

Angar hid his frustration with Tarazi; he knew that at any moment, the Human could literally rip his head off. “Not long. There is a piece of gold ornamentation that is worth most of the bounty. Mnnlee insists he should get it all since he initiated the attack. Jolaa disagrees.”

As they walked to the meeting hall, Tarazi appeared to be even more upset than normal. “How have you proposed settling this?” he growled at Angar.

“I suggested a trade,” Angar answered between gasps for breath, as he struggled to keep pace with his fast-walking leader. “Mnnlee to give up some of his take so he could keep the entire ornament.”

“And?”

“Captain Mnnlee says he should have it all to begin with, so giving up anything is unacceptable to him.”

General Tarazi stopped in his tracks and stared at Angar. “Unacceptable? To him?” Angar shivered in the presence of the stare. Then Tarazi resumed his stride.

In the hall, the two captains sat at a large wooden table surrounded by a couple of dozen or so of their crews. It was an amazing menagerie of creatures, many not from the Fringe, but drawn to the frontier sector of the Expansion in search of wealth and freedom. Like pirates everywhere, they each carried a rebellious gene within their make-up that made it virtually impossible for them to exist in normal society.

Riyad Tarazi was one of them, even if he had never actually been a pirate back home on Earth. He had, however, gravitated to the more radical of views, more-than-likely the product of his Muslim upbringing in the slums of the Gholeiry municipality in southern Beirut. Not as fervent a believer as some, Riyad found more satisfaction in the leading of men and the formulation of strategies, rather than religious dogma. Even in the games they would play as children in the streets surrounding the ruins of the Camille Chamoun Stadium, he was seen as a natural leader and a master tactician. The willingness of the simple-minded made his fellow street urchins easy converts to his own brand of fanaticism. Whatever it took so others would follow….

At the not-so-tender age of fifteen, Riyad was recruited into the fledgling Al Qaeda organization, and sent to Pakistan for training. In the intervening years—except for brief meetings near the Beirut airport and his attendance at a soccer match in the rebuilt Stadium—Riyad never returned to conduct operations in his native Lebanon.

Instead, Riyad was sent to America for schooling, spending time as a Gator at the University of Florida in Gainesville. His major was chemical engineering, a field that came in handy when instructing young, radical recruits on how to construct roadside IED’s in Iraq and Afghanistan. He rose quickly in the ranks, although he never once set a single bomb himself. He was, however, responsible for five confirmed kills of traitors-to-the-cause from within their own ranks.

After the killing of Abu Musab Al-Zwari in June of 2006, Riyad was sent to Pakistan to help coordinate the rising resistance movement in Afghanistan. The Americans had placed most of their emphasis on Iraq by that time, leaving Afghanistan ripe for a resurgence of the Taliban. It was just a matter of time before they would regain power. Time was on the side of the resistance…and Riyad Tarazi as well.

Or so he thought.

Riyad remembered walking with the guide through the cold and desolate mountain passage high in the Hindu Kush. The landscape was a consistent and stark gray, and nothing grew this high in the mountains. It was nearing dusk and they would camp in a small cave not too far up the trail and meet the driver the next morning for the trip down into Kabul.

But it never worked out like that. He clearly remembered the flash of hot white light—and the next moment he was waking up in a cold metal cell, covered in hay. His first vision had been that of an Indian man named Patel. The next was an alien creature wearing a black leather vest and covered head-to-toe in a thick, black fur. At first he thought it was a small bear in costume, but when it spoke and struck him with a whip, he knew this was something else.

After a couple of weeks in hellish conditions aboard the slaver’s ship—during which two of his three other Human companions died—he was sold to a gang of pirates, who apparently then marked up his price and tried to make a quick profit on the spread at another slave auction.

By then, Riyad had gained a feel for his surroundings and managed to rip the binding cords from his feet and hands and crush the necks of two of his pirate-capturers, before being subdued by an electric bolt of some kind. It hurt like hell, but he found out later the shot was meant to kill.

A gruff alien with two droopy appendages just below each ear, then approached him and asked if he could control his anger long enough to listen to him. The fact that Riyad could understand anything he said was a shock, until the alien explained about the translation device that had been embedded behind his ear while he was unconscious on the slaver’s ship.

The alien—Hawcwin was his name—explained that he was part of an informal privateer organization called the Fringe Pirates, and that they were always looking for new recruits and strong fighters. The fact that Riyad had survived a level-two bolt meant that he was something special. Having someone like Riyad in his crew would greatly enhance Hawcwin’s reputation—and power—among his peers.

Riyad had little choice but to accept the invitation to join the crew, and nine months later, he shot Hawcwin dead in a challenge for his captainship. A few months after that, Riyad fought the supreme leader of the Fringe Pirates for his position. In a spectacle designed to elicit maximum shock and cement his authority, Riyad made easy work of the lizard-like Rigorian, in hand-to-hand combat and to the death.

Riyad’s position and reputation were secure, and he immediately set about transforming the rag-tag gang of renegades into an efficient and feared fighting force.

Riyad Tarazi had fulfilled his childhood ambition of leading a band of warriors, yet he had done so with a force of over 500 aliens, rather than Muslim freedom fighters.

Allah acted in mysterious ways.

The captains rose from their seats when Riyad approached. “Greetings, my General,” Captain Mnnlee said, beating his counterpart to the punch. Captain Jolaa just nodded and squared his jaw, while shooting Mnnlee a deadly glare. They both went to claim their seats again—

“No! Remain standing,” Riyad stated firmly. Both of the alien captains stumbled slightly, breaking their drop into their seats. “This won’t take long.”

On the table lay the offending gold ornamentation, a meter-long crest of some kind depicting a rider on a thick steed and holding a lance. The shimmering gold looked new, but that was the lure of the precious metal, no matter what civilization one belonged to. The object could have been a year old…or a thousand; only an expert could tell the difference. Yet to the pirates, all they saw was a weighty piece of precious metal that could be melted down and sold in the markets of Silea. Of course, Riyad would get his cut, equal to ten-percent of the selling price. The rest would be split between the crews. An object of this size could bring as much as eight thousand Juirean credits.

Riyad looked at the object, then at his two feuding captains. “Throughout the years, I have made it possible for the two of you to share in dozens of bounties greater than this. What makes this one so different that the two of you would fight over scraps?”

Neither spoke, so Riyad turned to Jolaa. “Mnnlee says he initiated the attack and is therefore entitled to the bigger share. And he wants this thing. Why is he wrong?”

“My General, we both staged the attack, and used the trapping techniques you have taught us. We were the herders. We drove the ship to the attack point. All Captain Mnnlee had to do was open fire at the appropriate time. That hardly constitutes initiating the attack.”

Riyad had worked closely with both captains for a long time, and so he was not surprised by the articulate argument Jolaa presented. He was one of Riyad’s favorites, even though he never expressed himself in those terms. It was always best to keep them guessing.

He turned to Mnnlee whose piercing black and yellow eyes stared back at him unblinking. Riyad knew that was just the way the lizard-like Rigorians always looked, but it still created an instinctive challenge in Riyad’s mind. He did not like Rigorians, which probably harkened back to his childhood, and his hatred for the omnipresent geckos that would crawl on him at night as he slept. Captain Mnnlee looked like an over-sized gecko wearing a black bandolier.

“Captain Jolaa’s argument seems reasonable. We are all part of a unified force now, not a bunch of independent, rabid scavengers.” Riyad doubted if the translator would do justice to the word “rabid,” but he was sure his message was getting through.

Showing no fear, Captain Mnnlee took a step closer to Riyad. “General, my profits are down and my crew has seen half their take reduced in the past few months. We are making fewer raids, and almost none of them to planet-based targets.” Riyad knew Mnnlee’s comments were meant to go far beyond this current dispute. This was aimed directly at him. “My crew was responsible for the stopping of the ship. If they counter-attacked, it would have been my crew who took the brunt of the casualties, not Jolaa’s. We deserve a larger share. We deserve this bounty.”

Riyad heard the muted calls of agreement from the surrounding throng of pirates in the hall. This could easily get out of hand and grow into a full-scale mutiny, which Riyad sensed was Mnnlee’s goal all along. Mnnlee knew that no single pirate could stand against Riyad, but together they might have a chance.

Riyad simply lowered his head as if in thought and slowly nodded. “You’re argument is also persuasive, Captain Mnnlee. I see your point. And you have told my Second that the terms of his solution to this issue are unacceptable to you. I can respect that. But then again,” he paused for effect, “I had no idea these decisions were up to you!”

And with that, Riyad lifted the golden crest from the table—and in a movement so swift that no one knew what had happened until it was over—slashed the Rigorian’s neck clean through with the thin edge of the relic. The steely, beady eyes of the Rigorian remained locked on Riyad, even as the life drained from his body. Then the long-snouted head tilted forward slightly, before toppling over and landing on the table for all in the room to see. Then the rest of the body crumpled to the floor, as prodigious amounts of blood fountained from the wound and pooled around the corpse.

Turning to the stunned crowd of pirates, Riyad shouted, “I make the decisions around here! No one tells me what is acceptable and what is not.” Then he tossed the bloody ornament onto the table in front of Jolaa. “The bounty will be split evenly, all except for this. It’s yours now, Jolaa.” He addressed the gathering again, “Unless one of you wants to take it from him.”

Senior Specialist Eannwen entered Lord Yan’wal’s chambers and took a seat before the Overlord’s desk. He held a datapad and a file chip, which he passed across the desk to his superior.

Yan’wal slipped the chip into a reader and the monitor to his right lit up.

“We have gone back over the past several months and correlated transmission traffic throughout the Sector,” Eannwen began without preamble. The graphic on the screen showed an almost red screen around the planet Dimloe. “There has been a marked increase in transmissions to and from Dimloe, beginning right around nine standard months ago. According to the inhabitants of the Sector, this planet is one of the least desirable of the habitable worlds, so any such increase is definitely out of the ordinary.” He stopped, waiting for a reaction from the Overlord.

After regarding the screen for a few moments, Yan’wal turned to the comm-unit on his desk. “Provide a link with Fleet Commander Siegor,” he commanded into the device. He then turned his attention back to his subordinate. “So Dimloe is a viable candidate for the destination of the Klin ship? Are these transmissions concentrated in any particular region of the planet?”

“There is increased activity across most of the surface, but there appear to be two primary sources. They are widely separated.”

Yan’wal nodded, just as Commander Siegor appeared on the large monitor. “Yes, my Lord?”

“We have confirmation of increased wave transmission activity from Dimloe, which appears to be concentrated in two distinct areas. You are directed to launch an assault on the planet, taking care not to allow any surviving targets to escape the area.” Yan’wal’s speech was even and passionless.

Without hesitation, Siegor stated, “I will employ an enveloping strategy and set pickets beyond our line to catch any targets which manage to slip through.”

“Approved,” said Yan’wal. Then continuing: “Commander, the Klin may employ weapons and tactics not encountered to date. Be mindful. And prisoners would be beneficial.”

“Understood, my Lord. We can launch in approximately seven hours.”

Chapter 9

Riyad returned to his ship in orbit above Dimloe, leaving Angar to watch for any discontent among the pirates. Although he knew firm and graphic examples had to be made of insubordinates, he was also aware that such action always ran the risk of inciting even further resentment and unrest.

Besides, Mnnlee had been right. Over the past few months, Riyad had not been taking such an active role in the planning of pirate raids. Most of that responsibility had fallen on Angar, and he just wasn’t that aggressive or confident in his abilities. Riyad felt responsibility for that too. Prior to Riyad’s arrival and ascension to the leadership position, Angar had been one of the pirates’ most adept captains. Yet after shadowing Riyad for the past couple of years, and marveling at his effortless—and almost uncanny—ability to choose targets and coordinate attacks, Angar was suffering a lack of confidence in his own abilities. After all, Riyad was a hard act to follow.

Riyad lay back on the bed in his stateroom and stared at the ceiling. His quest for the Klin had distracted him recently and placed Angar in an untenable position. It would be important for Riyad to maintain discipline within the ranks, while at the same time allowing Angar to get a few wins under his belt.

But most of all, Riyad needed time. He needed time to follow up on leads—such as Zylim-4—while trying to find more. And what if Zylim-4 actually did pan out? How would he infiltrate a Klin stronghold and secure the information he needed without having an army of his own to back him up? At some future date he may have to call upon his pirates—and whatever loyalty he still commanded—to assist him in his quest. Of course, the assistance the pirates would provide would go uncompensated, but hopefully by the time they realized this, it would be too late.

By then Riyad Tarazi would be on his way back home.

But first things first.

He had to lay out some grand action that he could feed to Angar that would appease his pirates and bring some much-needed self-esteem back to his Second. But what could it be—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm blaring through the comm system. He scrambled to his desk and pressed a button. “What’s happening?”

Immediately, Captain Delmin on the bridge answered. “My General, several large contacts have just appeared at the edges of our screens, closing on Dimloe.” His voice was shrill.

Not again, Riyad thought. He had just got the base on Dimloe settled in. “I’m on my way.”

By the time he entered the bridge, an image of Captain Angar was on the main screen. To the sides of the large screen were two smaller ones, showing numerous bright contacts with trajectory lines trailing out from behind them, with the planet Dimloe in the crosshairs.

“My General,” Angar said, “we’ve counted forty-nine ships closing on the planet.” Angar’s voice was also an octave higher, carrying with it a trace of disbelief.

“That can’t be right,” Riyad scolded. “The Juireans only have sixteen ships in their entire Fringe fleet.”

“The count is correct, General. We have visual confirmation on most of them.” Angar was nearing panic.

“Have escape procedures been initiated?”

“Yes, but the contacts are coming in from nearly every direction. Even your scatter technique may not work in this instance.”

Riyad was silent for a moment as he took in the information. So the Juireans have learned, he thought. But where did all these damn ships come from?

“Captain Angar, have all our forces coordinate with my location. We will attempt to penetrate their shield by concentrating our strength on their weakest point.” He then turned to Captain Delmin. “From the strength of the wells, determine where the smallest attacking ship is and plot its location.”

Riyad stared at the screen for several seconds, with nothing happening. Then turning to his captain: “What’s the delay? We don’t have all day!”

Flustered, Captain Delmin looked up from his console. “Any weaknesses are minimal. These ships all appear to be mostly heavy cruisers, not the normal contingent of the Fringe fleet.

Damn, thought Riyad. The Juireans are serious this time. Scanning the closing targets himself on the screen, Riyad spotted a slightly wider gap between the contacts coming out a sector that would be fifty minutes on a clock. He pointed at the sector. “There! Set your course between these two targets,” he commanded. “Angar, have Jolaa and Hasszk lead the force in their ships. They have the most firepower—”

“General!” Delmin yelled. “I have contacts departing the surface and heading to engage the Juireans!”

He was right. On the screen were several lines emanating from a point on the surface, a couple of dozen ships at least. They appeared to be coming out of the southwestern section of the planet, and their gravity signatures were massive. These were fast and powerful ships. But whose were they?

Riyad’s heart skipped a beat. KLIN! They’re Klin. And right here on Dimloe. They had been right under his nose all along.

Thinking as quickly as he could, Riyad tried to put this new development into perspective. He couldn’t allow the Juireans to defeat the Klin, at least not until he could glean from them whatever information regarding Earth’s location he could. In fact, helping the Klin might actually ingratiate him into their favor….

Turning to the large screen and Angar’s image, Riyad spoke: “Change of plans. We’re going to join this battle and assist the contacts leaving the surface.”

He could see the shock on Angar’s face. “We…who?” he stammered.

“Just get our ships off-planet,” Riyad told him. “I’ll coordinate from here.” Angar nervously nodded and cut the link.

Fleet Commander Siegor was surprised to see the two dozen ships bolt into space and form up to confront his vastly superior force. He had at his command some of the most-modern and powerful ships of the Expansion and manned by mostly-Juirean crews. Believing now that the attackers intended to engage his force, Siegor began to bark orders to concentrate his units in a region of space forming a corridor between the two moons of Dimloe. The force from the surface appeared to be heading in that direction, which would make it easier for his fleet to contain them.

A junior Guard tapped a section of the screen to get his commander’s attention. Another grouping of gravity signatures were rising from the planet. These signatures were much smaller, although numerous. They were also gathering near the corridor.

Quickly assessing this new wrinkle in his plan, Siegor determined that even this added firepower would be inadequate to defeat his force. Now with the utmost confidence, Commander Siegor watched as dozens of attack lines grew longer, and all heading for a central point between the two moons of Dimloe.

With the enemies of the Expansion so few these days, major battles, especially in space, were very rare, and in all his years this was shaping up to be the largest space battle Siegor could remember in his lifetime. His chest swelled with pride as he reveled in the moment. This was what he was bred for! And the fact that the battle was more-than-likely against the mythical Klin, made this moment even more special and unique.

“Charge all weapons,” he commanded. “Prepare for battle.”

David Sidwell watched as the Juirean forces began to consolidate at the entrance to the Minlean Corridor, just as the plan called for. He stood on the bridge of the Fleet Ship Klamath River and smiled. He had been training his crews, with the assistance of the 2G’s and their Klin advisors, for almost three years, and finally the moment was here. He was sure all his fellow Humans would perform as expected, and that the coming battle would be a glorious victory for his fellow expatriates.

Of course, he was still surprised at the suddenness of the call to quarters, even though he had suspected something was up for the past several days.

The 2G’s had been spending more time in muted conversation among themselves, which always made David feel a little nervous and uncomfortable. A few Klin had even dropped by the base and spoken with Kyle Ross, the leader of the 2G’s on Dimloe; they had also greeted David, respecting his position as senior native-born at the base. But their conversations had not provided any warning regarding the impending Juirean attack. It was just the accumulation of tiny things that made David suspect something was coming to a head.

Earlier that day, the call had finally arrived. David sounded the alarm that sent his fleet streaking for open space.

As expected, the Juirean fleet consisted mainly of heavy cruisers, as well as a scattering of smaller light cruisers and two huge bolt platforms; the Klin intelligence had been spot on. Through countless simulations, David knew his ships could withstand all except a direct belly-shot from the bolt platforms, and the individual Juirean ships could be easily outmaneuvered to always maintain the strongest possible defensive posture against their weapons.

He glanced out the side viewports and watched as some of the closest ships to his position began to move away, preparing for battle. It would be the last he would see of them visually until the conclusion of the action. From here on, they would be blips on the forward tactical screen of his command bridge. Even though he was confident as to the outcome of the battle, he still felt a sadness and apprehension that this could be the last he ever saw of many of his fellow Humans aboard those ships….

David Sidwell had been born and raised in Humboldt County in northern California. A rugged outdoorsman from an early age, he had hunted the redwood forests and fished in the nearby rivers, many of which carried such iconic names as the Eel, the Smith and the Klamath. It was out of respect and admiration for his home, that David named his flagship after his beloved Klamath River, a gesture which only reinforced his drive and determination to make sure his homeworld would survive against the evil Juireans. Although he had come to accept the fact that he would probably never again set foot on Earth, he nevertheless felt no less willingness to sacrifice his life to help preserve her.

David had come to stand on the bridge of his starship much like all the other native Humans in his command. Taken by the mysterious Klin at the young age of nineteen, he had at first resisted the information the Klin and the 2G’s had shown him, information regarding the Juireans and their intentions towards Earth. Beyond the startling fact that there were real aliens and real galactic empires, why would the all-powerful Juireans want to harm an obscure planet like Earth? Sure, he’d seen plenty of movies about aliens invading a hapless and defenseless Earth for no good reason. But this was not a movie. This was real life.

Yet as the years passed, David began to accept the fact that the Juireans were pure evil and that they really didn’t need a reason for attacking his homeworld.

It had also been revealed to him how unique the Human race was in comparison to the other species in the galaxy, and how the Juireans resented the Humans for their abilities—just as they had resented the Klin several thousand years before. He was convinced that Earth would eventually suffer the same fate as the Klin at the hands of the Juireans. The only way to prevent that from happening was to join the Klin and the 2G’s and defeat the Juireans before they ever made it to Earth.

Although the number of true native Humans was small, their numbers were augmented by the Second Generation Humans—the 2G’s—who had been born and raised off the Earth. Although most were younger than David—and seemed a little creepy to him—he nevertheless welcomed their help. They knew the Klin technology inside and out and ran most of the complicated systems aboard his fleet.

Even though their original bloodline had come from people like David, as far as he could tell, none of the 2G’s had ever set foot on Earth. They seemed to display a much stronger bond with the Klin than they did with their fellow Humans, which was understandable. While David felt almost a paternal attachment to the 2G’s, he never got the sense that the familial bond was reciprocal.

“Admiral, we have new contacts,” Josh Newberry, David’s tactical officer said calmly from behind him. On the tact screen, David was shown the graphic representation of over twenty streaks of gravity-wells rising up from the surface of Dimloe. “It appears the pirates are joining the fight,” Newberry said.

David raised his eyebrows. Although their firepower was not needed, he was frankly surprised to see the pirates choose sides. Throughout most of their existence, the pirates had essentially operated unmolested by the Juireans. The Fringe was such an inconsequential part of The Expansion—until now—that the Juireans really didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened here. So the pirates really had no beef with the Juireans.

That had all changed a few months back, when their base on K’ly had been attacked. In the intervening months, David had observed—undetected—as the pirates went about setting up a new base on Dimloe.

David was sure the pirates weren’t even aware of the Human’s existence on the planet until only moments before. David nodded. The addition of the pirates to the battle would introduce another element into the rigid Juirean battle plan, and every bit of unpredictability would only add to the Juireans confusion. The Juireans were far too-regimented in their thinking to deal effectively with chaotic and ever-changing events. That was part of the battle plan David had devised.

And it was all about to start – NOW!

Chapter 10

Fleet Commander Siegor watched on the extreme long-range viewer as the first engagement occurred. Three of his cruisers opened fire on two of the Klin disk-shaped ships, yet as the concentrated balls of blue-white electricity struck the hulls, they simply shimmered, and the space around the ships was filled with thousands of flashing stars of light. The Klin ships then opened up with bolts of their own, which struck Siegor’s ships with awesome fury. His vessels held their ground, absorbing the brunt of the attack relatively unscathed, but Siegor also knew that most of their diffusion shields had been overloaded by the intense electric charge of the bolts.

Suddenly, a secondary array of bolts lashed out from the Klin, striking two of his ships. These new bolts broke through the surface of the hulls and burned gaping holes in the metal skin of his ships. The two injured cruisers began to move away, leaving the battle. Then the two Klin ships concentrated their fire on Siegor’s remaining ship of the three. In a moment the viewscreen was filled with the intense white light of an explosion.

Siegor was shocked. He had never seen a Juirean ship explode. From behind him, came the soft murmurs from around the bridge as others reacted to the scene. “Maintain your posts!” he shouted. “Deploy the platforms on opposite sides of the corridor. Now!”

On the main screen, Siegor watched as dozens of blue and red circles began to intermingle. The blue circles—signifying the Klin—were bouncing about and in all directions, while his own forces tried to maintain a line across the corridor. He watched as massive bolts flared out from the launching platforms. A few of the intense bolts struck the Klin ships, and he felt immense relief when a few of the blue circles disappeared from his screen.

And now the smaller targets from the surface began to engage. A tech had designated them with green circles, and they, too, did not seem to follow any prescribed course or obvious line of attack.

Calls soon began to come in from various parts of the fleet with reports of damage, while runners approached Siegor with casualty estimates. Of his forty-nine ships, five had been destroyed and nine were damaged to such a degree that they were rendered useless in the battle. Of the twenty-eight Klin ships and twenty-three other smaller vessels, six of those had been destroyed or left the battle scene. The firepower was quickly approaching parity.

On the screen, eight Juirean ships were being harassed by three of the Klin ships, along with seven of the smaller green contacts, fighting it out over the airless and desolate surface of the largest moon of Dimloe. The Juireans had managed to form a line and were concentrating fire on the lead Klin ship. Three of the green targets disappeared from Siegor’s screen, and a few of the non-Juireans on the bridge actually let out muted cheers. Then four of their own ships vanished from the screen.

Siegor fell back into his command chair to watch the battle unfold. He had already lost nearly a third of his force, and although there appeared to be some areas where the Juireans were at least holding their own, there were others where his red circles were falling back, growing ever closer to his own position at the head of the corridor. Soon he would have to start making contingency plans.

The latest runner approached and handed him a screen-chip. The attackers were down to thirty-three ships, including the smaller contacts, but it appeared as though most of the enemy losses were to the smaller contacts. His force was down to twenty-three ships. He’d lost nearly half of his command in only a few minutes.

Knowing that he could never return to face Overlord Yan’wal after such a staggering defeat, Siegor prepared to have his own ship enter the fray.

Then something began to happen on the screen before him.

Riyad sat strapped into the pilot seat of his ship, gripping the control stick tight in his right hand. He twisted it forward and to the right, sending his ship in a tight spiral straight for the Juirean battle cruiser. He lined up the sites of the targeting computer in front of him and pressed the button on the stick.

He blinked as an intense bolt of electricity shot out from his ship and coursed its way toward the target. The bolt struck the Juirean ship just below the bridge and burned through the remaining diffusion screen on the hull. It wasn’t a kill shot, but the next one should do the trick.

As he swept around to make what he hoped would be the last shot on the Juirean cruiser, he was beginning to think that joining the battle may not have been such a good idea after all. Even if the Klin did succeed in driving off the Juireans, they would be back, and in more strength than before. But his own forces would never recover.

Riyad’s whole world had changed over the past hour. He had lost over half his ships, ships that would be virtually impossible to replace. And the crews. It would take years for him to bring together enough of the unique beings that made up a pirate horde; you couldn’t just pick them up on any planet. Pirates were a rare breed, and now their numbers had been decimated. It would be a long time—if ever—before they would be the feared Fringe Pirates again.

And even though it looked as if the Klin might prevail in this battle, this was just the beginning of the war. The Klin had proven that they could take on a superior Juirean force. The Juireans would learn from this engagement.

Just then, Riyad saw four of the Klin ships disappear from his screen. And as he lined up for the final shot on the stricken Juirean ship, the Juirean cruiser itself let loose with a bolt of its own aimed at a Klin ship on his wing. Instead of turning to face the oncoming bolt, the Klin ship flipped up, exposing its vulnerable underbelly. The bolt impacted the hull and penetrated straight through, as if the diffusion screen had been deactivated. The ship exploded on his right.

Distracted by the explosion, Riyad overshot his target. He banked left and headed toward the smaller second moon of Dimloe. Something was happening here that he didn’t understand. He needed time to evaluate. The Klin, and his own forces—what was left of them—had the Juireans on the ropes. But now they appeared to be intentionally throwing the fight.

David Sidwell’s jaw dropped as he witnessed the first of his fleet turn belly-up and accept the bolt from the Juirean battle platform. His mood turned to panic as he saw four more of his ships suddenly flare bright on the tact screen and disappear.

Opening a communication channel to the surviving members of his fleet, David barely got out the first syllable before he felt the burning sting of the beam from a miniature laser weapon enter his back just below his neck. He slumped in his chair, feeling the life begin to drain from his body. A figure moved into his line of sight. It was Kyle Ross, looking as calm and emotionless as ever—and holding a laser weapon.

David looked at him, as his mouth tried to form the word “Why?” But no sound came out.

“You have served our race well, Mr. Sidwell. Now it is our turn to take over.” Ross watched as the gray glaze of death filled the eyes of David Sidwell, before reaching over to the comm console and opening a channel to the Juirean fleet.

Fleet Commander Siegor had lifted out of his seat and moved closer to the battle screen. He, too, had seen the tide of the battle turn, but he only saw it in relation to the blue, red and green circles on his screen. His forces now outnumbered the Klin two to one. He could count nine, then eight, then seven of the remaining Klin ships. And many of the smaller green ones had already bolted from the area.

Just then his communication officer called out to him. “Commander, we have a transmission coming in from the alien ships.”

“Aloud!” Siegor commanded.

“To the Juirean commander. We are offering ourselves for surrender. We have one remaining battleship. It is my flagship. Please do not fire upon it.”

“Cease action!” he called out.

Siegor had his victory. Now he would have his prisoners.

Riyad picked up the same communication just as the last stray bolt from a Juirean cruiser struck the aft section of his ship. His generators went offline, and he felt the sickening surge of weightlessness overtake him and the remaining five crewmembers on the bridge. Reluctantly, Riyad pressed the survival beacon on his command console. All he could do now was wait to see if the Juireans would honor an offer of surrender.

Chapter 11

The Juireans did honor Riyad’s surrender code, and seven hours after the conclusion of the battle, an armed shuttle secured itself to his airlock and a squad of heavily armed beings came aboard.

There were four Juireans and two other beings Riyad did not recognize. Once they were satisfied that Riyad and his crewmembers were unarmed, they were shackled and transported to the Juirean command ship.

A green-maned Juirean Guard stood stoically in the loading hanger, holding a datapad and scanning each prisoner as they went by with another hand-held device. Riyad’s crew exited first. They were scanned and then led off to a section of the hanger some fifty meters away. The Guard then scanned Riyad, barely looking at him as he did so. Suddenly he looked up from his pad and eyed Riyad up and down. After tapping something into the instrument, he called for several of the other guards to remove him from the hanger and take him to the holding cell—with the others.

As Riyad was leaving the hanger, he chanced a glance back at his crewmembers—just as they were executed by the Juirean Guards.

The holding cell aboard the Juirean starship was simply a large stateroom with a segregated grooming area and a single bed. There were six guards armed with flash rifles in the corridor outside the room, and once they removed his shackles they shoved him in the room and shut the door.

Inside was the last thing Riyad expected to see.

Milling around near the center of the room, with a few sitting on the bed, were at least a dozen Human beings! Riyad was stunned. In the past seven years, he had only seen a total of four other humans—the three on the slave ship when he was first taken, and Adam Cain. Now here was a whole soccer team worth of Humans.

And no one was paying him any special attention.

Riyad moved into the room and approached the first huddle of men. They stopped talking and turned to look at him with blank, emotionless expressions.

“Hello, my friends!” Riyad said, taking the hand of the nearest man and shaking it vigorously. The man let him do it, with no return effort on his part. “I’m Riyad Tarazi. I am so glad to see so many of my fellow Humans.”

A tall, red-haired young man stepped over to the group and pulled Riyad aside. He looked seriously into the pirate’s eyes. “I am Kyle Ross. I am the leader here. Who are you?”

“Like I said, I’m Riyad Tarazi. I’m from Lebanon originally, but I’ve been out here for almost seven years. How many other Humans are there in your group? Do you know the way back to Earth?”

Ross grabbed his arm, squeezing it tightly before shoving him against the wall. He leaned in closer. “You are not of our group. You are a native. You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was a growl. Riyad noticed several other men as they moved in around him.

“No…I am not one of you. I was with the Fringe Pirates. We fought with you against the Juireans.” Riyad was growing nervous. These were Humans, so his strength advantage was gone. He wouldn’t be able to push these guys around like he did aliens. He would have to be careful.

“I was not aware there were Humans with the pirates,” Ross stated as Riyad noticed him relax a little. “I apologize. It’s just that I know all the surviving Humans and you were not one of us. You could have been a spy for the Juirean scum.”

“I’m no fucking spy! I was the leader of the Fringe Pirates, and I sent my crews up to help you.”

Ross nodded, and several of the other men moved in closer still. “Now it begins to make sense. We have noticed how much more effective the pirates have become over the past several years. Were you responsible for that?”

“Yes, I was!” Riyad figured he had to curry favor quickly with these other men before their suspicions and paranoia got the best of them. After the trauma of the battle, and the loss of their companions, Riyad figured they were all on the edge and near the breaking point. “I have been in charge for the past five years. You know time is so hard to tell out here.”

Riyad watch as a puzzled look crossed Ross’s face, but then quickly vanished. “The Juireans will soon be coming to question us,” Ross stated. “You must not say anything about your relationship to us.”

“That’s fine. No problem.” Then in a whisper, “But where are the Klin? Did any of them survive?”

Several of the other men crushed in next to him, before Ross leaned in only a nose-length from Riyad. “You must not mention the Klin. I will do all the talking regarding them. Do you understand?”

Riyad nodded quickly. It had been such a long time since he felt really outmatched, yet these hulking Humans looked serious and unafraid. Again, he had to step lightly around them.

Then as quickly as the conversation had started, it was over. The men turned their backs on him and returned to their original clusters or positions around the room, leaving Riyad leaning against the wall, with more questions than when he’d first entered the room. These men were not normal. They showed no surprise at seeing another Human; on the contrary, they actually seemed upset that he was there. After having his pirate fleet completely crushed, then watching the battle turn abruptly in favor of the Juireans—and now this—Riyad was thinking this day couldn’t get any stranger.

He was wrong.

Riyad placed himself near the grooming station and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, watching. Kyle Ross was definitely the leader; all the other men paid him great respect when he approached and never engaged him in any back and forth dialog.

A couple of times throughout the next two hours, Juirean guards entered and brought food and drink. The guards were armed, and Riyad could see how the thirteen Humans—plus himself—could have easily overpowered them and taken their weapons. As he played out the scenarios in his head, the former terrorist could see how it would be possible for a small number of vastly stronger, quicker and more durable Humans to take over the Juirean ship. Yet no one else was even contemplating an escape plan.

Riyad finally had enough. He stood and approached Kyle Ross.

“Mr. Ross, may I have a word with you?” Riyad said politely, even though he was seething inside.

Ross turned slowly from his group and eyed Riyad up and down, again with a condescending air. The others in the group moved away.

When Ross didn’t speak, Riyad filled the silence. “I don’t know what the ultimate plan is here, but I’ve seen at least two occasions where we could have overpowered the guards and gotten the hell out of here. Do you have any plan at all, or are we just going to sit here and let the Juireans call the shots?”

Again, Ross did not immediately speak up. Then: “We are on the Juirean Fleet Commander’s flagship. We would not stand a chance if we attempted to escape—”

“Excuse me—but bullshit!” Riyad said. “I know for a fact that the fourteen of us are every bit the equal of a hundred Juireans. I don’t understand why we’re just sitting here.”

“You do not have to understand. You are not part of our group. You were not asked to interfere in the battle, and therefore you do not have any input.” Then he paused for effect before continuing. “You have lived a life among the aliens, and you are a native-born.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Ross ignored the question and continued. “You have no concept as to the events you are attempting to influence. I respect the fact that you are a fellow Human being, but that fact will only allow you a certain latitude as to your presence here. Now once again, I will tell you not to interfere, and to let the events play out as they should.” Ross then turned on his heel and walked away.

Chapter 12

“There!” Fleet Commander Siegor said, as he pointed at the monitor. “That one has once again confronted the leader.”

Counselor Kronss nodded. “Yes, he appears not to belong to this pack, he who was taken from the pirate ship and is the one Lord Yan’wal has flagged. He appears to be very agitated. It may be a tribal conflict of some sort.”

Siegor had been watching the monitor for over an hour, studying the dynamic among the creatures in the holding cell. Lord Yan’wal had been very surprised to learn that the attacking fleet from Dimloe had consisted entirely of these…Humans he called them. Siegor had never seen this race before but reasoned that the Overlord had additional information the Fleet Commander was not privy to.

Yan’wal had been even more upset to learn that not a single Klin had been found, not even among the dead. A strike team had been quickly dispatched to the surface and found the remains of their base on Dimloe. It had been destroyed, and even in the wreckage, not a trace of the Klin. Then to top it off, only one Klin/Human spaceship had been salvaged intact, and that was the one these Humans had surrendered at the conclusion of the battle. Whatever secrets they would learn about the technology and intentions of the Klin would have to come from this one ship and the Humans in the holding cell.

Siegor told the Counselor that he would begin his interrogations now and directed him to bring in the leader of the Humans…along with the dark-haired rebellious one. It would be interesting to study their interaction during the questioning. Often what was not said could reveal more than what was spoken.

In fact, as guards entered the holding cell and selected the two Humans, Siegor noticed on the monitor that the red-haired Human began to protest loudly when the other Human was singled out to join him. It wasn’t until four additional guards swept into the room and forcefully pulled them out that the leader appeared to accept the situation.

Under heavy guard, Riyad and Ross were brought into a cold metal room with bare walls and strapped into chairs in front of a metal table. A hulking Juirean entered after that—a Guard officer with his distinctive mane of light green hair. He sat across the table from the two Humans. The other guards remained.

After a few moments of silence, the Juirean nodded to the guard next to Ross. Abruptly he lifted his flash rifle and smashed it hard against the side of Ross’s head. Ross immediately screamed out in pain, nearly falling into unconsciousness. Then the guard next to Riyad did the same to him. The blow was strong, but not incapacitating, not nearly hard enough to knock out a Human. Riyad did not cry out, but rather simply shook his head and stared defiantly at the Juirean.

After a few moments, Ross regained his senses. Riyad sensed that something wasn’t right….

“I suspect I now have your full attention,” the Juirean began. “I am Fleet Commander Siegor. You have committed the gravest crimes against the Juirean Authority and the Expansion. There will be no mercy, not in light of the tremendous loss of life and material your attack has caused.”

“Fuck you!” Riyad spit out. “It was your ships that attacked us!”

Ross suddenly sobered up and shot a look at Riyad that could freeze water.

The Commander glanced down at his datapad and at the transmission he had received only moments before entering the room. “You would be Riyad Tarazi, the titular leader of the now-disbanded Fringe Pirates.”

Riyad was taken aback with the revelation. “So my reputation precedes me.”

“Do not honor yourself. You are simply a side note to the main events taking place here.” Siegor turned to Ross next. “What I’m more interested in learning is who you are, and what is your association with the Klin.”

Ross sat up a little straighter and stared back at the Juirean. “I am Kyle Ross,” he stated with authority, “and the more appropriate question should be what is the Klin association with us.”

Ross’s bombastic attitude seemed out of place to Riyad. There were so many contradictions in his entire demeanor that Riyad was just as anxious to hear the results of the interrogation as was the Juirean. Someone around here—either these odd Humans or the mysterious Klin—knew the location of Earth. And that was all Riyad was interested in.

The Juirean recoiled slightly at Ross’s odd statement. “What do you mean? You are using the technology of the Klin and harboring their kind. I will get this information out of you—or from one of your fellow beings—”

“We are harboring no one.” Ross interrupted. “We have used the Klin for our own purposes and have extracted all the information we need from them. They resisted at first, but what few of them that were left have scattered after the attack. They are of no further use to us, or to anyone else.”

The Juirean Commander was speechless for a moment as he stared at the Human. Riyad was stunned as well. Finally the Juirean regained his voice. “You cannot be serious? You make it sound as if you are the masters and the Klin are the servants.”

Ross nodded. “That’s right. We Humans are the true force in the galaxy, as you will soon learn.”

“No, Human, Juireans are the superior force, and have been for thousands of years. You are just an insignificant race using the technology of a near-extinct civilization.”

Ross laughed. “You think the Klin provided us with all the technology and weapons that allowed us to nearly destroy your fleet? I can say that the Klin have helped augment our ships and weapons. But it was we who manned the ships and guided the weapons.”

“And it was you and your kind who were defeated in the battle.”

“This is just the first of many such battles. Once our forces on Earth are ready, we will lash out at your kind with no mercy.”

Riyad couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What the hell was Ross talking about? Unless things had changed drastically on Earth in the past seven years, his homeworld was nowhere near capable of competing against the Juirean war machine. And from his brief conversation with Adam Cain, nothing much had changed on Earth since he’d been taken. Unless…an entire underground operation was taking place on Earth, preparing for the coming battle…

“Where are your other bases!” Siegor demanded as he nodded at the guard next to Ross again. Once again the butt of the rifle crashed into Ross’s temple. This time he simply shook it off.

“There are no other bases, and only a handful of the Klin still exist. And they are under our control. We were the forward base, keeping an eye on your activities.”

“Then where is this planet Earth of yours? You will tell me, now!”

Riyad perked up. This could be it—

“I will die before I will tell you, Juirean!”

Shit!

Siegor pushed back from the table and stood. “You—or your other Humans—will tell us. I guarantee it. As we peel away your skin and pluck out your eyes, you will talk! You will know more pain than you have ever imagined, and each of you will watch the others die, knowing that they will soon be experiencing the same agony. Believe me when I say this, one of you will talk.”

Siegor turned to leave the room, but at the doorway he turned back to Ross. “And once we have the location of your precious homeworld, you will all know the wrath and power of the Juirean race. We have exterminated species before. We can certainly do it again!”

Riyad and Ross were returned to the holding cell, and once there, Ross rejoined his group without saying a word to Riyad. As a matter of fact, none of the other men in the room even approached Ross to ask him what had happened, and Ross did not tell. The whole scene was surreal.

Riyad went into the grooming station and splashed water on his face and examined the swollen red mark on his forehead from the butt of the alien’s rifle. His head hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Ross, on the other hand, had taken two blows to the head, confounding Riyad with his reaction to both. With the first one, he appeared to overreact; the second, he simply ignored it.

Ross eventually entered the room and began to tend to his wounds as well. He ignored Riyad, who quickly backed away from the sink and glared at the younger Human.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Ross ignored him, as he dabbed away the small amount of blood on his temple.

Riyad grabbed Ross by the arm and spun him around, and before Riyad knew it, three other men grabbed him from behind and threw him into the main room. After that, it all became a blur, as Ross’s Humans joined in to pummel Riyad viciously, smashing him in the face and kicking his ribs. After a few moments, the blows began to run together, and he could no longer feel them. His vision blurred and his ears rang. Then slowly, his smoky vision began to collapse in on itself, and the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness came to Riyad Tarazi.

Siegor had linked the monitor in the holding cell with the transmission to Lord Yan’wal, allowing the Overlord to view the beating of the dark-haired Human in real time. Yan’wal was confused. Why would the Humans attack another of their kind so viciously? And this was the Human who had been aboard the Klin—or was it a Human—starship nine standard months ago.

Yan’wal was still trying to digest the information from the first interrogation, and whether or not he had his entire premise turned upside down. Were the Humans really the masterminds of this entire conspiracy against the Expansion? And if that were the case, then maybe this other Human, this Riyad Tarazi, might have information that the others did not want him to reveal?

He made up his mind: He would segregate this Human from the others—

The Senior Overlord was distracted by what he saw on the monitor. Without a word, all thirteen of the other Humans had formed a cluster in the center of the room, closed their eyes and turned their heads to the ceiling. Then in unison, they reached behind their right ears and removed what appeared to be clear strips of tape about ten centimeters long. They placed the strips on their tongues.

Instantly, the creatures began to convulse violently, as froth spit from their mouths and they gasped for breath. Seconds later, they collapsed in a heap, even before Siegor could reach the comm unit to alert the guards. Yan’wal watched as panicked sentries rushed into the room and descended on the now-still pile of Human bodies.

It was too late.

Yan’wal tightened his jaw and let out an angry sigh. The enigmatic Humans were dead, and along with them their secrets and those of the Klin—

A guard shouted into his comm unit. One of the Humans was still alive! Siegor was on the link instantly. After a moment, he turned to the small screen on his desk and addressed the Overlord. “It’s just the pirate, my Lord, not one of the others.”

A cloud of disappointment fell over Yan’wal. This particular Human was outside the circle of the others. He was not privy to all their knowledge, of that he was sure. And yet there was still a link between them…somewhere. Within the well-trained and disciplined mind of the Senior Overlord, a plan began to take seed. Within seconds he made up his mind.

“Commander,” he said to Siegor, “here is what I want you to do….”

Chapter 13

Zoluoff Ransin was Holaconese. The Sector 7 planet was one of the major commercial centers of the Expansion, located seven hundred light-years on the far side of the Core from Juir. It boasted a population of over four billion natives, not including the billion or so off-worlders who had settled on the planet. Holacon was cosmopolitan and progressive, which made Ransin’s current assignment in the Fringe Worlds that much more disappointing.

Ransin had begun his career with the Holacon Security Force, where he had excelled through ruthlessness and cunning. Yet during his time with the Force, his unique native abilities could not be utilized fully, not until he joined the Juireans and moved off-planet.

The Holaconese were color-shifters. Like certain reptiles and plants, chemical reactions in their skin allowed them to blend with a variety of backgrounds, and when combined with special tint-sensitive clothing, allowed them to essentially disappear from view under certain lighting conditions. Off-planet, Holaconese were much-sought-after covert agents. Even though small and weak in stature, they were able to infiltrate physical locations undetected with relative ease.

With Juireans so recognizable—and so few in relative numbers—the need for competent agents to do their legwork was an on-going requirement. So after attracting the attention of certain Juirean officials on Holacon, Ransin began to pick up more and more freelance assignments off-world, utilizing his investigative—as well as physical—skills with frequent success.

Ransin had migrated to the Fringe two years before as part of the entourage of the new Sector Overlord, Oplim Ra Unis. Oplim was an up-and-comer in the Juirean Overlord corps, and Ransin had ingratiated himself into Oplim’s favor four years earlier, believing him to be Ransin’s path to power and fortune. But when the young Overlord was transferred to the Fringe, Ransin found himself stuck in the armpit of the galaxy, and at a loss as to what he could do to get out of the assignment. Having been born and raised in a more affluent and progressive society, Ransin appreciated the finer things in life, of which the Fringe was almost totally lacking.

The planet Castor was one of the rare exceptions, if only by Fringe standards. Because of the planet’s wealth in natural resources, it possessed more than its fair share of opulence and decadence, even though looking at it from space one would never have guessed. But credits attracted even more credits, and with them came the ability to buy more lavish things.

So Castor was Ransin’s home base of operations. He could have stayed on Melfora Lum, near the hub of Juirean power in the Fringe, but that planet was more staid and uptight than Castor. Everyone there was too afraid of insulting the temperamental Juireans.

When the file arrived, regarding a matter needing his special attention, Ransin had been expecting the usual; an investigation into some purported threat to a high official or such. He yawned as he clicked open the file on his desk computer. To his surprise, this one was different.

A Juirean shuttlecraft had been stolen and Ransin was being assigned the task of tracking it down. This news came as a shock to the agent, not only from the audacity of the thief, but also from the question as to how it was done.

Ransin read over the file with renewed interest.

The shuttle had belonged to Counselor Deslor Lin Jul, Lord Oplim’s senior counselor, with whom Ransin had had various dealings with in the past. Ransin knew that both the Overlord and Deslor had died in a tragic accident aboard a starship several months back, the result of a malfunctioning gravity generator, it was reported. The news of Oplim’s death had hit Ransin especially hard, not from any great affection he held for the Overlord, but rather from the sickening realization that he was probably stuck in the Fringe for the foreseeable future.

What prompted this investigation was the fact that Deslor’s shuttle had been recorded as departing Hildoria two standard days before, course unknown. What the ship was doing there, and where it was going were his two most pressing questions.

In his two years in the Fringe, Ransin had already developed a fairly extensive network of junior agents and informants, so the first thing he did was open a link to one of his more reliable operatives on Hildoria. It wasn’t long before a picture of recent events on the planet began to develop.

The shuttle had departed the port at Jaxas within a couple of hours of the assassination of a local, yet prominent, crime lord. His source had been able to verify other information as well, including the rumor that the crime lord—the late Kunnlar Bundnet—had been targeted for assassination as a result of his run-in with the Gangs of Castor. Within the hour, Ransin had learned that the major area of Bundnet’s most-recent operations had to do with counterfeit technology, and on Castor, that meant only two major players: Seton Amick or Ga’lick Mo Viss. If the stolen shuttle was being used by the assassin, then Castor would be his destination, and one of these two Castorians his employer.

His agent on Hildoria also had a pretty good lock on the assassin himself. It was more-than-likely a creature called a Human. It took Ransin a scan of the Library to learn exactly what a Human was. He was intrigued to learn that their homeworld of Earth—dirt?—was located outside the Expansion, somewhere in the Far Arm. How this creature came to be in the Fringe was a question left for another day.

After a quick calculation, Ransin knew that the shuttle had either already arrived on Castor or would be within the next day. Another link and Ransin had his spotters at their screens, monitoring all incoming craft to the Krune spaceport. If the assassin did arrive in the very distinctive Juirean spacecraft, Ransin would know about it immediately.

The Juirean agent left his rather flamboyant office near the city center and boarded a train for the more affluent section of Krune, where both of the crime lords resided. His assignment was simply to observe and report. And that he was very good at.

During the train ride, Ransin received a transmission and was disappointed to learn that the stolen shuttle was already on Castor. He had been hoping to observe the arrival of the assassin and be able to track him to one of the crime lord’s residences. Now he would be playing catch-up.

Seton Amick’s property was the closest to his drop off point, and when the transport neared the neighborhood, Ransin was caught in the middle of a conglomeration of official vehicles and curious bystanders crowding the street. Exiting the vehicle, the agent mingled among the crowd for a few minutes, asking questions and listening to the conversations.

Soon he learned that Seton Amick was dead, and that the authorities had tracked the killer to the main street about a kilometer from the residence. He climbed back in the transport and headed in that direction.

The traffic had cleared somewhat by the time he arrived, and he was able to identify the police authorities as they set up a command post at a nearby intersection. Ransin approached and pulled out his Juirean identification card. A burly Castorian in a gold outfit came forward to greet him.

“Van Ransin, how can I be of assistance to the Juirean Authority?” the official slobbered, using the formal Castorian greeting Van before Ransin’s name. “What interest do the Juireans have in this affair?”

“It’s more a curiosity rather than an official inquiry,” Ransin answered. “What action is taking place here?”

The official turned toward the nearby alleyway and pointed. “Witnesses say the assassins went through here before they entered a rest facility on the other street. We are preparing for entry.”

“Assassins?”

“Yes. Apparently there are two of them.”

“Do you have an identification as to their race?”

“None at this time. Everything happened so fast that the witnesses did not observe properly.” The official motioned him forward. “We are about to act. You may observe if you wish.”

They moved through the alley and out onto the adjoining street. The rest facility was flanked by a line of heavily-shielded police, who as Ransin watched, began to move quickly into the building. There had to be fifteen to twenty of them, easily enough to contain two killers—including one shuttle thief. It seemed as though Ransin’s current assignment would be over nearly before it began.

Chapter 14

The two Humans spent more time than normal in the grooming station, showering and attempting to clean themselves up for the other. However, both were at a loss for the proper tools, such as razors, makeup and shampoo. But after a while, they met up again in the main room, Adam sitting in the room’s only chair with Sherri propped up on pillows on the bed.

While in the grooming station, Adam had been trying to come to grips with his situation. His main benefactor had been killed—by the only Human female he’d met out here—and now he was essentially on his own. But fortune had smiled on him. Besides the twenty-thousand credits he’d been paid for the Bundnet hit, he had also acquired almost one hundred forty thousand additional credits from the safe. That was a lot of money; he should be set for a while as he sought out other contracts. On the other hand, with what he already had saved, he had around a quarter of a million credits total, still far short of the five million or so he would need to purchase a class-five starship if, and when, he ever learned the location of Earth.

And now here was another Human. She had a compelling story, and as he’d listened, a plan—and a question—was growing in his mind.

“So why didn’t you try to find out where you were taken by the Klin?” he asked from the chair. “Other Humans are there, and a lot of them apparently.”

Sherri shrugged. “I guess I never got around to it. After spending time in prison, and then in the Games, I had to figure out a way of making a living first.”

“But you may have been able to find the way back home.”

She shook her head. “The Humans running that place didn’t seem very anxious to help. I think if I’d shown up there again, they would have just thrown me back into their breeding program, or worse.”

Adam could understand her trepidation. But here was a place with more Humans—and more Klin. She had been to the central processing center for Humans in the Fringe, and he knew the answers were there. It may be difficult to get into the facility and back out again, but at least it was worth a try.

“Listen, Sherri,” he began, desperation in his voice, “you have to help me find that place. You won’t even have to go back, I promise. Just help me find it, and I’ll do all the fighting—”

Sherri sat up straighter on the bed. “If I ever do find the location, I’m not going to chicken out. I can carry my own load.”

Adam smiled. “I love your spirit, and I didn’t mean to suggest that you wouldn’t go back because you’re scared. It’s just that I have more training in this area than you do.”

“So one macho ex-SEAL is going to lead an assault on the main Klin base in the Fringe? And while you’re there, you expect to find that one-in-a-million alien who just happens to know the location of Earth? And because you ask nicely, he’ll just hand it over to you. Let me ask you this: What if the Juireans caught you tomorrow and said they’d kill you if you didn’t give up the location of Earth? You know what would happen? You’d die, that’s what.”

“I have to try, Sherri. I know you’re probably going to be shocked to hear this, but I have a wife and kid back home—”

“Hey, what does that have to do with anything?” Sherri interrupted. “What we just did here has nothing to do with love, or affection or anything else like that. This was all about pure animal instinct. I have—had—a fiancé back on Earth. We all left something very dear to us back home.”

“I agree,” Adam said. “But this is not my home—or yours either! We can’t stay here, not if we have even the slightest possibility of getting back home.”

“Adam, sweetheart, you’re cute and everything, but I really think I’ll do better if I go it alone.”

Adam was shocked. He had not imagined the two of them wouldn’t pair up somehow, as Human-to-Human, either professionally or personally. There just weren’t enough Humans out here to go around. But here he was, light-years from Earth, and the only woman he’d met was saying she just wasn’t ready for a commitment. Was he losing his touch?

“I’m not giving up,” he said finally. “You may have, but I haven’t. And now you tell me there’s a place here in the Fringe where there are hundreds, if not thousands of other Humans, and you won’t even help me find it!”

Sherri was silent for what felt like minutes, staring off at the opposite wall. Finally she nodded. “All right, I’ll help,” she said—

There was a noise in the hallway outside the room. Both Humans got up quickly and began to collect their weapons. “And I’ll go in with you. What the hell? What do I have to lose?”

Adam moved to the room’s environmental control panel as Sherri opened the inner airlock door. “I know the answer is there,” Adam said as he increased the air pressure in the room to four times its present setting. “So what’s our next move?”

Sherri pulled out her MK-17 and checked the charge pack, before pressing herself against the wall next to the open airlock door. “We have to track down the surviving crewmember on the ship that I stowed away on, and then get her to tell us what planet she picked me up at.”

Adam moved to the other wall next to the airlock and checked his own weapon. “Where do we start?”

“Silea. That’s where her ship landed. I know someone there who might help.”

She and Adam placed the respirators over their noses, lowered their full-face masks and pressed their hands hard against their ears.

Then they waited….

Moments later, the lock on the outer door clicked and the door began to open. Instantly, the increased air pressure inside the room blew out the panel with the force of a dozen sticks of dynamite, sending the thick metal door into the hallway, crushing half a dozen Castorian police as it did so. The concussion blew out every window in the lobby, as well as the door to the emergency exit at the end of the hallway to the right.

Adam and Sherri moved into the corridor, weapons drawn. The police near the door were all dead; the ones further away on both sides of the room were lying on the floor, writhing in pain. The two assassins stepped over and around the Castorians and moved down the hall to the open emergency exit.

After checking the alley for any police, they sprinted left between the buildings, away from the main street, and then turned right in another alley behind the buildings. In the lighter gravity, the two Humans ran with lightning speed for about a kilometer, before entering a pedestrian elevator and going up nine floors. They exited and boarded a train for the rest of the journey to Adam’s entry point into the city, just below the Krune spaceport.

Twenty minutes after leaving the rest facility, Adam was punching in the code to open the hatch to the Cassie-1.

“Nice ship,” Sherri complimented. “Where’d you get it?”

“Off a dead Juirean.” He smiled as the door slid open. He didn’t think Sherri believed him.

Ransin and the police commander watched as the squad moved into the building. The Juirean agent was just about to pull out his communicator and relay the message that the shuttle thief was dead and that the shuttle had been recovered, when suddenly every window on the first floor of the building exploded outward. Even from where they stood, glass rained down upon them. Covering their heads with their arms, officials and bystanders alike were stunned by the explosion.

Ransin regained his awareness before the Castorian did and sprinted toward the building. Entering, he found a scene of utter devastation, as shattered glass and broken bodies lay strewn in the hallway to the right of the lobby. There were moans from the injured and blood everywhere.

Ransin moved to the gaping opening where the airlock door had once stood and looked inside. It was empty and fairly intact, with most of the force from the explosion having been channeled into the hallway. A quick survey of the dead and injured found only Castorians. His assassins were not here.

He then noticed a light coming from the other end of the hallway.

This assignment just got a lot more interesting, the agent thought, as a sly smile stretched across his lips.

Chapter 15

Something smelled like shit – literally!

Riyad tried to move but found there was something heavy lying on top of him, something soft and bulky—and smelling like shit.

He tried to open his eyes, and only after considerable effort was able to break the crust that had accumulated around them. He remembered the beating he’d taken and figured the crust to be dried blood. Then suddenly every bone in his body screamed out with pain.

The strange men had seemed to revel in the beating they were inflicting upon him, as more of them joined in the fray. It was a miracle he was still alive.

He could make out faint shapes in the dim light, and as his eyes cleared, the shapes began to take form. On top of him was something v-shaped, made up of appendages, thick and—they were legs. There was a body lying on him, with its crotch buried in his face. And the body had soiled itself.

Ignoring his pain, Riyad pushed with all his might and shoved the corpse off of him. He sat up. He was in a dimly-lit room, at the edge of a pile of bodies, smelling of feces, vomit and decay. He pulled himself from under the bodies covering his legs and stood up as best he could. His ribs burned, his head throbbed and his legs were shaky. He fell against a metal wall and tried to take several deep breaths, but the stench in the room was too much for him to bear. He vomited.

He had to get out of the room…and quickly.

There was a doorway not too far to his left, and as he crawled along the wall toward it, he swore that if the door was locked, he’d beat it down with his bare hands. But it was unlocked, and once through, he slammed it shut and slipped to the floor, his back pressing against the door. The air in the corridor was stale and warm, but at least it didn’t smell of death and feces.

The room he’d left was filled with the corpses of his fellow Humans, that much he was sure. He’d seen a lot of dead people in his day, and he knew the smell of death. They were all dead, and appeared to have been so for several hours, if not days.

Once his head cleared, Riyad struggled to his feet and began to move cautiously along the corridor to his left. He had no idea what part of the Juirean flagship he was on, but reasoned it had to be some aft cargo bay just so the stink wouldn’t permeate the rest of the ship. Refrigerating the bodies would have helped, but if they had, he wouldn’t be alive now.

All was quiet, and it wasn’t long before he came to the end of the corridor and a closed door. In his beaten-down condition, he knew he wasn’t the badass he was accustomed to being, but he would just have to do his best. So he pressed the release button on the wall to the right and charged into the room.

It was a small command bridge…and it was unoccupied.

A wave of relief spread through him. So he wasn’t on the flagship anymore. In fact, this was a small shuttle, and from the ring of stars he could see through the viewport, it was in a gravity-well.

He sat down in the pilot seat—much to the relief of this aching body—and scanned the controls; they were just standard issue. He punched up the flight information and set the data to be relayed audibly.

After a minute, he reclined back in the chair and smiled. This was an automated shuttle, taking the Human bodies back to Melfora Lum for autopsy. The crazy bastards had committed suicide—all except for one. And his body had been thrown in with the rest.

Riyad’s grin grew wider, as he began to believe that maybe there was a God after all, even way out here, and that Allah was looking after him. He was alive—barely—and now he had a ship.

A plan gelled instantly in his mind.

His pirate organization was in shambles, so he couldn’t go back to that. But he could take the ship he was on to Silea, recover the five million credits he had stashed there over the years, and then lie low for a while. The credits could buy him another ship on the black-market, as well as a new identity. Then he would resume his search for Earth—and without the responsibilities of a pirate organization to run.

It was a good plan.

During the past few days, Riyad had collected a fair amount of intelligence, not the least of which was the fact that there had been a thriving Human community in the Fringe. In addition, he didn’t believe half of what that lunatic Kyle Ross had told the Juirean. Riyad knew his race and his planet, and there was no way Earth was preparing for an imminent battle with the Juireans. It had to be a ruse, a deflection from the truth, and from the real Klin base. It’s what he would have done.

It was a simple task to reprogram the nav computer for Silea instead of Melfora Lum, and once that was done, Riyad searched the ship for weapons, food and accommodations. The trip to Silea would take seven days, just enough time for him to heal and get some of his strength back. He cranked the ship’s internal gravity up to a reasonable level and wolfed down some mush for energy. Then he jettisoned the rotting bodies out the cargo bay. The trip would be long, and he certainly didn’t want them stinking up the place.

Aboard the UN-444, Interim-Overlord Giodol stepped into stride next to Lord Yan’wal, as the Senior Overlord made his way to one of the myriad of meetings that made up the majority of his day. “The Human has set a course for Silea. Your plan appears to be working,” Giodol said.

“Good. That creature is our best link to whatever conspiracy is underway. Be sure that our agents do not lose him on Silea.”

“Yes, my Lord. And there is more.”

Yan’wal did not stop but instead cocked his head toward the junior Overlord.

“Our agent on Castor placed a tracker on Counselor Deslor’s shuttle. It left the planet about nine hours ago and appears to be heading for Silea as well.”

Yan’wal nodded. “So both of the Humans who were aboard the mystery ship are heading for Silea? This must be more than a coincidence. I have ordered another forty ships to the Sector to replace the ones lost off Dimloe. Send ten of our current vessels to the area near Silea and have them wait there in the event they are needed. I do not believe we have seen the last of these Humans. And I will need more confirmation before I believe the Klin have very little to do with this situation.”

“Yes, my Lord. And one more thing, I have tracked down the two beings who originally brought the Klin ship in for salvage. There is evidence that they had the ship’s computer core for a period of time before Lord Oplim obtained it.”

“Were they able to access any of the data?”

“We cannot be sure. We do know that our technicians on Melfora Lum could not. Our techs transported the core to the Klin ship for that purpose, just before it exploded.”

“What are your plans for these beings?”

“I have sent a ship to bring them to Silea. Possibly having them meet with the original Humans again might reveal more information.”

“That sounds reasonable. I approve.”

Then the Senior Overlord stopped and looked directly at Giodol. “And once our new forces arrive, I want this Sector locked down. We have underestimated the threat from these Humans for the last time. Once they meet up on Silea—along with the salvagers—I want them covered. They will lead us to their cohorts. These creatures are fanatical, Lord Giodol. They will not hesitate to take drastic measures to protect their secrets. We must be very careful not to reveal our agents, or the fact that they are being tracked.”

“Understood, my Lord. I have my best agent leading the operation.”

Yan’wal’s stare turned into a glare. “It will take generations for the Juirean culture to get over the debacle at Dimloe, and this happened under my leadership. I will not let a group of savage aliens, or the lack of competency on the part of my own forces, damage my record any further. Is that understood, Lord Giodol?” The Senior Overlord turned and walked away from his stunned subordinate.

Chapter 16

During the five-day journey to Silea, Adam and Sherri had come to an understanding. They would continue to sleep together, simply to enjoy the touch of another Human being, but that would be as far as it went, at least for the time being. Yet, if the trail to Sherri’s lost Human colony proved to be a bust, then they would revisit the whole relationship thing. If return to Earth was impossible, they would stay together and try to forge whatever modicum of a life they could manage in this strange, alien universe.

But before that, it was purely for the sex.

On the fourth day out from Castor, Adam entered the stateroom carrying a package wrapped in white paper. Sherri was seated at the desk, listening to a translation of an item in the Library. It was always easier to request a vocal translation of items on the galactic internet, rather than try to learn all the various written alien languages. The translator bugs imbedded behind their ears made reading a lost art, nearly to the point of extinction.

She noticed Adam when he entered. “What do you have there?”

Adam answered with a wide grin. “You’ve been out here longer than I have, so you may have already experienced this, but I think I have a real treat for you. I found these on Rigor.”

Adam separated the wrapping paper to reveal two thick slabs of richly-marbled meat. “I thought you might like a change from all the synthetic mush we’ve been eating. These are steaks—or as close to steaks as I’ve found out here.”

Sherri smiled back and raised her eyebrows.

Adam explained. “I was on Rigor a few months back and picked up the scent as those lizard-bastards were grilling up some of these. They come from a large grass-eater, something like a cow, but twice as big. Hell, it smelled like steak, looked like steak, and damn, if it didn’t even taste something like steak. So I bought up a supply and have kept them on ice for special occasions.”

“So this is one of those special occasions?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I had a date over to my place for dinner.”

Sherri laughed and patted his arm. “Well grill ‘em up big boy. Tonight we feast!”

The Rigorian meat was similar to beef steaks, yet not an equal match, but the two Humans didn’t care. They laughed between bites and shared more of their stories with each other, and—at least for the time being—forgot where they were.

Sherri explained that she had been raised on a small horse farm just outside of Owensboro, Kentucky, where her father raised Tennessee Walking Horses. Every year, her family would cart some of the horses down to Murfreesboro, Tennessee for the big Walking Horse Celebration, where it was non-stop talk about horses, horses and more horses. Sherri hated it. In fact, she was of that rare breed that gravitated to the opposite of how she was raised. She hated the country and loved the city. She was ambivalent towards animals, while feeling that none of them belonged in the house, not even cats and dogs.

“So why were you studying to be a veterinarian?” Adam asked, confused.

“I guess it was just to please my family. I knew a lot about the field already, having helped my dad out with all the beasts running around our property. Did I mention I’m an only child? I might have slipped under the radar if I had a brother around.”

“Yeah, family can be a powerful influence on a kid, good and bad.”

Sherri nodded. “And you followed in your father’s footsteps and joined the Navy.”

“That’s right. But I never had any issues with it. I guess I always knew I would make it a career. As a Navy brat, I spent a lot of time growing up near the water. My mother died in a car accident when I was eleven and my dad raised me by himself after that. He never remarried. He taught me to shoot even before I could ride a bike, and I always respected what he did for a living. He was a Hospital Corpsman in the Navy, and he went off to Iraq with the Marines during Desert Storm and later to Afghanistan in 2004 as a senior enlisted. I joined in 2009 and went right into SEAL qualifications.”

“What was that like? I hear it’s really hard to become a SEAL.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s no cake-walk, but I had been training for it most of my life. My dad had told me what to expect, and I had researched the SEALs extensively. I was probably better-prepared than most.”

“So I suppose your training comes in handy out here—in your line of work.” Sherri let out a small laugh and took another sip of the alcoholic drink the dietary computer had concocted. She seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

“You would think so,” said Adam with a tinge of disbelief in his voice. “But all the weapons here are different, and I’ve been operating solo for so long that most of my team maneuvers are pointless. Besides, none of these aliens have been much of a challenge.”

He cocked his head and looked at Sherri’s young, innocent face. “I guess the bigger question is why have you been so successful as an assassin, I mean with no formal training?”

She let out a snort. “It’s like you said: None of these things out here have been much of a challenge. And I guess it’s also a remorse kind of thing. I have never felt any remorse about killing these stinking aliens. Not an ounce.”

“I hear you,” Adam nodded. “I’ve never thought I was a cruel person, but I feel very little attachment to any of these things out here. I thought it’s just because they aren’t Human, but I also didn’t go around killing every animal I saw on Earth without remorse, and they weren’t Human, either. I think it’s the whole alien thing. At least a dog on Earth is native to Earth, and I think subliminally I feel a kinship with the dog. But not to any of these things. It may sound simplistic, but until you’ve experienced it, you can never be sure how you’d react to something truly alien.”

“That could be true,” Sherri said, furrowing her brow. “I’ve also met a few aliens I would call friends, and some of them even ended up dead. Still, I can say I didn’t feel any great sorrow when they died.”

Adam thought of his two closest alien friends, Kaylor and Jym. Although the total time they had spent together had been less than a month, Adam thought he would feel something if they died. But then he thought of Seton Amick. He had spent more time around the Castorian crime boss than any other alien. And when he died, all Adam could think about was the loss of the revenue stream.

Adam shook his head, trying to clear it of the conflicts he felt. He knew he couldn’t be too hard on himself. Humans—including him and Sherri—had only recently been exposed to the reality of alien beings. Until humanity had a chance to fully acclimate itself to this new reality, it was understandable for his kind not to understand their conflicted emotions.

Adam noticed Sherri’s eyes begin to close and her head droop forward across the table from him. She had consumed more of the beverage than he and was apparently feeling it. Their night had been a success—and a reprieve. In the morning, they would arrive on Silea, and begin the next chapter in their quest for a way home. It seemed like such an impossible task, but just the fact that he had survived in this alien reality for over nine months—and Sherri for over three years—gave him added hope.

Yes, Humans were resilient…and hard-as-nail bastards, even if there were only two of them against the entire galaxy. He laughed softly to himself, and in his slightly inebriated state, thought, I hope we don’t make too much of a mess out of the galaxy. ‘Cuz I’ll be damned if I’m going to clean it up!

Chapter 17

They entered the Silean system on the fifth day out from Castor. Adam had been to the planet several times before, including twice with his old buddy, Seton Amick.

Silea was an exciting place, and a haven for the lawless in the Fringe. In its vast, open-air markets you could buy anything, whether legal or illegal, and this was all by design.

Long ago, the powers who ruled the planet had decided to go along to get along, so on Silea, just about anything went. Here they grew the most potent intoxicants in the Sector, traded the most blatant rip-offs of Juirean technology—and even had the largest slave-trade anywhere in the Expansion, according to rumor.

Yet everyone on the planet knew their days were numbered. As the Juirean Expansion grew beyond the Fringe and the Barrier, they knew the Juireans would enforce more restrictive regulations on their activities. It was just a matter of time.

But for the time being, the Sileans traded and produced at a fever-pitch, trying to make as many credits as possible in the time they had left.

Silea’s population numbered in the billions, with thousands of cities, towns and hamlets spread across its four major land masses. It was also one of those exotic-looking planets from space that Adam enjoyed to visit, looking like a shining blue, white and green ornament set against the blackness of space.

Adam and Sherri’s destination was the capital city of Dargor. The city was sprawling, with no buildings reaching higher than four stories. Adam never learned why Sileans didn’t build taller structures; it was just the way they wanted it. The result of this particular brand of urban planning was cities that stretched for a hundred kilometers in every direction, limited only by the rise of mountains or the boundary of the sea. And Dargor was the largest.

The city was serviced by no less than twenty-two spaceports. Five of these ports were major hubs, while the remainder were smaller and reserved for merchants trading in the most-notorious contraband Silea offered.

Adam chose one of the minor ports. Even though the Juirean transponder on his ship was deactivated for his arrival on the planet, the ship itself might still attract too much attention at one of the major hubs. At these minor ports, no one paid much attention to anything that came or went.

Silea was one of those Fringe worlds with a Juirean-standard gravity, putting it at about three-quarters that of Earth’s. Both Adam and Sherri reveled briefly in their sudden weight loss, but both knew they couldn’t stay here for any prolonged period. In fact, it was during the trip to Silea that Sherri had revealed her greatest fear to Adam. It was of premature osteoporosis. Women were always more prone to the loss of bone mass during their lives, and since Sherri didn’t have a ship of her own in which she could regulate the gravity, she feared that her time on these weaker-gravity worlds would cause her to develop the condition sooner than normal.

Adam had assured her that she was always welcome aboard his ship, and that he’d even crank up the gravity to above normal just to help reverse any damage which the past three years may have caused—if that was even possible. He wasn’t an expert on the condition, but he did get the impression that Sherri’s pre-med education gave her a deeper understanding of what she was up against. Even though she was appreciative, Adam could still sense her worry.

But after five days under what was as close to Earth-normal gravity as Adam could provide, Sherri was enjoying the added bounce in her step.

Outside the gates of the spaceport, Adam rented a small transport to take them into the city and to the office of Kroekus. The crime boss was simply the most-powerful person on the planet outside of the government—which meant he actually ran the whole damn place. There wasn’t a category of trade that he wasn’t involved in, and his network spread to every part of the Fringe—and beyond. Kroekus was so far up the criminal ladder from Seton Amick—and especially Kunnlar Bundnet—that the two now-deceased crime lords barely registered on the scale compared to him.

Kroekus and his family had been running things on Silea for over a thousand years, to one degree or another. For the long-living Sileans, that was only about ten generations, yet no family in the history of Silea had lasted as long in power. And Kroekus wasn’t about to lose it now.

So when the assassin Sherri Valentine showed up at his door, he was cautious, especially in light of the fact that another Human was with her. Kroekus was very aware of what Sherri could do by herself. But two Humans in his anteroom caused him to set his security at max and to activate the diffusion shield surrounding his desk.

Sherri displayed a wide grin as she entered the office, doing her best not to display too much teeth. This necessity for harmonious existence within the alien society was one of her hardest habits to break; it went totally against her natural instinct; she had always been known for her beautiful smile. Yet it was to counter the instinctive reactions from the aliens that she now struggled to contain her tight-lipped grin.

“My friend, Sherri,” Kroekus greeted amicably. “What brings you back into my presence?” He came around his desk to briefly embrace her, and then quickly moved back to his seat. Adam noticed Sherri cringe slightly as the bloated and smelly alien hugged her, yet she didn’t protest. Kroekus did not greet Adam but eyed him up and down once he was back behind the desk.

“First of all, this is my friend Adam Cain. I have finally met another of my kind.”

“That must be very gratifying for you,” Kroekus replied, with no emotion in his voice. The alien continued to look at Adam. “But I have to admit, I know of your companion.”

Adam knew it. There were so few professional assassins in the Fringe with his track record, and even fewer Human assassins. He would have been disappointed if Kroekus wasn’t aware of him.

“You were responsible for the recent demise of Bundnet on Hildoria,” he stated flatly. “And you, my dear Sherri, for Seton Amick. And now you have joined forces having each killed the other’s employer. I find that rather amusing—and disturbing.”

“All of that was simply a coincidence, Kroekus,” Sherri said quickly, trying to calm the crime lord’s concerns. “We did not know of each other’s existence until after the hits.”

“Still, the meeting of two of the Sector’s most prolific and efficient assassins—who just happen to be of the same race—I find that cautionary at best.”

Adam knew they were being watched, with probably half a dozen bolt launchers aimed at them at that very moment; a being of Kroekus’s caliber didn’t reach and maintain his status by being stupid. Adam was beginning to doubt Sherri’s clout with Kroekus, and unless the tone of the conversation shifted quickly, Adam would soon be looking for an exit strategy—and his weapon had been confiscated by the various layers of security leading to Kroekus’s inner sanctum. It would not be easy, and the tell-tale shimmer in the air as Kroekus returned to his chair indicated a diffusion screen between them and the alien. What had he been thinking, allowing himself to walk right into the killing-field?

But Sherri didn’t seem as tense. Instead, she spread her hands out in front of her, palms open—a universal gesture of peace in many societies, including alien, apparently. “I have come back to you to ask for your assistance. I need to learn the identity and location of the surviving crewmember of the ship that first brought me to Silea.”

Adam saw Kroekus relax a bit—not much, but some. “I’m sure that if that creature still lives, she would not be that anxious to see you. For what purpose do you seek this information?”

“We are attempting to learn how we came to be here,” Sherri said, honestly. “Both Adam and I are of a race that is not part of the Expansion.”

Kroekus displayed a surprised look on his round face. “I do not know why I should find this information shocking. Your abilities have been beyond the ordinary. That was the main reason I freed you from the prison and set you in the Games in the first place.” Then Kroekus displayed what could only be called a Silean smile. “You made me a lot of credits during your time there, and I have to admit, even more since I set you on your current career path. Are you trying to say you are attempting to leave the Fringe and return to your homeworld?”

“If that is possible, that would be our goal.”

Kroekus relaxed even more, while a curious look crossed his face. “So there is a whole planet of beings like you, with your particular talents.” The big alien looked directly at Adam. “That could be…interesting, to say the least.” Then back at Sherri: “And you think tracking down the being that brought you to Silea can provide information about where you came from? How can it be that the two of you do not know?”

Adam decided not to sit quietly any longer. “We were taken against our will,” he said forcefully, much to Kroekus’s surprise. Adam knew Kroekus was also active in the slave trade. “All we want to do is get back home. It’s as simple as that.”

Kroekus pursed his purple lips. “That’s quite understandable. A being’s homeworld can be a very powerful attraction for a species. But in my position here on Silea, I have seen very few of your kind come through the slave trades. Why do you think you were taken in the first place, if not to be sold in our markets?”

Adam did not want to reveal his suspicions to the crime lord. If he knew of Adam’s belief that an army of Humans existed somewhere in the Fringe, he might not look upon Sherri and himself as simple curiosities, but rather as threats. So instead: “I have no idea why aliens do what they do.” He noticed Kroekus bristle slightly at the word alien. Damn, he knew better than to antagonize these creatures, unless of course, it served his purpose.

Sherri stepped in quickly to defuse the situation. “Kroekus, we mean no disrespect,” she said. “All we want to do is find our way back home. Our race is not as advanced as is yours, and we do not possess space travel or knowledge of the galaxy. We are much more primitive.”

Kroekus was silent for a moment as his attention slowly returned to Sherri. “Yes, your race may be successful at killing simply because you are so primitive. You may not belong among us permanently, not until you mature more as a species.”

From his position of power, Adam knew Kroekus was used to saying whatever came to his mind, no matter how insulting to others his thoughts may be. Adam didn’t care. Deep down, he knew the alien was probably right.

“I believe I can help you,” Kroekus said finally. “The records of your arrival and arrest sit with the Silean Security Force.” Then he attempted a grin. “I have access to these records, of course. Let me get the information you seek.”

The fat alien then struggled out of his chair and left the room. Sherri and Adam stared at each other, trying to remain silent while containing their excitement. They knew they were still being watched, so they sat as patiently as possible for the five minutes it took Kroekus to return, carrying a data chip.

“You are in luck,” Kroekus said, standing behind his desk. “The crewmember is still alive and resides here, in Dargor. She never flew again after the incident, and it seems your actions over that day ruined the sorry creature for life. Be cautious when approaching; I’m sure she will not want to see you again.”

Sherri stood, followed quickly by Adam. “Kroekus, I am eternally in your favor,” she gushed. “If it was not for you, I would still be in prison and rotting away. You saved my life. If I can ever return the favor, please let me know.” She reached out to take the data chip, but Kroekus quickly retracted his hand.

“There is one thing. It is my understanding that a considerable amount of credits are missing from Seton’s safe,” he said to Sherri.

Sherri and Adam stood silent.

“I suppose a fair price for this information would be in the range of fifty thousand credits. I will, however—based upon our long history together—allow you to bring me the credits in a timely manner, knowing that you probably did not bring that much with you.” He handed the small plastic device to Sherri but held onto his end of it as he said, “You know I always collect on my debts, one way or another.” Then he released the chip.

Sherri stared back at Kroekus evenly. “I will bring the credits. You can count on my word.”

As they began to leave the room, Kroekus punctuated the meeting by saying, “It’s your credits I will be counting, my friend, not your word. I will expect them by Day14 today.”

Chapter 18

When they returned to the transport, Sherri inserted the data chip into a portable reader she carried in her satchel. Adam checked their weapons.

As he suspected, the Silean guards had replaced the power packs in the weapons—and on their holsters—with dummy packs. They looked real enough, and even a cursory inspection would make one believe they were real. But Adam had an inherent distrust of aliens, and so he knew what to look for. He also noticed that the exciter points on the MK’s had been damaged as well. Sneaky bastards.

But Adam was prepared for such an eventuality. From the Cassie-1 he’d brought a supply of new power packs, as well as various replacement parts for their MK’s. As Sherri was scanning the information from the data chip, Adam restored full functionality to their deadly weapons.

“Her name is Sileen Jorus,” Sherri announced as she read the screen. “She lives on the other side of the city from here. We better get going if we hope to get Kroekus his money on time.”

Dargor was laid out like the spokes in a gigantic bicycle wheel, with major thoroughfares radiating out from the central government buildings. Traffic was light, and they made good time traversing the eighty-four kilometers from Kroekus’s office.

As they neared their destination, the structures, businesses and even the beings on the streets, began to deteriorate rapidly. This definitely was the wrong side of town. Even for a society built on criminal activity, this place was the worst of the worst.

They found the address just as dusk was descending, and various beings wrapped in tattered clothing stopped along the street to watch the movement of their vehicle.

As they parked and slipped out of the transport, three aliens approached. “We need credits. Do you have credits to give?” asked a skinny, hairless creature with opposing eye sockets and a small snout. He moved closer to Sherri, holding out his hand.

Sherri was in no mood for this. Instead, she was trying to concentrate on the coming confrontation with the creature from her past, and what ramifications the information she may provide would have on her life. So Sherri simply grabbed the beggar’s hand…and crushed it in hers.

The beggar’s eye sockets grew even larger, and he let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the neighborhood. His two companions rushed to his aid, but Adam simply picked them both up by their coats and tossed them against the nearest wall.

Several other creatures were approaching on the sidewalk, anger in their eyes. Yet at Adam’s glare, they stopped in their tracks, before beginning an awkward shuffle backwards, away from the two Humans.

“I think you should approach the door first,” Sherri said to Adam, ignoring the confrontation and the other nearby creatures. “She doesn’t know you.”

“That’s fine. What do I say?”

“I don’t know, maybe something about some back-pay she’s owed.”

On the trip there, Sherri had read the full file on the crewmember. Sileen was from a planet in a neighboring Sector and had been crewing on cargo haulers for much of her adult life. She had been mated before and had eighteen offspring. Damn, Adam thought. She’s a fertile little minx!

Sileen had been on a ship owned and operated by a Silean company called Reessing. Since returning to Silea with a dead crew and a rabid alien locked in a storage locker, her license to crew had been revoked, and she never fought to get her status reinstated. She had been surviving on the meager pay of a loadmaster at one of the minor spaceports ever since the incident.

Sherri remembered that even during the mock trial the Sileans held, Sileen would not sit in the same room with the Human. Now having that crazed alien show up at her doorstep three years later would certainly be the highlight of her day.

Sileen’s apartment was on the fourth floor of the building, which according to Silean tradition was the worst location in a structure to be housed. Sherri drew her MK-17 and stood a few meters down the hall, while Adam approached the door. There would be a security camera on the entrance—every doorway had one—so Adam stood with as pleasant and non-threatening a look on his face as he could muster and pressed the button.

Almost immediately, a voice sounded through the comm unit. “Who is it? What is your business here?”

“I’m looking for Sileen Jorus. I’m from Reessing.”

“Reessing? What do you want?”

“I’m here about the back-pay you’re owed.”

“I don’t have any credits coming to me from Reessing. You are mistaken. Go away.”

“You are Sileen Jorus, are you not?”

“I do not have any credits owed.”

“That’s okay with me. These are not my credits. I will get paid whether you take them or not….”

He paused for a moment; aliens were not known for their rapid decision-making. Finally, he heard a click as the lock on the door was released.

“You may enter, but be warned, I am armed.”

“All I want to do is give you credits. You don’t have to be so upset about it.”

The door slid open, and Adam entered a dimly-lit, unkempt room about ten meters square. There was a couch along one wall and a comm center above a cluttered desk; a transmission was playing on a monitor above the desk, a newscast of some sort. Another opening led to a small kitchen area, while another led to the sleeping quarters. And the entire place smelled of feces and dirty feet.

Sileen Jorus was about one-and-a-half meters tall with long, willowy arms that ended at four-finger hands with what appeared to be suckers on the finger tips. Her face was long, with large black eyes and stringy hair that flowed down to cover most of her face. She stood on spindly legs that seemed hardly thick enough to support her weight, and she was dressed in a loose pullover dress made of a gray colored fabric. She was standing by the opening to the kitchen and holding a small laser pistol in her right hand.

“So where are these credits you say I’m owed?”

Adam had entered carrying Sherri’s portable data reader, so he raised it and pretended to check the readout.

Just then, two larger creatures of the same species—obviously males—sprang from the bedroom opening and scurried up the walls and onto the ceiling just above him. One of the creatures let loose and fell onto Adam’s right shoulder, while the other dropped to the floor and grabbed his legs. Adam struggled momentarily to get a grip on the slimy creature on his back, before launching it forcefully against the wall near the comm center. The other one at his feet was not having any luck tripping Adam, so the Human simply gave him a powerful kick that sent the creature flying into Sileen.

Sherri was now in the room. She ran toward the diminutive alien whose eyes literally grew to twice their normal size at the sight of the Human female. She let out such a high-pitched scream that Adam had to cover his ears just to tolerate the sound.

The alien began to shudder so hard that she dropped the laser weapon. Then she jumped and stuck fast to the wall above the couch.

Sherri stood a few meters away, holding her MK-17 steady on the alien. The two males had recovered somewhat and moved to the couch below Sileen.

“Do not kill my offspring, please!” Sileen screamed. “Spare them. They had nothing to do with what happened on the ship.”

“Relax, I’m not going to kill anyone,” Sherri said softly, trying to calm the hysterical alien.

“Oh please spare my offspring. Please!”

“Relax!” Sherri yelled, loud enough to penetrate the whimpering of the alien stuck on the wall. “I’m not here to hurt you…or your offspring.”

Sileen blinked rapidly several times, her eyes beginning to return to normal. Then slowly she slipped down the wall, propping herself on the back of the couch.

Then Sherri turned to Adam. “That’s how she kept from being killed in the first place. That thing can squeeze into the smallest openings and stick to just about anything.”

Sherri turned back to Sileen. “All I want to know is where did you pick me up? It had to be your last port before returning to Silea.”

Again, the alien blinked several times, while her two sons huddled together on the couch, one of them licking the back of the other’s head. Adam wrinkled his nose at the strange scene.

“That is all you want? You don’t mean to harm us?”

“No. All I want is information—”

“Locin-Annan!” said Sileen quickly. “That was the location.”

Locin-Annan! Adam nearly fainted when he heard the word Annan. During all his research into the word and its meaning, he had been going in a completely different direction. Annan was only part of the name—and the name of a place!

Sherri had no idea what was going on in Adam’s head at that moment, so she simply asked, “Where is that? Is it a planet or a city?”

“It’s the uranium mines on Zylim-4. In the New Regian system.”

Sherri turned to Adam with a large, satisfied grin. Sileen and her offspring recoiled at the sight of Sherri’s long, white teeth, but she didn’t care. “There you go. Zylim-4. In the next system over.”

“But the mines are off-limits to most merchants,” Sileen added. “The radiation is quite strong there from hundreds of years of waste being deposited on the surface.”

“Let us worry about that,” Sherri said to the still trembling creature. Then she moved in closer, and Adam saw all three beings shrink to about half their body thickness as they pressed deeper into the couch. “We are going to leave you now,” Sherri said, her voice deeper, threatening. “If you say one word about us coming here, or the information you gave us, I will come back and I will kill you—” then she glared at the two males “—and all of your offspring, and then all of their offspring. And I won’t just kill you all. I will eat you, too, bloody and raw. Do you understand?”

One of the males fainted, while the other climbed into the grasp of his mother. “Yes. Yes I understand.” Adam noticed a wet stain spreading on the top of the couch. He did his best not to grin; Sherri was really laying it on thick—and it appeared to be working.

“Let’s go,” Sherri called to Adam as she brushed past him, heading for the door.

Adam hesitated for a moment, looking at the terrified creatures. Then he couldn’t resist. He leaned in closer and said, “Boo!”

The other male fainted, while Sileen let loose with a loud fart, and the putrid smell of feces in the room suddenly grew even stronger.

Chapter 19

As the Juirean shuttle approached Silea, the comm unit began to blow up with calls from the government, requesting destination, purpose, accommodations requested and more. Riyad answered none of them. Instead, he located a quick emergency exit off the main cargo bay that he would use for his escape once on-planet.

He was in the pilothouse, bringing the small shuttle in toward one of Dargor’s major spaceports. Then at the last minute, he changed course, setting the ship down quick and hard in one of the outlying freight ports, about fifteen kilometers from his original destination. It would take the authorities at least an hour to regroup and send the official greeting party to this new location.

Once down, Riyad slipped out through the emergency exit and mingled with the other spacers who were coming and going within the port. It was nearing dusk, so his movements went unnoticed. He made it through the main gate of the facility by mixing with a group of noisy Sileans anxious to get home to their mates—or to the nearest bar.

Once in the city, he separated from the group and set off down a side alley to carry out the second part of his plan for recovering his money. The first part had been to get on the planet without being apprehended aboard a Juirean shuttle. Since he had no credits, the second part of his plan dealt with securing some, at least enough to get him to his final destination.

Riyad stationed himself in a side alley, near a crowded and boisterous tavern. Then he waited.

It wasn’t long before two creatures of unknown origin left the bar and headed his way. They were dressed in modestly expensive robes and were even foolish enough to be displaying gold jewelry on their wrists and dangling from their ears. From their gait, Riyad knew they had been partaking in the excellent intoxicants Silea had to offer. These two would be perfect.

As they came upon the alley, Riyad slipped in behind them, grabbed the backs of their fancy robes and pulled them into the alley.

Twisting his head and body to regain his balance, the tallest of the pair focused on Riyad. “You should refrain, else we rip your head from its socket,” the creature growled at Riyad. “You have picked the wrong Lonilans to attack!”

Riyad had never heard of Lonilans before, and so he didn’t know how tough they were. He was in a hurry. Riyad swung with his right hand; the unfortunate creature did not even see it coming in the dark of the alley. Riyad heard the crack of bone as the creature collapsed with a thud on the paved street. His companion had not seen the blow, either. He lunged at Riyad—awkward in his present state—trying to grab the Human around the neck. Riyad swept his left arm across his body, easily brushing away the limbs of the Lonilan. Then he chopped down at the base of the creature’s head and neck, sending this one also to the pavement.

Riyad quickly rifled through their pockets and robes and found a money belt on each. He emptied the contents into the pockets of the utility coveralls he wore and tossed the empty belts onto the unconscious aliens. This money would tie him over until he could get to his five million credits.

Leaving the two corpses where they lie, Riyad hurried down the street for about a kilometer before hailing a transport. He gave the driver the address, then leaned back in the rear seat and began to flesh out part three of his plan to get his money.

Over the years, Riyad had made a lot of credits as the leader of the Fringe Pirates. The bulk of this fortune had been on K’ly when the Juireans attacked. Those credits were lost. He had another sizeable stash on Dimloe. Now that was gone, too. But over the years, he had also been secretly sending deposits to be held by the head of the Silean underworld, a fat blob of a creature named Kroekus. That was it—just Kroekus. Riyad reasoned that if you were powerful enough, you only needed one name. Everyone knew of Kroekus, and no one messed with him.

Riyad had never met him face-to-face, but they had been tacit partners in many a criminal adventure over the years. Kroekus was the Fringe Pirate’s major fence. He could move any merchandise, from gold ornaments to starships. He also had the most-secure bank in the Fringe; even the Juireans would have trouble tracking all the movements of the credits within his system. Riyad’s money was safe, even if it came with a very steep fee of twenty percent.

Riyad figured that gaining an audience with Kroekus shouldn’t be too difficult, not after he dropped his name and affiliation. There would be plenty of references to be made that would verify his identity, even though he carried nothing official with him.

The only concern Riyad had with walking into Kroekus’s stronghold was the fact that he had no weapon, nothing but his Human abilities. They had never failed him in the past, but this time he was confronting the most-powerful criminal in the Fringe—possibly the entire galaxy. If a conflict arose, he would surely be outnumbered a hundred-to-one.

It was well past dark when the transport dropped Riyad off in front of a massive complex of office buildings, yet even at this hour, most of the windows in the four-story building still exploded with light. The pirate knew eyes were upon him the moment he stepped from the cab, so he confidently walked up the short flight of stairs to the main entrance. As expected, four armed Silean guards approached as the large glass doors slid shut behind him.

“Your business?” one of the brown-leather uniformed guards asked, while suspiciously eyeing Riyad’s laborer coveralls.

“I am here to see Kroekus. I am—”

The guard laughed. “Do you have an appointment…at this hour?”

“Relay to Kroekus that Riyad Tarazi is here to see him.” Riyad stood a little taller and tried to sound as forceful as possible. Even though he was dressed in a clothing of a common laborer, he needed to make the guards believe he was more than he appeared to be.

“It is late. If you do not have an appointment I will not disturb the Menormor.” A Menormor was the Silean equivalent of a CEO.

Riyad’s dark eyes focused on the guard. “I am Riyad Tarazi, leader of the Fringe Pirates, here on a very important matter of the Menormor’s concern.” He leaned in close to the guard, as the others around him gripped their weapons tighter. “You will be risking not only your job but also your life if you do not relay the message.” Riyad’s unblinking eyes burned into those of the guard’s.

Momentarily stunned by Riyad’s intensity, the Silean soon recovered his composure. “I will relay the message,” he said defiantly. “But if Kroekus will not see you, then we will have our way with you, pirate…if that is what you really are.”

Satisfied, Riyad relaxed and stood stoically as the call was made. He did not want his nervousness to show. He wasn’t even sure Kroekus was in the building. At any moment, he may have to fight his way out.

The guard spoke for a moment on the comm unit, and then turned to Riyad. “He asks where would your pirates be located today, if you are indeed the pirate leader?”

Riyad had nothing to lose revealing the location now, not after the Juirean attack. Without hesitation, he said, “Dimloe.”

The guard spoke on the unit again before becoming very nervous. He kept nodding to the person on the other end of the link before finally turning to Riyad. “Please follow me. I will escort you to the office.”

Riyad said nothing, only a disgusted sigh as the guard led him down a long corridor, through four secure doors, past numerous other guards, and then finally through a set of wide, ornate double doors.

The big Silean did not rise from his seat behind the massive desk but motioned for the guard to leave them in private. Kroekus indicated a seat in front of the desk for Riyad to take.

“So…are you really Riyad Tarazi?” Kroekus bellowed out. He seemed almost jovial with his comment.

“Of course I am. You would not have let me in here if you had your doubts.”

Kroekus laughed out loud and slapped the desk. “You are correct, Tarazi. It’s just with the events of the past few days, I was sure you were dead.”

“So you’ve heard?”

Kroekus grinned, displaying some of his teeth in a show of strength. “I hear everything. It seems you underestimated the strength and determination of the Juireans. Now what are you to do? Your pirate fleet is no more.”

“There are still remnants. I will rebuild. And that is one of the reasons I came here. I need my credits.”

“Yes, of course,” Kroekus said, pressing a button on his desk which caused a small monitor to rotate out of its surface. “You have a sizeable deposit with us, but hardly enough to rebuild a fleet of lost pirate ships.”

Riyad leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “Let me worry about that. My core is still intact,” he lied.

“Yes, that was a devastating blow to your organization. And you know, the Juireans are sending in even more reinforcements. I doubt if they will let your pirates achieve their previous status.”

Riyad tried to look as nonchalant as possible, even though he didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. Kroekus seemed to be toying with him, taunting him.

“Like I said, I will worry about that.”

“But we have worked together—at a distance—for a long while now. Many of my operations rely on your pirate organization. I see that the current state of your operation could cause me to suffer financially.” He paused for affect before continuing. “How do you propose we remedy this situation?”

Riyad was afraid this was coming. He had exploited weakness in others before—when he sensed he had the advantage—and Kroekus was sensing the same weakness in him. After all, who would a criminal complain to if he got ripped off?

“I understand that it may be a while before I can be of assistance to you again, so in the interim, let’s say we increase your fee from twenty to twenty-five percent of the deposit,” Riyad offered.

Kroekus grimaced. “An extra five percent hardly seems like fair compensation. I believe it should be a little higher than that.”

Riyad was growing angrier by the minute, but he held his composure. “Then by all means, let’s agree on a number, say forty percent. That seems more than fair simply for holding my money.”

Just then a buzzer sounded on Kroekus’ comm. He flashed anger and smashed his hand down on the control. “I am in a negotiation! Do not disturb me.”

“Sorry, Menormor, but you asked to be told when the two beings from earlier returned to see you.” The voice on the comm was trembling.

Kroekus pressed a button and the monitor on his desk switched from the readout of Riyad’s account to a view of the waiting area outside his office. In the middle of the room were the two assassins.

Looking at the monitor, Kroekus suddenly experienced an epiphany. He had never met the pirate leader before; they had communicated quite often, but always at arm’s length so as to keep their association secret. Before now he had never questioned the pirate’s race. But now looking at Riyad—along with the two deadliest assassins in the Fringe—he suddenly felt a chill course through his body.

He pressed another button under the rim of his desk, and then spoke to Riyad. “I think that in light of the demise of your pirate force, a more equitable division of your credits would be closer to one hundred percent!”

Riyad stood up. “Bullshit, Kroekus! That’s my money.”

“Maybe you should have been subtler then, rather than bring in your two cohorts to back you up!”

“What are you talking about?”

A side door suddenly slid open and three armed guards rushed into the room and leveled their MK’s at Riyad. Without hesitation, Riyad jumped at the trio, and before the targeting computers could lock onto his position, crashed into them with the force of a bull. Like bowling pins, the guards fell hard against the wall. Riyad rolled over them, grabbing a weapon from one as he did so. He came up firing, blasting two of the guards in the chest before turning the weapon on Kroekus.

He was already gone. In fact, his chair was gone, too, having spirited away the crime lord through an emergency exit in the wall behind his desk.

Just then Riyad heard what sounded like hooves on a tile floor, growing ever louder. Suddenly, the doorway that the guards had come through earlier exploded into the room, A pair of four-legged beasts crashed through it, huge beasts with two stubby horns on thick heads. Resembling large dogs, they also had bear-like snouts displaying four-inch long teeth.

The two creatures butted their heads into Riyad’s chest, sending him soaring across the room. Luckily, he held onto the weapon, but before he could bring it on target, one of the beasts rammed him again, sending him flying through the air once more, this time crashing through the wall of the office and into the waiting area….

Chapter 20

Adam and Sherri heard the commotion through the thick door to Kroekus office and had moved closer to listen. Their weapons had been confiscated, so they were shocked to see the guards in the waiting room draw their MK’s and point them at the two Humans.

Adam and Sherri turned to face the guards. Adam opened his mouth and said, “What the hell—” just as the wall behind them exploded into the room. Part of the wall and doors crashed down upon them, along with a heavy lump of something that landed directly on Adam’s back.

Adam rolled over, carrying the lump with him. When the dust settled, Adam was staring into the face of Riyad Tarazi.

Riyad’s eyes widened before he shoved Adam to his left, firing his weapon just past Adam’s left ear.

A squeal of pain emanated from behind, as even a greater weight fell on Adam’s back. Foul, hot breath enveloped him. Adam rolled over to see a huge, dog-bear-like thing breathing its last breath on the floor beside him. The thing was dead but coming right behind it was its very-much-alive twin.

Adam and Riyad rolled away in opposite directions as the beast plowed a jagged rut into the wooden floor with its horned head between them. The creature continued headlong into the room, crashing into the two stunned guards and pinning their now-crushed bodies against the far wall. The beast shook off the dead Sileans then turned, focusing on Adam and Riyad. It snorted and charged again.

Riyad’s weapon was pinned under him, so he rolled over trying to free the MK. It wouldn’t be in time, since the creature was only a few meters away and coming fast—

Pop! The flash from a bolt launcher struck the charging creature in the side of the head, burning a clean hole into its skull, the force of the blast diverting the attack. The beast missed Riyad by millimeters. It fell to the tile floor and slid into what remained of the wall leading to Kroekus’ office.

Adam and Riyad looked up from the floor and through the rubble that covered them. Sherri was holding one of the now-dead guard’s MK’s, a satisfied look on her face.

“Stop playing with the puppies, boys. I think we’ve got bigger problems now.” She recovered the other guard’s weapon and tossed it to Adam.

She was right. They could hear yelling in the main hallway leading to Kroekus’ office, along with the sound of dozens of guards filling the chamber.

The three Humans fanned out and took up a spread formation covering the door. They crouched on one knee and aimed their weapons, sighting along the barrels of the weapons with both eyes open.

“I thought you were dead!” Adam yelled over at Riyad, not taking his eyes off the door.

“Same here,” Riyad growled. “How did you get off the ship?”

“Does that really matter now? What did you do to Kroekus?”

“Nothing! He was going to rip me off, and then he sicced his dogs on me.”

Sherri yelled from the other side of the room: “Whatever you did, you’ve got his whole army coming down on us. Who are you anyway?”

Adam answered, “He’s Riyad Tarazi, a slimy bastard I wouldn’t trust to take out my trash.”

“I thought you said he was dead?”

“I was wrong!”

The door to the office slid open and a force of guards wearing body armor flooded into the room. The three Humans let loose with accurate shots at their unshielded heads, dropping five of them before the others moved back.

At the left side of the door, Sherri rushed in and grabbed three flash rifles, tossing two to Adam and Riyad and keeping one for herself.

The second wave of alien guards rushed forward, seemingly not to have learned anything from the demise of their comrades. Now armed with the more powerful and rapidly-firing flash rifles, the Humans dispatched twelve more guards before they retreated.

“We’ve got to find another exit point,” Adam cried out. “Back into Kroekus’ office! There has to be another exit.”

Sherri moved first—then Riyad—while Adam covered them. When Adam entered the office, he found the remains of the three guards Riyad had killed, plus the gaping opening where the dogs had crashed into the room. They entered the opening and found themselves in another long hallway with several doors lining it. Two of the doors opened, as curious Sileans looked out to see what all the commotion was about. In the lead, Riyad blasted them without hesitation.

“Save your bolts!” Adam commanded. “Manage your targets.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Riyad replied sarcastically.

“Fuck you!”

“Knock it off you two!” Sherri cried out from her position in the middle. “Concentrate.”

At the end of the hallway was a large room with numerous tables and a food station lining one wall. As they entered, a force of guards came in from the other side.

The Humans slid on the smooth floor and overturned three tables to crouch behind, just as bolts began to splash around them, some striking the tables they now hid behind.

Adam fired into the ceiling above the guards, raining debris down upon them. As the guards covered their heads, the three Humans rose from behind their tables and sent a dozen bolts slamming into the front row of guards. They ducked back for cover as more bolts came their way.

Adam still had the MK Sherri had tossed him. He pulled it out of his holster and bent the barrel with his bare hands. Then he set the level to three and pressed the trigger. When the weapon began to heat up, he flung the MK over the table and into the crowd of guards. As the lower-setting charge built up, the weapon finally discharged, yet with the barrel bent the electric charge compressed even more and exploded with the force of a grenade.

The explosion sent the bloody parts of a dozen more guards raining throughout the room.

“That was pretty cool,” Sherri said. “You’ve got to teach me how to do that sometime.”

Adam smiled and nodded back. “If we live…sure.”

The doorway was clearing, so they set off for it one at a time, the other two covering while the forward person took shelter behind more overturned tables. Several more guards were stationed down the hallway. Riyad and Adam blasted three more before the rest retreated.

They were getting close to the side of the building, and because of the Silean habit of putting the most important facilities on the ground floor, Adam knew they could gain access to the street once they found an exit.

Just then the entire building shook to its core, a deep rumbling sensation. Smoke billowed down the hallway toward them. They retreated back into the cafeteria as the floor beneath their feet continued to tremble. Taking shelter under some of the tables that had not been overturned, they managed to gain cover just as a section of the ceiling came crashing down on them. There were more deep-base booms from heavy weapons, and more smoke, dust and debris filled the air. Intermittent pops from flash rifles were answered by a chorus of heavier booms, followed by a deathly silence.

There was movement in the hallway outside the cafeteria. Adam chanced a glance in that direction. He saw a squad of massive creatures enter the room, each decked out in dark body armor and carrying double barrel blast rifles which Adam had only heard about but never seen. The troops rushed in and circled the tables where the three Humans were hiding, leveling their weapons at them.

Without an option, they tossed their weapons aside and surrendered.

Chapter 21

“You there, stand up!” one of the invaders demanded.

They rose slowly to their feet, hands above their heads. They were covered with white dust and pieces of wallboard and ceiling tiles; Sherri coughed.

The armored troops wore clear masks over their long heads, with great manes of light green hair cascading down their backs. Adam knew these to be Juirean Guards, and there were nine of them in the room. He was not even aware that there were nine Juirean Guards total in the entire Fringe.

“Jaoger, your squad remove these three to the staging area. The rest of you scan for others,” the leader commanded. Three of the Juireans stepped forward and herded the Humans toward the hallway.

They were led outside the building, past considerable debris and damage and placed in a holding area surrounded by more Juirean Guards, along with at least a hundred Rigorians mingled among them. Troops came forward and placed handcuffs on the Humans and told them to get in line. There were dozens of other creatures in the holding area, some looking perfectly clean—just confused and scared—while others were bloody and barely able to walk.

Looking at the building, Adam saw that nearly half if it was gone, having collapsed in on itself. If it had been any taller than four stories, Adam was sure they would have been crushed in the collapse.

The trio of Humans stayed as close to each other as they could while being marched forward toward a tall Juirean standing next to a much shorter creature. The other being had a smooth, featureless face, yet with a strange shimmer to his skin. When they reach the pair, the featureless being held up his hand.

“You are not Silean,” he stated, glancing down at a datapad. “What race are you?”

Riyad was in the lead; he answered, “Humans. We’re Humans.”

“What was your business in the building at this hour?

Sherri spoke. “We were just there on a trade mission when all of a sudden everyone started shooting.” She batted her eyes at the alien and hoped he could comprehend the sincerity in her voice.

“You were armed,” the alien stated.

“We were just trying to defend ourselves.”

The alien tapped on the datapad, then turned to the Juirean. “Have these three segregated from the Sileans until we can verify their story.”

The Juirean nodded, and then called for another squad of Juireans and Rigorians to load them into a transport.

The Humans didn’t say a word during the ride into the city center and the government facilities, but their eyes communicated a lot; they would lay low and keep up the façade Sherri had begun until they saw a chance to escape.

At the central prison building, the three were taken into a formidable looking structure with thick stone walls and thin-slit windows. Their handcuffs were removed as they were placed in a cell with a single secure metal door and a small window set in it—no metal bars in this cell. The door slammed shut and a solid metal bar slid across the outside. The Sileans are much more serious about their jails than the Nimorians, Adam thought.

A high-pitched voice cried out from the other side of the cell. “Oh no, not you!”

Chapter 22

Adam instantly recognized the voice. He turned from the cell door and stared open-mouthed at the two beings seated on a cot at the far end of the room. It was Kaylor and Jym.

Riyad stepped out from behind Adam. The effect was instantaneous. Kaylor jumped to his feet, while Jym literally tried to climb the back wall to get away.

“Calm down!” Adam called out to them. He stepped up to the cot and placed a hand on Jym’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry about him,” he said nodding back at Riyad. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Sherri stepped forward and looked at the two aliens. “Friends of yours?” she asked Adam.

He grinned. “Yeah, this is Kaylor and Jym, the two aliens I told you about who saved me from the Klin ship.”

“Aliens?” Jym said. Adam patted him on the shoulder. He could tell Jym was still sensitive about being called the a-word.

“What are you doing here?” Adam asked.

Kaylor looked suspiciously at both Riyad and Sherri, and then sat down on the cot. Jym did the same. “We were on a run off New Regian when a Juirean cruiser tracked us down and brought us here.”

“Why did they do that?”

Adam saw Kaylor’s jaw tighten. “All they kept asking about was that computer core again. We told them we didn’t have it, that the other Juireans took it. They kept asking if we had accessed any of the data. We kept saying no—until they threw us in here. I’m afraid they are going to use torture on us next if we don’t tell them what they want to hear.”

“But how did they even know who you were? I thought all the records were destroyed?”

“I don’t know how.” Kaylor kept eyeing Riyad, watching the pirate as he moved to the only sink in the room and washed some of the dust off his face. Sherri waited for her turn to do the same. “The Juireans found out somehow. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story, but let’s just say the Sileans may not be too happy with what we did to Kroekus’ headquarters—”

“Kroekus!” Jym screamed. “You have not upset Kroekus, have you?”

“Upset might be a mild way of saying it,” Riyad said stepping next to Adam. “I’m assuming he’s still alive.”

“Now you have Kroekus after you? And here we are again in a cell…with you!” Kaylor’s temper flared, but he quickly calmed down when the third Human stepped up in front of him.

Adam shook his head. “Don’t worry about Kroekus. What are the Juireans doing here—and why so many of them?”

“I can probably answer that,” Riyad said as all eyes fell on him. He went on to quickly relate the story of the battle off Dimloe and his subsequent arrival on Silea.

“So there are more Humans?” Adam asked, stunned by what he heard.

“I told you so,” Sherri said. “Those strange men I first met didn’t seem right. Could they be the same ones who fought the Juireans?”

“No doubt,” Riyad said. “But their leader blathered on about how they were the ones running the show and only using the Klin for their own purposes.”

“That’s bullshit,” Adam stated. “Something’s not right.”

Sherri stepped next to Adam and squeezed his arm. “You know what we have to do; we can’t stay here much longer. We have to get to Zylim—”

“Zylim-4?” Riyad blurted out. The other two Humans looked at him.

“”You’ve heard of the place?” Adam asked.

“Well, yeah. It’s a mining colony. Radiation everywhere, that’s all.”

Adam studied Riyad’s face for a moment before turning his attention back to Sherri. “You’re right, we have to get out of here and back to the ship. Once the Juireans find out who we are and track down the Cassie-1, we’ll be trapped here on Silea.”

“So what’s the plan, Admiral,” Riyad barked.

Adam shot him an angry look. “Well, I supposed we could try the old you hide in the rafters plan.” He nodded to Sherri, “While the two of us fake a fight to attract the guards. Then we just over-power them. I’ve seen it work in the movies dozens of times.”

“What are you talking about?” Kaylor inquired from his seat on the cot.

Adam turned to him. “Just stay where you are and watch. Be ready to move when I say so.”

“We are not going with you this time!” Jym protested.

“Then stay here and let the Juireans torture you to death. It’s all the same to me.”

Adam turned and nodded to Sherri. She effortlessly jumped up and grabbed one of the power conduits that trailed across the ceiling. She wrapped her legs around it and clung there, looking down at Adam, smiling.

Adam whirled around and landed a powerful right cross directly on Riyad’s chin. The pirate fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Adam was on him a second later. He pulled Riyad’s face close to his. “That’s for strapping a bomb to my ankle, dickhead.”

After that, the real mock fight began. They punched at each other, yelled and cursed, and overturned cots, basically anything to cause as loud a ruckus as they could.

After a few seconds, the bolt on the door slid aside and the heavy metal door swung open. Two Silean guards, armed with shock-sticks, entered and rushed toward the two men tangled up on the floor. As they passed below Sherri, she let loose with her legs and swung down, striking the two guards in the back with her feet. That was all that was needed. The two lighter-weight aliens flew hard into the concrete wall of the cell and collapsed.

Adam and Riyad disarmed the guards, before the three Humans moved to the door, Adam with a shock-stick on one side, Riyad on the other. Adam turned to Kaylor and Jym. “You coming?”

After only a moment’s hesitation, the pair of aliens ran to the door.

As was his habit, Adam had paid special attention to the route they took inside the building leading to the cell. Outside, he turned left in the hallway and led the group to another closed door at the end. This door was not as secure as the cell door, and when Adam opened it, he was instantly confronted with three uniformed Sileans. They stopped in their tracks, quizzical looks on their faces.

Not bothering to shock the aliens with the electrified rod, Adam simply used it as a club. A moment later the guards lay unconscious on the floor. Unfortunately, none of these guards carried bolt weapons either, just the shock-sticks.

The five escapees ran down the now-deserted hallway until Adam passed an open door on his left. He stopped abruptly, and the other four crashed into him, like a scene from a Keystone Cops movie. Recovering, Adam backtracked to the room.

Inside was a large window displaying the outside ground-level of the building. Hoping the glass wasn’t shatterproof, Adam lifted a chair from behind a desk and threw it into the window. The glass shattered. Then using the shock-stick, Adam broke away more of the glass so they could all simply step through the opening and onto the grassy ground outside.

No alarms sounded, so they moved quickly through the dark shadows of the Silean night until reaching the main street running along the front of the building. There were several transports parked along the side of the street, including a decent-sized panel truck-looking vehicle.

They moved to the truck and Adam tried the driver’s side door. Luck was with them; it was unlocked. They all jumped in. Adam took the driver’s seat with Riyad riding shotgun, while Sherri and the two aliens climbed in the open rear cab.

Adam had never hot-wired an alien truck before, so he leaned down to look under the dashboard. While he gazed at the myriad of wires underneath, Riyad calmly reached over and pressed the start button directly above Adam’s head. The electric motor began to whirl. They stared at each other for a moment, until Adam grabbed the center toggle and pressed it forward.

Ransin stood before the large monitor in an office of the Silean Security Center and shifted nervously as Giodol addressed him. He wasn't particularly nervous speaking with Giodol; they had a working relationship going back several years. It was the large, blue-haired Overlord behind him that made him nervous. This would be Lord Yan’wal, whose reputation was known throughout the Expansion.

The raid on Kroekus’ headquarters had gone more-or-less according to plan, and the Humans had been extricated unharmed. They had been placed in a cell with the two other beings from Adam Cain’s past, and had even managed to pick up another Human somewhere along the way. It was obvious the female was the other assassin from Castor, the Human who had checked into the rest facility with Cain. What her contribution would be to the plan remained unknown. All Ransin knew was that she was a Human, and therefore a major threat.

“Where are the Humans now?” Giodol asked.

“They are heading for the Juirean shuttle and should be arriving there momentarily.”

“Good. So your plan for their escape was a success. My congratulations, Ransin.”

The Juirean agent did not know what to do. He knew videos would be studied and the truth would eventually come out. At this point, honesty seemed to be his safest route. “My Lord, I cannot take credit for the escape. My procedures had not been put into place before the Humans escaped on their own.”

Giodol stared at the agent for a long moment; Lord Yan’wal moved up beside him and closer to the screen. The senior Overlord spoke. “So we were not able to contain the Humans for more than a few minutes in the central lockup before they escaped—without our assistance—and seemingly with little effort?” Yan’wal tone was as cold as space.

“Yes, my Lord. Humans appear to be very resourceful.”

“The Humans nearly destroyed my entire fleet!”

“I meant no disrespect, my Lord,” Ransin said quickly, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He knew his skin colors would be shifting wildly, as they did when he was nervous. “We have ample tracking devices on the shuttle and will be able to follow them to their destination.”

Yan’wal turned to Giodol. “Have the battle force shadow the Humans without revealing themselves. I know they will seek out others of their kind. We must be ready when they do.” Then he turned back to the screen. “Agent…do not lose them!”

“No, my Lord. I will not.”

To Ransin’s immense relief, the screen went dark.

Chapter 23

Adam and the others made it to the Cassie-1 without incident, at which time Kaylor went ballistic.

“What about my ship? I can’t just leave it here!”

“Where is it?” Adam asked as he slipped into the pilot seat.

“In orbit. They brought us down in a shuttle.”

Adam thought for a moment. “Good, we’ll pick her up on the way. We can always use more room, and the workshop you have aboard will come in handy.”

Kaylor had no idea what Adam had in mind, but he was happy just to learn that his precious FS-475 was not going to be abandoned. Besides, his whole life was aboard that ship.

They rendezvoused with the FS-475 within ten minutes of reaching orbit, and Adam maneuvered the Cassie-1 over the aft access port. Once the seal was secure, the five escapees transferred to the much larger ship. Adam told Kaylor their new destination.

“Zylim-4! Are you crazy?” the alien protested. “That place is so radioactive it is about to achieve critical mass just sitting there.”

“Nevertheless, that’s where we’re going.”

“Why there?”

Riyad and Sherri had just entered the pilothouse. Adam nodded at Sherri and said, “There’s something we have to check out. It could be important.”

Kaylor set about programming the coordinates, then began stroking the two fingers of flesh that protruded below his ears. “If my nodes dry up from the radiation, it will be your fault.”

Adam had no idea what he was talking about, so he simply ignored the statement.

Riyad stepped forward.

“So why Zylim-4?” he asked.

Adam closed to within inches of the pirates face. “I want to make one thing perfectly clear: This situation is completely different from the time you and your goons got the drop on us before. You may have been some big-time terrorist back in your prior life, but here…I have no doubt I can take you.”

Riyad held out his hands in a sign of surrender. “I have no doubt either, my friend. You are younger, stronger and more traditionally-trained. At the time of our prior meeting, we were both in a completely different reality. Now we must operate as a team.”

“Nice words, Tarazi, but all I have to go by is your past record. I don’t trust you. I know what your ultimate goal is, and as we get closer to finding a way home, I know you’ll do whatever it takes to make your fantasy come true. And if that means stabbing us in the back, you’ll do it. You’ve done it before.”

Riyad brought his hands up into a prayer position and nodded. “I agree with you, if you only go by our brief encounter months ago. But things have changed. My pirate fleet is destroyed; I have no money and no resources. I am now at your mercy, as well as that of your lovely lady friend,” he said, nodding at Sherri. “I will not be a problem. Rather, I can be an asset. But you still have not answered the question. Why is Zylim-4 so important?”

Adam continued to stare at Riyad. There was a long pause, as Adam weighed the option of trusting him or not. Finally, he bit his bottom lip and nodded.

“When we get there, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I have no choice but to trust you. However, I’ll be on my guard.”

“Perfectly understandable, my brother.”

Adam turned to the room. “Zylim-4 is where Sherri was brought when she was first abducted by the Klin. It’s some kind of major base or processing center for the aliens. According to Sherri, there are a lot of those weird people there, like the ones you talked about Riyad—those who committed suicide.”

So I was right! Riyad thought. Zylim-4 is the base. And it was gravity that led him there….

Aloud, he said, “That’s amazing. They must surely know the location of Earth.”

“That’s my hope, but according to you and Sherri, these other Humans are more foe than friend.”

“So what’s your plan for getting us in? Zylim-4 is an inhospitable place, as Mr. Kaylor has alluded. All the living facilities are deep underground and secure. And then there’s the radiation.”

Adam turned away from Riyad and stared out the front viewport. “That I haven’t figured out yet. But once we get there, we’ll be going up against other Humans, not the normal wimpy aliens we’re used to—present company excluded, of course. I will need to count on all of you.”

“Don’t worry, my friend. We are all on the same team now. And you will find that I can be a very good team player.”

After a few hours of planning, Adam called a meeting in the cargo hold of the FS-475.

“Kaylor and Jym have been doing some research on the internet—I mean the Library—and have found quite a bit of information regarding Zylim-4 and the settlement of Locin-Annan. I’ll let Kaylor fill you in.”

The pale blue-skinned alien sat at the small desk with the monitor embedded in the bulkhead above it. A schematic appeared on the screen. “Locin-Annan is a community of miners and support staff numbering about five thousand beings. It is located primarily to the right of the main dig where uranium ore has been extracted for about fifty standard years.” He highlighted a large bulb-shaped area to the left of Locin-Annan. “This large cavity is where a very productive vein of ore was mined until it dried up about twenty years ago. Since that time, most excavation has been to the south of the city. Along this long shaft leading to the older dig, a cave-in occurred fourteen years ago. Since then, it appears no one has bothered to reopen the passageway.”

Adam stepped up to the desk and pointed at the large cavity. “This is where I believe the Klin and Humans may be hiding. This area is over ten football fields in size, with numerous offshoots. Also, when the mine was operating, there were sleeping quarters, power facilities, storage buildings – and even a small hospital—before they closed the place.” He smiled at Sherri. She escaped from the hospital three years before.

Kaylor next highlighted a round area between the settlement of Locin-Annan and the now-deserted cavern. “This large area was the open-pit mining area until it dried up. The excavation companies installed a large air-lock in the lowest part of the pit. This is where Adam believes we should set down. Off of the airlock are various passageways leading into the settlement on the right, and the cave-in area on the left.”

“What I propose,” Adam said, taking over, “is a fact-finding incursion at first. Essentially, we’re going in blind, but we’ll go in prepared. And we’re not on a rescue mission, if this is indeed where the abducted Humans are being kept. We simply do not have the resources for a rescue. What we’ll be looking for is the central computer room.”

He lifted a small box. “Kaylor has these small comm-units for all of us and they’ve been set to a dedicated frequency. Since the gravity will be a problem for Kaylor and Jym, they will stay behind in the 475 and monitor any activity.”

Adam moved to one of the work benches where he had laid out a whole variety of weapons and other paraphernalia. “Throughout the months, I’ve been collecting as many weapons and other tactical gear I could; you never know when something might come in handy.” Again he smiled over at Sherri, who beamed a large one back his way. “I have fourteen MK-17’s, two ’27’s, six flash rifles, a dozen slide grenades, four smoke canisters and five pressure suits, which I’ve rigged with one-time diffusion shields.”

“What are those?” Sherri and Riyad asked simultaneously.

“A little invention of mine that will keep a level-one bolt from frying you. But the thing to remember is they’re only good for one bolt.”

Adam turned to Sherri. “I need you to try and remember everything you can about your escape from the hospital and your movements to the warehouse.”

She furrowed her brow. “It’s been a while, but I’ll try. I do remember sneaking down a long corridor and finding a huge elevator. I got in and looked for buttons, but all I found was a single panel. I pushed it, and the elevator moved. When the doors opened, I was in a huge chamber with another corridor leading off to the right.”

Adam moved back to the desk and studied the screen in the wall above it. The old hospital area was located in the main excavation chamber. He traced a line down the leading corridor, the one with the cave-in. Directly above it was another tunnel running diagonally toward the airlock. “So you could have gone up here and entered this other tunnel. How far did you go before you came to the warehouse?”

“It seems like it could have been ten, fifteen minutes. I don’t really know. It seemed really long at the time since I didn’t know where I was going.”

“Did you have to go through any other doors to get in the warehouse?”

“Yes. There was a huge double-door set up. It was partially opened at the time so I slipped through. I’m sure the doors would have to be operated mechanically. They were too big to be pushed open.”

Again, Adam traced a finger along the schematic until the tunnel met up with a large chamber to the right of the tunnel. The main tunnel continued on to Locin-Annan. “This could be it. This large room appears to have an airlock of its own that meets up with the main one.” The plan was beginning to take shape.

“We’ll set down here,” Adam said, pointing to a spot above the main airlock. “With any luck, we’ll be cycled through into the main chamber. Then the three of us will back-track Sherri’s path. We’ll go in through this airlock and into the warehouse, then follow the tunnel to the elevator.” He pointed to a room off the main excavation chamber. “This is where the main control room for the mine was located before they shut it down. It would make sense for the Klin to have utilized the existing equipment and power sources. This will be our destination. Sherri has described these other Humans as wearing blue tunics. Luckily, Kaylor has a fair supply of them. We’ll put them on over our pressure suits and do our best to conceal our weapons.”

He furrowed his brow and looked at Sherri. “Besides the group of women you were with, did you see any other women among the Human guards?”

“Come to think of it, no.”

“So we can’t have Sherri just strolling around free as a bird.”

“She could be our prisoner, with us escorting her,” Riyad offered. “That would also justify us carrying weapons.”

“Good idea.”

Adam then scanned the room, looking into the faces of his small team of makeshift warriors. “This can get dicey. We don’t really know what we’re walking into. We have to be very careful. If the Klin suspect that we’re there to reach the computer room, they may dump the data, and we’ll have nothing. We have about twenty-eight hours before we arrive on site. Get some rest. Dismissed.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Sherri said, snapping to attention. Adam was slightly embarrassed by her move, but relaxed when he saw her wide grin. He moved over to her and leaned in close.

“Sorry about that. Old habits.”

“Hey, I for one am grateful for your experience. It’s one thing whacking some slothful aliens. It’s quite another jumping headlong into a hive of Humans who—according to Riyad—are fanatical in their beliefs.”

“Well put, Private Valentine!”

“Private? Can’t I at least be a sergeant, or maybe even a lieutenant?

“Hell, I’d make you Captain Valentine if I could. It has a nice ring to it.” Then the smile disappeared from his face. “But this is serious. It will just be the three of us in there against who knows what. And I trust Riyad about as far as I can throw him. Keep an eye on him.”

“Way ahead of you, Adam. He does seem to have his own agenda.”

“You would be surprised.”

Chapter 24

The UN-444 and its three support ships met up with the ten other ships Yan’wal had dispatched to the Silean system, and then they all set off immediately shadowing the Humans, following the beacon on Counselor Deslor’s shuttle. It became obvious right away that they were headed for the New Regian system. But when the shuttle sped past the planet and continued farther into the system, their new destination soon focused on the mining world of Zylim-4.

Yan’wal called an impromptu meeting of this senior staff, including the newly-arrived agent, Zoluoff Ransin. The Overlord eyed the diminutive being, watching the creature subtly change color to match the walls of the conference room. He had seen these creatures before, and each time, he felt a slight uneasiness. He wished he could command the thing to stop changing colors, but he knew Ransin had no control over the chemical reactions in his skin.

He broke his attention from the Holacon. “What do we know of this planet?”

Giodol activated a monitor at the far end of the table. “It’s a mining colony, primarily for uranium. Not more than twenty thousand beings inhabit the various settlements located underground. The planet has become a disposal dump for spent fuel rods and other nuclear waste material for the sector. It’s quite hot in that regard.”

Yan’wal nodded. “It would make a perfect hiding place for another base, would it not?”

Fleet Commander Siegor had arrived from the battle scene off Dimloe and sat to Yan’wal’s left. “Commander, prepare a landing force of Guards-only,” the Overlord instructed. “Have them on stand-by for the moment we learn of the Human’s destination on the planet. Also position your fleet in the event there is another strike force that lifts. I do not want a repeat of your last encounter with the Humans. I would prefer to face them on the surface, and not in space.”

Siegor felt no intimation from Yan’wal’s tone or that he was being critical of the fleet commander’s prior actions. The Overlord was experienced enough to know that facing the Humans for the first time had been a learning experience, and he chose to learn from the near-disaster at Dimloe rather than dwell on it and place blame. After studying the encounter over the past few days, he could find no fault in Siegor’s battle plan; the Humans had been more proficient than anticipated was all. Until the Juireans could learn more of their capabilities in space, he would prefer a straight-up land battle, pitting his elite Juirean Guards against the flesh and blood Humans.

He turned to the agent. “Your name is Ransin, is this correct?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the color-shifter answered, taken by surprise by the Overlord’s sudden attention. “I want you to accompany the landing force to the surface.”

“But my Lord, I am not a military being.”

“I understand that. I would like you to use your unique skills to infiltrate the facility and track down the Humans who are leading us there. They are an enigma. They do not appear to be part of this larger group, yet they always seem to know where to find them. I want you to make sure they do not slip through our hands again.”

“Yes, my Lord. I will do my best.”

Yan’wal stood. “Prepare your forces. We will be arriving at Zylim-4 in approximately seven hours.”

Chapter 25

The FS-475—with the counselor’s shuttle still riding piggyback—arrived at Zylim-4 and homed in on the settlement of Locin-Annan. After the customary inquiries regarding destination and purpose, they were directed to the main airlock elevator located at the bottom of a vast pit, easily covering a diameter of twenty kilometers or more. Adam watched as they descended, marveling at the thousands of stair-stepped layers of rock that had been excavated over the decades. This must have been a truly rich deposit of uranium ore for the miners to have carved out such a large hole. Then the miners moved underground, finding even more of the precious metal.

In the past, Adam had been only slightly surprised to learn that nuclear was the major source of all alien power, even with the advanced technology of the Juireans—as well as all the other members of the Expansion. No exotic concoctions such dilithum crystals or anti-matter2. Just plain old atom-smashing and fusing—which was one area of nuclear science that far exceeded Earth’s level of expertise. Small fusion reactors provided the main power for the gravity drive, otherwise the generators would have been football-stadium-size for even the smallest internal ship gravity-wells.

Uranium was vital to the operation of the galaxy. And Zylim-4 was almost glowing from the stuff.

The FS-475 set down, and when the gravity drive was shut off, Kaylor and Jym immediately began complaining about the gravity, especially Jym. He refused to lift himself out of his seat at the nav console. Instead he set the forward screen to pick up any activity outside the ship and didn’t move from the spot.

The ship was slowly lowered into the main airlock. Adam panned the external camera around to see if he could notice any unusual activity. Seeing none, he turned to survey his troops. He almost burst out laughing.

After donning the pressure suits with their diffusion screens, the trio then strapped various holsters and bandoliers on their bodies, containing pistols and grenades bulging out from their waists. Next they slipped over-sized blue tunics over the whole mess, making them appear to be fifty pounds overweight and out of shape. Finally, even though the temperature outside was a steady and comfortable seventy-two degrees, they slipped jackets over their tunics to hide the two flash rifles they each carried, as well as the knapsacks of additional power packs for the MK’s.

Adam thought it would be a miracle if they got away with this.

Once the pressure and atmosphere in the massive airlock was stabilized, Kaylor struggled over to the cargo hatch and keyed in the open code. He was panting already from the high gravity. Adam just patted his back as he stepped out onto the ramp. “Hang in there, Kaylor. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Adam saw the confused look cross Kaylor’s face, as the phrase hang in there was roughly translated. Yet the alien clearly understood the second half of the comment, and said, “I don’t know how long we can take this. How did your kind ever survive under such horrid conditions?”

With Sherri positioned between the two men, the trio set off across the vast stone floor of the airlock for a smaller set of doors to their left. A few New Rigorian natives appeared in the main airlock—technicians of some kind—each riding exo-suits and paying no attention to them.

There was a simple in/out panel at the door, and once pressed, the door slid open. They stepped inside a smaller airlock. This room opened into a soaring warehouse chamber, filled with crates, wheeled fork-lift vehicles and dozens of empty exo-suits. Adam realized life on Zylim-4 must be hell for the workers. They would have to rotate in and out frequently and be paid generous salaries for enduring the oppressive gravity. He was sure there were intelligent heavy-worlders somewhere in the Expansion. So far, he hadn’t run across any.

Through his limited experience, Adam had found that most of these heavy-worlders were classified as little more than beasts of burden. It seemed that the heavier the gravity, the dumber the natives. This was another feature that set Humans apart from other creatures in the galaxy. Most of the civilized races in the galaxy accepted the fact that heavy-worlders would be stronger, but they always considered themselves to be smarter, quicker and more coordinated. That was until the Humans came along….

“Does this place look familiar?” Riyad asked Sherri.

She looked around. “Maybe,” she said. “You’ve seen one warehouse, you’ve seen them all. This could be the one I was in.”

“Follow me,” Adam commanded. “Here’s the tunnel to the elevator.”

The trio walked confidently down the center of the long, stone-walled passageway, aware that they were probably under surveillance even now. After a few minutes, two young men in blue tunics appeared out of a side door just in front of them and turned right, away from them. The men were in their own conversation and didn’t pay any attention to the other Humans behind them. So they followed.

As they came to the elevator, the men stopped and punched in a code; the doors opened and they entered.

Adam and his group slipped in behind them.

As the doors closed, one of the men pressed the single button, and for the first time, scrutinized the other three, seemingly overweight Humans in the elevator. His eyes focused on Sherri, then on Riyad and Adam.

“What are you doing with this female?” the curious one asked. His companion now took notice.

“She’s a breeder,” Adam answered. “But there’s something wrong with her. We’re taking her to the hospital.”

The two men continued to stare at them. Finally the lead asked, “Where have the two of you been? You are unkempt. Don’t let the Senior see you like this.”

“Don’t worry, my friend. We can’t wait for a shower and a shave,” said Riyad, flashing his most disarming smile.

A look of shock spread across the men’s faces. “Who are you? You are not 2G’s!”

Sherri reacted first. She whipped out an MK-17 from under her tunic and sent level-one bolts into the guts of both men. The brilliant flashes, and residual smoke from burning flesh, quickly filled the metal room.

“What the hell, Sherri?” Adam yelled.

“They’d made us. I should have had the two of you shave and cut your hair before coming in here.”

Riyad rushed to the bodies and quickly frisked them. They were unarmed. “This is going to be hard to hide, especially if there are more of them waiting when the elevator opens.”

They didn’t have to wait long to find out. The elevator was slowing to a stop. The three Humans positioned themselves, each on one knee, MK’s pointed at the door. To their relief, there was no one outside as the doors opened. Sherri stood in the opening, keeping the door from closing, as Riyad and Adam swept into the passageway and scanned both directions. All clear.

There were various doors on either side of the corridor, and the two men began slipping their hands into the recessed sections. The third door on Adam’s side slid open. He jumped in, weapon ready. It was an office of some kind, small, and with no one home.

Adam and Riyad dragged the two dead men into the room and shut the door. Then they resumed their walk, Sherri in the middle, just as before.

This passageway was very wide and tall, tall enough for wheeled vehicles to move freely through it. After about two minutes, a vehicle did come their way, driven by a young man with short blond hair. As he passed, he nodded at the trio. To their relief, he kept going.

From the schematics, Adam knew there were other passageways on either side of the main corridor, and soon they came to an intersection leading to one of these tunnels. They decided to get off of the main thoroughfare and try some side streets. The computer room was about half a click beyond their position, just off the main chamber. They could meet up with it from one of the side passages.

Sherri suddenly stopped. “I know this place!” She ran to a side opening and looked inside. It was a large room with a dozen or so exam tables. “This is where they examined us.”

There were four men at the far end of the room, but they paid no attention as Adam and his team looked in. He grabbed Sherri by the arm and pulled her back into the corridor. “Relax,” he said. “We only have a little ways to go—”

“Adam!” Kaylor’s voice shouted in his ear.

Before he could respond, alarms sounded everywhere. Other men ran from side rooms and rushed down the corridor past them. Adam and Riyad lifted their weapons, but then lowered them as they were ignored. The four men in the exam room ran past them as well. Adam grabbed one by the arm as he passed. “What’s happening?” he cried out.

The other man was so agitated that he answered immediately, “It’s an attack alarm. We’re under attack.” Adam released him and the man quickly joined the others running down the passageway.

Adam and the others slipped into the exam room. “Kaylor, what’s happening?”

The alien was on the comm immediately. “Juireans! A lot of them. In landing craft,” the alien yelled in a staccato voice. “The airlock opened and about twenty-five ships dropped in. The lock is closing now…I see troops leaving the ships. There are hundreds of them!”

“Can you get out?” Adam asked.

“No. The lock is closed. But we can’t stay here either.”

“Get into environment suits and off the ship. They’re going to come for you if you stay. And if they open the lock again, you’ll die without the suits. I need you to find a safe vantage point and let me know everything you see.”

“We will. But there are a lot of Juireans, and they look to be Guards! This is not good!”

“Calm down, Kaylor,” Adam sensed the alien was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack. “Get safe. We’ll come for you when we can.”

Adam turned to his two companions. They heard the conversation as well. Riyad spoke first. “I believe this calls for a change of plans.”

Adam turned to Sherri. “Do you have any idea where the captive men were kept?”

“I’m not sure, but we could hear them from the barracks we were in. And that was right through…here!”

Sherri dashed off through the exam room before Adam and Riyad could react. Pulling the flash rifles from under their coats, they set off after her.

Sherri ran through a number of smaller rooms until she came to a door leading to a long room full of empty bunks. “This is where they kept the women,” she shouted back at the men as they entered. Then she turned and swept past them and out of the room. She turned right in the hallway and disappeared around a corner.

Adam and Riyad had caught up with her just as she reached a door and threw it open. The trio skidded to a halt in the doorway, staring open-mouthed into the room.

It was an open-bay barracks with about a hundred beds—and the room was packed full of men. They were standing, wearing old orange tunics, many of them sporting long beards and scraggly hair.

An older man near them stepped forward. “What’s going on? We can hear the alarms.”

Riyad noticed several of the men begin to move toward them, their eyes focused on the newcomers. He pointed his flash rifle at them. They stopped.

Adam noticed the movement, too. And then he made a command decision. He lowered his own rifle and stepped forward. “I’m Petty Officer Second Class Adam Cain, United States Navy SEALs. We’ve come to rescue you.”

Sherri and Riyad jerked their heads in his direction. Riyad leaned toward him and whispered. “What the hell are you doing?”

Adam whispered back, “We need an army to get out of here. And here it is.”

The men in the room surged forward and surrounded them. The older man spoke again. “What’s going on here? We know this isn’t Earth. How can a SEAL team be here to rescue us?”

Adam spoke quickly. “We were also abducted—just like you—but managed to escape. We haven’t much time. There is a force of aliens coming into the facility, and they plan on killing all of us.”

Another man spoke up from within the crowd, “Is this some kind of 2G trick?”

Sherri spoke up, hoping that a woman’s voice would sound more trustworthy.

“It’s true. You have heard of the Juireans? Well there are several hundred of them on their way here. These other men—the 2G’s—will either try to fight them off, or they’ll abandon you and blow the complex.”

“I’m not going to sit here and be killed,” someone yelled from the back. “What can we do?”

Adam climbed onto one of the beds. “Listen carefully. How many of you have military training? And I don’t mean as yeomen or dispersing clerks. How many of you are combat trained?”

To his surprise, the majority of hands went up. “Good. We have limited weapons at this time. We’re going to have to fight our way out. But believe me, if we stay, we all die. Understood?” There were nods and murmurs throughout the room.

Adam continued. “As the battle proceeds, you must secure all the weapons and ammo as you can.” He lifted his flash rifle. “Flick here… and the charge pack drops out. Slap in another one. The rifle is good for thirty shots.” He pulled out his MK-17. “Same here. Flick this and insert a new pack. Set on level-two you’ll have ten shots per pack. The Juireans will probably come at us wearing body armor. Shoot for the head. Most will not be wearing full-face armor. But if you’re up against the other Humans—the 2G’s—you’ll need level-one on the pistols for a kill and then only five shots per pack.”

They passed out the twelve surplus weapons they carried plus a couple of knapsacks of power packs. “The rest of you will just have to arm yourself as we go. Each man with a weapon raise your hand. The rest of you form up around one of these guys.”

Riyad climbed on the bunk next to Adam. “I don’t have a lot of experience with the way the Juireans fight, but what I have seen shows they are very regimented and prefer forming lines for attack. Take out the lead line, and the others will probably fall back to regroup.”

Adam raised his hand. “Also, we have the advantage of close-in fighting. In the narrow passageways, they will not be able to use their superior numbers to their full advantage. Just keep the bodies piling up, and they will have trouble getting through.”

They could already hear the sounds of a battle outside the barracks. “Come on, men. Let’s go home!” Adam yelled. A chorus of cheers filled the room.

Chapter 26

The men poured out of the barracks room and into the corridor, turning left and heading for the exam room and the main chamber of the underground complex.

Adam pulled Sherri and Riyad aside. “Go with them and stay in touch through the comm. I have to get to the computer room.”

“By yourself?” Riyad asked.

“With the complex under attack, the Klin—or the Humans—will try to destroy the computer core. I have to get there first.”

“You’d do better with help,” Riyad said.

“If we can’t beat back the Juireans—as well as these other crazy Humans—it won’t matter. I need the two of you leading our little army. If we all bolt and run, they may not trust us anymore.”

“He’s right,” Sherri said, pulling Riyad away. “Hurry! They’ll notice we didn’t follow in a moment.”

Reluctantly, Riyad allowed Sherri to lead him away.

Adam watched them disappear around a bend in the hallway, and felt a sudden loneliness envelop him. He was hoping it wouldn’t be the last he saw of them—Riyad included. Then he turned and sprinted down the deserted hallway.

As Riyad and Sherri caught up with the others, they found them huddled in doorways and firing at the line of Juireans filling the main passageway leading into the cavernous chamber. Several Juireans lay dead, and the second line was just beginning to back away.

“Suppressing fire!” someone called out, and a number of electric bolts flew into the retreating ranks. Ten men ran forward, sliding baseball-style on the smooth stone floor until they impacted the bodies of the dead aliens. They collected bolt rifles and straps of power packs from the dead, before sprinting back to their lines.

Almost instantly, the rate and intensity of fire increased, filling the corridor with white hot streaks from the energy weapons.

Riyad and Sherri joined the action, firing at the reformed line of advancing Juireans. And the aliens were advancing, even as they took bolt shots to their body armor. But the Humans were very accurate with most of their shots, and numerous Juirean heads exploded in bloody messes, leaving only empty cavities above their torso armor.

The Juireans once again began to retreat.

As they turned their backs on the blistering fire from the Humans, the Juirean heads were better protected, with high metal collars covering their necks as well. But this revealed to the Humans the fatal flaw in Juirean armor. The armor was concentrated in the front, with only supporting straps across their backs. The Juireans never figured they would be retreating from a battle, rendering rear armor superfluous.

Many Juireans died from this flaw in their equipment and their thinking.

Adam could hear the sounds of battle all around him, but fortunately, the passageways through which he ran were all deserted. Eventually he turned left at an intersection of corridors and came out at the edge of the vast cavern that made up the main uranium excavation. Far to his left, he could see the main force of Juireans trying to penetrate the fire laid down from his small army of Humans. Across the cavern, a second force of Juireans were being fired upon by twenty to thirty Humans in blue tunics. At least the freaky 2G’s hadn’t deserted the battle. He had no idea how many more there were within the complex.

To his right he saw a large plate glass window set in the rock wall with a door next to it. This would be the control room—and hopefully—the still intact computer core. He sprinted towards it, MK in his hand.

He knelt down below the window and did a quick pop-up glimpse inside. There were beings in the room. He spied two large Humans, as well as three tall creatures with white hair. Klin. There were Klin here.

He did another quick look to fill in some of his visual gaps. There was a Klin seated at a terminal, with two standing behind him. The pair of husky Humans were standing with their backs to the window. Adam had no time to waste. He was sure they were erasing the computer’s hard drive as he watched.

Adam slid his hand into the recess depression in the door and pressed. The panel slid open and he barreled into the room, jumping headlong into the Klin seated at the computer. He hit something hard as they both tumbled into the other two Klin. They fell to the floor in a pile. Adam lay on the Klin and brought his MK-17 to bear on the nearest Human. He pressed the trigger; a bolt lashed out and struck the man just below the shoulder blade. He fell back against the window and collapsed to the floor.

As Adam swung his weapon in the direction of the other man, it was too late. A block-like fist slammed into his jaw. Adam’s eyes crossed and he went limp, the MK falling from his hand.

Next, thick hands gripped his tunic and pulled him off the floor. When his vision cleared, he was face-to-face with a massive head; the man had piercing blue eyes, a square jaw and a trace of stubble. The goliath reared back with his right arm for another blow, but Adam recovered just in time. He lunged forward into the body of his attacker, sending a knee into the man’s groin. He screamed into Adam’s ear, but didn’t release him. Instead two massive hands clamped around Adam’s throat and began to squeeze.

Adam managed to force his hands between the two bulging arms, and then he spun his whole body to his left, using his entire weight as leverage to break the grip on his throat. The man’s arms spread apart, opening up a line attack for Adam’s right elbow. It landed with a thud on his attacker’s protruding jaw.

The huge man stumbled backwards; Adam followed with a left jab to his nose and blood gushed forth.

Adam followed with a spin kick to the man’s ribs. He fell back even more, opening up space between the two combatants. Then Adam’s opponent saw the MK-17 on the floor to his right. He dove for it, just as Adam took shelter behind one of the Klin.

The first bolt struck the Klin in the center of his chest. Adam supported the alien for cover. The other man charged forward, trying to line up a better shot—

A plasma bolt flashed past Adam’s head, in the direction of the other Human. The blue bolt hit him in the throat, burning into soft flesh and barely leaving the head with any connection to the rest of the body. He fell to the floor, no longer a threat.

Adam saw Sherri standing in the doorway. “That’s twice I’ve saved your worthless life,” she said with a smile.

Adam nodded, then turned his attention to the two surviving Klin. They were getting to their feet, each wearing small exo-suits to help support their weight against the heavy gravity. Adam saw one of them reach under a counter and withdraw a small laser weapon. Before Adam could react, Sherri shot him dead.

Adam grabbed the last Klin by his robes and pushed him against the large window. “Why are you doing this to us?” Adam screamed at the alien. “Why do you want my race to be killed by the Juireans?”

The Klin appeared calm in the light of his situation. His eyes looked old, yet bright and clear. “Your race will not be exterminated…at least not yet.”

The cryptic answer sent Adam into more of a rage. “Stop playing games, asshole. Tell me why you’re doing this!”

“This plan has been in the works for a thousand years. There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Adam jerked the alien to the computer terminal, righted the chair and threw him into it. “Get me the location of Earth—now!”

“You are too late for that as well.”

There was odd alien writing on the monitor—and the lines were disappearing even as he watched. He couldn’t read the writing, but he did recognize numbers. There! Two sets of numbers, preceded by a two digit number. But the first of the two was gone, then the last. He looked hard at the next two numbers: 446.78 and 319.51. Then they were gone.

He knew he had part of a set of coordinates. Where they led would take more time and concentration then he could afford at the moment. He turned to Sherri.

“What are you doing here? What about the Juireans?”

“They’ve retreated to the elevator area. They’ve barricaded it. We’re not getting out that way anytime soon.”

Adam turned his attention back to the Klin. “Is there another way out of here?”

“I would never tell—”

A laser beam penetrated the Klin’s back and his eyes grew wide. Adam looked over his shoulder, just as the first Human with the wound to his shoulder was taking aim at him. Sherri’s answering bolt nearly severed the man’s head, just like the last one.

Adam threw the now-dead Klin on the floor and took his seat at the console. The data was gone, the screen just a maze of static.

Sherri moved next to him. “Did you see anything?”

“Some, but not enough. I believe I saw the two range coordinates. Of course, it could be the coordinates for the nearest Burger King, for all I know.”

Sherri placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay. We’ll sort it out once we get out of here. Right now we have to find another way out.”

Adam rose from the chair and they turned toward the exit.

Just then a section of the wall to Adam’s left turned wavy. The Humans stared with rapt attention for a moment, until a figure materialized before them. It was a creature about a meter-and-a-half tall, with smooth features and wearing a shimmering shirt and pants. Then the alien’s skin began to change color as it moved away from the wall.

The chameleon-like being was holding an MK, pointed in their direction.

The alien shook his head at Sherri. “Don’t,” the creature said, watching as she began to lift her weapon. “Please drop the energy device. I, too, do not rely on the internal computer for targeting.”

Sherri reluctantly let the weapon fall to the floor. “Who are you?” she asked.

The being stepped in closer and looked up at Adam. “I’m the one who’s been tracking you since Hildoria. I’m also the one who helped get you out of Kroekus’ building.”

“If you call nearly collapsing the entire building on our heads as helping!”

“Shoddy construction. Nevertheless, you survived. And you led us here. My Juirean employers are very grateful.”

“Not when they get the body count,” said Sherri, caustically.

“That is not my concern. All I have to do now is make sure that you do not escape again—”

“Who’s your friend?”

The creature spun around just in time to catch a right cross from Riyad’s fist. He was standing in the doorway…behind him a cadre of his fellow Human beings.

The alien spiraled into the wall to his right, dropping the MK as he fell to the floor. Adam stepped forward and kicked the weapon away.

Recovering, the alien attempted to get to his feet. Tough little bastard, Adam thought. A blow like that from a Human would have killed a lesser creature.

Adam lifted the color-shifter by his shimmering shirt; he didn’t want the thing to blend into his surroundings again and disappear.

“How did you get in here? Do you know—”

Adam felt a searing pain in his left side. Something wasn’t right. He dropped the alien and stumbled backwards. He looked down to see a growing blood stain begin to spread just below his rib cage. He looked at the alien and saw the thing smile.

Adam could now see two shorter, additional arms hidden under his shirt. And in one of the stubby hands was a knife, covered in blood. Riyad rushed forward, grabbed the creature’s head, and nearly twisted it off. This time the chameleon did die.

Adam leaned back against the counter and grabbed his side.

Sherri rushed to him and ripped open his tunic at the point of the knife’s entry. She pressed her palm onto the wound. “Get me a strip of the Klin’s robe!”

Riyad rushed to the nearest body and ripped off a section of cloth. Sherri took it and wrapped it around his waist, pulling it tight before tying it off. A groan was forced from Adam’s mouth as he gritted his teeth against the pain. “Damn, it hurts,” he moaned.

“From the color of the blood, it doesn’t look like it hit anything vital. I’ll get you sewn up as soon as we get someplace with a first aid kit. Buck up, sailor!”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say.”

Riyad stepped up to them. “What now, chief?”

Adam took a deep breath and tried to shake off the pain. He could see a group of men looking through the window at him, as well as several peering over Riyad’s shoulder near the door. Adam had taken charge in the barracks. Now it was up to him to lead.

“There was a group of 2G’s on the other side of the cavern. Where are they now?”

Someone in the group spoke up. “There’s still there. It looks like the Juireans have retreated there, too.”

“Let’s go get them. There has to be another way out of here.”

There were several open-cab transports scattered nearby, and Adam struggled through the pain and into the passenger seat of the nearest one. Riyad took the controls while Sherri climbed in the back. Meanwhile, the thirty or so remaining men from the barracks loaded themselves into and on top of four other vehicles, and they set off across the vast expanse of the cavern.

The Second-Generation Humans—the 2Gs—were situated on a platform about five meters above the floor of the cavern. They were moving toward a set of doors about a twenty meters away. Seeing Adam’s force racing toward them, they began to run for the doors. Before they got there, some of Adam’s men opened fire ahead of their path.

The 2G’s stopped and began to move back the way they’d come. More bolts flashed and soon they stopped, waiting for Adam’s men to arrive.

About every thirty meters along the walkway were drop-down ladders. Adam’s men called for the 2G’s to climb down the nearest ladder. They obeyed without incident.

Adam’s men shoved the 2G’s into a tight circle and disarmed them. Adam could tell by their expressions that the native-borns would have just as soon ripped the 2G’s apart. But he needed information, and he needed it now. His men herded the 2G’s until they were standing beside Adam’s vehicle. Adam remained seated.

He looked at the nearest one. “Is there another way out of here?” Adam grimaced through the pain in his side.

The young 2G gave Adam a smirk. “You will not get anything out of us.”

Adam twisted around, painfully, and removed the MK-17 from Riyad’s holster. Turning to face the 2G, he placed a bolt right through the man’s forehead. Then before the first one met the floor, Adam had the weapon aimed at the 2G to his right. “I’m in no mood for this,” Adam said. “Is there another way out of here?”

The stunned and terrified 2G began stammering, “Yes! I will show you!”

“Good. Now wasn’t that easier?”

“It’s up there,” said the 2G, pointing. The rest of his kind turned in unison and pointed to the double doors as well.

“Let’s move,” Adam groaned, holding his side.

Two of the other Humans helped Adam out of the seat and to the ladder. He struggled up, and in a moment they were in another passageway off the main cavern, this one much smaller and more dimly lit.

“Where does this lead?” Riyad said, holding the talkative 2G by the collar of his tunic.

“It runs to an emergency airlock just above the main staging area.”

Moving two abreast, Adam’s force—along with the nine surviving 2G’s—moved along the narrow corridor for ten minutes before coming to a larger room. There was a small pressure window in a door. Adam looked through it and found they were about forty meters above the main airlock floor. From this vantage point he could see at least twenty-five large shuttles with their rear panels open. These would be the Juirean landing craft. And farther on, he saw the FS-475.

There were two Juireans Guards stationed outside Kaylor’s ship. But what he found odd was that there were only five Juireans standing sentry near the alien landing craft. He smiled. We must have taken out a lot of the green-haired bastards. They can’t even spare enough to watch their ships.

Adam turned to the eyes watching him. He glanced around quickly and found one of the men holding a flash rifle. “Give me that,” he said.

The man obliged.

Then to Riyad: “Take a squad down between those two shuttles and take out the five guards there. I’ll take out the two by Kaylor’s ship. Move on my shot.”

They opened the door. There was a staggered catwalk wrapping around an outcrop in the old uranium excavation. It was hidden from view from the floor of the airlock, and a minute later Adam and his men had filed down to floor level. Adam waited until Riyad and ten of the Humans slipped in between the two shuttles. He knew that as soon as a bolt went off in the chamber everyone would be aware of their presence.

Adam moved behind one of the shuttles and began to climb the stair-stepped sides of the old open-pit mine. His side screamed with pain, but he endured until he reached a vantage point about fifty meters from the guards at Kaylor’s ship.

Lifting the flash rifle, Adam rested his right shoulder against the side of the wall and sighted along the barrel. Long-range shots with a flash rifle were not that difficult. The bolts themselves were not overly affected by gravity; their weakness came from their limited range. This model of XF was good for about a hundred meters. After that, the bolts quickly lost energy and dissipated.

Before taking his shot, Adam waited for Riyad and his men to get into position. Then he lined up the first guard in his site…and pulled the trigger.

The bolt flew true and impacted the guard in the throat. He immediately shifted his sight and squeezed the trigger again. This bolt hit the Juirean in the forehead.

Adam quickly glanced to his left and saw as Riyad and his men blasted the other five Juireans with flashes of blue-white energy.

Adam keyed his comm unit. “Kaylor, where are you?”

“Oh, thank all the Gods there may be. I’m so glad to hear from you!” was Kaylor’s impassioned response. “Was that you who just took out the guards?”

“That’s right, me and my army.”

“Your army?”

“It seems this has turned into a rescue mission after all. Meet us at the shuttle closest to your ship.”

Chapter 27

Kaylor and Jym staggered up to the group of Humans, panting and bending over to rest their arms on their knees. The two aliens then slowly looked up—and promptly stopped breathing as they scanned the ominous scene before them. Glaring down at them were dozens of heavily armed and fierce-looking Humans. Even though they knew they were friends, the two aliens still shuddered at the awesome sight.

Adam noticed their expressions. “Relax, they’re on our side.”

Sherri stepped up next to him. “The Juireans aren’t going to let Kaylor’s ship off the surface.”

“I know. I’ve got another plan.”

Adam directed Riyad and Sherri to get the men into the nearest Juirean landing craft. Turning to Kaylor, he asked, “Can you fly that thing?”

Kaylor frowned. “I suppose so. It shouldn’t be too difficult. But what about my ship?”

Adam stepped closer and put his hand on Kaylor’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to leave her. It’s the only way we can get out of here alive.”

Adam saw Kaylor turn pale, his eyes growing large. But Jym stepped up next to him. “It will be okay,” the tiny alien said. “We’ll get another one—a newer, better one—when this is all over.”

Kaylor stared at his ship for a long moment. “It served us well.”

“She sure did,” Adam said. “Now we better get moving.”

Once the Juirean ship was loaded, Riyad closed the rear hatch and Kaylor slipped into the pilot seat. Looking around, they didn’t see Adam.

Riyad keyed his comm. “Adam, where are you?”

“I’m in the Cassie-1.”

“Wait a minute!” Kaylor protested. “I have to leave my ship but Adam gets to keep his!”

“We need the counselor’s shuttle to get us off the planet. Just follow my lead.”

Aboard the Cassie-1, Adam activated the Juirean transponder and fingered the communication button. “This is Counselor Deslor’s shuttle demanding that the airlock be opened immediately.”

A startled voice came over the speaker. “It will take a couple of minutes to depressurize the chamber. Please wait.”

“Initiate whatever emergency procedures you need to do. The Counselor has been injured and requires immediate medical attention!”

The line was still open to the technician, and Adam heard him yell out “Rapid evac!” Then the ceiling began to slide aside.

Adam felt like screaming. Even with emergency procedures in effect, the vast metal door appeared to be moving in slow motion. Finally the opening was large enough for the Cassie-1 and Kaylor’s shuttle to squeeze through. They activated chemical engines and screamed out of the airlock in a cloud of black and grey smoke.

Once clear of the open pit excavation, Adam initiated a small gravity-well—Kaylor did the same—and soon they were streaking for open space.

Adam pulled up a vicinity-threat readout and on his forward screen and a couple of dozen contacts appeared. The data was read to him aloud, allowing his translator to decipher for him. There—toward the end of the Juirean line of ships—was what he was looking for. Adam tapped his keyboard and a visual popped up. It was a heavy battlecruiser, a Class 5, just what he needed. He steered toward the ship.

A voice came over his intercom. “To the Juirean shuttle approaching, state your business.”

“This is Counselor Deslor’s shuttle and escort. The Counselor has been injured and requires immediate medical attention. Have a care team waiting in the hold. Estimated arrival time two minutes. Arriving on chemical drive.”

“What? Counselor who? This is highly unusual.”

“Who is this?” Adam demanded. “When the Counselor dies from his injuries I want to be able to report to the Overlord the name of the individual responsible.”

There was a brief silence before the voice came back on. “We are sending a team. Enter through the right landing bay.”

Adam had no idea where the right landing bay was, but as he closed on the large cruiser, he dissolved the well and reactivated the chemical drive. He rounded the aft section of the ship and saw the opening for the lighted bay. He slowed and maneuvered in carefully. Kaylor was right behind him.

Once in the bay, Adam cut the drive and heard the Cassie-1 screech along the metal floor, before coming to a rest only meters from the interior wall. He felt a slight bump as Kaylor’ shuttle ran into the side of his ship.

There go my insurance rates! Adam thought, surprised he could still muster a sense of humor at a time like this; he figured it was simply out of exhaustion—and the throbbing pain in his side.

Through the viewport, Adam saw a group of Juireans, as well as another being he didn’t recognize, standing on the other side of the airlock door, waiting for the room to pressurize. A moment later, the door slid open and the medical crew rushed in. One particular Juirean strolled in slower than the others and stood near the exit door to the shuttle.

Adam climbed out of the pilot seat, picked up an MK-17 and checked its power pack. Then he headed for the exit.

As the door slid open, Adam stepped out into the warm air of the landing bay, still carrying in it traces of his chemical drive. He could hear the creaking of the engines as they cooled.

The Juirean commander stepped past the medical crew and eyed Adam, noticing the blood stained wrap around his waist. “Who are you? And where is the Counselor?”

“Yeah, about that…” Adam pulled the MK from behind his back and sent a bolt through the commander’s forehead. He turned the weapon on the other aliens in the room.

Riyad, Sherri and the other Humans came streaming around the Cassie-1, weapons at the ready, Kaylor and Jym bringing up the rear. Adam looked at Jym. “Find us a computer terminal and pull up a schematic. We need to find the bridge.”

The group moved out of the landing bay and into the control room, with some of the men taking up positions to cover the passageways leading in. Jym moved to a console and began to key-in frantically. “To the left and three levels up,” he called out.

Adam moved in behind Jym. “What’s the compliment of a ship this size?”

Jym did some more typing. “About forty-five, not counting combat troops.”

Adam knew he didn’t have to worry too much about combat troops being left onboard. Most—if not all—were down on the surface of Zylim-4. “Jym, show Riyad where the generator room is located. Riyad, take ten men and secure the generators. Kaylor and the rest of you follow me to the bridge.”

They set off down the corridor to the left, while Riyad’s group split off and headed aft. With Sherri and Kaylor on his wings, Adam led his group to the nearest stairway. In the lighter gravity of the Juirean ship, Adam and his men practically flew down the hallways and up the stairs, while Kaylor fell farther behind. Adam noticed Sherri had slowed to stay with him, her MK gripped tightly in her right hand.

At the end of the passageway was a double secure door. Not knowing if the bridge crew had been alerted or not, Adam’s team slowed and took up flanking positions. Then Adam fingered the controls to the door and it slid open.

Sitting at the controls, with their feet up on the consoles, were three aliens—not Juireans—and they were taken by surprise as the Humans swarmed into the room. Adam’s men literally threw the aliens out of their chairs and toward the rear of the bridge. Others took up guard positions over the aliens.

Kaylor finally arrived on the bridge. “Can you fly this one, too?” Adam asked him.

Kaylor moved up to the controls and considered them for a moment. “This is a Class 5 starship. It’s a complicated monster.”

“Yeah, but can you fly it?”

Kaylor studied the controls once again, and then looked up at Adam. “Of course I can.”

Adam patted him on the back. “Good…Belsonian. Turn her away from the planet on chemical drive. Small bursts, nothing to attract attention.”

Sherri moved next to Adam. “The Juireans are going to notice if we attempt to bolt out.”

“I know,” Adam said. “That’s why I want you to stay here with Kaylor and listen in on the comm. Kaylor, be ready to punch it when I say so.”

“Punch what?”

“Never mind.” Adam looked at Sherri and smiled. “Keep an eye on him. He means well.”

Adam left the bridge and returned to the landing bay, just as Riyad was coming back from the generator room. “Doesn’t seem to be too many people home. Guess they’re all down on the planet getting their asses kicked.”

“Good, come with me.”

Adam led Riyad and his men into the landing bay. “Try to find anything that will explode.”

Riyad recoiled from the statement. “Explode?”

“Yeah, I need something that will blow up the Cassie-1…and in about ten minutes.”

Riyad looked at Adam as if he’d gone insane. Adam noticed the look. “We need a diversion to get this ship into a gravity-well.”

Riyad nodded and began surveying the landing bay. He found barrels he recognized as propellant for the chemical drives. He called Adam over.

“Great. Let’s get five of these onboard. I also found a repeating bolt launcher.”

In a few minutes, the super-strong Humans had loaded five barrels of chemical into the stateroom aboard the shuttle. Riyad set up the bolt launcher aimed at the nearest barrel before placing a datapad on the launcher with the timer set for ten minutes.

While this was going on, Adam packed a duffle bag of his Human clothes, and then went to the pilothouse to program an auto-course for the shuttle.

They left the ship and ran for the airlock. Once cycled through, they watched as the Cassie-1 backed out of the bay with small jets of air. Then the sleek shuttle spun about and streaked off on her last mission.

Adam ordered the other men to begin a systematic search of the ship for aliens while he and Riyad set off for the bridge, Adam holding his bleeding side as he went. Riyad helped him up the last flight of stairs.

“Get ready!” Adam said as he entered the bridge.

Chapter 28

Overlord Yan’wal, Commander Siegor and Interim-Overlord Giodol were on the massive bridge of the UN-444. Yan’wal was furious, an aftermath of Siegor’s latest casualty report from the surface.

“Eighty percent of the Guards have been killed. How can this be? Who are these creatures?”

“Our superior numbers were negated by the confined space of the underground chambers,” Siegor said. “And the Human targeting was especially effective.” He knew this was the end of his career. Even though both of the recent battles with the Humans had resulted in victories, the losses were far beyond anyone’s imagination…or tolerance. Juirean life was far too valuable to be lost in such numbers, and for so little gain. This time, however, the bodies of three Klin had been found, yet that hardly justified the price they had to pay. Yes, the Klin were present—that was now confirmed—but not in any great numbers.

“Have you heard from your agent?” Yan’wal asked Giodol.

He was about to answer when a technician interrupted. “My Lords, there is a shuttle cutting across our forward position. The transponder is registered to a Juirean Counselor named Deslor.”

“Deslor?” The three senior Juireans turned to the main screen, just as the tiny speck streaked across their view, with the planet Zylim-4 far below.

Just then the point at the end of the streak exploded in a fiery ball of chemical blue and green. “Was it fired upon?” asked Siegor of the technician.

“No, my Lord. None of our ships fired.” The tech looked closer at his screen.

“What is it?” Siegor asked.

“One of the battlecruisers just activated a gravity-well.”

The Juirean officers moved quickly to stand behind the tech. “Which ship?” Yan’wal asked.

“It was the last in the line. And it is gone now.”

“Call the ship, immediately!” Siegor commanded.

After a few attempts, the tech turned to the assembled Juireans. “They are not answering.”

Yan’wal gritted his teeth. “Track their gravity wave. Siegor, send three ships after them. It must be the Humans.”

Chapter 29

A half hour later, Adam had Kaylor dissolve the well and initiate a ninety-degree turn to port. They proceeded on chemical drive for another five minutes before Adam commanded the ship to go dark, including internal gravity.

As they waited in the dim emergency lighting, holding onto whatever they could to keep from drifting around the compartment, Kaylor noticed an approaching gravity wave. Class Fives were fast and powerful vessels, disturbing the space around them for hundreds of kilometers. But at the speeds they were traveling, their passage was only noticed well after they passed.

After another half hour, Adam had Kaylor initiate another well, and they bolted off. They repeated the maneuver three more times before Adam felt confident they weren’t being tracked.

“What now, boss?” Sherri asked after most of the Humans had left the bridge to find sleeping accommodations, the galley or the head.

“I need to see Jym, in private. Keep Riyad occupied.” Sherri lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you later if anything promising comes out of this.”

Jym met Adam on the bridge. After he entered, Adam shut the door and pressed the security lock. Jym looked at him nervously.

“Relax, buddy. I just need you to plot a location for me.”

“For Earth?” Jym exclaimed, suddenly excited.

“I don’t know. It could be any place. And I only have a partial.”

Jym sat down at the massive navigation console, marveling at its sophistication. “Can you operate this?” Adam asked.

“Of course. This is all wonderful stuff.” For the first time Adam could remember, Jym smiled.

Adam gave him the coordinates. “You know this doesn’t help much?” Jym said.

He was right. All coordinates for locations in the galaxy consisted of four points. The first was the distance from Juir. The next was from the galactic core. These two sweeping arcs would intersect at certain points depending on which direction one was looking. Since Adam was hoping the coordinates were for the Far Arm, he had Jym plot them out in that direction.

The next part of the coordinates was the direction. This was mainly determined by which section, out of ninety-two, that the destination was in. Adam knew that the last digit was one. The Far Arm took up twenty-four sectors, ranging from twelve to forty-eight. That would leave three sectors ending in one. As Jym plotted the possibilities, Adam’s heart began to race. A cross section of the Far Arm was materializing. These distances and sectors were definitely in the Far Arm.

To verify, Adam had Jym plot out the coordinates in another direction. The reference points fell apart. On the other side of the galaxy the distance from Juir and the Core never intersected. They only did on this side of the galaxy from Juir. These had to be the coordinates for Earth.

But now they had three points. More correctly, they had three arcs, moving from high to low. Missing from the plot was the degree from the ecliptic plane. Zero-degree was a straight dissection of the galaxy, and then points were plotted as either positive or negative as you moved above or below the plane. Of course, the arcs continued in a full circle, yet the galaxy was not a sphere. The higher or lower you went, the further from the ecliptic you would go, and soon you would be out of the galaxy altogether. Still, limiting the arcs to only twenty-degrees up or down left a lot of space to cover.

Adam stepped back and considered the screen. A spasm of pain shot through his side. He knew he had to get Sherri to patch him up sooner rather than later. He had no idea how much blood he’d lost. Looking at the screen gave him renewed energy.

Three arcs. And a possible twenty degrees or so up or down along the arcs. In there—somewhere—was the planet Earth. Somewhere along those red lines was his home.

Chapter 30

Marishal is a planet located at plus-twenty-four-degrees above the ecliptic and located in Sector 9 of the Juirean Expansion. Positioned on the opposite side of the Core from Juir, it had been incorporated into the Expansion almost six hundred years before. But since the planet was not located along any major shipping lanes, or possessing any great natural resources, Marishal was granted membership and then promptly forgotten.

Four hundred years before the Juireans swept through the region, the Klin had already established the Marishal system as their primary sanctuary base. The gravity was very similar to Klinmon—their homeworld—and a neighboring planet provided a sufficient gravity where the various heavy-worlders they tested could be housed.

The natives of the planet accommodated the Juireans when they first arrived and kept their knowledge of the Klin secret through the years. The Klin were much more generous than the Juireans, and over the centuries, the Marishallese prospered as master shipbuilders for the ever-growing Klin fleet.

The yellow sun was setting over the Western mountains, while brilliant flashes of orange reflected off the clouds and the surface of Lake Serenity, filling the room with a soft and soothing glow.

Senior Fellow Limmore stood before the great window and reflected on the scene. It was beautiful here…and it was his home. He had been born here; he would die here as well. But the thought of home often left him feeling hollow inside. Like all Klin, Limmore no longer had a home world, only a home, a place to be born, raised and to die. After four thousand years, the sense of not belonging to any one place still burned deep in the hearts of all Klin.

And yet the time for their own act of reckoning was drawing near….

The Human stood behind Limmore and respected his silent reverie. Without turning, Limmore said, “The Juireans should be sufficiently apprehensive of your race by now, even if it has not gone completely according to plan.”

Nigel McCarthy, native-born Human, simply shrugged. “The fleet is more than prepared,” he said in a sharp British accent.

Limmore grinned. He turned to face the tall, muscular Human with the reddish hair. “Your race is so impatient, my friend.”

“Your race often over-plans,” was McCarthy’s sharp retort.

“When you’re facing the greatest power in the galaxy, it pays to be cautious. But you’re right. The fleet is ready.”

Limmore turned back to the window. “You may send the beacon. Let the Juireans know the location of Earth.”

Sending transmissions through intergalactic space is fairly simple – if relay stations have been set up ahead of time. Throughout the Expansion, communication was fairly efficient. A message could be sent from Juir to any of the Sectors, and it would be received in a matter of hours.

Yet communications sent into non-Expansion space were a different matter. With faster-than-light travel, it was often quicker just to hand-deliver the messages. But rather than physically carrying them from one destination to another, most were placed in compact pods with massive gravity drives. Since no flesh-and-blood beings were aboard the tiny pods, these pods could travel at hundreds of times light-speed, creating deeper wells than even the most powerful starships.

When the remaining Klin in the Fringe were given the order to send the beacon, they sent the pod out in a direct line for the current location of Earth, its encrypted signal broadcasting out along the entire route. If one looked through an optical telescope at the location it pointed to, there would be nothing there to see; the planet had not yet moved to this position, based upon the limits of visible light. But nevertheless, the beacon was sent straight for the planet Earth, pinpointing its location for anyone willing to follow the track.

The truth was, the Klin had long ago set up a series of relay stations in the Far Arm, but these stations were known only to them. This beacon, however, was sent out not utilizing this series of relays. Instead it was sent in the open…and conspicuously past a Juirean monitoring station at the edge of the Barrier.

Although the message was encrypted, the Klin did allow for the Juireans to break the code in a relatively short time. And when the words Earth, Humans, Klin, Juireans and invasion were deciphered, the message was sent immediately to the highest authority in the Fringe.

Chapter 31

Yan’wal called an emergency meeting of his staff as soon as the message was received.

“Giodol, what else have we learned of this message?”

“It originated here, in the Fringe, and we have a reliable track as to its destination. The translation is reliable.”

“The translation may be reliable, but can the contents be accurate?”

Specialist Eannwen spoke next. “The message speaks of an impending invasion of Expansion space by these Humans. It goes on to say that the forces must be ready within three standard years if they stand any chance of success. The events of the past month are related in the message, including some information only we, in this room, are privy to. I believe the message, and its contents, to be genuine.”

“Thank you, Specialist.” Yan’wal was silent for a moment as he considered his next move. Then he spoke. “I will contact the Council immediately. We have a narrow window of opportunity to strike the Humans before they are fully prepared. We must take it. And we must make our strike decisive.

“Recently, we have seen what a relatively small number of these Humans have been able to do to our forces. One can only imagine what an entire planet of these beasts could achieve. I will be recommending that the Juirean Authority pool nearly all available military resources on this side of the galaxy to send against the Humans. We do not know how many ships they may have already completed.”

“My Lord,” Commander Siegor said, “Should we leave a reserve force in the Sector as insurance against…?” He hesitated speaking the last of his sentence.

“Against defeat, Commander?” Yan’wal finished the sentence for him. “That would be the prudent course of action. Yet with the enemy located so far away, we must take all the firepower and support ships with us as we can. We will not be in position to call for reinforcements should they be needed. We can always bring up additional forces from other Sectors during our campaign, to stay in reserve. Will that satisfy you, Commander?”

“Of course, my Lord. It’s just that it has been such a long time since The Authority has fought a major enemy of the Expansion. Our forces have been drawn down to their lowest level in a thousand years.”

“Your concerns are noted, Commander. I will recommend to the Council that a major shipbuilding effort be started. If we cannot defeat the Humans with our initial action, then the ships will be needed. It must be our goal, however, to make sure they are not.”

The Overlord looked over his assembled senior advisors. There was concern on their faces. After a moment, he spoke. “I have actively studied our history as have few before me, and I am fully aware of the recent record of conflict within the Expansion. And yes, Commander, we have grown complacent and secure in our position, as you have intimated. But every now and then a challenger arises to our power and position. Unfortunately, our memories are short. We can never believe it could happen again.

“It is my belief, after studying the history of our challengers—and seeing the results of these most recent events here in the Sector—that these Humans may be the greatest challenge we have ever faced since the inception of the Mass and our subsequent Expansion. This threat is grave. We must not fail. The Human race must be eradicated and wiped from existence. I truly believe it is either them…or us.”

Chapter 32

After Sherri stitched up his wound, Adam risked the medical computer analysis of his blood and downed a couple of Juirean pain pills. They actually made him feel better, enough at least for him to get some sleep.

Fourteen hours later he awoke in the captain’s stateroom of the Juirean battlecruiser to find Sherri and Riyad there with him, asleep, on separate couches in the room.

They woke up as he attempted to climb out of the bed. After the extended period of inactivity, his wound, muscles and bones all screamed with pain and stiffness. He tried to work out some of the kinks with a few stretches but thought better of it when his side exploded in burning pain.

“You need to take it easy for a while,” Sherri said, taking a seat next to him on the bed. She pressed the tender skin around the wound and nodded. “Doesn’t look like any infection. You should be good as new in a couple of weeks.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Adam said. He saw her beam. She probably would have made a great veterinarian.

“So what now? Did you learn anything in the computer room?” asked Riyad from the couch.

Adam looked straight into his eyes. He knew what Riyad was really asking. “No, I did not find the location of Earth.”

“Then where are we going? Your two alien lackeys won’t say.” Riyad’s tone was sharp and accusatory.

“We’re getting out of the Fringe until we can put together a game plan.”

Riyad stood up. “Bullshit! You know something.”

Sherri turned to look at Adam. “We are going somewhere…and fast.”

He couldn’t hide it any longer. And besides, the other Humans onboard would want answers, too. “I only found a partial,” he said. “It should get us in the vicinity, but it could still be a long time before we find Earth—if ever.”

“What are the coordinates!” Riyad demanded.

Adam looked at him curiously. “What good are a set of partial coordinates going to be to you…unless you already have some yourself!” Adam shot to his feet, ignoring the burning in his side.

Riyad blinked several times. “You asshole!” Adam shouted. “You already have them—or part of them. What do you know? And when were you going to get around to telling us?”

“I, too, only have a partial.”

“If it’s the right partial, we could have something incredible! What are they?”

“I know the first two coordinates….”

Adam nearly fainted. He sat back on the bed as Sherri moved to put her arm around him. “Are you okay?”

After a moment, Adam had recovered. He nodded, and then said slowly, “I have the last two.”

He could see excitement build on the faces of his two companions. “What are they? Tell me!” Riyad demanded.

“You first.”

Riyad recoiled slightly. Adam noticed the movement. Riyad began to stammer.

Adam pursed his lips. “I knew it,” he said to Riyad. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

Sherri let out a snort. “What are you, a couple of children?”

“You don’t know what Mr. Tarazi’s ultimate plan is,” Adam said in his defense. “If he got all the coordinates, then he wouldn’t need us anymore.”

Sherri frowned at Riyad. “So what is your agenda, Riyad?”

Riyad hesitated. Then he said, “My plan was just a fantasy. It’s not real. I am not a threat to you.”

“Then give me the coordinates,” Adam said. “You know I’m not the one out to take over the world and start a galactic war.”

Sherri stared at Riyad, her mouth open. “No frickin way? Is that what you want to do?”

Riyad was embarrassed, not only for the revelation, but also for the childish sound of the plan when spoken aloud. “Like I said, it was just a thought.” Then he took a deep breath. “Ecliptic minus 4, Sector 21.”

Adam’s jaw tightened, and the tough-as-nails Navy SEAL had to fight hard to hold back the tears. He turned to Sherri and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“We’re going home!”

The End

Next up…

The War of Pawns

The Human Chronicles Book #3

Here are the first two chapters of

The War of Pawns

Adam Cain…

…is an alien with an attitude.

His story continues…

Chapter 1

Humans…. Damn, Humans!

Senior Overlord Yan’wal Ra Melk closed the file on his computer and stood from his desk. He moved to the spacious grooming station in his stateroom aboard the Class-7 starship UN-444 and splashed water on his face, before calling up a strong intoxicant beverage from the dietary module.

Once refreshed, the Overlord returned to his desk to mentally digest the information he’d just received. What he had learned did not please him, not in the least.

It was the autopsy report on the creatures recovered at the battle of Zylim-4, including the bodies of the two dead Klin. Since no one in the Expansion had seen a Klin in the flesh for nearly four thousand years—even a dead one—the information was of mild interest to the rapt historian within the Overlord; the significance of this discovery was still working its way through his consciousness. What impact it would have on the Expansion remained to be seen, but undoubtedly it would be major.

Unless, of course, it was overshadowed by the revelations in the second part of the report he just read….

This concerned the other race of beings involved in the Zylim-4 battle—that of the creatures called Humans. Although the Klin autopsy had not produced any real surprises—after all Klin were probably the oldest known race in the Alliance—the report on the Humans had left Yan’wal with a feeling of foreboding of which he was very unfamiliar.

As the report related, the Humans were Primes—as were 80-percent of the known superior races in the galaxy—yet there were features within their anatomy which set them apart from most of the others. First of all, their bodies had remarkably dense bone structure and muscle mass, accompanied by a thick, tenacious skin that formed an almost impervious barrier against the elements.

In addition, the report surmised that the Humans came from a heavy-gravity world. From Yan’wal’s brief exposure to the creatures, this conflicted with what he knew of other such species, since the Humans did not display any of the slothfulness that was generally associated with heavy-worlders. In fact, these Humans possessed a sophisticated range of coordination, quickness, cunning and even uncanny intelligence, traits he had never before experienced in creatures with such a planetary heritage. The Overlord furrowed his wide brow even more when considering the possible scenarios of the coming clash with the Humans upon their home ground.

Even as he sat in his stateroom, the Overlord knew incredible forces were massing around him for an assault of the Human homeworld—a planet they called Earth. The battle would come months in the future, yet the planning and execution for the attack was the responsibility of him and his senior military staff. In normal circumstances, Yan’wal would have considered such a duty an honor, yet the events of the past few weeks had shaken his confidence to a level that both infuriated and perplexed the Senior Overlord.

First there had been the space battle off the planet Dimloe, where his fleet had nearly been destroyed in the first encounter with the Humans. Even though the conflict had resulted in a Juirean victory, Yan’wal was inclined to accept Fleet Commander Siegor’s assessment that the battle had been lost—until the Humans deliberately sabotaged the outcome in favor of the Juireans. Why they would do this was just another of the enigmas surrounding this barbaric race.

Next was the ground battle on the mining world of Zylim-4. At its conclusion, Yan’wal counted four-hundred thirty-two of his most-skilled Juirean Guard among the dead, with only sixty-three of the Humans as casualties. It was the single-largest loss of Juirean life in a ground battle since the Limon-Polesess Uprising over a thousand years before. In the seventeen major ground battles that took place during that conflict, a little over one thousand of the Guard had been killed – and that was against an entire planet. Now Yan’wal had experienced nearly half as many casualties in a single battle, and against only a handful of untrained and ill-equipped Humans.

In the aftermath of these two encounters, Yan’wal had participated in dozens of conferences with the Council, during which he sensed no blame for these events directed solely at him. the Council was more pragmatic; all they wanted was a resolution to the current crisis.

Yet personally, Yan’wal placed much of the blame for the losses squarely on his shoulders. Although he acknowledged that the Humans had been an unknown entity at the time, he had consistently underestimated the savages. He knew now it had been his Juirean arrogance that had not allowed him to believe that the Humans were nothing more than an annoyance, and that it was the Klin who were the true threat to the Expansion.

In light of his knowledge of history, the Senior Overlord did his best to forgive himself, but it did not come easy. After all, Yan’wal Ra Melk was a Juirean, as well as one of the highest-ranking officials in the government. And as everyone knew, Juireans claimed the title of undisputed rulers of the known galaxy….

Chapter 2

The planet Axlus—the ancestral name of the planet Juir—was located in a dense stellar cluster on the opposite side of the Galactic Core from the Fringe. Through a night ablaze with stars and nebulae, darkness never fully came to the planet, and from the moment the first two pieces of curved glass were placed in a line together and aimed at the skies, the natives of Axlus had known they were not alone in the universe.

From their earliest recorded history, ancient astronomers and mathematicians plotted the paths of the wandering lights in the sky and soon discovered a complex array of other planets orbiting the nearby stars. They also realized that their own world similarly orbited their star—just as did all the others they tracked. As a result, the natives of Axlus never considered themselves to be the center of the universe or their existence unique. And considering the diversity of life upon their own world—in the oceans, on the land, and even among the shapes, sizes and colors of their own kind—they knew beyond doubt that other creatures existed on the neighboring worlds of the cluster.

To them, it was just a matter of time before contact would be made with their brothers among the stars.

Early in their history, electricity had been harnessed and combinations of certain chemicals and minerals were discovered that, when ignited, could lift primitive rockets from the surface, although none of these early efforts reached very far beyond the outer layer of the planet’s atmosphere. Fossil fuels were discovered and utilized, and the natives of Axlus soon began to spread across the surface of the planet to settle in thousands of city-states.

On the nearby planets in the cluster, other races were also evolving. These included the Klin, the Oanneans and the Bals, and each of these races achieved a certain level of sophistication in their civilizations along common paths. There came a time, when through wave transmitters and primitive rockets, contact was made between the more advanced species of the cluster.

The most-technologically advanced of these core races was the Klin. Thoughtful and deliberate, they were exceedingly peaceful and fair-minded. If ever the Klin had warred within their kind, that tendency had been bred out of them thousands of years before. Now they existed simply for the learning, as well as the building of advanced technologies that would allow the other core races in the cluster to finally come together in an alliance of planets.

With the exception of the inhabitants of Axlus….

As the decades passed the Cluster Alliance began to prosper, as trade between the other six civilized worlds grew and knowledge was shared. However, most of the major advances in technology and engineering still came from the Klin, who quickly established themselves as the default leaders of the Alliance. As the leader, it fell upon the Klin to set most of the rules governing the organization, which would have a serious impact on their future in the years to come.

As the Alliance grew, and other worlds were discovered, the Klin ran into a dilemma. They found that all these inhabited worlds had civilizations at nearly every range of development, from stone-age hut builders, to sophisticated and complex societies with thousands of cities spread across their surfaces. An indiscriminate policy of inclusion in the Alliance would have both shocked these lesser-developed societies, as well as diluted the impact and influence of the more advanced races. As a consequence, the Klin developed a set of criteria that would have to be met by any society seeking membership in the Alliance. And prime among these requirements was that the planet must first be civilized enough to exist under one central government before membership would be considered.

This arrangement worked well for the other six member worlds of the cluster, but not so for the natives of Axlus.

At the time, the planet consisted of thousands of independent city-states, each with their own form of government and cultural identity. The greatest of these city-states was Juir, a sprawling metropolis located on a vast alluvial plain between the Southern Ocean and the Kacoran Mountains. Over seventeen-million beings called themselves Juireans, and they existed in an almost constant state of near-fanatical devotion to their city and to the ruling class of heretical leaders.

Near the edge of the Eastern mountain range, a vast section of ancient seabed had been uplifted over geologic time to form a low-lying mountain with what appeared to be a sheared off top. This was the Kacoran Plain. The almost-impossibly flat land atop the mountain was a hundred kilometers long and seventy-five wide, and the natives of Juir used the prominent plateau as a training field for their considerable military forces, as well as for the mass ceremonies their leaders staged to instill awe and loyalty in the population.

And it was also atop the Kacoran Plain that the city’s most powerful and sophisticated observatories were placed, their telescopes aimed toward the stars—and the other inhabited worlds of the cluster.

For hundreds of years, the powerful telescopes of the Juirean scientists had observed the bright, flickering lights on a few of their neighboring worlds, as the time of year and the season were right. They knew as well that the lights from their own cities would be visible to The Others, and when the astronomers began to track tiny mechanical satellites in orbit around their own world, they began to suspect that the moment of First Contact was growing near.

So it came as no shock or surprise to the Juireans when a module, ablaze with chemical exhaust, began its descent from orbit…and heading for the Kacoran Plain of Juir.

At the time of First Contact, Juir was ruled by a fanatical young leader named Malor Ra Unnis, the ninth Unnis to rule the city. With the Unnis family rising to power through the ranks of the military, Malor maintained an almost religious devotion to the discipline and structure that came from wearing the uniform of the Juirean Security Forces. When it was his time to assume the reins of power, Malor began a transformation of Juirean society into something that mirrored the caste structure of the military.

At first, many in the society resisted, yet Malor was persistent—and relentless. Soon he had consolidated power in his rule as none in the line of Unnis leaders before him, and all through a combination of political tact and influence, as well as bloody and heartless pragmatism.

Malor was very aware of the unique nature of his rule, and when word reached him regarding the fiery object descending from the sky, he naturally attributed the arrival of The Others to the timing of his rule. Nevertheless, he was still in awe of the significance of this event and set in motion plans that had been established many decades before in anticipation of the eventual arrival.

With a massive entourage in tow, Malor ascended the Kacoran Plain and traveled to the location where the alien spacecraft now sat. A grand stage was moved into place and transmission crews set up cameras that would broadcast this momentous event, not only throughout Juir, but to the entire planet of Axlus.

Since no one on the planet had any experience with the arrival of an alien spacecraft, the assembled masses waited patiently for the craft to open on its own. But after several hours—and still no activity—Malor instructed his scientists to approach the craft and attempt entry. As they did, a tremendous sense of disappointment fell upon the assembled masses and the planet as a whole.

The craft was unmanned.

Yet it wasn’t empty.

Inside the alien spacecraft, a message was discovered, spoken clearly in the Juirean language. Then Malor— in a move that would later have profound repercussions for the entire planet—had the cameras shut off so that the message could be played in private for only him and his most immediate confidants.

The message was a straight-forward invitation to join what was called the Cluster Alliance. As it was explained, the Alliance consisted of six worlds at the time, and all the worlds shared in the benefits of advanced technology, medical discoveries, as well as financial prosperity through mutual trade. As a Member of the Alliance, the planet Axlus would become a brother with the other worlds in the cluster.

To Malor, it was like a dream come true. It would be under his reign that his people would escape the bonds of a single world, travel to other planets and take their rightful place among the community of civilizations. The name of Malor Ra Unnis would live forever in the annals of Juirean history.

Yet there was one caveat in the invitation: “Your world must be governed by a single authority before membership will be granted,” the voice and image of a creature called a Klin had said.

Staring at the image of the strange, silver-skinned alien, Malor could find no ambiguity in the message. From all the locations on the planet to choose from, the alien probe had landed at Juir, atop their most important military training facility, and at a time when Malor had just solidified his control of the city. To him, the message was clear: The Juireans were the Chosen Ones. The Others had designated his people and his city-state as the rightful rulers of Axlus.

The Others—these creatures called the Klin—were telling Malor it was his responsibility, indeed his duty, to unify the planet under one rule—his.

It wasn’t long before Malor began the most massive military campaign ever seen on the planet. The Juireans lashed out at all their fellow city-states, killing indiscriminately and with such viciousness as to be almost genocidal in nature and resolve. In the course of seven years, Malor the Great—as he was now called—had unified the planet Axlus under the one rule required for membership in the Alliance.

To the observers in space, the campaign Malor inflicted against his fellow natives was beyond belief. The peaceful Klin, in their naïveté, had miscalculated the meaning the Juireans would take from their message. In their experience, unification meant negotiation, treaties and a coming together for the common good, not genocide on a planetary scale. As the wars on Axlus proceeded, the Members of the Alliance became ever more appalled and disgusted with the Juireans and their barbarism and savagery. This was not the outcome the Klin had expected.

Eventually, there came a time upon Axlus when Malor the Great felt he had fulfilled the terms for membership set forth by the mysterious Klin. There was nothing left to do now but proclaim the unification … and for The Others to finally make their appearance.

It was called The Proclamation Ceremony, and it took place atop the Kacoran Plain at the sight of the first landing.

Several million Juireans had gathered atop the plain for the event, along with billions more from around the planet watching transmissions. Technicians had placed a hundred powerful spotlights around a massive stage, encircling the original Klin spacecraft and aimed into the sky. The brilliance of the event was staggering and designed to be easily seen from space—including by any observers in orbit around the planet.

With music playing and gigantic flags waving in the soft breeze, Malor the Great slowly climbed the hundred steps of the stage and took his place before the podium. Then with ceremonial sword held high above his head, his powerful voice echoed around the planet and into space, as he recited the words that would change his world—and his people—forever:

“I, Malor Ra Unnis, hereby declare this planet united, and proclaim that from now and evermore it will be known as the planet Juir!”

A tremendous cheer erupted from the gathered throng that lasted for several minutes before Malor could continue. “We are now united as a planet, and as a culture, and as the supreme ruler of Juir, I hereby demand membership in the Cluster Alliance, as promised at the time of First Contact. Come, land upon the planet Juir. We Juireans are ready to join you!”

The rest of the night was spent in celebration; music, mirth and intoxicants, and a spirit of hope and transition that had never been felt before to such a degree. The people—now the people of the planet Juir—were happier than they had ever been. A long period in their existence as a race was drawing to a close, with a bright new future about to begin. For the billions of Juireans, each held their own vision of what wonderful new future lay ahead. At that point, all the blood that had been spilled to reach this moment in time was an acceptable price to pay for the emotions they were feeling.

The Juireans knew The Others had been watching them throughout the Unification Wars, as well as the preparations for the Proclamation Ceremony. They knew, down to the depths of their souls, that the aliens would also have been preparing for their own arrival. And so they waited that night, with every Juirean across the planet knowing it was just a matter of time before The Others would drop from orbit and descend to the Kacoran Plain….

But as daybreak came—and still no arrival—the most-weary of the revelers began to disperse and head for their homes. By mid-day, the crowd of several million was down to a few thousand, including a humiliated and furious Malor the Great.

Where were the aliens? Why had they not come? Was it simply a miscalculation on his part as to when they would arrive, and that in a day or so, The Others would descend from orbit and welcome his planet into the Alliance?

Whatever the reason, the moment never came.

Within a few weeks, there was such a backlash over the entire Proclamation Ceremony and the Unification Wars that Malor feared for his ability to control the angry masses. Several opposing groups began to make noise concerning his effectiveness as a leader, and that maybe it was his role as leader that was keeping the aliens away. The growing discontent and rebellious nature of the people of Juir could no longer be tolerated, not if he was to retain his position.

Malor once again lashed out with his still-considerable military force—battle-trained from the seven-year Unification Wars—to squelch pockets of rebellion. The following three years were brutal as Malor consolidated a power base he never imagined would be necessary. As anger and hatred grew in Malor’s heart, he saw the vision of his future quickly slipping away. He would not be The Immortal Juirean—the greatest of the great—with statues and other monuments built in his honor. Instead, he would be the Beast, the Juirean who murdered millions of people—and for what?

Once again waging war against his own people—this time to maintain his throne—every waking moment became a constant reminder of his betrayal…by the Klin.

It was during his struggle to retain power that Malor began a massive propaganda campaign designed to direct as much of the pent-up anger and resentment among the populace away from him and toward The Others. Through a constant barrage of messaging, Malor told the people that it was The Others who deserved their scorn, and especially the Klin. It was they—not Malor—who should be held responsible for this insult to their world. As he explained, so many millions of Juireans had died, and all for a promise from the Klin that was never honored. It was the Klin who were responsible for this debacle, not him.

Eventually, the message began to take hold and the people of Juir acquired a seething, almost insane hatred for the Klin, a feeling that would last for thousands of years.

Within four years of the Proclamation Ceremony, Juirean scientists had managed to reverse-engineer the technology from the original space probe sent by the Klin and built the first practical interplanetary spacecraft of their own. This manned craft lifted skyward, heading for the nearest of the Alliance planets, a trip that would take seventeen months.

However, the trip was never completed.

Seeing now that the Juireans would not be denied access to space, the Alliance made direct contact with the Juirean spacecraft and then followed up with a diplomatic mission to Juir herself.

Malor had long ago anticipated this event and had developed a plan for such an eventuality: He would embrace these emissaries as friends and colleagues, rather than lash out at them with anger and violence. He would welcome them and thereby gain their trust.

Even though the Juirean race as a whole still seethed with hatred for the aliens, Malor was able to rein in the populace, at least to a point where somewhat normal relations were developed with the Alliance.

Unknown to both the Juireans and the aliens, Malor had bigger plans.

Juir was granted limited membership in the Alliance, and as such was only allowed to purchase certain low-grade technologies from the other Members and trade in select commodities. Yet unknown to the other Members, nearly every off-world mission by the Juireans consisted of around eighty-percent spies-to-diplomats. As the Juireans traveled amongst their neighboring worlds and mingled with the natives, they spirited away scientific secrets, technologies, demographic information, as well as other sensitive data of all kinds. Their agents infiltrated the highest and most-secure levels of the Alliance and returned their findings and treasures to a centralized clearinghouse that involved nearly the entire population of Juir.

In Malor’s reasoning—as well as the rest of the Juireans—the Alliance may deny them the official status of full Membership, yet the Juireans were not about to be denied what they felt was rightfully theirs…even if they had to steal it.

Malor was approaching one-hundred seventy-six standard years of age and nearing the end of his strength and usefulness, when the time finally arrived when he could put in motion his ultimate plan to exact revenge against the Alliance—and the Klin in particular.

By that time, the Alliance had grown beyond the Cluster, and now controlled nearly forty worlds in the surrounding area, mainly as the result of the Klin invention of the gravity-drive and faster-than-light travel. Although the Alliance traded with these other worlds, they still retained control within the Cluster itself and the core worlds within, with the accepted name of the planetary union changing to the Seven World Common Alliance—even though Juir was still not a full-fledged, voting Member. This slight, evident to all the other worlds in the union, humiliated the Juireans even more.

Yet Malor now saw the threads of his plan coming together….

At the time, the Alliance was finding that their lack of a substantial military force allowed the other planets in the Alliance to do pretty much as they pleased, including running roughshod over the rules set forth by the Klin and the other full Members. The Oanneans, one of the original members of the Alliance, were growing ever more impatient with the Klin and their lack of decisiveness when it came to raising an army—or at least a proficient police force—for the growing union of worlds outside the cluster.

For a number of years, the Oanneans had formed an effective voting bloc against the Klin, dividing the six original Members of the Alliance into a three-to-three stalemate on most major issues. As part of his plan, Malor began to petition the Klin for full Membership, promising them that if they were granted full voting rights, they would side with the Klin, giving them control over the Council four-to-three. He also convinced them that eventually the Oanneans would make a move against the Klin leadership. An alliance between the Klin and the Juireans would not only stop the Oanneans, but the military prowess of the Juireans could provide the security throughout the Alliance and the Union that was so sorely needed.

The Klin were receptive to the offer, even as Malor was petitioning the Oanneans with the exact same promise of breaking the voting deadlock.

Malor’s plan worked, and soon the Juireans were granted Full Membership by a vote of four-to-two.

The next part of his plan could now be set in motion.

The Juirean Security Force was expanded and dispersed throughout the Union, taking up positions at all the vital trade and power centers in the region, and especially on Klinmon, the homeworld of the Klin. Malor had convinced the powers there that if ever the Oanneans attacked, it would be against Klinmon itself, and therefore the bulk of the Juirean forces should be stationed there.

The plan worked perfectly, and within a year of being granted Full Membership, Malor was ready.

The annihilation of the Klin race took less than seven days. With a brutality borne of decades of resentment and humiliation, the Juirean forces secured every planetary population center and power facility within a matter of hours.

And then The Reckoning began.

For so many years, the animosity towards the Klin had simmered at such a high level that now the entire Juirean race was out for revenge. To the Juireans, the Klin did not deserve to survive, not after the mass killings they had caused the Juireans to commit against their own race during the Unification Wars. Not until every last Klin was exterminated would they feel fully vindicated.

And so the Juireans killed every Klin they could find. Of course, they couldn’t kill them all, not since the Klin population was now spread out on many of the worlds of the Union plus ships in transit. The Juireans knew this, but the billions they did kill helped to satiate their bloodlust.

As for the remaining Klin, they effectively disappeared, running for cover and hiding wherever they could. After The Reckoning, not a single Klin was ever seen again…at least not for another four thousand years.

On his death bed, Malor the Great, the architect of The Reckoning, had finally achieved his own particular level of vindication. It had been a long and bloody journey, but his place in the annals of history of the Juirean race was secure.

Now all the Juirean people had to do was learn how to rule an ever-growing Alliance of planets.

The Juireans were now the most powerful force in the Alliance, and soon set about consolidating their power amongst the other six worlds, plus all the other ancillary members of the Union.

The Klin gravity-drive had been perfected twenty standard years before, and as a consequence the Alliance was spreading faster than even the Juireans could control. Counterfeit technology was rampant and every planet with nuclear technology was building gravity-drives and attempting to start their own mini-empires.

In this environment, the Juireans found themselves contending with races from outside the Cluster. Some just wanted to be left alone, while others sought to supplant the Juireans as leaders of the Alliance. The wars that were fought were numerous and bloody. However, eventually the Juireans prevailed and a relative peace came to the Union and the surrounding region.

And then the malaise years began.

Throughout the subsequent four hundred years, Juir went through a succession of ineffectual leaders, with none approaching the stature or vision of a Malor the Great. More often, coups within the Juirean ranks themselves proved more deadly and destructive than any of the wars fought against the rebel Union planets. The Juireans seemed more concerned with their own internal politics and prosperity, rather than that of the Union. There was discontent within the Alliance, and some saw the beginning of the end of Juirean domination within the Cluster and beyond.

It’s often at times like these that a true visionary arises to excite and unite a population. That Juirean was Arolus Ra Un, a charismatic leader who arose out of the ranks of politics, rather than the military. He had studied Juirean society intimately and knew his race could not survive much longer constantly fighting amongst themselves—and for the past four hundred years that was all they had done.

Arolus looked back at an earlier time in Juirean history, to the time when his people had first joined the Alliance. They had been unified at that time, and spiritually were as one against the other races in the galaxy. Arolus sought to rekindle that nationalist spirit in the Juirean people.

His plan was simple: He would pit the Juirean people against all the other races in the galaxy, forcing them to unite as a single race and for a singular purpose.

In a stroke of either genius—or the ultimate gamble—Arolus nearly bankrupted the Alliance and the Juirean government to build an incredible fleet of warships, over ten thousand in total. When complete, this massive juggernaut fanned out in all directions from Juir, with the sole purpose of expanding the Juirean Empire. In Arolus’s plan, The Mass—as it was called—would conquer an untold number of worlds, either through force, intimidation or attrition, and as their empire grew the Juireans would experience an almost religious superiority over the other races in the galaxy, and an overwhelming pride in their own distinct heritage and manifest destiny.

After so many years of fighting amongst themselves, this would be what it would take to shake the Juirean people from their malaise, and to stop the killing within their own kind. Domination would be their sole purpose for existence, domination of other races.

It was an incredible gamble, yet one which changed the galaxy forever.

The Mass launched with as much fanfare as the Proclamation Ceremony, yet with starkly different results. As success followed success, the once empty coffers of the Juirean and Alliance treasuries began to fill with credits exacted from the hundreds—then thousands—of conquered worlds. This added wealth brought the ability to build more ships capable of bringing even more worlds under the domination of the Juireans. As a result, the Juirean Empire grew beyond imagination and became the first trans-galaxy Empire to ever exist. The Juireans were now the ultimate power in the known universe.

At the time of this death, Arolus Ra Un was celebrated for the success of The Mass and for bringing pride back to the Juirean race. He took his rightful place alongside that of Malor the Great, as the two greatest Juireans to have ever lived.

Yet like most things in life, Arolus’s plan produced some unintended consequences.

During the five hundred years that The Mass acquired more and more territory, the day-to-day task of governing over six thousand worlds began to take its toll on the Juireans.

Since the purpose behind The Mass had been to instill pride and power in the Juirean race, they saw fit never to delegate too much of their authority to the natives of the conquered planets. Therefore, each of these worlds required thousands—if not tens of thousands—of Juirean administrators to govern, and all backed up by a massive military juggernaut requiring millions of additional native Juireans to man.

Out of sheer necessity, Juirean females began to be segregated from societal responsibilities and dedicated exclusively to the act of procreation. Traditional mating pairs were eliminated, replaced with government-run training facilities whose sole purpose was to get as many fresh Juirean officials out into the field as possible.

In addition, the security involved in tightly controlling such a vast number of worlds was proving to be an impossible task. Even though the Juireans controlled the technology, along with the largest military force in the galaxy, wars still broke out, which called for even more native Juireans to be called into action.

As the centuries passed, it became obvious that the system was on the verge of collapse.

And then the most remarkable thing happened.

The Juireans retreated.

Almost overnight, they abandoned their most-distant outposts on thousands of planets and pulled back to the core worlds of the initial Mass, a coalition of some two-hundred forty worlds, including the massive production facilities near the Core.

The effect on the Empire was immediate and dramatic. Planet after planet began to fall back to their pre-contact levels, with many reverting to an almost iron-age existence. While some planets still retained a fair amount of scientific expertise, the Juireans had never fully divulged all the tricks of the trade. Eventually, as engineered systems began to fail and refined materials run out, even the most sophisticated of these worlds began to suffer from the absence of the Juireans.

For several hundred years after the retreat, many of the planetary systems engaged in bloody wars, either as a consequence of the quest for Juirean technology and raw materials, or as a result of colonial ambitions now set free by the absence of the Juireans. No less than a dozen tiny stellar empires sprang up, each trying to emulate the success of the Juireans. Some of these neophyte coalitions actually managed to bring about a certain degree of peace and prosperity to their regions. However, most did not, and when the envious neighboring worlds began to invade the territories of these more-successful unions, even bloodier wars exploded throughout the galaxy.

It’s often been debated whether or not the Juireans had this result in mind when they retreated. During the time of The Mass, many worlds grumbled about the Juireans, some even to the point of outright revolt. However, none of these revolts resulted in any real change in the geopolitical arrangement of the galaxy. Yet now, without the stabilizing influence of the Juireans, many of these same revolting worlds began to cry out for a return to the good old days when the Juireans ran the show.

If the Juireans did indeed plan for such an outcome, it was an act of genius, as well as incredible foresight.

The Juireans remained sequestered from the bulk of the galaxy for four-hundred years, before they eventually ventured back out. And when they did they came with a completely different approach to governing.

Since the Juireans now realized that ruling something the size of a galaxy by a single race was impractical, they decided to allow local worlds—as well as coalitions of worlds—to join them in a mutually-beneficial alliance, such as the original Seven World Common Alliance had been designed to do. In return for their allegiance—as well as a tribute paid to the Juireans—each of these worlds would be allowed to purchase the superior technology of the Juireans and to trade within the Juirean alliance. These worlds would also be able to retain as much autonomy over their own affairs as they wished, as long as it did not interfere with the operations of the Juireans.

The Juireans also offered their Members tacit protection against any of their more aggressive neighbors—even though it took a lot for the Juireans to step in personally to resolve a dispute. More often than not, they simply chose to arm the Member planets with more powerful weapons and let the planets fight the wars themselves, rather than risk spilling Juirean blood over these mostly internal squabbles. Juirean life was sacred, and more valuable than that of any other being in the galaxy, at least to the Juireans.

This new strategy for ruling a galaxy ended up being a win-win for all parties. Individual worlds could retain much of their independence and freedom, while rejoining the community of civilizations in the galaxy. And all these planets had to do was what the Juireans told them to do.

Juirean influence began to expand rapidly throughout the galaxy, and at even a faster pace than during the time of the more militaristic Mass. More and more worlds petitioned for Membership, and the Juireans soon found themselves once again masters of the known galaxy and in complete control of their destiny.

After approximately fifteen-hundred years of building an empire, the evolution of Juirean control over the galaxy was complete. Growing from the Seven World Common Alliance and the Union, followed by The Mass and the Juirean Empire, to now the Juirean Expansion, a point had been reached where a relative peace and stability settled over the galaxy.

The period of stability lasted for almost twenty-five hundred years beyond the introduction of the Expansion—up to the point the Juireans encountered the Human race.

As Overlord Yan’wal drew his thoughts to a close, he agonized over the uncertainty of the path on which he was embarking. The Juirean people had come a long way from their humble beginnings on an obscure planet in a small stellar cluster to become rulers of the known galaxy. And now an upstart—an outlier from the Far Arm—could threaten it all.

The Humans were not of the Expansion, and as such, did not owe any allegiance to the Juireans. Their civilization, political structure and technology all came from someplace else. Yes, they were being helped by the Klin, but to what extent? That information was in conflict. Could they be a totally self-sufficient industrial and technological power in their own right? Could they control an empire of their own at the far end of the galaxy? There was just so little known about the Far Arm that any guess on his part would be purely that, a guess. And Senior Overlord Yan’wal did not operate on guesses, at least not under normal circumstances.

But what else could he do? And what other choice did he have?

As Yan’wal had previously expressed to his staff, he truly believed the Juirean race was about to encounter the greatest threat to their existence since before the days of Malor the Great. He had no choice.

The Human race had to be destroyed.

The end of the sample of

The War of Pawns

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Human for Hire Series

Human For Hire

Human for Hire (2) - Soldier of Fortune

Human for Hire (3) — Devil’s Gate

The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

Raiders of the Shadow

War of Attrition

Secondary Protocol

Lifeforce

Battle Formation

Allied Command

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

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