Cain’s Crusaders

The Human Chronicles Saga - Book #6

T.R. Harris

Tom Harris Creations, LLC

THC

Tom Harris Creations

Copyright 2013

by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

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Novels by T.R. Harris

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

REV Warriors Series

Rev

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

REV Warriors Part 2

REV: Revelations

REV: Resolve

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

The Human Chronicles Continues

Adam Cain is an Alien with an Attitude

Prologue

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

Epilogue

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Continues

Adam Cain is an Alien with an Attitude

Prologue

The large, geodesic dome stood out prominently against the stark, uniform greyness of the moon’s airless surface. It sat conspicuously in the center of a deep crater created a billion years earlier as the host planet formed, drawing in countless meteorites from the surrounding space and impacting the surface with devastating ferocity. The high, jagged prominence lining the walls of the crater cast long, black shadows into its bowl, shadows that were just now beginning to kiss the artificial lines of the lighted dome.

Wesselian Velsum stood next to the three-inch thick glass wall of the dome, observing a cloud of dust rising from the base of the crater, disturbed by the shuttle that was touching down a hundred yards away. A small transport cart was waiting near the landing zone and once it began to bounce its way across the bleak surface and back towards the shelter, Velsum turned from his vantage point and walked the short distance to the dome’s solitary airlock.

As he waited for the arrival of the dignitary, Velsum scanned the high crest of mountains lining the crater once again, and even though he could not see the seven mounted-flash cannon hidden there, he knew they would now be aimed directly at the shuttle … just in case. The Klin were not ones to easily forget.

Velsum did his best to control his emotions for the upcoming meeting, but it was very difficult and much to ask.

Ten years had passed since the Klin last had any contact with the Kracori and within that time many things had changed throughout the galaxy, none to the advantage of either race. What this meeting could do to remedy that situation – if anything – would soon be revealed. And if the Kracori had nothing to offer the Klin, then it would be here that the first small measure of revenge against their former allies would be exacted.

The reason Nomar Polimic – the new Langril of the Kracori – reached out to Velsum for this meeting was cryptic at best, and many of his advisors cautioned against having the meeting. Yet Velsum was also new at his position as Pleabaen of the Klin and was anxious to make his mark. If that meant a potentially violent confrontation with the Kracori leader, then that would be a legacy he would carry with him throughout his term. In the eyes of many, that would not be a negative, but rather a badge of honor.

Soon the airlock door swung inward and the tall, gray, angular figure of the Kracori Langril entered the vast central chamber. The habitat had only recently been erected, and exclusively for this meeting, existing as it did in a remote star system near the upper reaches of the galaxy and in a region of space that was now officially claimed as Human Territory. The irony of the location – as it related to the participants – was inescapable, and something Velsum designed himself. He was sure the significance would not be lost on the Kracori.

With a practiced and confident countenance, Nomar Polimic approached Velsum and stopped, offering not a bow or greeting of any kind. The Klin, as a habit, would perform a small bow when greeting their kind or dignities of other races. The Kracori, however, never developed such mundane habits. Velsum chose to let this slight go by without penalty, at least until he determined the tone of the meeting.

“Langril Nomar Polimic it is an honor to greet you,” Velsum said with his cursory bow, sure that his insincere timbre would be lost on the gray alien. The Klin had always been more diplomatic than the Kracori, who chose intimidation and bravado over more subtle forms of interaction. “It has been a long while since our two races have met personally.”

Polimic nodded curtly. “Yes, it has been, Velsum.”

The lack of acknowledgement of his title and full name caused Velsum to tense. This meeting will indeed try my patience.

Even though he was new to his role as Pleabaen, Velsum was not new to interaction with the Kracori; the two races had been intertwined in purpose for nearly fifteen hundred years. Yet it was only now, in his role as Pleabaen, that the Kracori’s lack of manners and protocol affected him personally. This meeting was not getting off to a good start.

“Please follow me to the meeting table … I assume a table will be acceptable, and not a sitting area of sorts?”

“A table will be fine,” the Kracori grunted.

He followed Velsum to the center area of the dome where a smallish conference table was set-up. The surrounding area lining the glass wall of the dome was filled with atmosphere modules, a food preparation center and half a dozen small sleeping quarters. The Klin arrived on the moon a week before and constructed the shelter, providing a neutral location for the meeting. Now a small contingent of Klin occupied the settlement – not counting the twenty representatives of the Corrum race who manned the flash cannon. Those creatures were housed in a separate underground bunker unseen from orbit and undetectable to scans. If this meeting were a ruse of any kind, the Kracori would not leave unscathed.

Once both the Pleabaen of the Klin and the Langril of the Kracori were seated, ushers brought drinks and small plates of appropriate appetizers for each. Velsum sampled the drink, while the Kracori leader sat straight-backed and stone-face staring at the Klin leader.

Finally, Velsum had had enough. Even though the Klin race was not known for fits of temper, the condescending and arrogant demeanor of the Kracori was too much for him to bear.

“What is the reason for this meeting, Polimic?” he asked, now dispensing with any official decorum. “It has been ten years since your people betrayed the Klin race and murdered several thousand of our kind. You must know the scars from that betrayal still show. Since there are so few of us, and our breeding takes longer than most other races, the loss of even those few thousand Klin has had a catastrophic impact on us as a people.” Velsum took two quick breaths to calm his nerves before continuing. “Agreeing to meet with you has been a risky proposition on my part as the new Pleabaen of the Klin. Since my predecessor succumbed to his long suffering injuries caused by the Humans, we have been very cautious to trust anyone but ourselves.”

Velsum was surprised to see the Kracori blink rapidly several times – a break in his stoic defiance? And when he began to speak, the Pleabaen was shocked at the words he heard.

“I admit that the actions taken by the Kracori at the conclusion of the Juirean war were inappropriate, at least in hindsight. But the Klin are not without responsibility for the circumstances both our races must now endure. We are outlaws, as decreed by the bastard Humans, unable to show ourselves anywhere in the galaxy for fear of reprisal.”

Velsum nodded. “I agree, hindsight is a valuable tool in analyzing past behavior. I am sure a history lesson is not required for the two of us, yet sometimes just to speak the words aloud can help bring perspective to prior events.

“Yes, the Klin underestimated the Humans during our plan for revenge against the Juireans. We may have been naïve to assume we could control such a violent and conniving race such as them. It appears now – in hindsight – as if the Humans may be the personification of treachery, so our strategy to use them as bait against the Juireans was more transparent to them than it would have been to a more civilized race. And of course, the introduction of the rogue element to the equation – that of Adam Cain and his activities – only hastened the Human’s discovery of our ultimate plan.

“And yet, the revolt by the Kracori against the Klin had an even more deleterious impact on our ultimate strategy. How can you justify that, Nomar Polimic? You betrayed us and squandered the generations of trust that had developed between our two races.”

Through the expression on the Kracori’s face, Velsum could see that the grey alien was attempting to control his own temper. He did not care. The Klin had never had the opportunity to vent their true feelings to the Kracori since the events of ten years prior. Velsum’s tirade was a culmination of those emotions, conveyed on behalf of his people.

Finally, the Kracori spoke: “It is regrettable that the Klin plans for galactic domination did not come to fruition, yet maybe you should have been more careful, both in your selection of the Human race as your surrogates and in your cavalier treatment of the Kracori. Why were you not able to detect that my people might take issue with our predetermined role as your seconds? You just assumed that we would accept direction from the Klin – to be lower to you in the hierarchy of your new Expansion – once the Juireans were vanquished, even though it was to be our blood that would be spilled, not yours. Yet your ultimate mistake was not realizing that the Legend of the Kracori people is stronger than your own. We were meant to rule, not to be second to anyone.”

“Polimic, it was the Klin who provided the means for your race to be considered part of the ruling class of the galaxy. Even though you apparently cannot see it as such, we bestowed a great honor upon the Kracori. For thousands of years, the Klin searched the galaxy for races who could partner with us against the Juireans. Your race rose to the top. As I said, it was an honor to be selected.”

The veins in the Kracori’s neck began to pulsate. “Even now, the arrogance of the Klin still amazes me. You selected us, and therefore we would naturally feel honored? Legend is of paramount importance to the Kracori, and our Legend does not allow us to be selected, to be judged and analyzed by others. It is we who do the selecting. This is what you failed to see through the blindness of your own overinflated sense of superiority.”

Velsum glanced to his right and caught the eye of another Klin standing a discrete distance away. This was his security officer, and a simple nod on Velsum’s part would cause a level-one flash bolt to be sent into the back of the Kracori. This savage must realize he’s in a vulnerable position, having arrived here alone, unarmed and without escort. What is his purpose?

“Polimic, all that you say may be true, as are my words, as well. It has been ten years since the events occurred of which we are obsessed. The past cannot be changed. So why have you sought this audience? It could not have been just so the two of us could express our frustrations with one another.”

Velsum could see the Kracori regain his calm. That was something that had always been vaguely obscene about the Kracori; since their emotions were always on display their thoughts were easy to read.

“That is true, Pleabaen. The past cannot be changed, and I have requested this meeting so we can discuss our future.”

Polimic turned silent to let the impact of what he said sink in. It apparently was significant, at least to the Kracori.

“Continue; however, I was not aware our two races still had a future together.”

“That is yet to be determined,” said the Kracori. “Velsum, you must realize that our destinies are now equally governed by the whims of the bastard Humans? Our races share the same distinction – that of outcasts from the affairs of the galaxy – and all thanks to the tiny pink beings.”

“Agreed, Polimic,” Velsum said. “But the Klin have been a renegade race for four thousand years, hiding first from the Juireans and now from the Humans. We are accustomed to this existence, and as always, we have long-range plans underway which will eventually remedy this situation. Such planning gives the Klin hope; it is our way.”

“Precisely, Velsum, but even at the moment of your greatest triumph – when the Juireans were destroyed on their homeworld – you were not able to celebrate that victory.”

“Because of the betrayal of the Kracori!”

“Let us take a moment to study the reality of the events that took place at that time. Yes, the Kracori had revolted against the overbearing control of the Klin. And yet, just as the Kracori were preparing to end the Human threat once and for all through our nuclear bombardment of their homeworld, the Klin intervened. This left the Human forces intact, and subsequently, they drove us from Juir and assumed control of the Expansion for themselves. Then to add even more insult to our loss of Legend, the Humans relinquished control of the Expansion and left, giving up voluntarily the one thing both of our races covet the most. However, if the Klin had allowed us to irradiate Earth at the time, none of that would have transpired, and the political landscape of the galaxy would look far different than it does today.”

“Yes, with the Kracori fully ensconced as its rulers.”

“Possibly, but remember the Kracori and the Klin had been working together for many generations towards that very goal, maybe not with the Kracori in the lead position, but at least with one of us there. And who knows, by this time we may have worked out a partnering agreement with the Klin, leading to a cooperative form of leadership. On this point we will never know what would have been the consequences of Earth’s destruction. But at the very least one thing would have been for certain: both our races would not be cowering from the Humans like some frightened clan of bothrats.”

Polimic paused and took a long swallow of the beverage in front of him. When he looked at Velsum again, it was with a fierce intensity that made him uncomfortable. “Pleabaen, it is time for the Kracori and Klin to renew our alliance. Our goals are the same, and the means for reaching them lie along the same path. As I have mentioned – and you are well aware – the Legend of my race has been greatly damaged by the humiliation suffered at the hands of the Humans. The only way to regain our Legend will be the complete destruction of the Human race as a factor in galactic affairs. Once this is accomplished, then both the Kracori and the Klin can rise up out of the shadows and claim our rightful positions within the Expansion. At the time of the war, the Kracori had only just revealed our presence to the galaxy. Since then, we have become a pariah, and without an established past to help mitigate our humiliation. And the Klin – for so long running and hiding for something that was never your fault – you have come so close to being able to reveal yourselves as the true founders of civilization throughout the galaxy. Now you are just like the Kracori. That is why we have a future together, Velsum. It is a future of mutual benefit, of mutual redemption.”

The Pleabaen was stunned. He had never expected the Kracori to be able to mount such an impassioned and effective argument. And besides the efficacy of his presentation, Polimic was also right. The futures of both the Klin and the Kracori were intertwined, and the resolution to their current and past tribulations lay in the elimination of the Human race.

Velsum, for his part as leader of the Klin, was fully aware that the fate of his race was now at the mercy of the Humans. That was why plans were currently underway that would resolve this issue permanently – yet in the distant future.

Traditionally, the Klin were a patient people … or at least they had been. Having hidden from their Juirean pursuers for thousands of years, the process of living on the run had become second nature to them. And yet the Kracori was right: They had come so close to having that part of their history come to an end. Even now, grumblings among the scattered Klin population were calling for more immediate and proactive action on the part of the leadership. The reality of assuming their role as the true leaders of the galaxy had been so palpable, that anything less than that now was barely acceptable to the majority of the Klin.

Velsum was part of this new movement among the Klin. He was younger than most of the past Pleabaens, and therefore shared the impatience of the young. Having the Kracori as allies once again could provide the planners within the Klin leadership with more options….

But could the Kracori be trusted? Perhaps not, but in light of the Kracori’s current situation, the overture was understandable.

“Your argument makes sense, Polimic. I must admit that since coming so close to fulfilling our ultimate destiny, we Klin have grown impatient for results.”

“As have the Kracori.”

“So, what is your specific proposal?”

“Simply that we begin to work together again, but this time focused exclusively on the destruction of Earth.”

“The Humans have now branched out to other worlds within the Far Arm and are no longer a one-world race. Their mini-empire now counts thirty-nine members.”

“And that is precisely why I have come to you, Velsum,” Polimic said. “Even though the Klin are an outlaw race, just as the Kracori, you still maintain an elaborate network of spies and surrogates; you are aware of what is happening throughout the galaxy. Unfortunately, we Kracori are not as well-informed. We had always relied on the Klin to provide us with such information.”

“Yes, our contacts are still intact, yet not as numerous as before. We cannot count planetary governments as our allies any longer, but rather on individuals within those governments. No government wants to risk suffering the wrath of the Humans for assisting us.”

“Even so, your network is better than ours.”

Velsum shook his head. “If I agreed to this, there will be resistance and concern among many of my kind. We are so few that the number you killed during your revolt has scarred the Klin immeasurably. They will ask if you can be trusted.”

“That is understandable, Velsum. But you must assure them that our new alliance will initially be aimed only at the elimination of the Human race. After that, we will decide what is best for our respective species. With the destruction of Earth, we will both be free of the cloak the Humans have draped over our people. We will be free once again to enter the universe and to fulfill our destinies, be they together or separately.”

Velsum was excited. This was not what he had expected to be the outcome of this meeting. As a matter of fact, he was surprised to find that the Kracori Langril was still alive this far into the conversation. Then he noticed the Kracori lean in closer to the table, a stern look on his face.

“One more thing, Pleabaen.”

Concerned, Velsum matched Polimic’s expression. “And what is that?”

“You may not be aware, but at the end of our occupation of Juir, the former Langril allowed a small group of Humans to immigrate to Elision. They were led by a former associate of the Klin, Nigel McCarthy.”

“Yes, I am very aware of Nigel McCarthy. It was his escape from Marishal that caused the injuries to the former Pleabaen, from which he eventually succumbed. However, I was not aware you had allowed him to live on your homeworld.”

“Unfortunately, he was. He served as a consultant for a short time before essentially being forgotten by our government.”

“But there is more.”

“Yes. Approximately three standard years ago, McCarthy and his fellow Humans escaped from Elision, and they have not been heard from since.”

Velsum tensed. He knew where this conversation was headed. “He knows the location of your planet.”

“Yes.”

“But it has been three years. One would think that if he had revealed the location to his fellow Humans they would have responded by now.”

“That was our thought as well, and for all this time we’ve watched the skies and waited, expecting the worst. The strain on my people has become intolerable, all because of this one Human creature. It is obvious he has not revealed our location to Earth; it also means he could do so at any moment.”

“Then he must be eliminated as a prerequisite to any of our future dealings.”

Velsum saw relief sweep over the Kracori’s face. “I am happy to hear you say that Velsum, and that is where the Klin can come to our immediate assistance. As mentioned before, we do not have eyes or ears outside our nebulae. We have no means of locating McCarthy.”

“Then we will find him for you, however it will be up to the Kracori to dispatch him. The Klin do not engage in such overt activities.”

“Agreed! We Kracori will welcome the opportunity to do battle once more; we did so enjoy it before. We will bathe in its glory again, and the killing of Nigel McCarthy will be a fine preamble to our elimination of all the Humans of Earth.”

Chapter 1

Adam Cain hated the smell of alien…

…and the creature sitting across the table from him was certainly no exception. Even though he’d never witnessed the smelly beasts consuming large amounts of fish – or any fish-like substance – they always seemed to reek of that pungent, rotting stench that often sent Adam’s throat and stomach to war with each other.

And besides the smell, the Yakilian crime boss was also spitting some greenish liquid from his mouth as he spoke. Occasionally, a long tongue would snake out of his mouth and wipe the fluid from his elongated chin, and each time he did another gust of his foul-smelling breath would be sent Adam’s way. Also, the beast’s yellow eyes looked more jaundiced than intimidating. And if that weren’t enough, when the creature spoke, he revealed a complete lack of teeth, per se, but rather a set of blackened corrugated membranes used in the chewing and grinding of whatever food the thing consumed.

Yes, the Yakilian was truly disgusting, yet Adam Cain was right where he needed to be, seated before the alien crime lord, strapped to a chair, his hands bound securely behind him – and facing death in the eye….

* * *

As the senior agent for the Force-One Enforcement Division of the New Expansion, Adam and his partner, Riyad Tarazi, had arrived on the planet Yaki three days earlier, tasked with seeking an audience with the leader of the sector’s illegal intoxicant trade, a native named Jakian Foruka. The Yakilian had recently been making overt moves into the neighboring Sector Four, a region of space still loyal to the New Expansion and it administrator, Kroekus of Silea. The potent drugs Foruka flooded the region with had already killed over a thousand people on the bordering worlds, and the locals there had appealed to Kroekus to do something about it.

The New Expansion was at a fragile point in its existence, as Kroekus and his allies sought to rebuild the once galaxy-wide empire back to its former glory. Since the collapse of Juirean rule twelve years before, a slight majority of the eight thousand worlds that had once made up the former Juirean Expansion had gone their separate ways, resorting back to their pre-contact independence and vulnerabilities. Even though the New Expansion still counted nearly four thousand worlds as Members, the chaos of the independents was beginning to spread across borders, with rampant lawlessness and disregard for the sovereignty of others tested on a daily basis. At this critical point in the reconstruction of the Expansion, Kroekus was obligated to take action against Foruka and his drug dealers, if only to show the galaxy that the New Expansion had the backs of their loyal members.

This was where Adam’s Force-One operatives came into play. With the authority to go anywhere within the realm of the old Expansion, Cain’s Crusaders – as they called themselves – could dispense with diplomacy and protocol and use whatever means necessary to accomplish their missions. Adam called this blanket authority a License to Kill, however in this case, it was a license to kill aliens.

Cain’s Crusaders were often called in when diplomacy failed or when there was no central government or other authority causing the problems. Adam’s team specialized in delivering messages, and the message of the day was: ‘Don’t go up against the New Expansion or else terrible things will happen to you.’

Jakian Foruka was about to have that message delivered personally by Adam Cain.

* * *

Like any self-respecting crime boss, Foruka was hidden behind several layers of security, so when Adam and Riyad first landed upon the planet, it didn’t take them long to realize that finding Foruka could be a problem. By traditional means, it could take days, if not weeks, and all the while the crime lord could get wind of their inquiries and flee, wasting their time and effort.

The Force-One agents needed another plan.

So, after spending three days scouting out several of the criminal’s more well-known warehouses, Adam decided on a more direct approach: He simply walked into one of Foruka’s warehouses and demanded to see the boss.

This particular warehouse was in the Yaki capital city of Mufoon, a sprawling, ugly conglomeration of brick and concrete buildings seeming to infect several radically steep hills like a malignant tumor on the land. A river carved a steep quarter-mile-wide canyon between the hills effectively separating the disgusting part of Mufoon from the truly- disgusting section. The warehouse Adam entered was located on the truly-disgusting side.

Inside the building Adam found over forty Yaki natives – Adam figured he’d call them natives, since it was obvious he was the only alien in the warehouse – and within moments of his arrival, they produced flash weapons of every make and model, apparently out of thin air.

One of the Yakilians approached him – an underboss or capo of some kind. He towered over Adam, as did most aliens, and stared down with sickly yellow eyes. Other natives rushed in to disarmed him, taking from him his Smith & Wesson Model 629 .44-Magnum with Hoghunter Laser Grip – not his usual weapon of choice, but one selected specifically for this mission.

The towering native asked Adam why he was there. He was honest, stating that he was from the New Expansion and had a message for Foruka from the Administrator. The Yakilian then placed the barrel of an MK-17 bolt-launcher against Adam’s forehead. “You will reveal to me this message – now.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Adam said, calmly meeting the alien’s glare. “This message is for Foruka only.”

“Then I will kill you now.”

“And when your boss learns that an emissary from the New Expansion came with a personal message for him, and you did not allow it to be delivered, how do you think he will react? There will be others who come after me; you will not be able to hide this information from Foruka.”

Uncertainty filled the alien’s eyes, and after a bout of face-covering bloviating, the underboss eventually had Adam bound, blindfolded and placed in the back of a transport to be taken before Jakian Foruka.

After about half an hour, Adam could hear the sounds outside the transport begin to echo off nearby walls as the vehicle entered another structure. Still blindfolded and bound, Adam was perp-walked into the inter-sanctum of Foruka’s criminal headquarters. The blindfold was removed and two Yakilians placed straps across his chest and legs, securing him to a wooden chair.

Adam’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light inside the room, and he found he was sitting across a desk from a boney-looking creature with two curved horns sprouting from his forehead. Despite the horns, Foruka looked more like an emaciated ram than a devil, and Adam gave himself a mental pat on the back. I love it when a plan comes together…

* * *

. Adam met the Foruka’s alien stare evenly, attempting to look slightly bored with the whole affair. Just a little more prodding and this smelly bastard should be ready….

“For such a powerful criminal, I was expecting a more imposing creature,” Adam said. “You’re not much more than a goat that can talk.”

“I do not know why you are trying to provoke me, or even for that matter, who you are?” the creature said, his voice popping out of his throat like bubbles from a pipe. The translation bug imbedded behind Adam’s right ear efficiently converted the Yakilian language to English, but it could not disguise the gurgling sounds coming from the alien. “The fact that you so boldly walked into one of my most important distribution centers proclaiming to have a message from Kroekus tells me that you are simply a courier and therefore expendable once the message is delivered, hence you gain no advantage by being provocative. So, tell me, what is this message you carry?”

Adam grinned widely. “Yeah, about that – I lied. There is no message. It just seemed like the quickest way to meet you face-to-face.”

Foruka narrowed his eyes and stared at Adam for a long moment before speaking. “You are truly insane to try such a ruse. Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Cain, Adam Cain,” he replied in his best James Bond accent – the Sean Connery version, the only one that really counted.

Foruka didn’t pick up on the significance of the accent, but the name did evoke a reaction. “Adam Cain? I do not believe it. I have heard of this being, but you cannot be he.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is a Human, and all the Humans have left Expansion space.”

“Apparently not all of us.”

Foruka shook his head – at least that gesture was something the two races had in common. “You are using this name in an attempt to intimidate me, but you cannot possibly be Adam Cain. He is a great person within the Human clan and he would not be out here on Yaki – and certainly not foolish enough to arrive without backup or entourage.”

Adam smiled – a large, toothy grin that he knew would be a sign of defiance and challenge in alien culture. “I don’t need backup, especially not against an inferior creature such as you.”

He watched the anger grow in the Yakilian, an emotion that caused the alien’s eyes to water to such a degree that Adam thought he was crying. But he knew better; Adam had done his research.

Foruka bit his bottom lip, trying to restrain himself. “With no message to deliver nor any force supporting you, I do not understand your blatant arrogance,” Foruka said, with almost pity in his voice. He looked down at Adam’s .44-Magnum resting on the table separating them, placed there by the tall Yakilian Adam had first met at the other warehouse. This creature now stood to Adam’s left the anger apparent on his face, infuriated that Adam had lied to him to gain access to Foruka. If Adam hadn’t had other plans for the natives in the room, he was sure Foruka’s lieutenant would have hell to pay for allowing this imposter to get this close to his boss.

“You may be a Human, or you may not,” Foruka said, “but you have indeed arrived bearing a strange weapon.” He reached down to pick up the shiny silver, long-barrel handgun with the wooden grip. Adam maintained his challenging smile as he saw the shock cross Foruka’s face when he realized just how incredibly heavy the weapon was – at least for a Yakilian. The alien tried to hide his surprise and discomfort while barely managing to lift the gun with one hand, his arm trembling slightly from the effort.

“Why do you carry such a cumbersome weapon?” Foruka asked. “An MK is much lighter and much more advanced. Projectile weapons are far too primitive to be effective.” The alien pressed the only button on the firearm – the one to the laser sight contained in the grip, and Adam’s smile spread a little wider.

Instantly, Foruka noticed the green dot appear on the wall across the room. His eyes widened and the bony plates above them lifted. “Ah, this is indeed a primitive weapon; you must use manual sighting rather than computer targeting.” The crime lord looked to his right, at his lieutenant. “What do you make of this, Hicun? What are we to do with this beast now that we know he carries no official message and has lied to gain entry?”

Foruka’s lieutenant maintained a stern expression, determined to salvage the situation if he could. “If this is indeed Adam Cain, then the one who kills him would be feared and respected throughout the galaxy. I say kill him, Foruka; kill him now before he has a chance to cause further trouble. No creature will challenge you after this deed is done.”

“Yes! Kill him now, that is a good idea – and with his own weapon!” The Yakilian lifted the Smith & Wesson a little higher, struggling against the heavy weight of the firearm and its awkward balance to place the dancing green dot of the laser sight on Adam’s forehead and hold it steady. Finally, he gave up the pretense and brought his other hand up to help support the weapon. He placed his finger on the trigger.

“Oh please, don’t kill me, you … you scunium!” Adam maintained his smile as he chanted the Yakilian word for asshole. The anger grew even more in the alien, and Adam saw him begin to squeeze the trigger. Past the safety point, the trigger became stiffer; Foruka struggled more, before finally placing a finger from his other hand on the trigger as well.

Anytime now, Adam thought. He stretched out his smile even wider, baring his teeth. He continued to stare at the crime lord with a fierce intensity, challenging him.

Finally the trigger depressed – and all hell broke loose in the room!

First, the explosion from the shot came with a deafening boom, intensified by the confined space of the office, something aliens were not used to when compared to the softer poof of their flash weapons. Next, the recoil threw the massive handgun back toward Foruka, compressing the bones in his right forearm to such a degree that they shattered, exploding outward at the weakest point and penetrating the skin in a dozen places with splinters of thin, Yakilian bone.

Foruka dropped the weapon on the desk and collapsed into his chair, not even screaming out in pain as the shock of his injuries overwhelmed him. He held what remained of his arm in his left hand, staring at it with impossibly wide eyes, his right forearm now forming a ninety-degree angle to the rest of his limb. And there was blood everywhere.

Next, Adam stood up, breaking the thin wooden chair into kindling as he did so. He tore the bindings from his hands and then reached across the table to recover his weapon. Aiming to his right, he let loose with another deafening shot to the chest of the alien guard standing next to the table, a creature who had been stunned into inaction by the noise and bloody consequence of Foruka firing the S&W. Following that, Adam whipped the gun under his left arm and shot the other Yakilian – Hicun – in the face. The hollow-point, .44-caliber round passed effortlessly through the thin skin of the alien and then expanded outward, literally blowing away the entire skull of the creature. As Hicun fell to the floor, Adam was amused to see that only a flimsy – yet perfectly formed – yellow-tinted mask of the alien’s face remained.

Adam brought the gun up to his lips and blew away imaginary smoke from the barrel. “Yippee ki-yay,” he chanted.

For his part, Foruka was completely unaware of the death of his two guards, still engrossed in the shattered remains of his arm and muttering to himself in words the translator could not decipher. Adam brought the weapon up and sighted down the barrel at the alien’s head.

“By the way, Foruka, I am Adam Cain, not that you’re going to live long enough to remember. Hasta la vista, baby!” then he pulled the trigger.

Now that the deed was done, Adam knew it would take the other natives in the complex a few more seconds to react to the unfamiliar sounds coming from inside the office, but after that it would be swarming with armed and angry Yakilians.

In the two-thirds gravity of Yaki, Adam ran quickly toward the outer side of the office, identified by windows set high up in the wall, letting in the pale yellow light of the Yaki star. He lowered his shoulder, and without slowing down, barreled into the wall like a fullback hitting a defensive line, breaking through it with little effort.

Again, Adam’s pre-mission research had paid off, revealing to him that most Yakilian structures were built with vertical supports spaced at four-foot intervals. And even if he had been unlucky enough to encounter one of the wall studs, with the lower density of the wooden fibers on the planet, they would have easily shattered, just as did the covering wallboard. The outer skin of the building was made of a porous, concrete-like material and that, too, crumbled easily as Adam exploded through the wall and out into the open.

However, what Adam had not counted on was that he would be three stories up when he broke through the wall.

He exploded through the side of a building that sat on the slope of a steep hill and found he was flying through the air, arching toward the face of another building across a narrow alleyway. He managed to turn his back just before impacting the red stone surface, and even though a portion of the wall cracked and caved in slightly, the impact still knocked the air from his lungs, stunning him temporarily. But now he was falling, and even in two-thirds gravity, it was still at a pretty good clip.

On the surface of Yaki, his normal 180-pound frame weighed in at only 120-pounds, so he braced his muscles for a landing on the concrete surface of the alley. He hit the street and rolled, lessening the impact of the landing on his knees. When he stood, he was uninjured and in an alleyway that formed an artery between two busy streets. The Smith & Wesson was still held firmly in his right hand, the green dot of the laser sight dancing erratically on the wall of the neighboring building. Adam smiled, and with his thumb turned off the radical-misaligned targeting laser.

From experience, Adam knew that most aliens used computer targeting for their hand-held flash weapons, so he had gambled that Foruka would instinctively rely on the laser sight of the S&W, rather than use his own judgment when aiming the weapon. Therefore, Adam had set the sight a good eight inches or more off-center. Provoking Foruka to use his own weapon against him had been an integral – yet risky – part of his plan, yet it had worked flawlessly.

Adam’s research had also revealed that the Yakilian bone structure was much weaker than that of a Human, and that it probably couldn’t withstand the recoil from the massive .44-caliber round. He had been right about that, too, and the results were even better than he’d anticipated.

For Adam Cain, Human-Superman, this was Mission Accomplished.

Now all he had to do was find a way to get off the planet….

* * *

Adam heard the panicked voices of Yakilians coming through the gaping hole in the warehouse wall he’d just made, and when he looked up he saw a horned-headed alien emerge and aim an MK flash weapon in his general direction. It would take the targeting computer of the weapon about a second to lock onto his position, so in the interim, Adam aimed the .44 at his attacker and dropped him with accurate, canon-like blast to the forehead.

That should make them think twice about sticking their heads through there, Adam thought. This is kinda like a game of whack-an-alien!

But just then, he heard the sound of dozens of footfalls on the concrete surface at street level coming from both ends of the alley; he was trapped, and with only two rounds remaining in the cylinder.

Adam reached behind his left ear and felt for the small round bump under the skin; he pressed it and heard a faint click as the communicator was activated.

“Riyad, where am I?” he spoke into the alleyway.

“I have you about twenty miles out – I’m on my way.”

“Better hurry, they have me trapped in an alley and I’m low on ammo.”

“Two minutes. Do you see any place to land?”

All Adam could see were the steep walls of the surrounding buildings hugging the hills in every direction, yet none were over five or six stories tall. “Just buildings, so come in on gravity. You’ll be able to take off the roofs on all the ones around me.”

“You’re saying we’re going for a gravity extraction?” Adam could almost hear the smile in Riyad Tarazi’s voice through the communicator.

“We practiced this; it should work.”

“It’s your call, my friend. I envy the ride – deploying netting now.”

* * *

The alleyway was devoid of even the most ubiquitous of dumpster or storage crate, leaving Adam out in the open and vulnerable. Foruka’s Yakilians had arrived at the opposite ends of the alley and sent a few un-targeted flash bolts around the corners and in his general direction. As it was with nearly all aliens, they were terrible shots without a targeting computer, so Adam simply sent a shot in the direction of the nearest corner to drive them back. Once Riyad appeared overhead in the Phoenix, the destruction wrought by the use of a gravity drive within city limits would serve as the best cover he could hope for. But in the meantime, the aliens had confiscated his additional ammo and now all he had left was a single round before his impressive weapon became just a heavy piece of stainless steel. Even with that, if the natives came close enough, it would serve as a very effective hammer.

Just then, Adam heard a sharp crackling sound coming from the left end of the alley. His eyes widened, as a sparkling ribbon of white-hot electricity suddenly began tumbling towards him, like a ten-foot long snake suffering from an angry epileptic seizure. The electric snake rolled down the alley, closing the distance rapidly while Adam watched in horror as the twists and contortions of the deadly weapon were impossible to gauge. It was coming right at him and he had no place to hide.

Damn this alien universe and their fascination with electricity!

At the last moment, Adam chose the only path of escape he could think of … and he jumped straight into the air. In the lighter gravity of Yaki, he reached nearly ten feet in his leap, and the whipping coil swung under him, missing his dangling feet by mere inches. He dropped back to the surface and watched the coil continue to roll away and exit onto the main street at the other end of the alley.

One of Foruka’s Yakilian gangsters came around the corner of the building where the coil had originated, armed with a flash rifle and confident that the electric snake had cleared out the alleyway. Adam greeted him with the final round from the S&W. The bullet struck the goat-faced creature in the right shoulder, severing the arm from his body and throwing the rest of the bloody corpse back into the rush of other Yakilians beginning to round the corner. They all fell back, diving for cover, as the severed arm continued to spasm on the ground, a gruesome reminder of the awesome stopping power of the Smith & Wesson.

Riyad’s arrival in the Phoenix was none too soon … and impossible to miss.

To his relief, Adam looked up to see the delta-shaped spacecraft begin its descent toward the surface. As it dropped closer to the tops of the buildings, loud rumbling and ripping sounds could be heard as the roofs began to be torn from their supports, drawn inexorably upwards toward the series of gravity singularities forming far above the rapidly approaching spacecraft. In a matter of seconds, the contest between the alien-built structures and the gravity-wells was lost, and massive sections of roof, walls and interiors began to fly skyward in a reverse downpour of debris. The alleyway was quickly filled with clouds of dust drawn in from the surrounding area, dust that soon began to form into torrents of tornadic columns reaching up to and beyond the spacecraft.

Adam could feel the air being sucked from his lungs, as well as the tug of gravity from above. He crouched down, and with a powerful burst from his legs, jumped upwards into the air. With an assist from the ship’s gravity well, he gained altitude quickly, easily reaching the third or fourth stories of the buildings on either side of the alley, their own upper stories now completely torn off.

But it still wasn’t enough – he began to fall back toward the surface. “More power, Riyad!” he cried out, watching the surface of the alley speed toward him.

And then, when about ten feet from the surface, he felt a greater tug in the opposite direction. As he began to climb again, he struggled to gain his breath, but soon found there was thicker and dirtier air all around him.

The bottom of the large spaceship grew rapidly as Adam was pulled upward. He could also see the large, circular form of the netting placed at the exact center of the ship, its own surface pulled taunt and concaved against the pull of the gravity well. If he was to survive, he would have to hit the net dead on.

Adam was carried upward in a black cloud of debris, and then just as he approached the netting, he saw a Yakilian off to his right who had also been lifted by the gravity-well. The alien was staring at him with the most startled look Adam had ever seen. Adam didn’t have time to react before he contacted the net and sank into it; the Yakilian missed it by about two feet and impacted the solid metal surface of the underbelly of the spaceship – and turned instantly into a round, red splotch, crushed against the metal by the force of the well.

Adam grabbed the netting and instantly felt its bands begin to cut into his flesh. He was being pulled through it like dough through a spaghetti maker!

“I’m on, Riyad! Cut the power and let’s get out of here!”

Much to his relief, the gravity-well dissolved just as the chemical engines exploded to life. Adam felt a rush of hot air as the ship slid off toward the east, now climbing high above the rooftops of the city.

And then he began to fall.

Without the tug of the gravity-well holding him against the netting, the planet Yaki began to take over. Adam reached up just in time to grab hold of one of the long, nylon filaments that made up the net, and then dangled there by one hand as the spaceship picked up speed. “Damnit, Riyad, I’m about to fall off! Do something.”

Almost immediately, Adam felt the counter gravity from a small well, yet one not nearly as intense as before. He managed to get a better grip on the netting with his other hand and then he looped an elbow through the bands.

“Are you still there?” Riyad asked, sounding only slightly concerned.

“Yeah – thanks for asking.”

“So it worked; that’s something to keep in mind for next time.”

“Next time it’s your turn, and I’ll be at the controls.”

“I’m looking forward to it, my brother. They’ve been calling us supermen for long enough. It’s about time we learned how to fly like one. I’ll set us down in the fields about ten miles further on.”

Chapter 2

The ship’s four landing pads were deployed, and as soon as the spacecraft was about twenty feet off the surface Adam let go of the netting and fell to the grassy ground below. He fought against the hot rush of the chemical jets and ran for the access ramp Riyad was deploying. Even before it was fully extended, he jumped the ten feet onto it and ran into the ship, slamming the controls that would retract the ramp back into the ship.

“I’m in … let’s go.”

“Roger, Captain Cain. Your wish is my command.”

Thirty seconds later Adam was in the pilothouse and slipping into a seat next to Riyad. Through the forward view screen he could see the blackness of space directly in front of them, as well as the bright, thin glow from the atmosphere of Yaki curving off to the right and left. The darkness grew thicker, and within seconds they were in space.

Riyad looked over at Adam and did a quick double take. “Checkers anyone?” he asked through his trademark brilliant-white grin.

Adam could feel the burning from the various squares of red welts that were rapidly forming on his skin, imprints from the netting that had nearly diced him to bits. “Maybe we need to rethink a tarp instead of netting,” Adam said. “If the bands were any thinner, I’d be nothing but a bunch of bloody Adam McNuggets by now.”

“But it worked – sort of. And I assume Foruka won’t be causing any more trouble for the Expansion?”

“You know they’ll just replace him, and then it will be business as usual,” Adam said, grimacing as he ran a finger over the welts swelling up on his face.

“That’s true, but not before there’s a major power struggle for control of his drug empire. That could take a year or two to settle out. Hopefully by then, our friend Kroekus will have worked more of his political magic and brought these disgusting creatures back onto the reservation.”

“Riyad, you know talk like that is blatantly racist.”

The swarthy pilot just grunted. “It’s either a political solution … or more of us. The Yakilians will have to make a choice. Either way, I’m fine with it.”

A monitor on Riyad’s console began to chime. “We were anticipating this, my friend. Four pursuers, closing fast.”

“Government?”

“Their transponders would indicate so.”

“Open a link—”

“Departing ship, initiate contact!” a bubbling voice burst through the speakers in the pilothouse.

Adam smiled at Riyad. “They beat me to it.” He fingered the switch. “This is the New Expansion ship Phoenix. We are on a protected mission under authority of the Administrator. I am sending you the coded authorization now.”

Once Adam had sent the communication, the two Humans sat back and waited to see if the document would be honored. They held out little hope that it would; it had only been honored once before.

“New Expansion ship Phoenix, this document is not recognized within the Yakilian Triumvirate. The Expansion no longer has authority over our affairs. You have just caused the destruction of a portion of Mufoon, as well as the deaths of dozens of our citizens, including the most-revered Jakian Foruka. You are therefore ordered to reverse course and return to Yaki immediately.”

Adam pulled up the long-range monitors showing the four ships flanking them, two on each side, and could see the distinctive hotspots on each ship as they charged up their flash weapons.

“It looks like they don’t expect us to comply,” Riyad said, himself busy with the controls for the Phoenix’s own weapons.

“Yaki vessels,” Adam announced. “Our authority supersedes that of your system. We will not comply, and I must warn you any action against us will result in the most severe of consequences.”

“Very well,” the bubbling voice responded immediately. “By my authority, I declare you fugitives from justice and evoke Law 17. You will be destroyed immediately.”

Adam could see the four Yakilian ships had engaged their defensive diffusion screens and that their flash weapons were now fully charged. Any second now they would release bolts of blue-hot energy towards the Phoenix.

However, what the Yakilians did not know was that they would be firing upon a very special ship in its own right….

With nearly unlimited funds provided by the Administrator of the New Expansion, Adam and his small band of Human warriors had managed to design and build the most-advanced starship in the galaxy. Among its many refinements, the Phoenix boasted not four, but eight focusing rings capable of generating gravity-wells in as many directions. And not only that, the internal compensators were the fastest ever built, allowing for radical vector shifts that would have normally crushed a crew to death before the compensating gravity-wells could save them.

So when the first bolts were released from the Yakilian ships, Riyad simply performed a steep barrel roll to his left, at such a speed and angle that the Phoenix seemed to appear almost instantaneously on the opposite side of the two left-attacking ships.

Then before the Yakilians could react, Riyad unleashed his own hell upon the attackers closest to him. The laser weapons he fired were also unlike any before them. They were low intensity, yet even at that, they departed the Phoenix at nearly one-third the speed of light and carried at their tips a cone of special heat-resistant material. Yet even that material wasn’t enough to withstand the extreme temperature of the short-range lasers for very long. By the time the cone disintegrated and the lasers were shut down, the payloads were already streaking toward their targets at speeds faster than any flash-bolt could achieve.

The payloads – the material that had been embedded into the mesh of the laser cone, consisted of thousands of tiny ball bearings. They now traveled toward the Yakilian spaceships at unimaginable speeds, and each carrying the kinetic energy of a small meteorite. Since diffusion shields are designed to absorb and dissipate the electrical charge from energy weapons, the ballistic balls of metal passed cleanly through the shields and contacted the surface of the Yakilian ships unimpeded. At the point of contact, the hulls dissolved, opening up an area approximately three feet in diameter, as the cloud of ball bearings continued to pass through all interior features and exit out the other side of the ships in less than a blink of an eye. The rapidly escaping atmosphere within the Yakilian spaceships further widened the hull breeches, and soon both ships were torn in half, with each end tumbling off in a Y-like formation into the blackness of space.

The other two Yakilian ships witnessed their counterparts fall in a most-lopsided manner and chose not to pursue the Phoenix. Instead, they bolted off in the opposite direction at speeds much higher than was recommended within a stellar system.

“I tried to warn them,” Adam said at the conclusion of the short battle. “But I’m glad it happened. This will give the Yakilians even more to think about if they ever want to go up against the Expansion again.”

Having never lost his smile, even in the heat of battle, Riyad looked over at Adam. “Listen to you, Mr. Cain. You sound like such the company man. I would have never imagined it to be so!”

Chapter 3

Over the five hundred years since Surun became the capital of the Omphly Federation, the look of the planet had changed considerably. Now most of the planet’s architecture consisted of stark, grey concrete buildings devoid of ornamentation of any kind. The structures were functional, and that was about all. The male-dominated society chose function over form, not concerned with anything beyond the basic. So their architecture, cities, society – indeed the entire planet – was a study in absolute functionality, guaranteeing they would never win any awards for style or creativity.

Hoagmar Zin had never been to the planet before so he didn’t know what to expect beyond the basics: Expansion-normal gravity, a breathable atmosphere slightly higher in oxygen content than his native In’mar, and the current headquarters of his old friend Fex-Lor Tenth.

It had been nine years since last he saw Fex-Lor, not since the skinny Vinnerian had left the inner sectors and headed for the rebellious regions of the Expansion, seeking a more-open and profitable environment from which to run his operations. From the few contacts he’d had with his former partner-in-crime recently, Fex-Lor was doing quite well, or at least he was now. This was a relatively new situation for him, since Zin had heard that only three years before Fex-Lor was having to sell slaves just to make ends meet. Since the slave-trade occupied the lowest rung on the ladder of criminal activity, this meant Fex-Lor had not found his Golden Forlac like he’d been seeking, not until just recently.

Yet the news filtering out of Surun and the Federation now revealed Fex-Lor to be one of the top three crime lords in the sector, and this had all come about over the past three standard years. Besides the joy he would experience with seeing his old friend again, Zin was more-than-curious how Fex-Lor had managed his profitable turnabout in such a short time.

Yet reminiscing about old times was not the primary reason Zin had come to Surun. He was actually on an assignment, and his former partner might be a source of information which could prove very profitable to Zin. At least that was where all the trails were leading.

It had been two months since Zin received the commission. It had arrived through one of his normal cutouts and consisted of just a simple text message along with a sum of twenty-thousand credits transferred into his account. His assignment was to track down and report the current location of a creature name Ni-gel Mcoukatie – or something like that. He had seen the words yet was at a lost as to how the name was pronounced in his native In’marian. Since the minor-name was so difficult for Zin to speak, he chose to call his mark Ni-gel. It was simpler that way.

This was the fourth assignment he’d received from this same source, and by now a pattern was beginning to emerge. With the type of information sought for each commission, Zin was pretty sure his ultimate employers were the Klin.

The fact that he did not know this for sure was his only saving grace, and the reason he accepted the assignment in the first place. With the mysterious and ancient Klin now a documented ‘outlaw race’ by the Humans, Zin would be taking an incredible risk accepting a commission from them. Yet with all the cutouts and blinds he had established over his career, he was confident he could plead ignorance if he was ever accused of assisting the Klin. However, he had no idea how the Humans would treat such a plea, especially in light of their own nasty reputation.

So Zin did his best to consider this just another tracking; why his masters wished this information was none of his concern. He would follow the leads, locate the target and then report back. This was what Zin did best.

And yet the credits made him think this commission was different from all the others. Twenty-thousand was about normal for his services, yet at the end of this track – if he could meet the conditions set forth – Zin would have waiting for him a one-hundred thousand credit bonus. That was an incredible amount simply for locating an individual. The assignment’s single caveat for receiving the bonus was a deadline of only three months for completion.

Two months had already past, yet the trail of this being Ni-gel was definitely growing warmer. There was a possibility that his friend Fex-Lor could provide Zin with the final piece to the puzzle.

* * *

“Zin, it is really you!” Fex-Lor Tenth said with undisguised joy. The tall Vinnerian approached the much smaller In’marian and embraced him, running his right hand down Zin’s back and then moving it to his groin area. “Ah, I see you have a gift waiting for me. It has been so long since I’ve experienced one such as yours.”

Zin pulled away and felt a warm tingling throughout his body. Yes, there were perks to this assignment, even on top of all the credits he could earn. He missed his old partner, and even though they were of different species, the stimulation they could offer each other was immensely satisfying to both.

But first things first….

Once the two friends were comfortably seated on a soft cushion forming a semi-circle in Fex-Lor’s office, Zin chose to tend to business first, and pleasure second. The gathering of information was a subtle dance Zin had perfected, yet he did not want to dwell on it any longer than was necessary; the memories of past trysts were too strong to ignore.

“My friend Fex-Lor, you have indeed succeeded where you said you would. I am very impressed.”

Fex-Lor lit two Silean smokesticks and passed one to Zin. They each inhaled deeply, holding the pungent, yet potent, fumes within their lungs for as long as they could before exhaling. Although their physiology varied slightly, the ’sticks did their job at roughly the same level for both species. Soon, the talk would be over, and the effects of the ’sticks would only enhance the physical reunion that was to come.

“Yes, my fortunes have indeed improved. I am sure you have heard that they were not always so.”

“I was concerned for you, yet my confidence never waned. So what changed?”

“I am not proud to say this, but I have not accomplished all this success on my own. Often we need support in other areas to help us achieve our goals.”

“You have a partner?” Zin’s joy began to fade slightly, as he felt the unfamiliar pangs of jealousy rise up in him.

“Yes, but not that kind, my friend,” Fex-Lor said reassuringly. “This is strictly a business arrangement.”

“Who is this new partner?”

“I am not allowed to reveal his identity, even to you, Zin.” Even as the words were spoken no regret could be heard in Fex-Lor’s voice. Zin knew what was coming. “Of course, there is no one else here to know of what I speak.”

Fex-Lor leaned in closer to Zin and placed a smoothing hand on his shoulder. “He is a creature they call The Ma-Jor. I have not met him physically, yet we have linked on a number of occasions.”

“And what has this Ma-Jor done that has enhanced your profits?”

The look of joy faded somewhat from Fex-Lor’s face, even though his hand continued to caress Zin’s shoulder. “I cannot take responsibility for what has happened. Prior to my affiliation with The Ma-Jor, I was suffering dearly. But then two representatives of his arrived – a most unexpected circumstance seeing that they were both Human!”

“Humans – he has Humans working for him?”

“Yes. But not only that, The Ma-Jor is a Human as well.”

“You are in partners with the Humans?” Zin began to grow nervous. If his commission indeed came from the Klin, and Zin now comes to find out he is on the trail of a Human, then he could be caught in the middle of a very serious conflict. “Why did you accept that, Fex-Lor? The Humans are dangerous, violent and unpredictable.”

Fex-Lor looked down at the couch, breaking eye contact with his friend. “Regrettably – at first – The Ma-Jor made me an offer I could not refuse.”

“Surely you could have said no? You should have said no!”

“You do not understand, my friend,” Fex-Lor said looking back at Zin. “I was not allowed to refuse the offer. The Humans came to my domicile and killed nine of my most fierce and effective guards as if they did not even exist. It was made clear that I must accept the offer of partnership or suffer the same fate.”

“Then it was a command, not at offer.”

“That is correct, yet I use the term the Humans used.” Fex-Lor sat up a little straighter and raised his chin. “Yet Zin, even though the affiliation is with the Humans, I have profited handsomely, as you can see. The negotiation may not have been one at all, but the results have been very satisfactory. In fact, I wish you to join me. My greatest problem at this time is finding adequate personnel for all the activities I am involved in.”

“And what are those?”

“Primarily, the supply of weapons to the Federation, apparently there is great need for stockpiles. The Omphly have primitive weapons of their own, and yet now they are bringing in the most-sophisticated available and The Ma-Jor is my only supplier. Join me Zin, and you can assume the role of my equal. Together we will earn so many credits that we may both leave if the Humans prove to be too demanding.”

“I do not trust Humans, Fex-Lor, but tell me more: what does this Ma-Jor look like.” Zin was sure that Ni-gel and The Ma-Jor were one and the same. It was what had brought Zin to Surun in the first place. He just needed a little more confirmation.

“He is a smallish, pink creature – as are all Humans I’ve seen – yet with tiny brown dots on his face. His hair glows a slight reddish tint – and he has the habit of continually bearing his teeth at me when we link. At first I was scared, but then I noticed he did it with everyone, even his own kind, so he was not challenging me to a life duel.”

Yes! This was Ni-gel Mcoukatie. So this Human was influencing the criminal activities throughout a third of the Expansion. Fex-Lor and the Federation were only part of his operation, as Zin’s trail had revealed. This Human, the creature known to Fex-Lor as The Ma-Jor, seemed capable of great feats. In addition, he had made Fex-Lor extremely wealthy – and someday possibly even Zin would share in that benefit!

And yet just knowing that Fex-Lor’s patron was Ni-gel did not fulfill Zin’s contract. He had to locate him as well.

“So where is The Ma-Jor? Where is he located?”

“I do not know his headquarters, but recently I was asked to arrange a secure compound for some of his activities here within the Federation.”

“Where is that?”

“Why do you ask? It would not be safe to attempt to meet him. You said it yourself, Humans are violent and unpredictable. I would hate to see anything unforeseen happen to you.”

“I’m more curious than concerned. If we are to partner again, I would not welcome interference beyond a reasonable level, even from our patron.” Zin leaned over and snuggled against Fex-Lor’s chest. He could feel the beating of his heart under the warm skin.

Zin had already decided that he would take Fex-Lor up on his offer to join him, yet the fulfillment of his commission was so near, it would be impossible to walk away from a hundred-thousand credits. He would track down Ni-gel and make his report. But then he would return to be with Fex-Lor.

“So you have decided! That is wonderful,” Fex-Lor took the last long puff off his smokestick and then tossed the last remaining nub on the floor. Then he caressed Zin with both arms, holding him tight. “You need not worry about The Ma-Jor. He is on Uniss-3, or he was the last I heard of him. But that was only a week ago. I assume he is still there. Now, Zin, let’s get you unpacked. It will be so wonderful having you with me again.”

Zin pulled away and sat up. “I am afraid I will need a little time.”

“Why?” Fex-Lor was genuinely hurt. “I thought—”

“Yes, you thought right. However I must return to In-mar briefly to tie up my affairs there. I hope you understand? I shouldn’t be gone more than a month.”

Fex-Lor was suddenly beaming again. He climbed up off the cushion and helped Zin to stand. “I assume you do have at least an hour to spare before heading back out? I need something to hold me until your return. But then after that – off with you! The longer you delay, the longer it will be before you return … for good.”

A few hours later, Zin left the company of Fex-Lor Tenth and returned to his ship. After checking the coordinates for Uniss-3, he launched and then settled in for the six-day journey to the planet.

A quick drop to the surface, a few discrete inquires – and if fortunes smiled upon him – a confirmation of Ni-gel’s whereabouts.

He would then send a secure link with the information. Once the bonus was in his account, he would return to Surun … and to Fex-Lor.

In truth, Zin was attracted to the skinny Vinnerian – even if those of his own kind would find it appalling – but certainly not to the same degree Fex-Lor felt towards him. Yet, as always, Zin had other motives for joining with Fex-Lor. After the completion of this assignment, Zin had no guarantee of when the next commission would be arriving, or from whom. Granted, one-hundred thousand credits was a princely sum, yet not enough on which to retire. Fex-Lor was offering him stability and the chance to share in substantially more credits over time – plus a bonus of another kind.

Zin smiled, thinking of the conversation he had had with Fex-Lor. Indeed, it appeared as though his old friend had also made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Chapter 4

It wasn’t until the last day out from Pyrum-3 that the pain of the welts on Adam’s face and body had healed enough that he didn’t dwell on them constantly. Yet all it took was seeing his reflection in a mirror or shiny bulkhead to remind him that they were still very visible; lines of angry red forming a hilarious grid pattern over one side his body. He had hoped they would be less noticeable by the time they reached the base otherwise Sherri would be merciless in her ribbing. He could more-easily tolerate the cruel jokes from his fellow soldiers, but Sherri’s would be particularly biting. She just had a talent for such things.

Maybe another day would be all it would take – but that wasn’t likely. It seemed that their extremely rapid transit from Yaki back to Pyrum-3 would be his downfall….

* * *

The journey to Adam’s base took eight days, which in reality was about ten days faster than any other ship in the galaxy could have made it.

The bulk of the time savings came from the fact that the Phoenix did not have to travel the established long-haul space routes where the bulk of interstellar traffic took place. With the finicky nature of gravity drives, truly deep-wells could only be established when away from conflicting gravity sources, such as stars, nebulae and the like. The main space lanes of the galaxy were a rare mix of wide open spaces and just enough rogue dust to be gobbled up by the focusing rings and compressed to a point of critical mass required to establish the series of singularities that were at the heart of faster-than-light travel.

Without the interference caused by the wacky twisting of space/time within more densely populated regions, long-haul vessels could establish such powerful singularities that space for half-a-light-year surrounding their transit paths was disturbed by the gravity wakes.

To attempt such wells within a stellar system – or even near a star-cluster for that matter – would have been catastrophic. For one thing, the wells would have been overloaded by the abundance of stray matter near these objects, resulting in their unpredictable disintegration. And secondly, deep-transit wells could cause such havoc to the surrounding space as to actually change the orbits of many of the smaller bodies nearby. Therefore, once within a denser region of space, star-travel slowed to only a fraction of the velocities which could be achieved within the deep-space lanes.

Unfortunately, these main space routes were often located many hundreds of light years away from the most straight-line path to a destination. Even then, the transits were faster than navigating the more-densely populated interstellar systems using shallow-well generation.

Adam’s ship, on the other hand, could zip along the most direct path, whether it be right through the middle of a star system or not. The secret lay in the Phoenix’ powerful array of multiple focusing rings and generators, which allowed extremely deep-wells to be created in close proximity to the ship – essentially at nose-length – that the effect of the wells on surrounding space was greatly reduced.

Adam knew it was a cliché, but the Phoenix – as well as her sister ship the Pegasus – were the two fastest ships in the galaxy!

Three years before, Adam and his fellow Humans had scouted a heavy-gravity world in a star system about ninety light years from Juir from which to establish their new base. The planet was called Pyrum-3 and it was populated by an intelligent species of bulky, four-legged creatures with two short arms, who looked a lot like the Minotaurs of Greek legend. Unfortunately, their three-finger hands limited their ability to advance very far technologically, and so they had never been fully incorporated into the Expansion, either Old or New. The natives were swift-moving beasts – like graceful steeds – as well as very gentle and passive.

Adam’s team had setup the small base on an isolated island on the planet, which guaranteed they would not interfere with the activities of the natives. The arrangement seemed to work out quite well, since it was simply the gravity of Pyrum-3 that the Humans craved and nothing more. Rated at Earth-normal, the surface gravity of the planet allowed the Humans to maintain muscle mass and bone density, while also enjoying the wide open spaces of a real world, and not the claustrophobic confinement of a gravity-controlled spaceship.

The complex on the island consisted of three main buildings, as well as a number of small utility shacks. The living quarters for the Force-One operatives were located in a conical-shaped wedge of polyurethane foam and steel-frame with over twelve-thousand square feet of interior space. There were nine separate apartments, complete with kitchens and private baths, and each offering wide picture windows overlooking the tropical green and blue waters surrounding the island. Each apartment also had an extended deck, where the Humans had placed lounge chairs and gas barbeques. Just because they lived on a planet twenty-thousand light years from Earth didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the finer things in life….

A second, even larger building housed the Phoenix and her sistership, the Pegasus, along with all the required maintenance equipment and other assorted support facilities. Eighteen members of the Diaspolean race helped maintain the ships, even though they could only shuttle down to the planet from an orbiting station for work-shifts of nine hours at a time. The oppressive gravity of Pyrum-3 was just too great for them to tolerate any longer.

The third building contained the operational nerve center of the Force-One Enforcement Inter-Department (FOEID) of the New Expansion. Although the ‘official’ administration headquarters for the Force was located on Juir within the Intelligence Inter-department complex, it was from Pyrum-3 that the very few select agents of the Force operated.

And very few there were. From the original four Humans – consisting of Adam, Riyad Tarazi, Sherri Valentine and Lee Schwartz – they had added only two more operatives to their ranks in the intervening thirty-four months since the inception of the Force. They were Captain Mark Henderson and Sergeant-Major Jamal Dawson, expatriated Humans who had remained behind when the rest of Humanity had returned to the Far Arm of the galaxy. Both were former Army Special Forces and brought with them a level of expertise Adam’s small band sorely needed. With no other SEALs remaining besides Adam, he found the comradeship of the Rangers to be very comforting.

Both Henderson and Dawson had arrived in the Expansion with the last surge of military personnel sent from Earth four years earlier. At that time, they had little more to do than drill and participate in ‘show-the-flag’ events throughout the Expansion. No one at that time seemed too anxious to challenge the Humans for leadership of the galaxy, so their military skills were never called into play.

When the time came for the Humans to return to the Far Arm, Henderson and Dawson still hadn’t satisfied their need for interstellar adventure. So instead of returning home, they remained on Juir serving in a private-security capacity until recruited by Adam and the Crusaders.

Not as experienced in the ways of the alien galaxy as Adam, Riyad or Sherri, the two soldiers were more on the experience level of Lee Schwartz. Lee had been a Commander in the Navy at the time of the war, an aviator who had participated in Humanity’s initial thrust into Juirean space almost ten years before. The Human-Juirean war had culminated in the defeat of not only the Juireans, but also the Kracori and the Klin, thanks mainly to Lee’s command of the Human ‘Shadow Fleet’ and its attack of the Juirean forces off the double-star system of Falor-Kapel.

Even though he had participated in numerous battles during the war, Lee’s exposure to the alien-universe-at-large had been limited the controls of a Klin KFV-A spacecraft, not even seeing an alien in the flesh until he and the bulk of the Human forces had arrived on the ravaged planet of Juir.

So in reality, half of Adam’s small contingent of not-so-secret agents had very little experience interacting with alien cultures. Fortunately for them, the Crusaders were not tasked with performing subtle and sensitive diplomatic missions. Instead, they were the head-bashers, the last resort before the body bags where brought in. In this regard, Adam’s new recruits had all the experience the job required.

A day later Pyrum-3 expanded in the forward viewport until it dominated the scene. Adam was at the controls of the Phoenix, and he angled the sleek, delta-shaped spacecraft through the thick atmosphere, choosing to come in low over the myriad of tropical coral islands that dotted the vast gulf of warm green and blue water where his island-base was located.

As he neared his destination, he could see vast swatches of brilliant white sand forming a shallow shield around the island, before giving way to a ragged circle of reefs that protected an inner lagoon of crystal clear water. The island itself was dominated by the prominent peak of a long-dormant volcano, now completely shrouded in thick, green vegetation, and often dressed in low-lying, rain-filled clouds.

The scene reminded Adam so much of the South Pacific island of Bora Bora – or at least pictures he’d seen of it. He’d never been there himself but had always considered the island to be the closest thing to paradise he could image. This was also one of the reasons he’d selected this location for his base. Anywhere on the planet would have fulfilled the basic need for appropriate gravity and atmosphere, but this island made life in an alien universe just a bit more tolerable.

Using chemical drive, Adam set the Phoenix down on the vast concrete landing pad outside the hangar building. Once the hot exhaust had dissipated, a contingent of Diaspoleans lumbered out of the building, some carrying small monitoring equipment. The poor creatures could never move comfortably in the gravity of Pyrum-3, something Adam had come to accept over the months. Unfortunately, he had not found another race of creatures who could fully tolerate the gravity of an Earth-normal world and who also had the skills for mechanical maintenance. Until that time, the Diaspoleans were it.

Soon a tractor would emerge from the expanse of the hangar and pull the ship inside, where the chemical engines would be refueled and new gravity generator power modules would be installed. The ship could be turned around for action in as little as five hours, but with no new missions pressing, the Diaspoleans could take their time refitting the ship. Besides, Adam wasn’t too anxious to head right back out, not without a break.

That was unless Sherri’s jokes regarding his checkerboard face became too much to handle.

* * *

Adam and Riyad commandeered a small golf cart-like vehicle for the short drive to their personal quarters. They slid up under the shell-shaped structure and took the elevator to the top floor.

All the apartments were of the same size and layout and the only thing that set them apart was where along the curve of the shell they were placed. As the ranking officer in the small unit, Adam should have logically chosen the center unit, the one whose deck was bordered by those from the apartments to either side. Instead, Adam chose the unit to the far left.

Even though Riyad’s adjoining deck was to the right of his, the view to the left was unobstructed, encompassing the vast ocean of gentle rolling swells, along with a parade of green, white and blue waters. This was Adam’s sanctuary. Having spent so much of his life back on Earth either on the ocean or the shore, when he gazed out on the sea of Pyrum-3, he was reminded of his real home.

The conflicted emotions he often felt while sitting in a padded lounge chair on his deck were not healthy. Most times, he was a basket-case of jumbled up homesickness and regret. He knew he didn’t have to stay here any longer than he chose to, and at any time he could bug-out back to Earth. And that was where the conflict often arose.

The Earth of his upbringing was gone, replaced now by a smaller version of the planet Juir and its native population’s boundless desire for empire. Over the four thousand years it took to build the Expansion, the Juireans had lost their identity to the lust for power and control. They built a galactic empire of over eight thousands worlds, bringing a form of civilization to the disparate cultures of the Milky Way, and yet it came at a tremendous cost.

Since the Juireans had developed their Expansion over all those millennia, they were not aware of what was happening to their culture along the way. As the Expansion grew, and the responsibilities of governing a galaxy became more and more complex, the Juireans became slaves to their own success. They lived to serve the Expansion, and the Expansion demanded so much from the Juireans.

Never saints to begin with, the Juireans became emotionless automatons, even dispensing with traditional means of mating and the raising offspring. They developed a vast, impersonal breeding system designed to produce as many Juirean administrators as possible needed to govern their vast empire. To the Juireans, they saw this as a necessary evolution, required in order to fulfill their manifest destiny, and for the Juireans, the system worked. But for the Humans, it was different, at least initially.

Once the Humans had defeated the Juireans – as well as all their other sundry opponents in the war – they overnight assumed control of an eight-thousand world empire. With absolutely no time to grow into their new role as leaders of the galaxy, Humanity soon because a chaotic mess of desperate and often wrong-headed attempts to replace the Juireans. Never a race lacking in confidence, the power-hungry politicians and business leaders of Earth refused to accept the fact that they may have bitten off more than they could chew. The lure of ruling over an entire galaxy was just too juicy of a prospect to pass up – at least without trying.

Within months of the defeat of the Juireans, the entire social and governmental structure of Earth changed. Borders fell, while individual governments were absorbed into the more ubiquitous Planetary Governing Authority – the PGA – which sought to coordinate all the efforts Humanity was experimenting with in their vain attempt to keep the Expansion from falling into total collapse. As a single planet, completely unprepared for the task, every able-bodied Human was essentially drafted into some kind of work related to governing the galaxy, just as had happened to the Juireans.

Adam was welcomed back to his home planet as a hero. Innumerable books and films were made detailing his exploits among the stars, many exaggerated to the point of absurdity. Soon he was the most-recognized person on the planet.

Yet all this fame stole from him the things he craved most – privacy and peace. The time he spent on his home planet became unbearable.

Seven years after the close of the war, things had only gotten worse. The galaxy, as well as the planet Earth, was even a more chaotic mess, a disaster of incomparable depth and dimension.

About that time, Adam and some of the more reasoned minds on the planet began to look for an exit strategy. Things couldn’t continue along the path they were headed, otherwise they would end up just as the Juireans – or worse.

During this time, there had been an extended honeymoon period between the Earth and the other members of the Expansion, and few were willing to challenge the Humans for leadership of the Expansion. After all, this was the savage, primitive race from the mysterious Far Arm that had defeated not only the Juireans, but also the mythical Klin and the relatively unknown Kracori race. What the Humans lacked in governing prowess, they definitely made up for in fighting skills and natural physical superiority to most other races in the galaxy. So the members of the Expansion decided to take a wait-and-see posture with the Humans.

Yet after seven years, the honeymoon was just about over, and that was when The Cain Initiative was introduced to the Expansion. Even though the plan carried his name, Adam was not its primary author, even if he did whole-heartily support it.

The Initiative came as a shock to the galaxy: The Humans were leaving, essentially saying to all the members of the Expansion, take your empire and shove it! Humanity hadn’t asked for this role; it was they who had been attacked, unilaterally and without warning. It was too bad the attackers themselves became the victims of Humanity’s skills and savagery. They should have thought twice before taking on the Humans….

So Humanity left, turning over control of the Expansion to a small, interim government led by Kroekus of Silea.

That had been almost four years ago.

Back on Earth, the situation that The Cain Initiative was meant to resolve had not gotten much better. The politicians and the business leaders still sought power and wealth. The planet had been fundamentally changed over the seven years that Humanity had ruled the Expansion until there was no going back. The savages from Earth would still seek empire, but they would do so in their own backyard – the Far Arm of the galaxy.

So the PGA remained in control; Human warships continued to be built and starship crews and stellar diplomats were trained and sent out into space. And soon Earth’s own mini-Expansion within the territory of the Far Arm began to grow.

* * *

As Adam entered his apartment, he dropped his go-bag on the nearest couch and proceeded directly to the sliding door leading to the deck. The warm Pyrumese sun bathed his skin, its heat mitigated by the fresh breeze blowing in from the ocean. He walked to the rail and looked out. The open sky above and the vastness of the sea beyond were cathartic – he had been cooped up inside the confines of the Phoenix for far too long.

The view from his deck reminded him of home, but of a home that no longer existed, and this was the reason for his conflict. Even if he did return to the land of the Humans, it would be to a completely different place than his memories. He would not be left alone, with all the peoples of Earth concerned only with the building of their own stellar empire and glorifying any past conquering heroes. It would be same back home as it was within the Expansion of today, only with Humans instead of aliens all clamoring, complaining and scurrying about in a frenetic rush.

And yet the Expansion itself was on the verge of total collapse, and everyone knew it. Although Kroekus was a genius as organization and diplomatic strategy, he was no miracle worker. He was facing the same issues the Humans had faced, namely extremely high expectations from Expansion members and absolutely no time allowed for fulfillment of those expectations. Every day, a dozen or more additional worlds proclaimed their independence from the Expansion, deciding to either go it alone or to affiliate with some smaller, yet more regional union of planets or self-interests.

Kroekus was mostly powerless to stop them. What he was more concerned with was keeping the existing members of the New Expansion satisfied enough not to bolt, and that primarily revolved around security and protection against the more belligerent moves by the independent worlds around them.

The Juirean Expansion had once been divided into twenty-four sectors spread throughout the galaxy. Now those sectors were nothing more than lines on a map. While whole sections of the former Juirean Expansion could be either independent or loyal to the New Expansion, there were others where the entire sector was a mix of independent and loyal worlds, often even among neighboring star systems.

Kroekus had his hands full, and in a small measure, he relied on the members of Adam’s Force-One Enforcement Inter-Department to help smooth out some of the rough edges. No longer concerned with what the independent worlds would think of his actions, Kroekus had decided to take whatever measures necessary to keep the remaining members happy. The independents had chosen their own path, and if that meant having to suffer the often unconventional and bloody consequences of Cain’s Crusaders, then so be it. The independents would probably never again rejoin the Expansion, so their well-being was of no concern to Kroekus – or to Adam for that matter.

Yes, Adam Cain was a lost soul, lost in a galaxy of strange alien cultures and creatures often nightmarish in description. Yet returning to his home would not be any better.

And so he remained, absorbed in the job he had to do, distracted by anything that would take his mind off his situation and his melancholy. So the view from his deck was an illusion, yet one that helped him remain sane and better-suited to face a reality he had never asked for in the first place.

* * *

After taking a long, hot shower, Adam dressed in a blue, long-sleeve tunic, one that covered all his body except for his neck and head. The checkerboard welts on the right side of his face were a little softer now, yet they were still there. He thought about trying to round up some makeup to help disguise them but thought better of it. Besides, the only place he could think of to find makeup on the base was from Sherri, and she was the primary person he was trying to hide the welts from.

Chapter 5

As the leader of the small band of Cain’s Crusaders, Adam felt it was important to keep up some form routine within the troops. So upon return from a mission, he would call a meeting of all his agents who were present on the base so that an open debriefing could be held. It was important that all agents had the same level of knowledge and background regarding the status of the various missions, tactics and strategies the Force carried out. At any time, one or more of them may be called upon to assist another agent, and since there were so few of them, all agents had to be interchangeable.

So a meeting was arranged, which also provided a good excuse for Adam to get some face-time with fellow members of his race. Even though Riyad had accompanied him to Yaki, most of the mission had involved bashing alien heads and having to put up with their filthy habits and sickening smells. To be in a room full of Humans may be just what Adam needed to get him grounded to the real world he now inhabited, rather than that long-ago fantasy world of his past life on Earth. Recurring thoughts of a life that no longer existed was not conducive to Adam’s mental well-being

Adam held his debriefs in a smallish conference room in the Operations building. Adam had intentionally kept the room small so that the meetings would feel more intimate. It also helped to distract the team from that fact that there were so few of them within a galaxy so large. Just six Humans to defend the interests of the New Expansion against the forces which sought to destroy it.

Present for the meeting would be Adam, Sherri and Riyad, plus the new members Mark Henderson and Jamal Dawson. The remaining team member, Lee Schwartz, was hoping to make it to the meeting, but he had been on the mainland meeting with the leader of the Cupin’los people, the dominate species on the planet Pyrum-3. Yet, as Adam pulled his golf cart up to the entrance to the Ops building, he saw that Lee would indeed be present for the meeting.

This was because he had just arrived at the Ops building, riding on the back of Ka’lo, the supreme leader of the Cupin’los.

Adam was furious. He stepped out of the cart with his jaw clinched tight, glaring at Lee.

“Mr. Schwartz, please get off of Master Ka’lo’s back,” he commanded, knowing that his face was turning a beat red from his anger. What could be more disrespectful to the native population of their host planet than riding the planetary leader like some god-damn horse?

“It’s okay Captain,” Lee responded, his voice cheery and unconcerned. “He likes it when I ride him.”

“He is the leader of his planet. Please show some respect.”

The large, centaur-like alien strode up to Adam with a lively gait, the large, Prime-like face smiling broadly. The Pyrumese did not follow traditional alien convention regarding the baring of teeth as a sign of physical challenge. Having never ventured far out from their home planet, Adam wondered if they even knew of the implications. Regardless, Ka’lo grinned at Adam with the most joyous look.

“It is of no concern, Master Adam. I actually enjoy the feel of another creature upon me. It makes me feel useful to members of the incredible Human race.”

“That may be so, Master Ka’lo, but we must still maintain a respect for the office you hold.”

“Have I offended you, Master Adam?” Ka’lo asked. “If I have, I apologize.”

It seemed as though Adam’s objection had caused more harm than good. “It is we who must apologize, Master Ka’lo. If it’s your wish to carry Humans on your back, then it is not my place to object. However, I hope we do not make a habit out of it, as one equal race to another.” Adam glared at Lee as the young, former Navy commander hopped off the back of the planetary leader of Pyrum-3.

“Ah, you are a true diplomat, Master Adam. I understand your point of view, but I also know we are not races of equals. However, I will honor your concerns and possibly use Master Lee only for exhilarating runs through the fields of the mainland. And I would truly enjoy the opportunity to share the experience with you someday. It would be an honor to have one such as you mount me as well.”

Adam was growing uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation. He merely nodded, and then with a jerk of his head, motioned for Lee to enter the building as quickly as possible.

On the way to the conference room, Adam said nothing, simply grunting and shaking his head. Yet as they entered the room, Lee spoke up in his defense.

“It was his idea, Captain. He had seen some pictures of horses on Earth and wanted to share the same experience of carrying a Human as they did. He was actually jealous of horses!”

Adam glared at Sherri, who was seated at the far end of the small table, a curious look on her face. “You’re in charge when I’m not here, Sherri.” Adam said to her, his jaw still firmly set. “How could you let Lee go around riding the leader of a planet like a god-damn horse?”

The look on Sherri’s face suddenly turned defensive and angry. “Like he said, Ka’lo asked for it. It would have pissed him off more if I’d said no. I’ve even done it a few times while you were gone. You know I grew up with horses in Kentucky, and this is so much better than that. These things are actually intelligent.”

“No harm, no foul, Captain,” Lee said, taking a seat next to Sherri. This was strategic, since Adam would be sitting at the opposite end of the table from her. This meeting was not getting off to a very good start….

“Damn, Captain, what happened to you?” Mark Henderson asked, attempting to lighten the mood with a change of subject.

“Gravity extraction,” Riyad answered for him. “It worked, but we’ll have to change the netting to a tarp.” He looked over at Adam and grinned widely. “We almost lost the old goat-herder.”

“If I’m a goat-herder, then you are all my goats.”

Sherri was still upset Adam had chastised her, especially in front of the others, so she refrained from any comment, even though Adam saw a complete chess set sitting on the table in front of her. What she had intended to do with it was anyone’s guess, but Adam knew it would have been at his expense. Fortunately, it didn’t look like she was going to get over her anger with him before the time for levity had passed.

Adam sat down and quickly began speaking.

“The mission to Yaki was a success, as far as the primary objectives were concerned. The drug dealer Foruka was killed and it’s known that the New Expansion was behind it. There will be someone to replace him, but whoever that ends up being will hopefully confine their activities to the Triumvirate or other non-NE planets, otherwise they could suffer the same fate. There’s plenty of room for them to operate without infringing on New Expansion territory.”

“It was foolish for him to do it in the first place,” Jamal Dawson said. As one of the two new members of the team, he was always anxious to get involved as quickly as possible. “But aren’t most of the criminals in that region becoming more aggressive?”

“Yes they are. They appear to be more organized than before, which is very strange considering that most of the governments of these new independents are in complete melt-down. Leaving the Expansion may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but now they’re realizing just how interdependent they all were. Take translation bugs for instance. Most of the outer systems are having trouble keeping their supply lines going. I’m sure they never even thought of that when those chose to break away.”

“Yes, but in most of their cases, the governments had few options,” Riyad said. “The criminal element continues to drive the economies of most of the rebels, and the crime bosses prefer an environment with less regulation and authority rather than more.”

“So this is just the beginning,” Lee said, quick to change the subject from his native-leader-riding escapades and get into the conversation. “With the crooks organizing more quickly and better than the governments, I don’t think they’re going to stay content to operate within their own territories for very long. Most of the independents are dirt-poor; the crooks will go to where the money is, and that’s to the nearest New Expansion world. Their governments may not overtly support them, but they’re also not going to do much to discourage their activities.”

“You’re right,” Riyad said. “The Yakilian government sided with Foruka instead of us, claiming an invasion of their sovereignty. That’s how they’re going to support the criminals without actually backing them officially.”

“Do you have anything to add, Sherri?” Adam asked, trying to smooth over the tension between them.

“Nope,” came her terse reply.

Adam took a deep breath and decided not to press her. “Okay, on to new business.” He looked down at the datapad he held and scanned through the entries. He had already looked at most of the news items contained in the readout, but then something hit him.

“Well, damn!” he said. He looked up at Riyad and then down the table to Sherri. “It seems the planet Belson is planning a vote for independence.”

Sherri leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Kaylor’s homeworld, they want to leave the Expansion, too?”

“They have never liked the Juireans,” Riyad added, the omnipresent smile of his now vanished. “But still, this would be a major mistake on their part.”

“The Expansion is no longer the Juireans,” Adam said. “Kaylor and his people have to know this. What are they thinking?”

“The lure of independence is strong,” Riyad continued, “and the history of being dominated by an outside power is impossible to erase.” Riyad was of Lebanese descent, and as a young, angry Arab, had been very active in the terrorist movement in the nineties and after 9/11. He could relate to simmering feelings of resentment against any foreign entity which tried to impose their will upon others.

Kaylor Linn Todd was the first alien Adam encountered after being abducted from Earth going on fourteen years ago. He had been an independent merchant-hauler – a mule-driver they were called – who along with his partner and co-pilot Jym had rescued Adam from certain death aboard a derelict Klin starship. That fortuitous event had been the beginning of everything leading Adam to this very moment in time.

Kaylor was Belsonian and had left Adam’s company over ten years before returning to his home planet to help his people make it through the turmoil that came with the fall of the Juirean Expansion. The bear-like Jym had returned to his homeworld of Fulcum to do the same.

Adam and Riyad – but mainly Sherri – would hear from each of them now and then, calling just to give informal updates on how they both were doing. The aliens never seem that concerned about how the Humans were fairing, probably figuring that they could take care of themselves quite well.

The two aliens had always felt more comfortable around Sherri than they ever did with the two Human males. Considering all they had been through – as well as many of the despicable things the aliens had witnessed Adam and Riyad commit – who could blame them?

But now Kaylor’s world was preparing for a vote that would remove them from the protection and resources of the New Expansion. To a person, Adam’s team knew it was a bad idea.

Adam turned to Riyad. “I think we need to make a trip to Belson, to talk with Kaylor and his people. They need to get another perspective on this before they vote.”

“I agree –”

“What about me?” Sherri called out from the other end of the table. “Kaylor is more my friend than he is either of yours.”

“Of course you can come, Sherri,” Adam said, doing his best to sound sincere. “You would have the most influence on him anyway.”

“Damn straight!” she said. “The two of you would probably go in with guns a-blazing if you didn’t get your way within the first few seconds.”

Adam attempted a smile. She was probably right. There was no arguing with history.

“Then it’s settled; if nothing more pressing comes up over the next forty-eight hours the three of us will head out for Belson in the Pegasus.”

“You got anything for us to do?” Lee said, looking over at Mark and Jamal as he spoke.

“I don’t see anything here in the dailies, but I’ll check with Kroekus as soon as we adjourn. He may have something more covert he needs us to do.”

The other three men in the room stretched out wide, devious smiles. Now you’re talking, and the more covert, the better, Adam could almost hear them thinking. Yes, if only he could read minds….

Chapter 6

Sherri accompanied Adam to the secure comm-room in the Ops Building. This was the CW Center where an instantaneous-communications link would be established between Pyrum-3 and Juir, where the government of the New Expansion was located. Adam could tell she was still angry with him, if now distracted by the news of Belson.

The CW room was small and dim, dominated by a single huge monitor placed against the far wall. There was a double row of padded cinema seats placed behind the operator’s console in the event there needed to be a more general briefing with any of the other CW contact stations, including Earth.

Continuous-Wormhole communication was a relatively recent improvement over traditional intergalactic links, acquired from the elusive Klin when their former allies, the Kracori, had abandoned Juir, leaving behind a CW relay station in their haste. Human and Expansion scientists had quickly learned the secrets of CW technology, and now nearly every starship in the galaxy carried the upgraded modules.

CW links provided for a long-term wormhole to be established between stations, allowing both ends of the link to send communications back and forth simultaneously. Traditional wormhole communications called for messages to be relayed from one established station to the next and only one-way at a time. Using the older technology, communications between Earth and Juir took over four hours one way. With CW technology, once the link was established, communicating across the galaxy was like sitting across a couch from one another person and having a conversation.

Even though physical travel between points in the galaxy hadn’t changed much in four thousand years, this new form of communicating was definitely helping to make the inconceivable expanse of the galaxy feel like a much smaller place.

Kroekus’ official title was Administrator of the New Expansion, even though everyone knew he was more of a dictator than a bureaucrat. He wielded unimaginable power, if not by the force of his military, then by the traditions established over the four thousand years it had taken the Expansion to form.

Adam often feared dictators, but in the matter of Kroekus, he knew this fear was unfounded. Kroekus was from the planet Silea, located in the region of the galaxy known as The Fringe. His family had controlled the planet through economics, criminal activity and political influence for over a thousand years and for his part Kroekus had always had wealth and power. So when he assumed control of the Expansion, he didn’t do it out of a quest for such things. Instead he did it for the challenge. His challenge was to see if he could resurrect the Expansion, indeed to save it from total collapse. To this end, he would employ whatever measures he deemed necessary, even if those measures called for him to assume dictatorial powers. Adam knew that if ever the Expansion reached a point of complete stability and prosperity, Kroekus would then give up control, bored with his success and now ready for other challenges.

However, that time was nowhere in sight in the near-term – or even long-term. From no fault of his own, Kroekus was fighting a losing battle. As more and more worlds abandoned the Expansion, the strength of the tide building against the continued survival of the Expansion was undeniable. Unless something dramatic and unforeseen happened – and soon – the Expansion was destined for eventual extinction and the galaxy for a period of inconceivable chaos and violence.

Adam and Sherri took seats at the operator’s console rather than in the gallery, as they were the only two in the room. Adam fingered the controls and soon the large monitor on the wall in front of them flickered to life.

Kroekus was aware of Adam’s return to Pyrum-3, and also of the debriefing ceremony Adam employed at the end of each mission. He was expecting the link from Adam.

The screen was soon filled – literally – with the bulky mass of Kroekus. Even though he was a Prime, meaning Humanoid in appearance (which was in reality a bastardization of the term which had originally meant Juirean-like) he would have easily weighed in at over six hundred pounds on Earth. But since Silea was a world with about two-thirds the gravity of Earth, his mass was less on his native world. Adam had also once made the mistake of thinking that Kroekus’ weight was something that was bad for the Silean. He had been subsequently informed that Silean males intentionally grew to such bulk because it also increased the size of their sex organ. Naturally, this was desirable among Silean females, and so the species had evolved with the males often growing to incredible size and bulk … just to be sexy.

“Welcome back, Mr. Cain!” Kroekus announced with his usually jovial manner. Except for the dire condition the Expansion now found itself in, Kroekus was a creature in complete control of his life. He accepted the things he could influence and refused to dwell on those he could not. This put the supreme leader of the galaxy in an almost perpetual good mood.

“I see that your mission has been a success.”

“In the short-term, Kroekus, but it seems the crooks are becoming better organized and more ambitious.”

“Yes, you would think they are being led by a Silean, or another creature of equal skills.” Kroekus smiled as wide as he dared. He was fully aware of the recent shift in the intensity of what would be termed organized crime in the galaxy. He and Adam had spent many a CW session musing about whether this trend was truly organized or just a consequence of the decay of any centralized authority in many of the rebel sectors. It was all too early to tell for sure.

“If you weren’t sitting in the chair you’re in right now, I’d suspect you of being behind this new surge in criminal activity,” Adam said, returning the smile.

“And you would be justified in your suspicions, my friend. And how are you this day, Miss Valentine?”

Kroekus’ attitude was contagious, and even the sullen Sherri managed a smile. “I’m doing fine, Kroekus, thanks for asking.” Then her tone turned serious. “You are aware of the situation on Belson?”

“Yes, I am. This is very unfortunate. Belson is one of the most-stabilizing factors in the sector. If it should decide to go independent, it will create a multiplying effect involving hundreds of additional worlds.”

“That’s why Riyad, Adam and I are heading there to speak with Kaylor and his people. We want to see if there is anything we can do to change their minds.”

“That is very sensible, and I do appreciate the effort.”

“We were also wondering if you have anything my other agents need to tend to while we’re gone?” Adam asked.

“Actually, I have a very grave situation which I believe the two of you should personally handle first even before going to Belson. The vote on Kaylor’s planet is still six months or more away. This other matter is of a more immediate concern.”

“Can Lee or the others handle it?”

“I would not feel comfortable entrusting them with this assignment.”

Adam looked at Sherri and they simply raised their eyebrows. Adam looked back at the image of Kroekus, looming large on the screen. “Sure, whatever we can do to help.”

Kroekus nodded his massive head, sending ripples through his numerous chins. “This involves the planet Formil and their supreme leader, a creature referred to as The Speaker. Have you ever heard of Formil before?”

“I’m afraid not,” Adam answered. “What’s the story?”

“Formil is probably the single-most important planet in the Expansion outside of Juir; I’m surprised you’ve not heard of it. It is on Formil that all the translation devices are manufactured, as well as nearly all the micro-processors that control the electronics throughout the galaxy.”

“No shit?” Sherri said, impressed. “I can see why you thought we should have heard of the place.”

“Yes, the technology that has come out of Formil over the past two thousand years has helped shape the Expansion. The Formilians, and the planetary Coalition they influence, are the foremost builders of electronic devices to be found. Their technology and science is the basis for nearly every device in operation in the galaxy today.”

“I’m surprised the Juireans let them keep that much technology for themselves.”

“The relationship between the Juireans and Formilians go back two millennia. The Juireans allowed the Formilians to run their society more or less unfettered in exchange for the exclusive rights to their technology. They also allowed the Formilians to worship their religion as they pleased, but since the fall of the Juireans, the natives have been under assault by a variety of other interests, primarily from their neighboring planetary affiliation called the Omphly Federation. It had been to counter the growing influence of the Federation that the Formilians began to expand their own Coalition over the past fifty years or so. But while the Coalition has grown to around thirty-five worlds to date, the Omphly Federation numbers over fifty. And since the Formilians are now longer protected by the Juireans, the responsibility has now fallen to me and the New Expansion.”

“Sounds familiar, my friend,” Adam said, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

“All too much I’m afraid.”

“So what’s happening now? It sounds like the situation has gotten worse?” Sherri asked.

“Indeed,” said Kroekus. He leaned in closer to the screen, a movement which caused Sherri and Adam to lean back in the opposite direction, even though Kroekus was only an image on the screen. “An event has taken place which will soon bring the two entities to war. If this happens, then the galaxy, and primarily the New Expansion, will lose our access to the science and manufacturing centers of the Formilians. As a consequence, this could be the final blow it will take to destroy the Expansion. If the Formilians fall, so does the Expansion.”

“I can see why this would take priority over Belson,” Adam said. “Go on.”

“As I said, the Juireans allowed the Formilian’s to practice their religion as they saw fit. This protection shielded them from the Omphly Federation, whose population has been appalled by the Formilian beliefs for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The Juireans, and now us, have been the only thing keeping the Federation from attacking – plus of course, the fear.”

“What type of sick religion do these people practice?” Sherri asked.

“And what do they fear besides the Expansion?” Adam added.

“It is nothing as sinister as you believe, Sherri,” Kroekus answered. “The entire Formilian religion is built around the worship of electricity, of all things. That is what has made them so proficient at the invention, development and manufacture of all things electronic. It goes back thousands of years, even before Formil was discovered by the Juireans. In fact, Formil and Juir have been affiliated since the time of The Mass, even before there was an Expansion. When the Juireans retreated during the time of the Reprieve, Formil was the only world outside the central core planets that Juir included in their empire. And when the Juireans came out again, this time to form the Expansion, it was the promise of the advanced electronic technology – most of which originated with the Formilians – that was so enticing to the new members of the Expansion. If it were not for the Formilians and their technology, the Expansion may never have formed.”

“So what’s so bad about worshiping electricity that these other people – the Omphly’s – would hate them so much?” Sherri asked.

“It’s not so much the subject matter that the Omphly resent, as the means with which the Formilians represent their worship. As I mentioned earlier, the supreme leader and religious figure in Formilian society is a creature called The Speaker. The Speaker is rumored to be able to control the very nature of electricity itself, able to accomplish increased feats with the power of her mind alone. She can control all electronic devices around her and even create bolts of electricity out of thin air. She can summon lightning from the sky and has been rumored to be able to draw the life out of her enemies.”

Adam looked over to see Sherri smiling. Noticing him looking at her, she said, “She. Kroekus keeps referring to The Speaker as she.”

“That is correct, Sherri,” Kroekus continued. “The Speaker is always female and always the direct descendant of the founder of their religion, a female named Lorilie Bol. This unique bloodline appears to possess supernatural powers, and as they will profess, only The Speakers can manifest the energy of their gods.”

“And you believe this?” Adam said, sounding skeptical. “You of all people have been around the galaxy to know that there are no truly supernatural powers – at least none that I have seen.”

“I cannot say I believe in her powers completely, but even your own race has had supernatural abilities associated with it.”

“And they’re wrong. You know as well as I that our so-called supernatural powers are just the product of evolution.”

“And so maybe evolution has played a part in turning this Lorilie Bol into a being with truly supernatural powers, powers which she has passed on to her offspring?”

“I’m not buying it,” Adam said, still not convinced.

“As I said, I do not truly believe in The Speaker’s abilities myself, but I have seen the vids. The displays are quite impressive – and would be frightening to non-believers and believers alike.”

“Maybe I’m just more of the skeptic, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It has to be some kind of trick.”

“That may be so, but the Formilian’s believe and that is all that matters to me.”

It was Sherri’s turn to question Kroekus. “So why do these others hate the Formilians so much, as well as fear this Speaker person?”

Kroekus smiled back at Sherri. “They hate her because she is female, and they fear her because of her powers.”

“Does that make any sense?”

“It does when you consider the makeup of Omphly society. Omphly is another word for Brotherhood, so a literal translation is the Brotherhood Federation. Females in this society are of the lowest class, used only for procreation and as servants to the males. So the idea of a female serving as the supreme leader of a race of beings – or the leader of anything for that matter – is an affront to the beliefs of the Omphly. And they have spread this odd way of thinking to many surrounding worlds, building not only on the fact that a female would be a leader, but that she would also be able to conjure up powers from the darkest depths of nature. To the followers of the Omphly, The Speaker is a demon, a devil deserving of the utmost vile and disgust. Their hatred for her has been festering for a very long time, and yet they also believe in her abilities, so their hatred is multiplied by the fact that the Brotherhood would have such fear for a female.”

“Yeah, kind of a double whammy,” Adam said, looking at Sherri. The expression that crossed Kroekus’ face revealed his lack of understanding for the colloquialism.

“So what has brought all this to head so you now believe a war is coming?” Adam asked.

“It seems that The Speaker of the Formilians, the supreme leader of their religion, the person they refer to as the Giver of Life and Light and their living God, has been abducted.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“As would be expected of the Formilians, the entire event was captured on a security video. I will play it for you now….”

The screen immediately changed to show a columned room much like that of a Roman villa, dimly lit and with a large, extremely ornate bed to one side. There was a figure asleep in the bed, a slight figure covered by silken sheets and displaying a massive cascade of jet black hair against the white of the sheets.

Suddenly, two shrouded-in-black figures moved into the room. The figure in the bed – presumably the Speaker – sat up as alarms began to sound. One of the shrouded figures lifted a long, thin tube to his mouth and blew. A dart impacted the neck of the Speaker, who fell back, unconscious. The two kidnappers moved to the bed and pulled back the sheets, revealing the naked form underneath.

At that point, Adam audibly inhaled. “Wholly shit, is that the Speaker?”

“Yes it is,” Kroekus’ voice answered from behind the video.

The reason Adam had way he did was because the creature they called the Speaker was indeed female – and in every sense of the word. In fact, she almost appeared to a caricature of what the perfect female would look like: ample firm breasts, an impossibly thin waist above perfectly round hips, and the shapely legs of a gymnast. Her skin was completely unblemished and with the tone of sun-kissed bronze.

And then there was the face. It was as angelic a face as could be envisioned by a Renaissance master painter, with a demure chin, ample red lips, smallish nose and a set of almond-shaped eyes – now closed – that appeared to be slightly larger than those of a Human female.

Except for the fact that this creature had legs, she was a pornographer’s erotic vision of Ariel, The Little Mermaid, brought to life.

In all the time Adam had spent in space, this was actually the first alien he’d ever seen that was … well, hot! For Adam, this mission suddenly took on a whole new level of interest.

Adam looked over to see Sherri glowering at him. He raised his eyebrows and displayed a wicked, lustful grin.

“For Christ’s sake, Adam, she’s an alien! Your parts don’t match up.”

“On the contrary,” Kroekus interrupted, “Humans and Formilians are very similar anatomically. It’s doubtful whether a union of your two races could produce non-sterile offspring however the act of mating should be very compatible.”

“Ow, that’s disgusting!” Sherri cried out. “You can say the same thing about a sheep – and this would be bordering on bestiality.”

Adam continued to smile. “But just think: a union between our two races could produce a super-being, one with our strength and her powers of the mind. It could also unify our two peoples, guaranteeing a lasting peace for generations to come,” he chanted, as if reciting the line from a classic Shakespearean play.

“I’ve heard enough of this nonsense,” Sherri said, rising up from her chair. “Go rescue your fairy princess, Adam, but I’m not going to help. Instead, I’m going to Belson with Riyad. You’re on your own, Casanova!” Sherri stalked out of the room, her jaw set, eyes narrowed.

The image on the screen had been frozen while Adam and Sherri had their discussion. Now half of it was replaced with an image of Kroekus – which when placed next to the static, high-definition image of the completely naked Formilian, caused Adam to wince like he was wearing a razor-wire thong.

Kroekus was looking at him with a curious look on his face. “She’ll get over it,” Adam said to the bulky alien.

Kroekus nodded. “It is similar with Sileans; our females are of a jealous and emotional sort. It is amusing; however the way you Humans intentionally try to evoke these reactions. It appears almost as a game you both play.”

“It’s just an affirmation of her feelings for me, my friend; if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be so upset.”

“A test! I can see that; however it seems to be a rather cruel way of going about it. But if it is your way, then so be it. Humans can be so very complex at times. Now back to business.”

“Of course,” Adam said. Kroekus let the video run, showing the two assailants lift the unconscious Formilian from the bed and hurry off with her before guards appeared. “Was that a blow-dart they used?” Adam asked.

“Yes, it appears to be a non-electrical device that rendered the Speaker unconscious. The use of any MK weapon or other electronic device would have been useless around her. The abductors knew in advance what they had to do to take her.”

“Was this an inside job, or the Omphly?”

“Inside job?”

“Sorry. Could some Formilians have helped kidnap her, or do you believe it was the Omphly?”

“I assume kidnap means to abduct, and I must say there is no evidence that any Formilians assisted.”

“So it was the Omphly?”

“That I also doubt,” Kroekus said.

“Why?”

“It would be too obvious and the consequences too severe. Besides, the Omphly have an irrational fear of the Speaker.”

“Could they have hired outsiders to do the job?”

“That is a possibility, but we will not know until we learn more. I do suspect that other forces are responsible.”

“Well, just to satisfy my own devious mind, who would benefit from a war between the Coalition and the Federation?”

“No one that I can tell, at least not on the surface, but there may be forces within each government who would seek a change in leadership. Or it could be the criminal element, which as you say, is becoming bolder and better organized.” Kroekus stretched out a wide grin, as the comment harkened back to his own days as one of the greatest criminal masterminds in the galaxy. “Profit can always be found within conflict, at least for some parties.”

“Then you suspect a possible ransom demand might be made at some point?”

“That is a real possibility, and the Formilians will pay whatever price is necessary for the return of the Speaker unharmed. In addition, if it had been the Omphly behind the attack, then they would have summarily executed the Speaker rather than abduct her.”

Adam let out a grunt. “That makes sense. But the nagging question I have is that if this Speaker-person is so powerful and blessed with supernatural powers, how was it that she ever allowed herself to be taken in the first place? This just makes me question her powers even more.”

“I know you are skeptical – as am I – but let us do our best not to express these doubts with the Formilians. They can be very sensitive about their religious beliefs.” Kroekus hesitated before continuing, yet when he did, Adam had to force himself from laughing out loud. “Adam Cain, your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to find the Formilian Speaker and affect a rescue if she is still alive.”

This message will self-destruct in five seconds…. Of course Kroekus never muttered the words. Still, Adam was hoping.

“Sure, I’ll give it a go,” he said. “And by the way, does this Speaker have a real name she goes by?”

“Yes she does – it is Arieel.”

No shit? Adam thought. Now this is getting creepy.

“But Adam, you must hurry,” Kroekus said with tension in his voice. “If the Speaker is not found and returned to the Temple of the Order on Formil within the next nineteen days, then all will be lost. There will be war, a war which could bring about the downfall of the New Expansion.”

“Why nineteen days?”

“Because after that time, a self-destruct device will be activated within the body of Arieel Bol, and with her passing, the Omphly will have no reason to hold back. The Formilians will either defend themselves against such an attack, or they will strike first, targeting those they see as the most logical perpetrators of this crime.”

“There’s a bomb in her body!” Adam said, incredulously. “In what kind of bizarro world does that make sense? So they’d rather blow her up rather than have her held as a hostage?”

Kroekus shook his head, which sent a tsunami of fat around his massive neck. “You do indeed have a strange way of terming things, Adam Cain. But it reality it makes perfect sense. Whether biological – or as you suspect, artificial means – the Speaker of Formil does have powers, and the secret of how she does it would be of considerable value, as well as threaten the basis for their entire religion should the knowledge be revealed.”

“So they’ll blow her up rather than risk having the secret revealed? That just confirms my belief that it’s all a show.”

“Be that as it may, the Speaker is extremely important, not only to the Formilians, but also to the Expansion. Go to Formil, Adam Cain, find the Speaker and return her to the Temple – before she blows up, as you put it.”

Adam accepted the assignment, with conflicting emotions, and then cut the link with Kroekus. On one side, he couldn’t get the image of the naked Formilian out of his mind, but on the other was the fact that Sherri was really mad at him. She had to know he was just teasing her – didn’t she? Yet her reaction seemed to fit in well with the almost continuous bad mood she seemed to be in recently. Something was bothering her, and he knew he would have to get to the bottom of it – when he returned from Formil.

Let her go off to Belson and meet with Kaylor and Jym. The two aliens liked and respected her, and maybe playing a role in helping resolve the conflict between the Belsonians and the Expansion would make her feel better, more important. That was the hope, at least.

But now Adam had to concentrate on his current assignment, which seemed daunting on all levels. Nineteen days was not much time to travel all the way to Formil, investigate the kidnapping and then track down the perpetrators – if the Speaker was even still alive.

If ever there was a Mission Impossible, this one would definitely be in the running.

Later that afternoon Adam went looking for Sherri, but she wasn’t in her apartment. He finally located her in the hangar aboard the Pegasus with Riyad and Lee.

“So, have you downloaded the video of the alien slut to your personal computer yet,” she asked him while helping to load supplies onboard the ship. She and Riyad had no idea how long they’d be gone to Belson, so they were preparing for the long haul.

“Why are you being like this? Is it just because I called you out for letting Lee ride President Ka’lo?”

Lee and Riyad stopped what they were doing to listen to her response. Growing self-conscience, she grabbed Adam by the arm and pulled him into a side compartment. When they were alone, she turned to face him, her eyes glassy, bottom lip trembling.

“You’re such an asshole!” she yelled at him. “This whole thing is out of whack and all you can do is play games with me, or yell at me in front of the others.”

“What’s out of whack? And I didn’t yell at you; I just reminded you that you’re in charge when I’m gone. And I don’t care if the president is okay with us riding him like a god-damn donkey or not. It’s not the right thing to do.”

“The guy gets off on it! We enjoy it and so does he, so where’s the harm? And since when do you care a flying-f about aliens anyway – unless they look like some freaking porn star?”

“You know I was just screwing with you. Why are you so emotional all of a sudden? You used to be one of the toughest people I’ve ever met.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be one of the toughest people you’ve ever met anymore. Maybe I don’t want to be a damn vigilante. And just maybe I’m tired of being the only woman out here.”

“Is that the problem?”

“You don’t understand how hard it is always trying to keep up with you and your macho buddies, and especially now that Mark and Jamal have joined the team, it’s all testosterone twenty-four-seven. You’re in your element, with all your male friends around. But you know how hard it is trying to fart and spit like the rest of you? Sometimes I’d just like to be pampered, treated with respect – treated like a lady! What the hell’s wrong with that?”

Adam was stunned into silence. When he had first met Sherri, she had just assassinated a former patron of his, the Castorian crime lord Seton Amick, and if he had been anything other than a fellow Human, she would have killed, too. She was tough and pragmatic, a survivor in her own right.

Through all their time together – in space and back on Earth – they’d been intimate on numerous occasions. He certainly did consider her in that way, and not just as one of the boys. She had to know that, didn’t she?

“Sherri, if I remember it has always been you who have shut us down. I’ve tried several times to have a more long-term relationship with you, but you always seemed to enjoy being the only woman aboard a ship full of men. I didn’t hear you complaining then.”

She turned away from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Times change, you jerk. People grow up.”

“What are you saying; do you want something more now, between the two of us?”

“Hell no! I mean I don’t know. I’m just so damn lonely, and every time you head out on a mission I know you may not come back. That doesn’t leave a lot to build a relationship on. And what if something did happen to you? I’m not interested in anyone else on the team, so that leaves any potential replacements twenty-thousand freaking light years away. Talk about being isolated and alone!”

“Do you want to go home?”

“It may come to that.”

“It’s not the same back there, you know?”

“Yeah, but at least there would more people there – real people, and not these almost-people we seem to spend most of our time killing. Even if I did join one of the crews looking for other races in the Arm, I’d be with more of our own people – and closer to home.”

“Well shit, Sherri, thanks for laying all this on me right after I get back from one mission and fixing to head out on another. What do you want me to say?”

“You can start by telling me how much you don’t want me to go!”

“You already know that.”

“Do I? You’ve never said it before.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you stupid, stupid man, haven’t you ever seen a sappy chick-flick before? We want to hear the words now and then.”

“All right … I don’t want you to leave. It just wouldn’t be the same around here without you.”

“That’s the best you can do … that I’ll be missed?”

“Sherri, I care for you more than any other woman I know—”

“You don’t know any other women – at least not Human women – so that’s not saying much.”

Adam swallowed hard, trying not to lose his temper any more than he already had. What does she want from me? “Sherri, you know about Maria. Her death was pretty devastating.”

“Oh god, not that again? It’s been almost eleven years. You really need to move on.”

“I tried to – with you. Remember Lake Tahoe? Two months and you were gone, and then I didn’t hear from you for another three years.”

“Well I’m here now. I came all the way back out to Juir, and not just so I could play superwoman and squash some alien bugs along the way.”

“If you came out here to be with me, you sure did have a funny way of showing it; a night here, a couple of nights there. You have to be the hardest woman in the entire galaxy to get close to!”

Sherri was quiet for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice had calmed. “You’re right, of course. That’s why I said everything is so out of whack, out of sync. We don’t belong here, Adam. It was different when there were more Humans around. Now there are only six of us, and you have your buddies to confide in. I have no one.”

“Listen, babe, I would really like to spend more time talking to you about this, but I really have to go….”

Sherri opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it.

“Kroekus says if this woman – this Formilian – is not found and returned to her homeworld within nineteen days, then there’s going to be major war that will cut off Formilian technology to the Expansion. He says that will probably mean the end of the whole damn thing – the end of the Expansion. So you may get your wish about going home whether you like it or not. If the Expansion collapses, we’ll have nowhere else to go but back to Earth.”

“Then you better go.”

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“That depends. I may still be on Belson.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’ll see. It’s obvious we both have a lot to think about.”

Some of us more than others, Adam thought. I have a pretty good idea of what I want. I hope she can figure it out for herself.

They embraced in the small compartment and then Adam placed a hard, wet kiss to Sherri’s lips. She seemed to melt into him, attempting to turn their bodies into one. When they separated, Adam could see the hurt in her eyes. She was first and foremost a woman, and she needed the intimacy and support of other Human beings around her. Adam wanted that, too, yet he was more of the mountain-man breed, the type of person who could go into the wild for months – if not years at a time – and never feel lonely. But he also knew that that time was coming to an end. He’d eventually get too old to play Flash Gordon anymore.

He just wished that the Earth hadn’t changed so much, and that fame hadn’t found him. Maybe the two of them could find a little island off the Florida Keys somewhere, where they could be anonymous, forgotten?

“Wait for me, Sherri,” he said as they left the compartment. “I really do want us to work this out.”

“So do I, you asshole. I really do. But I can’t keep going like this.” And then she disappeared into the depths of the Pegasus.

Riyad poked his head around a corner. “Are you okay, my friend?”

Adam shook his head. “You can’t live ‘em … and you can’t sell them off to Silean slave-traders.”

Riyad smiled. “I just happen to know a former Silean slave-trader. Just say the word and I’ll make the arrangements.”

Adam poked him in the chest. “Just take care of her, you pirate. She’s very fragile right now.”

“And you are as strong and hard as granite. You’re not fooling anyone, Adam Cain – no one at all.”

Chapter 7

Adam left ten hours later without seeing Sherri again. He set a course for Formil, a journey that would take the souped-up spaceship of his four days to make. That would only leave fifteen days to accomplish his mission, if it were even possible.

His first day out was spent sitting before a computer screen and digesting all he could learn about the Speakers of Formil. What he learned was fascinating, yet only served to support his belief that the Speakers were nothing but a bunch of frauds.

And it had all started with a female named Lorilie Bol two thousand years before.

* * *

By the time the Juirean Mass arrived in the Formilian star system, the natives of the third rock from their star were already very accomplished engineers and scientists.

In fact, it seemed that the very next thing the Formilians discovered after fire was how to make electric batteries. From here they began to build primitive circuits and communication devices, using pre-historic light bulbs to illuminate the caves of their distant ancestors.

The Formilians began the worship of all things having to do with electricity, even naming their two main gods Mislin and Sufor, representing the magnetic poles of positive and negative. By the time the Juireans arrived, the Formilians were far more advanced than even the Klin had been at the time the Juireans destroyed their race – a time referred to by the Juireans as The Reckoning.

The Juireans were still very primitive at the time, having stolen most of their technology from other races, including the gravity drive they used to spread their will across the galaxy. Yet in one of the most unusual and fortunate events in galactic history, the Juireans and the Formilians formed an informal alliance. The Formilians were given unprecedented freedom and autonomy, and in return the Juireans received the exclusive rights to nearly all the Formilian technology and devices.

One of the first contributions the Formilians made to the galaxy and to Juirean expansionism was their invention of the translation bug. Prior to this, communication between races had been a very difficult and time-consuming affair. The Juireans insisted that all conquered races learn Juirean, which in some cases was physically impossible for an alien race to accomplish. In other instances, the nuances between languages caused fatal misunderstandings among negotiators and diplomats. In one classic case, the mistranslation of a single phrase resulted in the deaths of over a million natives at the hands of the Juireans.

When the Formilians revealed the translation bug to the Juireans, the tiny devices became the single-most important tool – besides the gravity drive – for opening up the galaxy and allowing it to be capable of being ruled by a single race – the Juireans.

And the lead scientist involved in the development of the universal translation device was a Formilian female named Lorilie Bol.

As Adam continued his research, he soon found this was where the story began to morph into the theater of the absurd.

As an integral part of the functioning of the translators, the Formilians also invented the first universal internet – the Library, as the aliens called it. Its initial use was as a way to help store the myriad of languages found throughout the galaxy. As a new language was assimilated, often into something as small and simple as a single translator bug, this information was then piggybacked from one translator to another until it reached the Library. From here the language would spread like wildfire throughout the galaxy, where it would then filter down to each individual translator.

Since those early days, the process had changed only slightly. Now most languages were stored in the Library and downloaded to individual translators as soon as a new language was recognized. Even the translators had their memory limits, and as more and more languages – as well as dialects of various languages – were discovered, it became impossible to store all languages in every individual translation device.

So the Library grew, providing more and coverage across the galaxy, and including information far beyond simply alien languages.

And it was also on Formil where the main servers of the universal internet were located.

But this is where the story of Lorilie Bol, the First Speaker, begins to emerge.

Almost as it was with Buddha contemplating the meaning of life under a tree for forty days and forty nights, Lorilie Bol began to demonstrate to anyone who would stop and watch how she had suddenly gained access to the very powers of the gods themselves. She would travel the land, controlling a variety of electronic devices, none of which could have been rigged ahead of time. Later, she began to conjure up balls of white hot static electricity, and in one famous parable, used the balls to defeat a rabble of violent non-believers who had come to vanquish her.

Over time, her reputation grew and her fame spread. Vids now broadcast her amazing feats around the globe, and then to other worlds within the sector.

Yet the genius of Lorilie Bol came not only from what she could do, but how she used her powers to reinforce the beliefs the people already held. Nearly the entire population of Formil worshiped the gods Mislin and Sufor and knew that their creation – electricity – could be used to power any number of devices. To the Formilians, the development of a new device that could utilize the power of the gods was a gift, not only to the Formilians, but also to all the creatures in the galaxy. Without these devices, the will of their gods would go unfulfilled.

So the Formilians invented, built and manufactured countless electronic devices in an on-going attempt to please their gods, which Adam figured was far better than human sacrifice….

And now with Lorilie Bol, the people of Formil had found a living being who could directly utilize the power of the gods. She was herself an electronic device, a living device who could communicate directly with the gods. So Lorilie Bol became The Speaker, the Giver of Life and Light.

The Order of Light on Formil had been in existence for a thousand years before the time of Lorilie Bol, yet in her the Celebrants found a point on which to focus all their worship, all their mysticism. They installed Lorilie Bol as their Supreme Celebrant and reserved this prestigious position for only the direct female offspring of the First Speaker.

Even for such an advanced race of scientists and engineers, their religion flourished, especially now with a living personification of their gods. And the basis for what they worshipped could be seen all around them – in the lightning in the sky, in the static electricity in their hair and in the currents that powered their devices. The Formilians saw no conflict between their science and their religion. To them they were one and same. The worship of Electricity just made sense.

And so the traditions remained intact for another two thousand years, through thousands of Speakers and throughout all the tumult of galactic affairs. The Formilians survived, and as Adam could see, had made themselves into one of the most-vital entities in the galaxy.

Yet if Adam couldn’t find their precious Speaker within the next fifteen days – a creature embodied in the lovely and sensual Arieel – all this could come to a tragic and violent end.

The day before arriving on Formil, Adam made a quick CW link to Sherri aboard the Pegasus. Their last conversation still haunted him, and he wanted her to know that he was thinking of her. She seemed only half-interested in speaking with him, apparently still conflicted about her own feelings.

Adam knew how she felt. Living out among the stars in a galaxy of aliens and alien ways was very unsettling. No matter how glamorous it all sounded, people need familiarity to be comfortable, to feel grounded in their reality. For Adam and Sherri – as well as the rest of the Humans on the team – every day brought another jolting shock to the system, when one moment you could be speaking to a 600-pound ball of alien jelly, and the next galloping through a meadow on the back of a real-life centaur. Nothing in one’s upbringing could fully prepare you for this, no matter how many George R.R. Martin novels you’ve read or how many episodes of Star Trek you’ve seen. Reality would trump fiction every time, and for going on fourteen years, Sherri and Adam’s reality had been the stuff of fantasies … as well as nightmares.

Maybe it was time for a break? For three years Adam and his team had been fighting an uphill battle to preserve the Expansion, and for what? Earth had backed away from the rule of the Expansion, not wanting to be bothered with the headache anymore. Even if the whole damn thing fell apart, Earth wouldn’t care. Very little of what happened in the Expansion affected the Humans in the Far Arm.

So why should it concern Adam? He was sure there were plenty of isolated places within the growing Human Empire where he and Sherri could find some peace and quiet.

At least for a while….

But Adam also knew himself well enough to know he was not the type of person who could remain still for very long, even if his current crop of adventures had grown somewhat dull and predictable: land on a planet, find the local bully, and then show him who’s boss.

Was it that Adam sought greater challenges, greater villains? As he wandered the quiet corridors of the Phoenix, alone in his thoughts, he wondered just what kind of person was he? Was he such a cliché as to be part of the classic yin-yang equation? Could he not exist without an equal and countering evil to fight against, and if so, wouldn’t this make him an accomplice to such evil, allowing it to exist just to give meaning to his own life?

Or was he just getting bored with playing superman?

“Thanks, Sherri, thanks a lot!” he announced to the empty corridor. “You sure know how to screw with a guy’s head. You couldn’t be content with just keeping all this crap to yourself? No, you won’t be happy until I’m just as screwed up as you are.”

Chapter 8

Adam entered the Formilian star system on his fourth day out from Pyrum. The planet was located in your typical Class-M star system – as they would call it in a Star Trek episode – with eleven major planets and thousands of moons and comets, along with two very thin asteroid belts.

Formil was located right in the middle of the system’s habitable zone, occupying the third spot out from their sun. Most habitable planets were found in the second to fourth positions, where the rock-core worlds were more apt to form. This location also seemed to stabilize time reference within the Expansion as well.

Rotational velocity of these rocky worlds, located within a specific distance from their star, tended to range from twenty-two hours to as high as thirty. Any slower and the temperature variations between night and day would be too drastic for substantial life to take hold. Any faster and the rapid changes would be just as erratic. So days within the Expansion, as measured against the Juirean-standard, equated to 24.2 Earth-hours, and were nearly identical to most other inhabited worlds throughout the galaxy.

The measure of years also followed this pattern, with Expansion-standard orbital time – also measured against Juir – to be only slightly longer than an Earth-year at 370 days.

The bulk of star systems throughout the galaxy followed this pattern, even though about half of them were double or triple star systems, with incredibly large gas giants – many several times the size of Jupiter – occupying the inner regions of the system traditional reserved for these rocky planets. Even still, this left millions of systems with small, rocky worlds which harbored life. The surprising thing for Adam, however, was how intelligent life appeared to be more-prominent on worlds with slightly less gravity than Earth. He found this to be strange, since on his homeworld life was incredibly abundant and resilient.

Formil was a world with about three-quarters the gravity of Earth, even though it was essentially the same size. The lower density of the planet caused the gravity variation, and placed Formil right in the middle of the galactic standard for worlds with a population of Primes – the universal designation for carbon-based, bi-pedal mammals who had evolved to dominate their worlds. The galaxy boasted a whole variety of more exotic life forms, based on a surprising mixture of chemical cocktails, yet none of these other creatures had been found capable of building advanced tools, shelters or machinery. That distinction was reserved to the Primes, and as far as prowess with the ubiquitous force of nature called Electricity, none were more advanced than the Formilians.

As would be expected from such an advanced race, the planet Formil was very well organized, maintained and managed. There were millions of settlements scattered across its surface, each resembling Adam’s vision of a George Jetson reality – however, still with no flying hovercraft! Even though the gravity drive had opened up the galaxy to all, it was simply impractical – and dangerous – to employ such technology in simple planetary-based transportation. So even on Formil, wheeled and winged craft still ruled.

The Temple of the Order of Light was located in the capital city of Vull, and dominated the northern section, pre-dating the city itself by over five-hundred years. Vull had come into existence to service the various needs of the Celebrants – the priests who comprised the Order – and of The Speaker herself. It was modern city, well-kept and laid out in a logical, grid-like pattern.

The Temple Complex, however, was another story. Appearing to have been built at a time of stone construction and ornate opulence, the hundreds of buildings making up the compound looked more like something out of ancient Rome rather than on alien world twenty-thousand light years from Earth. The contrast been Vull and the Temple Complex was stark, yet the tall, white walls of the compound wall served to clearly define the secular from the religious parts of the city.

Adam was met at the extremely large spaceport outside the complex walls and driven by a plush transport into the maze of towering temples, agoras and balconied apartments that made up the bulk of the compound. He gawked at the elaborate carvings and adornments that were everywhere. And every building, every walkway, every street was spotless, almost to the point of appearing sterile.

There were also people everywhere, many wearing full gowns of a soft mustard color. Even though by themselves the gowns would have looked hideous, against the rich, warm hue of the tanned Formilians, the color worked.

And that was another thing that struck Adam about Formil – the absolute beauty of the Formilian people. Until now, the only Formilian he’d seen had been the naked image of Arieel Bol, the Speaker – and that had been impressive enough. Now he found that most Formilians were just as gorgeous, even the men. Though he admitted that Arieel was an exceptional specimen – even among the crop of the most-stunning creatures he’d ever seen – most of the other females he saw on the street would classify as Greek goddesses in their own right.

Adam knew that if the other men in his unit had joined him on the mission, he would have had a hard time convincing them to return to Pyrum, low gravity or not. Some things were just worth losing bone mass for, and the females of Formil certainly qualified.

The transport dropped him off at the large, dominating Temple building where he was greeted by a tall, handsome Celebrant named Trimen O’lac For. Trimen explained that he was the Second Celebrant, one of three individuals who carried the title, and that he would be taking Adam to meet with Convor Ton’al Ona, the High Celebrant himself.

The small entourage accompanying Trimen was made up of three females and two males, and Adam had a hard time concentrating when surrounded by beings who could put every Playmate of the Year to crying shame. He was relieved when all but Trimen remained outside the meeting room where the High Celebrant waited.

Convor was tall, tanned and muscular – apparently a natural trait shared by all Formilian males – even though he was approaching sixty-years of age. Usually once one reached the pinnacle of power and prestige, one could dispense with the need to maintain stunningly good looks – besides there often wasn’t time during one’s hectic day to spend in the gym. So the supreme conditioning and beauty of the Formilian people had to be genetic – the lucky bastards.

“It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Adam Cain,” Convor said, approaching Adam with a pleasant smile and an outstretched hand. “Human protocol is for a hand-grasping ceremony,” he said. “I welcome the touching, finding it to be quite the bonding experience.”

Adam and Convor shook hands.

“Even after all the thousands of years, it is stimulating to find that there are still things we can do to improve our ways. I may see about introducing this ritual in our own formal greetings.”

Adam couldn’t help but believe Convor was sincere; there was nothing in his manner that would suggest otherwise. Damn, something as simple as a handshake, Adam thought. Wonder what else I can do to shake up their society?

“And now, Mr. Cain, I must apologize.” Convor motioned for Adam to have a seat on a wide, extremely soft, yellowish-colored sofa with curving wood armrests.

“For what?” Adam asked as he also took a drink offered by Trimen.

“It appears as though our crisis will soon be over and that your services will no longer be required.”

“You’ve recovered Arieel – I mean the Speaker?”

“Not quite yet, but we did receive a demand for credits in exchange for her safe return.”

So there had been a ransom demand; that would exonerate the Omphly and reduce the chance of war.

“Has Kroekus been informed? He will be very relieved to know this.”

“The message just came in a few hours ago. We have been analyzing it for authenticity and to see if the demands are agreeable. It appears both are now verified. I will be sending a link to Administrator Kroekus very soon.”

“He was afraid there might be a war if the Speaker was not found and returned unharmed.”

Convor nodded, removing the smile from his face. “That was our fear as well. Needless to say, we are all very relieved. Even though a demand of credits to culminate such a horrendous event is beyond the pale, we welcome it. We had no desire to go to war – with anyone.”

“So when does the exchange take place?” Adam asked. “Since I’m here, I might as well assist in any way I can. My official training has been in the rescue and extraction of hostages and other captives. I might have something I can contribute.”

Convor raised his eyebrows and looked over at Trimen. They both appeared to be very pleased.

“I am quite impressed, Mr. Cain,” said Convor, returning his attention to Adam. “I am well aware of your background and of your accomplishments however I was not aware of this particular specialty. You are quite the unique individual.”

Yeah, I’m hot shit – you god-damn Greek god, Adam thought. In reality, this was great news. Now he wouldn’t be under any deadline to achieve the impossible … and maybe now he could catch up with Sherri on Belson….

“We would of course welcome your input,” Convor was saying. His demeanor changed slightly, to one of nervous concern. “We are completely new to this concept of credits for the return of a dignitary, and we do have the time constraints to consider.”

“Yes, I am aware of the explosive device, Celebrant Convor.”

“Yes, we did authorize release of this information to Administrator Kroekus. The timing for the exchange is the only concern we now have.”

“Please explain.”

“There are only fifteen days left for the Speaker to be returned to the Temple for rites. The demand is for thirty-million credits, which is of no concern to us. It is only that the exchange must take place on a planet called Uniss-3, and it will take a ship from Formil six days just to reach Uniss and then another six to return. Any delays … and it could prove tragic.”

Adam moved to the edge of the sofa, concerned over what he had just heard. “Forgive me, Celebrant Convor, but isn’t thirty-million credits a pretty low price to pay for the return of your Supreme Celebrant?”

Convor frowned. “It was our belief that the amount was a blessing. Yes, it is very little compared to the treasury of the Order and for the importance of the Speaker, yet you make it sound as if it is too low.”

“It’s just that from my experience, ransom demands – ransom being the amount of credits paid in such cases – is usually directly related to the importance of the subject.”

“I understand, Mr. Cain. If the abductors had asked for a billion credits, we would have gladly paid it, but they did not ask for that amount.”

“That’s my point – why didn’t they?”

Convor and Trimen both look puzzled. Their complete lack of experience on this subject left them without a point of reference. “I do not see your concern,” Convor said. “We will pay whatever ransom they demand; it is that simple.”

Adam decided to let the subject drop. It would be hard for him to prove a negative to the aliens; they just had no understanding of the concept of a kidnap and ransom demand. He decided to move on to another subject.

“I know the timing for the return of the Speaker is now your most critical concern, and I might be able to help with the delivery of the ransom. My ship is capable of velocities faster than any you have. If your ship will take six days, I can do it in three. Three there, three back, and we’ll still have plenty of time before the deadline expires.”

Besides, I don’t think I trust these kidnappers. Something seems out of place. And if the kidnappers reneged on the return of Arieel, then there could still be war. He would feel better being in control of the situation.

“You would volunteer to do that?” Convor said, visibly excited. “This would be above and beyond your charter, Mr. Cain. And if what you say is possible, then the sooner we recover the Speaker, the sooner we can all put this tragic event behind us.”

“When will the credits be ready?”

“They already are. As you have intimated, thirty-million credits is a very small amount to accumulate.” At that point, Convor reached into a pocket of his mustard-colored gown and pulled out a stack of deep purple Expansion credit chips and placed them on a small table in front of the sofa.

Adam leaned in closer to look at the credits; he’d never seen purple ones before.

“Is that all of them?” he blurted out.

“They are five-million-credit chips. That is the largest denomination made.” Trimen said, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

“That’s why I didn’t recognize them!” Adam said with a wide grin. He reached over and picked up the small stack of six chips. When he thought about it, thirty-million credits was a lot of money. Each one of these purple chips could purchase a Class-5 starship, capable of traversing the galaxy. When put into perspective like that, maybe the ransom demand wasn’t as low as Adam thought. However, the Formilians did just admit they would have paid a billion. Hell, with that much Adam could almost buy an entire planet. Of course, it wouldn’t be in the best neighborhood, or with the best schools….

Adam was quickly briefed as to the location of the ransom drop and the procedures they had been instructed to follow, then he and Trimen headed back to Adam’s ship.

The more he thought about his upcoming trip, the more excited Adam became. A little six-day jaunt – three there, three back – and with the last leg of the journey in the company of a 16-year-old anime-artist’s vision of the ultimate wet-dream. Humm, what would he and the stunningly beautiful Arieel talk about during the trip back, for three whole days, and with no one else around?

His fantasy was brought down to reality when Trimen began to brief him about the Speaker.

“We know that Arieel Bol was drugged and unconscious when she was taken,” he said. “The only way she could have remained contained from that moment until now is if she has been kept constantly sedated.”

“Or they’ve killed her. Sorry, I had to say it. Have you had any proof of life – did you verify that she’s still alive?”

“We did not request it, but a time-stamped vid accompanied the credits demand, along with a verification of her genetic markers. As of four hours ago, she was still alive.” Trimen became very serious then. “If she no longer lives, then of course do not pay the credits.”

The Formilian hesitated before continuing. He looked Adam in the eyes, a sadness deep within them. “I have read your history, Adam Cain; you are a remarkable creature with a very unique set of deadly skills. I would hope that if the Speaker no longer lives that you would see fit to begin the process of seeking retribution for this act. It may not be much, but it will be a start.”

“I understand,” Adam said. “I’ll do what I can.” He knew what Trimen meant – more head-bashing and a high body count.

“As you have suspected, if the Speaker perishes, then a conflict will undoubtedly begin,” Trimen continued. “Even though the Coalition is much smaller than the Federation, we do possess superior technology, if not the weapons of war. However, we do have considerable wealth with which to purchase the weapons we will need. We may not wait to be attacked, Adam Cain. To do so would not be prudent.”

“That has been the thinking of the Administrator as well. Even though I now believe that it wasn’t the Omphly who kidnapped your Speaker, I do think they’ll use her death to gather the courage to attack.”

“What is kidnapped?”

“It means to be taken, abducted.”

“And yet the translator reveals kid to mean youngling. Does it happen so often on your world that a youngling is taken that you have a separate word for the event?”

“Unfortunately, it does,” Adam answered solemnly. “But kidnapping also refers to the taking of adults.”

Trimen seemed to be very troubled with the revelation; Adam felt embarrassed for his race. Here he was describing something so horrendous, so obscene, and to an alien who had no understanding of even the basic concept.

“I must warn you now about the Speaker – about Arieel Bol – as a person,” Trimen said, changing the subject … much to Adam’s relief.

“Go on. What’s she like, I mean when she’s not all drugged up?”

“That is why I must warn you. If you are successful in recovering her, then eventually the drugs will wear off and you will have to contend with her as – well – as she is.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Adam flashed his most sincere smile.

Trimen’s expression remained dour. “You must understand that Arieel Bol is the 4,316th Speaker—”

Adam couldn’t hold back his shock. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of them!”

“That is true, and as such, she has been raised with a certain perspective as to her place in our society.”

“Are you trying to say she’s spoiled?”

Trimen waited a moment as the translator worked through the reference. “Yes, that is a way of saying it, in the context of a personality disorder. However, as she may indeed be mortal and made of flesh and blood, she does consider herself to be very near a god.”

“I thought that’s how all Formilians consider her?”

The corners of Trimen’s lips began to curl up. “I may be the Second Celebrant, Adam Cain, but I am also a scientist, as are all the Celebrants 12th-degree or higher. I am one of three 17th-degrees, with Convor being the only 18th – the High Celebrant. We live to serve the Speaker and the Order, yet we know what is mortal and what is not, and we have spent more time around the Supreme Celebrant than all others on the planet.

“Young Arieel is the embodiment of our religion,” he continued, “a conduit to the power of our gods, Mislin and Sufor. They create the power, and we devise the various means in which their wonder can manifest itself. Even though the Speaker controls powers greater than any other mortal being, on any world, in any galaxy, she is still mortal.”

“And about that, how does she do it, this control she has? You just said she’s mortal.”

Trimen seemed offended by the question. “How she does this is of no concern, especially to an outsider,” he said, his eyes wide, his manner growing more agitated.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Trimen. I was just curious. Like you said, she has powers no one else has; of course I’d be curious about them.”

This seemed to calm the Formilian Celebrant. “Forgive me my temper, Adam Cain, but I thought you were going to question her abilities.”

“No, I have seen demonstrations of her powers. They appear to be very real.” However, Adam honestly believed they were some kind of elaborate magic trick, but he didn’t voice this to Trimen. Maybe three days in the Phoenix, alone with their living-god, would help reveal her secrets.

“Her powers are real, Mr. Cain, which is why you must be very careful once the drugs wear off. The Speaker will be traumatized over the event and very upset. She will also be in an advanced starship full of electronic devices, and if she were to lose her temper, it could be very dangerous.”

“Could she destroy the ship … but that would kill her, too?”

“Yes it would, but I do not believe she would go that far. She may be young and spoiled – to use your word – but she is highly intelligent and with a very-disciplined mind. It is only you who would be in danger.”

Adam shook his head, as if trying to clear out an unwanted thought. “Thanks for telling me this, Trimen. And here I thought this was going be a simple pick-up and delivery job. Now you say I could be trapped for three days with a pissed off honey badger with supernatural powers, and ready to tear my head off without warning!”

“If a honey badger is something that can create deadly balls of energy out of thin air, and who can control every electronic device on your ship simply with the power of her mind, then you are correct, Mr. Cain. My advice to you would be to keep your distance, treat her with the utmost respect … and never mention anything about her weight.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I wish I were not, but this is Arieel Bol we are speaking of. She is a female, and as such, she can be very difficult at times to comprehend.”

Adam entered the Phoenix and pressed the button to retract the ramp and seal the outer hatch. He left Trimen standing on the ground of the landing field, not even thinking whether or not he would reach a safe distance before Adam activated the chemical drive.

Instead, all that was on his mind as he made his way to the pilothouse was: Oh no, not another one!

Chapter 9

Adam arrived in Nulor star system three days later and proceeded in-system to the planet Uniss-3. As he neared the brown-tinged globe, he instinctively had the feeling that this place was going to be another shithole. From his experience brown planets tended to be drier, dustier and with native populations who walked around with bad attitudes and chips on their shoulders – if they even had shoulders.

It was also on worlds like this that the criminal element seemed to flourish the most.

* * *

Uniss-3 was located just on the other side of the border from Formilian Coalition and was a member of the misogynistic Omphly Federation. Because it sat on the outskirts of the Coalition, it served as a vital buffer against the obscene contamination that was being constantly fomented by the Formilians and their Speakers.

Even before the Humans had surrendered control of the Expansion, the Federation had already renounced its affiliation to that organization, choosing to go it alone, and for over twenty years the Brotherhood of the Omphly had been carefully preparing a strike against the Coalition. Yet the only thing that prevented such action was fear of the demon-Speaker. Besides the obvious fact that it was a female leading the entire Coalition, the Speaker was also a conjurer of the dark forces, not a representative of the gods, but of the devil, of evil.

The Brotherhood had never bothered to delve deeper into the question how she was able to do the obscene things she did. Rather they fixated on the fact that she could. It was all they needed to declare her a living-demon, an abomination, and deserving of death.

In reality, the leadership of the Brotherhood did not hold as much fear for the Speaker as did the general populace of the fifty-two worlds that followed the beliefs of the Omphly. Yet until the masses could support a full-scale clash with the Coalition, the Brotherhood held back.

But now the Speaker had turned up missing; Omphly spies within the Formilian government had confirmed as much, even though no public proclamation had been made. The leaders of the Brotherhood knew they had nothing to do with her disappearance, and yet the Coalition was not so sure. But even then, neither party was ready for all-out war – not yet.

And something else the Omphly Brotherhood also knew: Arieel Bol, the current Speaker, had only nine more days to live.

The Omphly leadership knew that the body of the Speaker was sacred to the Coalition, and that the Formilians had made provisions guaranteeing that their precious living-god could not be abducted and used for propaganda or as leverage for a capitulation of the part of the Coalition. Even though she was allowed to leave Formil on diplomatic missions, as well as for various ceremonies and displays she conducted throughout the member planets, the spies on Formil also knew she could not remain away from the Temple for more than twenty-eight days at a time. On the twenty-ninth, the Speaker would simply explode.

The spies had become aware of Arieel Bol’s abduction almost the moment it happened. Advanced security monitors had captured the entire event on video. It had been a study in tactical precision, occurring within only a seven-minute timeframe. That was nineteen days ago, and to date the Speaker had not returned. Another nine, and she would never return – and the window of opportunity for an attack on the Coalition by the Brotherhood would be open.

* * *

As Adam dropped the Phoenix down onto the dusty expanse of an ancient landing field, he could see dozens of dilapidated and rusting spaceships dotting the field around him. The spaceport was not located near the planetary capital, but rather outside a small town on the opposite side of the planet from the seat of power. Even though there was the occasional newer merchant ship to be seen, it was obvious that this region of Uniss-3 did not get a lot of traffic.

Adam was apprehensive of the whole ransom affair. He knew the kidnapping was probably the work of some splinter group of radicals or that of a criminal organization, which meant neither would carry any official government sanction. These kinds of affairs tended to be more unpredictable. The perps could simply kill Adam, take the ransom and kill Arieel … and then vanish into the night.

He doubted any of the kidnappers knew of the self-destruct within Arieel’s body. If they had, the ransom demand would have come much sooner. As it was, they were cutting it close to the edge. If it hadn’t been for Adam and the Phoenix, the ransom money would still be three days away.

So Adam’s plan was not to try any heroics. He would simply pay the ransom and take Arieel back to Formil. The Order of Light officials on Formil had not seemed too concerned about the credits they had to spend for the ransom, so neither would he. In fact, Adam still believed it was an unbelievably low number for the return of the Formilian’s Supreme Living Being, the Giver of Light and Warmth. The Formilian Coalition was one of the wealthiest regions of the New Expansion, so they had the money. In fact, if it had been Adam doing the kidnapping, he would have asked for a whole lot more.

Adam strapped a traditional MK-17 holster around his waist and checked the power pack in the weapon. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself by carrying a more Human-like projectile weapon. He just wanted to get in and out without too much fanfare.

The planet Uniss-3 was a Juirean-standard gravity world, putting it about three-quarters that of Earth. The atmosphere was breathable without assistance, even though the dusty, silica-laced sandstorms that were common could cause potential lung damage. But two hours or so here wouldn’t be long enough to cause any concern, so Adam moved to the rear airlock and fingered the controls.

A rush of hot air blasted his face the moment the hatch opened and he began to cough. After a moment, he had recovered, and moved down the ramp to the reddish-brown surface below.

The town where he was to meet the kidnappers was located about two miles outside the landing field. In the light gravity, the walk would be effortless, but he quickly noticed that even if he wanted one, no transports-for-hire were waiting near the field. He would have to walk.

Then off in the distance, he noticed a cloud of dust moving his way. He waited near the side of the still-creaking and popping hull of the Phoenix once it became apparent that the vehicle was heading his way. As the transport drew near, he could see that it was a beat up, four-wheeled truck of some alien design. The rear compartment hood had been cut off and rising up from where the backseat would have been was a large flash rifle mounted on a rotating pedestal. There were five natives all piled on the transport, each carrying their own MK-17.

They did not look like an official welcoming party, and Adam was pretty sure they weren’t with the kidnappers. The Formilians had received very precise instructions as to where Adam was to go once in the town. There was no mention of him being met at the landing field.

The transport slid to stop about twenty feet from the Phoenix, causing a dense cloud of dust to swirl up to the ship and engulf Adam. He began to cough again.

When the dust settled, four of the natives had already jumped from the transport and approached him. They did not draw their weapons – there was no need, not with the fifth member of the team manning the mounted flash rifle.

The Unisslings were taller than Adam – nearly all lighter-gravity world aliens were – and they were covered in a light yellow skin of various degrees of coarseness, like that of sandpaper. The large eyes were yellow as well, with a double membrane that helped rid them of the omnipresent dust and sand, while serving to keep the interiors moist. Their faces were very humanoid – or Prime it was called within the Expansion – with tiny noses and wide mouths. One of the natives was grinning at Adam, with double rows of filthy, misaligned and decaying teeth now fully exposed.

Adam reserved judgment as to whether this was a combat challenge or not, at least until he learned the instinctive tendencies of the natives.

The Unissling leader stepped up to Adam. “Welcome to Uniss-3, Traveler,” he said pleasantly enough. “What is your business here?”

Adam didn’t want any trouble. It was obvious this group did not operate in any official capacity, but all he wanted was to pay the ransom and get off the planet with the Speaker.

“I’m just a courier, here to pick up a package,” Adam replied, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

“Ah, and what is this package you must pick up? Is it valuable?”

“I have no idea. I was just told to come here and pick it up.”

“From where are you to pick up this package?”

“I have coordinates, nothing more. I will be guided there.”

The Unissling leader nodded emphatically, while looking past Adam at the sleek, new hull of the Phoenix. “This is a very impressive ship you have here, for a simple courier. You must know there is an arrival tax that is owed? Have you been informed?”

“No, I have not.” So here it comes.

“But of course there is. How else could we afford to keep our beautiful spaceport up to the high standards expected by Travelers such as you? I’m sure you and your crew must visit the finest spaceports throughout the galaxy in such an impressive vessel as you have. So how many are in your crew?”

“Only me.”

“So your ship is not only beautiful to behold, but also very advanced – my compliments.”

“Thanks,” Adam said dryly. “So how much is this tax?” He just wanted to pay it and get on his way. He was sure the Formilians would reimburse him for any out-of-pocket expenses.

The alien leader turned to one of his cohorts and took a small datapad from him. The corners of Adam’s mouth began to curl up slightly. They were at least trying to make it look official.

“Well, I see here that your situation is very unique,” the gravelly-voiced alien began. “Normally, the tax for an arriving ship would only be eight-thousand credits. Yet I see here that a recent amendment to the tax schedule has also added a surcharge for the age of the vessel. Seeing that this vessel is new – or newer – the tax has now been increased to fifty-thousand credits.”

“Fifty-thousand, that’s ridiculous! I don’t have many credits with me—”

“But I’m not done,” the alien interrupted. “I also see here that the fee is also based on the number of crew the vessel carries.”

“I said it’s only one, so that should get me a discount, right?” Adam said sternly. Even as he spoke he began to study the location and special alignment of the aliens. He saw where this was heading.

“On the contrary, Traveler, it appears that certain union organizations have assessed a penalty to those ships not carrying a full complement of union crewmembers. I take it you are not a member of the Starfarer’s Union?”

Adam pursed his lips before spitting out: “Nope.”

The bombastic alien turned to his fellow natives. “Our Traveler here appears to have maxed out his arrival tax.” He turned back to Adam, the smile now slowly vanishing from his face. Without looking down at the datapad, he said, “It is my duty to inform you that the tax has now increased to an amount equal the total value of your ship, Traveler, yet before you protest, there is a bonus being offered today – and for today only.”

Adam didn’t have time for this; he had a Supreme Celebrant to rescue. “And what is this bonus?”

“It says that if you, Traveler, will provide the access code to the ship, we are allowed to spare the life of the pilot. This is a special offer only afforded to those aboard single-person starships. I’m quite surprised at the generosity of the … officials who have set the fees.”

“You want the access code to the ship and then I can walk away free?”

“That is the offer. I suggest you take it.” The humorous charade had now past; the alien was looking down at Adam with an amused, yet hardened glare, confident in his position before the smallish, pink-skinned creature.

“All right, I’ll give you the code,” Adam began. “Are you ready? It’s one-eight-hundred, eat-shit.”

Even though the translation bug recalled the remark as consume feces, it still came off as a defiant insult to the Unisslings. Not really expecting Adam to comply, the aliens were already going for their weapons by the time the translation was complete.

But Adam was also ready, and before a single alien MK-17 had cleared its holster, Adam already had his out and being brought to bear on the lead alien. A blue bolt of electricity popped out of the barrel and struck the alien point-blank in the chest. The hot ball of energy penetrated the creature’s clothing and his skin, and then the electrical charge spread throughout the chest cavity, burning organs and severing nerve endings. The alien fell to the dusty ground a moment later, his lifeless body still twitching from the spasms of electricity coursing through it.

Next Adam took aim at the flash rifle operator on the transport. His shot was true, striking the creature directly in the face. What happened next was just a blur. In rapid succession, Adam sent bolts into two more of the Unisslings.

By the time he was finished, the fifth and remaining alien had begun to run, heading for the exit to the spaceport. Adam looked around at the bodies of the four aliens on the ground, and satisfied that none were still alive, he took off after the lone survivor.

In the gravity of Uniss-3, Adam would have been ranked as the fastest creature on the planet. He caught up with the surviving pirate in just a few seconds, and grabbing him by the back of his shirt, lifted him from the ground as they both ran along. Then Adam stopped, still holding the taller alien off the ground. The Unissling had his weapon still in his hand, but he didn’t even think to use it.

Adam tossed his captive to the ground and stood over him, his own MK-17 held defiantly to his side. “Do you have a mate?” Adam asked.

The alien’s eyes grew wide, confused by the question. “Do you have mates, a family?” Adam asked again.

The creature nodded nervously. “Yes, I have several mates, why?”

“Any offspring, children?”

“I have three sons.”

“Any daughters?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the question!”

“There have been two born of my mates. But they do not count as offspring.”

“That’s fine; I don’t really care. What is your name?”

“Azzel, my name is Azzel.”

“Okay, Azzel, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to find your mates and your family – including your daughters, but especially your sons – and then I’m going to kill them in the most-painful manner imaginable. Then I’m going to eat them.”

Adam could see the shock on Azzel’s face. “No! Not my sons!” So he only cares for the males? What a fucked-up society this is, Adam thought.

“Yes, your sons, too, and I will make them suffer even more for what you have done.”

“Please no! We are very poor here. Stripping credits from defenseless Travelers is how we survive.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to kill them and then eat them all … unless you do as I say.”

Azzel scrambled to his knees, stirring up a small cloud of brown dust as he did. “Anything!”

“I’m only going to be on your sinking planet for a couple of hours, Azzel. After that I’m leaving. I will either be leaving the planet for good, or I will be leaving to track down your family – and your sons. The choice will be yours.”

“Of course; what do you wish of me?”

“I want you to watch after my ship. It’s that simple. I do not want a repeat of what just happened. Also, clean up the mess I left. I’m sure even this hell-hole has some kind of police force. Keep them away, at least until after I leave. Is that something you can do for me?”

“Yes, of course, Traveler. I apologize for what we attempted. It was all Kellze’s idea.”

“I don’t care; you’re responsible. Just do as I say, and I’ll be gone in a couple of hours.”

Adam then turned from the trembling alien and walked off in the direction of the small town, confident that his commands would be followed. Otherwise … well roast-alien did sound rather delicious, especially with a nice marinade!

* * *

The dusty, dirty town Adam found himself in had a name, but he had promptly forgotten it once the coordinates had been entered into his nav computer. He would be here so briefly that he didn’t care if it had a name or not. It was just another shithole town on another shithole planet.

Adam Cain, U.S. Navy SEALs, had participated in his fair share of rescues and extractions during his military career, yet in all those operations he had never paid a ransom. SEAL’s usually were the alternative to paying a ransom, so the whole concept bothered Adam at a certain level. But on another, it didn’t. The money wasn’t his – hell it wasn’t even real money in the first place – and it seemed simpler just to let the kidnappers have their way. Besides, there was no underlying principle being violated here, nothing like a ban against negotiating with terrorists. If the Formilians didn’t care about the money or the principle, then neither would he….

Adam found that breathing on this dust-bowl of a world to be growing increasingly difficult. It was mid-day on this part of the planet, and even though it was hot, a strong breeze was serving to keep the temperature tolerable. Yet the breeze was also stirring up numerous dust-devils of abrasive, blinding sand to invade his lungs and assault his eyes. It was like Iraq all over again.

Dozens of the natives were on the streets of the town, seemingly immune to the blowing dust, and each watching him out the corners of their double-lidded eyes. Adam was sure they were curious how a single being could have emerged from the spaceport unscathed, being fully aware of the presence of the ‘tax-collectors’ amongst their ranks. In fact, Adam was sure that several of the natives watching him now would have profited handsomely from the activities of the land-pirates, if they had been successful. The place just had the look of a classic den of thieves.

And so Adam’s eyes methodically scanned every dark opening, as well as every corner he passed, watching for any potential threats. His destination was directly in front of him, and he only had a few more yards to go. Once inside … well again, he had no idea how things would play out.

He approached the double-metal gate set within the white-washed walls of the compound. There were no openings in the gate or sentries on the walls, yet he was sure he had been watched as he approached. Then almost without having to break stride, the gates swung inward and Adam marched confidently through.

The compound he entered contained somewhere around eight to ten buildings, each two stories tall and with wide courtyards separating them. There were a few mangy-looking trees sprinkled about, doing their best to survive in the hot, dry climate, while a cacophony of insect sounds provided the soundtrack for the familiar scene.

Four natives quickly surrounded him, forcing him to a stop.

“State your business, Traveler,” said one of them.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Adam shot back. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The aliens considered him for only the briefest of moments before disarming him and then escorting him into the largest building on his right.

He entered a pavered foyer, complete with a wide Spanish-style arch embedded with broken, colored tiles. Adam looked around to see if he’d entered a time-warp, suddenly transported to a small Mexican hacienda. Yet as with all his Deja-vu moments before, this one was soon shattered when more of the tall, rust-colored aliens filled the foyer, rather than a contingent of sombrero-wearing and mustached-Mexicans.

“Follow this way,” one of the aliens said, and Adam was led down a wide, echoing hallway on his right. His native guards opened a door to a side room and motioned for him to enter.

Obeying, Adam found he was in a large room about thirty-feet square, with another doorway on his right and a large window to the left displaying one of the courtyards separating this building from the others. There was a table with six empty chairs set near the far wall. The lead guard approached the table and set Adam’s MK-17 down loudly upon it.

Adam then looked more to his right and his heart began to pound. There in the corner, sitting on a lone stool, was Arieel Bol, The Speaker of the Formilian people.

Adam took a step in her direction but was stopped by a cadre of guards. They hustled him toward the table; he chanced to look back at Arieel, shocked to see her so frail and vulnerable. She appeared to be unrestrained, yet she did wear a strange, white cap on her head, looking to be made of a fine, metal mesh. Her cheeks were sallow and her large black eyes vacant and non-seeing.

She was certainly under the influence of a drug of some kind, simply rocking slowing back and forth in the corner – but at least she was still alive.

Next, Adam’s attention was diverted as he heard the door to his right begin to open, screeching on rusted hinges like fingernails on a chalkboard. The effect was excruciating, but not as shocking as who he saw enter the room.

It was Nigel McCarthy.

The large, red-headed Englishman was himself frozen in shock as he spotted Adam, yet only for a moment until the look changed to that of sheer panic.

“Call all the guards!” he yelled out as he grabbed the lead sentry by the shirt and pulled him close. “Scan the entire area for others and secure the front gate. Do not let anyone approach the compound, even if they’re your brothers and sons. Shoot anyone who comes within fifty feet of the walls. Do it now!”

He shoved the hapless guard away, and soon the entire room was swarming with a dozen additional guards. McCarthy had withdrawn a high-powered MK-47 from his holster – the most-powerful of the MK-line of handguns – and was holding it against his cheek. He moved past Adam to the large window, standing to the side, scanning the exterior.

He touched a small communication box on his shoulder. “Carter, prep the ship. We may have to bug out of here in a hurry.”

“What’s up,” was the response through the comm box.

“That bloody Adam Cain is here.”

There was a pregnant pause before Carter Thomas, Nigel McCarthy’s second-in-command responded. “Where is he? Is he alone?”

McCarthy looked back at Adam, his eyes ablaze with anger. “He’s right here with me. It looks like he’s alone, but you know this bloke; you can never be sure what he’s up to.”

The initial shock of seeing his old nemesis had worn off enough that Adam now sat with an amused smile watching McCarthy panic. It only made the whole kidnapping affair come into better focus.

Nigel McCarthy, formerly of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service (SAS), was a criminal through and through, so why wouldn’t he be neck-deep in the kidnapping of The Speaker? This was his style.

Yet the last Adam had heard of Nigel McCarthy he was being shuffled off to Elision, the home planet of the Kracori. That was ten years ago and now here he was, alive and still up to no good.

Adam flashed Nigel a wide, Cheshire-cat smile, which only seemed to infuriate the large Englishman even more.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Cain? This is not a good time for a class reunion.”

“If you’re referring to the ransom of the Formilian Speaker, then you’re probably right.”

McCarthy came away from the window, never taking his eyes off Adam and moved to the other side of the table, the MK now leveled at his chest. “What do you know about that?”

“I’m the one sent to deliver it and bring our pretty little Arieel back home.”

“No shite? How – why you?”

“Right place, wrong time, I guess. So are we going to do some business here or not?”

McCarthy stared at Adam for several seconds before responding. “Are you alone? They were told to come alone.”

“I’m alone,” Adam answered, still with an amused look in his eye. He was really enjoying watching Nigel squirm like this. The two of them had history together, and Adam was sure that if the roles were reversed, he would have had the same reaction.

“I just want to make this exchange and be on my way, Nigel. Whatever happened between the two of us happened over ten years ago; it has no bearing on what’s happening now. And besides, I’m just as surprised to see you here as you are to see me. Talk about a small galaxy.”

Again, McCarthy took a long while before responding, but then Adam saw a sparkle return to Nigel’s pale blue eyes. But then the sparkle turned to a sinister grin slowly stretching across his face, an expression that was the exact mirror image of Adam’s own smile fading away.

McCarthy wouldn’t suddenly be satisfied with the situation unless it meant trouble for Adam. He watched nervously as Nigel pulled back a chair and sat down, confidently placing the MK-47 on the table as he did so.

Something had just happened in the devious mind of Nigel McCarthy, and all Adam Cain could do now was swallow hard … and pray.

Chapter 10

Two natives held Adam by the arms while another searched him. When the alien was done, he looked up at McCarthy, concern plastered on his face. “He carries no credits on him.”

McCarthy smiled at Adam, while his eyes scanned him up and down. “So where is the ransom you’re supposed to being me?”

“I don’t have it on me. That’s a lot of credits to carry. I had to see of The Speaker was okay before turning it over you.”

Nigel smiled back at Adam, now completely confidence in his control of the situation. He met Adam’s eyes and they locked on. “Mr. Cain, is that a king’s ransom in your pants, or are you just glad to see me? Check his groin area,” the Englishman commanded to the alien guard.

The native cocked his head slightly.

“Between his legs; check between his legs.”

The creature bent down and clumsily began to unfastened Adam’s pants. “Okay, stop,” Adam said. “I’ll do it.” He unzipped the fly and reached inside, before withdrawing a large plastic pouch containing the purple Expansion credits.

The alien snatched the bag away and held it up to McCarthy with pride.

“I’m glad I was here,” McCarthy said. “It seems I’m the only one familiar enough with Human anatomy to know something was more than it seemed. However, it does look as if I will have to sterilize these credits before I can use them.”

Adam was in no mood for jokes. “Okay, now that you have the ransom, will you release the Speaker?”

“I would like nothing more than to oblige – once I have learned the secret of her powers.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“No, it wasn’t, at least as far as the Formilians were concerned. But it is mine.” McCarthy picked up the MK-47 again. “Now that I’ve had a little time to recover from the shock of seeing you again, Adam, I must say I’m ecstatic that it is you who have brought the ransom. I can’t believe what a stroke of good luck this has become.” He turned to address the lead guard. “Put the credits on the table and then leave the room,” he commanded. None hesitated as they all quickly exited, leaving their boss alone with the other Human.

Adam looked over at Arieel, who was still sitting near the corner, rocking slowing in the chair and softly muttering. “If she dies you know it will start a war.”

“Exactly, Mr. Cain, I’m counting on it! But we’ll get to that soon enough. What I’m really curious about is what you’ve been up to over the past three, four years? I thought you’d gone back to Earth to bask in the glow of your greatness?”

Adam really wanted to know more about McCarthy’s plans, not reminisce about the good ole days, but he figured the longer he kept McCarthy talking, the longer he might actually live. That was a big incentive to accommodate the big Englishman’s ego and curiosity.

“Nah, I’d had enough of all that. I decided to stick around and play Luke Skywalker for a while longer.”

“And now you work for the Formilians?”

“Actually, I do odd jobs for Kroekus.”

“Ah, that makes more sense, after all we are all part of the old Fringe fraternity, aren’t we?” Adam could tell McCarthy was thoroughly enjoying the conversation now that he knew Adam was no threat to him.

“But what about you, Nigel? The last I heard you were on your way to Elision to cozy up with the Kracori. Whatever happened to that arrangement?”

McCarthy slapped the table in front of him. “I have you to thank for that!”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right. After you got up in front of the galaxy three years ago and announced that the Kracori were an official outlaw race – whatever that means – and that the Humans would hunt them relentlessly, the grey bastards got nervous that I might trade their planet’s location for a full pardon, or some such nonsense. So my men and I figured it was best to bug out, rather than wait to be taken out. So we split.”

“So why haven’t you cut a deal? I’m sure the powers back on Earth would’ve worked something out.”

“I have my reasons, Adam, not the least of which is that even though the big-wigs would let me come back, thanks to you and all the bloody books written about your exploits, I’m pretty much the new-Hitler of the space age.”

“That was Riyad’s book that said all those things about you. I haven’t written anything myself.”

“Be that as it may, I’d still have to stay in hiding for the rest of life. People don’t soon forget a billion dead relatives – or the guy who helped the aliens kill them.”

Adam just shrugged.

McCarthy continued. “So instead, I chose to concentrate my efforts in other areas and have helped to bring the word organized to crime in the galaxy.” He smiled broadly. “And it’s been easier than I thought. It’s as if Superman turned villain. If that ever happened, there’s not much others could do to stop him. It’s the same here.

“Just think, I send in my men out to cut a deal with a local drug dealer and suddenly I have a piece of the action on over twenty-five worlds. Then I go down the street and do the same with the contraband kingpin. It hasn’t been hard to arrange the meetings and then convince these weak-kneed aliens that it’s in their best interest to let me in. And in the end, we all end up making money.

“And about the location of Elision, I’m keeping that in my back pocket, just in case I run into some ambitious Humans who might think it’s a good idea to take me back to Earth. Hell, I could even trade that information to some alien government looking to score points with the Humans. That information alone is worth a fortune.”

“So where are the Kracori located?” Adam asked with a smile, knowing Nigel would never casually give up the information.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my friend; wouldn’t you like to know.”

Adam looked back at the still catatonic Arieel Bol. “What have you done to her? She looks totally messed up.”

McCarthy waved a dismissive hand. “She’s fine,” he said. “We kept her drugged for a few days and then the scientists fitted her with that brainwave-disrupter thing. It scrambles her higher brain functions while keeping the lower one’s going, the ones that keep her breathing and shit like that.”

“And what’s this about you wanting to start a frickin war? How is that going to help you out?”

McCarthy met Adam’s eyes for a moment as he thought what to say next. Then he gave a slight nod, more to himself than to Adam.

“I’m sure it’s beginning to dawn on you, Adam, that things are not as you were led to believe,” McCarthy began, a smug, satisfied look now on his face. “I have thirty-million credits sitting in that bag, plus the Speaker of the Formilians as my captive – a creature of incredible powers I might add. I also have a small army of over one hundred Humans, which you know is a force to be reckoned with here in this alien universe. I also have a vast and growing criminal empire, in a galaxy ripe for the organization and unity I’m providing. And now I have you, the famous Adam Cain. I must be living bloody-well right!”

Nigel looked at the large window to the outside. When he turned back to Adam his eyes held a devious sparkle. “I shouldn’t do this; after all I have seen far too many Bond-movies to fall for the trap. But I’m just so anxious to see the look on your face when all is revealed.” McCarthy was so wickedly satisfied with himself that he almost burst out laughing.

Adam sat stone-faced, wondering what was so funny, and afraid he would soon find out.

“Let’s see, where shall I begin? First of all, in a couple of hours this compound will be attacked by forces masquerading as Formilians.” Nigel’s eyes absolutely beamed bright as he watched the shock cross Adam’s face. “That’s right, and during this attack, the pretty little Speaker over there will unfortunately meet her demise. This event will allow the Omphly Federation to declare war on the Coalition in response to this blatant breech of their regional sovereignty. The resulting war will be the largest such conflict to take place in the galaxy since … well, since we last saw each other.”

“Why would you do that … start a war that will kill billions?”

“For the money, Adam, why else? The Formilians are very advanced technologically, yet they have not spent much of their energies on building weapons of war. And the Federation is more primitive, even though larger in numbers. Both of these sides will need the weapons I will sell them. This ransom you’ve brought is but a small down payment for what I will make as the war progresses.”

“So why kill Arieel if the attack will be enough to start the war?”

“For a couple of reasons: First of all, the Federation has a very healthy fear of the Speaker and her powers. As I said, they are primitive and actually believe that she is some kind of supernatural demon. That’s why they despise her so much. Yet they won’t hesitate to declare war if they believe the lovely Arieel is dead.”

“Believe?”

“That’s right, Mr. Cain. Do you really think I could allow her to die before I’ve learned all her secrets? That knowledge is much too valuable to throw away like that.”

“I’m not following you.”

“You don’t actually believe she has supernatural powers, do you?”

“Not really. But why do you not believe her?”

“Because I have seen the device she has imbedded under her lovely skin.”

“The self-destruct?”

“I have seen that, too. In fact we knew of it even before we took her. No, I’m talking about the gadget she uses to do all her fancy miracles.”

Adam’s jaw fell open slightly as he stared silently at McCarthy.

“You didn’t know, did you? How do you think she does all that fancy crap with just her mind?” McCarthy let out a soft grunt. “You would think that for people as smart as the Formilians that they would have seen through the ruse long ago. Just think logically, mate. If her bloodline did possess these great powers, then why does only one of them exhibit them at a time? And if these are real powers, then how can they be given and taken away at a certain age?

“It’s obvious to anyone with a lick of sense that she’s using some artificial means of controlling electricity and electronic devices – devices I might add that have been almost exclusively designed by her own people.”

Adam was silent; he had essentially come to the same conclusion several days before, but maybe not in such succinct terms.

McCarthy continued through the silence. “I’m sure you’ve thought about what you could do if you had her powers, Mr. Cain. Well, I’ve had the opportunity to study Miss Bol for several days now, and my scientists have just about got it figured out. It’s simply a device that can read her thoughts and then act on them through the wonders of technology. The Formilians have all that nailed down and have for a very long time.

“So you see, I not only going to start a very profitable war, which will make me a shit-load of money, but now I have the bonus of finding out how the Formilians can control electricity with just their thoughts. That, my Yankee friend, is now the greatest prize of them all, and not something I had anticipated when I initially planned this operation.”

McCarthy then stopped and let out a hearty laugh. “And now you have simply dropped in my lap! As I said, I must be living right.”

“So how are you going to learn how the device works without getting yourself blown up? She only has so much time left, you know.”

“Let me worry about that. I have people working on that problem right now, and besides, we already have a fundamental understanding of how the mind-reading device works. If we can’t figure out the self-destruct mechanism as well, then we’ll just have to make do with what we have. And thanks to this ransom, as well as the money I make from the rest of my other activities, I have nearly unlimited funds available to make that happen. Once we analyze the data, I’m sure we’ll be able to duplicate the technology.”

“So you’ll just let her die?”

“Of course, Mr. Cain; she’s a bloody alien after all! Granted, she is the most fetching lass I’ve seen out here – or anywhere for that matter – but the two of us have killed more than our fair share of non-Humans. This is no time to go soft, just for a pretty face and a knock-out body.”

Adam began to quickly work through the different scenarios if a war began between the Coalition and the Federation was to begin and if Nigel’s scientist did manage to override the explosive device within Arieel’s body. The Order may just let her die and install a new Speaker. Convor would then assume power – at least in the interim – during a time of war and until a new Speaker comes of age. Or they may continue their efforts to rescue her, only to reveal her to the Federation as also having the power over life and death, in addition to all her other miraculous powers. That might put an end to the war right then and there.

Either way, the ultimate fate of Arieel Bol was no longer his primary concern. That had been replaced by the fact that Nigel McCarthy, the insane SAS officer who had once assisted the Klin in the slaughter of over a billion of his fellow Humans, might actually gain the knowledge of how she controls electronic devices with her mind. That would prove to be even a greater threat than any regional war. With that much power, McCarthy would be virtually unstoppable. And then what if he gave that power to all of his one hundred fellow Human criminals he spoke of? He would indeed control an army of real supermen, with powers far beyond those of any alien, or even other Humans. It would be a disaster of unimaginable proportions.

Adam knew Nigel McCarthy. The former SAS field officer was a certifiable nut-case, consumed by his own lust for power. But he was also a survivor. Whatever Adam was to do next, the last thing he should do is underestimate McCarthy and his abilities. If he said he was going to start a war, then a war he would start. And if he said he would learn the secrets of the Speaker, then Adam could bet his bottom dollar that he’d make that happen, too.

As for his own fate, Adam was not so sure. The tables had been turned 180-degrees in McCarthy’s favor once Adam had learned that he was being held captive by a fellow Human. Being held by aliens was a completely different matter, one that never caused Adam any real concern. But this was different. This creature thought like him and could match his strength and skills one-to-one. McCarthy also knew what Adam was capable of – superman-wise. He would make sure not to underestimate Adam, either.

As a matter of fact, it would be easier for McCarthy just to shoot him dead on the spot; Adam was sure the thought had already crossed Nigel’s mind. The MK-47 resting on the table was a deadly weapon that could easily bore a dime-size hole through his body when set on level-one. That was why Nigel was taunting Adam with the weapon – as a warning.

“So what now, Nigel, it sounds like you have everything worked out?”

A genuine look of sadness crossed McCarthy’s face. “Yes, and this is the part I truly regret, my friend. Since the Order sent you to ransom the Speaker, I think it only appropriate that your body should be found in the ruins of the attack, and right next to the very charred and dismembered remains of a female Formilian, like the one I have just recently acquired.”

“They won’t believe she’s Arieel.”

“Oh, I think they will. There won’t be much left, making further investigation into the identity of the body pointless. Besides, the Formilians will have a lot more pressing matters to deal with at the time. The Federation has been chomping at the bit to war against them for a very long time. The only thing stopping them has been their fear of little ole Arieel over there.”

“You are one sick mother—”

A thunderous concussion suddenly shattered the left side of the room, sending both Adam and McCarthy slamming into the opposite wall. The sound was deafening, and both the Humans stared out into the dust and debris with blank expressions, temporarily dazed and confused.

McCarthy was the first to recover, managing to stand and lean against the wall, looking out through the massive hole that had once been the left side of the building. Outside he could see a gigantic crater that now filled the courtyard. There were pieces of bodies lying all around; some of the pieces were still conscious and crying out in agony.

Nigel activated the comm box on his shoulder. “You’re attacking too soon, you bloody idiot! Call off the attack!”

As Adam regained his awareness, he could hear a panicked voice screaming out from Nigel’s communicator. “It’s not us, Major. It’s something … else.”

“What?”

“Eight ships dropping from orbit – they’re firing again!”

True to the warning, a barrage of additional bolts slammed into the building and surrounding area. The right wall of the room finally gave in, and Nigel disappeared into a pile of rubble. The force of the blast pushed Adam further to his left, closer toward where Arieel had last been sitting. He looked for her in the dust and crumbled concrete, finally locating a thin, blood-covered arm projecting up toward the now exposed sky.

Adam grabbed the arm and pulled. To his relief, he heard a piercing scream of agony. At least she’s still alive.

He dove into the pile covering Arieel and began to dig her out. Soon she was free, but now just a ghostly figure covered completely in white dust – except for the numerous spots of bright red blood that seemed to be everywhere on her body.

In the light gravity of Uniss-3, Adam scooped Arieel into his arms and ran toward the opening in the wall where Nigel had fallen. It was the furthest from the continuing bombardment of the compound from outside and provided some relative safety.

In his haste, Adam didn’t notice that the skullcap Arieel had been wearing was now gone….

The building was in ruins, and Adam struggled over broken walls and shattered furniture, yet through all the noise and confusion, he could still hear Nigel screaming into his communicator, even though he could not see the Englishman.

“Round! They’re round ships? Bullshit!”

“They’re round, Major. I can tell round when I see it.”

“Shit, Taylor. That could only mean Klin or Kracori.”

“Or Humans.”

Adam had heard the name Taylor before. He had been one of McCarthy’s lieutenants from years ago.

“It’s not the Humans,” Nigel yelled back. “If it were, they would have come with a lot more than just eight ships.”

“Major, they’re strafing your location again. It looks like you are their target!”

“Take them out, Taylor. You have twice as many ships as they do. Do it now!”

“Yes sir. We’re already lining up – they see us! This will give you a chance to get out of there.”

“Roger, that. Keep me informed during the battle. McCarthy out!”

As the conversation was ending, Adam barreled through a half broken door and into a side room. He slipped down along the wall, still holding Arieel in his arms. He could hear McCarthy moving through the debris in the hallway outside the room, back in the direction of the now-shattered meeting room, and he was not too far away to hear the big Brit explode in a tirade of curses as he returned to find Adam and Arieel both gone.

Now he would come looking for them.

Adam rose up off the floor and staggered through more debris toward a broken-out window. He worked his way through to the outside, before running off in a painful crouch as fast as he could in the low gravity, still carrying the unconscious Formilian. He moved through a maze of other shattered buildings, nearly all now in some form of demolition with fires raging throughout most of them. There was dozens of bodies strewn about, with very few survivors in this area of the compound.

Klin or Kracori! Adam laughed out loud. Screw McCarthy! He was getting just what he deserves.

Having betrayed every partner he had ever had; the aliens had come looking for Nigel. Adam admitted this had more the markings of the Kracori than the Klin; the tall, silver Klin seldom did their own dirty work. Yet not so the Kracori, who were very Human-like – strong, skilled and pragmatic. They would do what was necessary to protect against the location of their homeworld being revealed, even if it meant leveling an entire city to do so.

The Kracori had found McCarthy. Now Adam hoped they would be successful in taking him out.

Through the gray sky, now filled with smoke, Adam could make out the tell-tale signs of a distant battle raging in the upper atmosphere. There were brilliant flashes of bolt weapons, and then the occasional blue and yellow burst signifying a devastating explosion aboard a starship. It wasn’t hard to make out the opposing sides, with one combatant vastly outnumbered by the other. McCarthy had said his own forces – those preparing to attack the city posing as Formilians – outnumbered the Kracori attackers two-to-one. And if those ships were manned by Human warriors, then it looked as though McCarthy just might win the day.

The consequences of such an outcome could have repercussions throughout the galaxy, but Adam couldn’t dwell on that at the moment. He had to get Arieel to safety and hoped that her injuries weren’t too serious….

His eyes suddenly grew wide and he looked down at Arieel’s peaceful, yet bloodied and dirty face. If she were injured too severely, might her self-destruct go off at any second?

Adam slipped behind a tall mound of rubble and placed the Formilian on the ground. He began to back away.

What was he to do? He could see that she was still breathing, but he had no idea if her vital signs were being monitored by whatever device she had inside her. And why wouldn’t it? The device was capable of some incredible feats; monitoring the host’s vital signs would be a piece of cake. And if her life signs did fall below a certain level, would the device decide to end her pain? He had no idea.

Just then Arieel’s eyes fluttered and she took in a deep breath. As she exhaled, her eyes opened wide and she let out a loud, piercing scream of pain.

Adam rushed over to her and knelt down, placing his hand on her mouth. “Please try to be quiet,” he pleaded. “They’re looking for us.”

Arieel’s large eyes began to look around widely, her whole body trembling with spasms of panic and pain. It was all Adam could do to keep her from jumping up and running away.

“Arieel calm down! You’re been hurt; don’t try to get up.”

Finally her insane gaze focused on him and he felt her relax. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth.

“Who are you,” she managed to eke out, grimacing as spasms of pain still wracked her body.

“I’m Adam Cain. I was sent by the Order to deliver your ransom and bring you home.”

“Ransom? Home?”

“You don’t remember being kidnapped?”

“What is kidnapped?”

“Taken, abducted. You were taken from Formil. Those who took you have demanded credits for your release.”

Arieel’s body suddenly went rigid, and even though her face softened, her eyes turned a hot, smoldering black. “I was taken?” she stated, a hard cadence now in her voice. “Against my will … I was taken?”

“That’s right,” Adam confirmed, intimidated by the black intensity of her glare. He took his hands from her body and sat back on the blackened ground. Something wasn’t right.

Arieel continued to glare at him, and then slowly she closed her eyes. Adam began to feel the hairs on his arms begin to stand on end and a strange, metallic odor filled the air. Then he noticed a soft, shimmering blue glow envelop Arieel’s body.

He moved away from her as quickly as possible, sliding over next to a mound of debris. He didn’t know whether to stay and watch or cut and run. Was she getting ready to explode, or was this something else?

Before he could decide on a course of action, the glow abruptly disappeared and Arieel took several deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, they revealed a much softer look.

Arieel sat up, and then fighting through her pain, shuffled over to a place where she could lean her back against. She looked at Adam. “You came to rescue me, you say? And exactly how is that goal progressing?” The tone from the stunningly beautiful, dark-haired alien was dripping with pure sarcasm. Adam just swallowed hard.

“So far, so good,” he lied before stretching out a thin, nervous smile.

To his surprise, Arieel smiled back. He began to relax.

He continued: “The person who took you – or at least the one who masterminded it – reneged on his agreement. He wasn’t going to let you go after the money was paid.”

“What is money?”

“Credits, money is credits.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Arieel looked around at the smoldering devastation around them. “So you destroyed the buildings to rescue me?”

Adam shook his head. “Not exactly; your kidnapper – abductor – was attacked by a force of Kracori warships.”

“Kracori! I find that hard to believe. The Kracori are barely a myth. They came briefly, and then disappeared once the Humans took control of the Expansion.”

“You’re right, but they really want this guy dead.”

“But I was nearly killed in the process. Do the Kracori not know who I am?”

“I’m sure they didn’t even know you were here—”

“Quiet!” Arieel said, holding up a hand. “There are beings approaching.”

She stood up, shaky but determined, and looked off towards her left. Adam couldn’t hear or see anyone approaching through all the smoke and crackling of the surrounding fires, yet Arieel was on the scent. She limped to the edge of the debris pile.

“Get down!” Adam called out, moving up next to her.

“I will not! I must face my attackers.”

“Don’t be stupid—” Arieel jerked her head around to look at him, cutting him off with a piercing glare from her dark eyes.

Just then Adam saw a squad of five native beings, moving carefully through the debris, flash rifles held at the ready. They spotted the two of them standing in the open and raised their rifles to fire. Adam grabbed Arieel’s arm.

Just then one of the aliens fingered the trigger on his weapon – but nothing happened. He fingered it again, and still nothing. Then the other four took aim and pulled the triggers.

The same result.

Adam fell back on the ground, sitting on the blackened soil, shocked into simply watching what happened next.

Arieel walked defiantly further into the opening until she was about twenty feet from the five natives. Then she held her hand out in front of her, and immediately all five flash weapons began to hum. Adam recognized the sound as an overload warning; he had heard it several times before, but only coming from the MK variety of hand-held flash weapons. Through mishap and experience, Adam had found he could create make-shift hand grenades by bending the barrels of the weapons and then triggering their controls, thereby building up an overload – and leading to an explosion!

Adam jumped up and tackled the diminutive Formilian, just as the five flash rifles exploded in a rain of fire and deafening concussion. The heat from the blasts cascaded over them, searing the hair on Adam’s right arm as he shielded Arieel from the bulk of the blasts. When he looked up again, there were no remains of the five alien attackers, not even their shoes were left intact.

“Are you crazy?” Adam yelled, grabbing Arieel by the shoulders. “I haven’t gone through all this trouble just so you can get yourself killed by being stupid.”

“I was in no danger.”

“Bullshit!”

Arieel frowned at him – as all aliens did upon first hearing the word bullshit. “That’s not true,” Adam quickly amended. “The blast would have killed you.”

“My Gods have protected me.”

“Let’s not get into that.” Adam looked around to see if the explosions had attracted any attention. If they had, it was to affect a clearing out of any survivors from the area. “We have to get out of here. I have a ship a couple of miles away, if it wasn’t destroyed in the bombardment. Can you walk?”

Arieel cocked her head. “Of course I can. My life energy is being enhanced even now. I am able to move, if not at my optimal speed.”

Adam just looked at her. She may be cute and all, but this was one strange creature. “Then let’s get the hell out of here before any more of McCarthy’s people show up.”

“What is a McCarthy?”

“A McCarthy is the rat-bastard who’s behind your abduction. His forces probably won the battle against the Kracori, so his next order of business will be to find you.”

“I am right here! This rodent-beast does not have to go looking for me. I will meet him here!”

Adam leaned in closer to her, towering over the small female like he seldom did with most other alien species. “Listen, your royal Speaker-ness. I’m supposed to get you back to Formil, and hopefully, all in one piece. You may have some pretty impressive powers, but this is not the time or the place to pick a fight. Help me when you can, but first let’s make it off this stinking planet.”

Arieel glared up at him for several tense moments. Then her face softened – just a bit. “Four more weapons are approaching from the south. I suppose we should be leaving … as you suggest.”

“It was not a suggestion, your Highness.” Adam took her by the arm and pulled her off into the clouds of smoke, in the direction where he had left the Phoenix.

“What is a Highness?”

Adam just shook his head. She may have some incredible powers, but he figured as long as he wasn’t wearing a pacemaker, then he’d be safe.

He just hoped his ship was still there. He was really counting on the ship’s special features to help him get this bitch back to her home planet … and out of his hair.

Much to his relief, the Phoenix was safe and sound sitting in the backwater spaceport. As he approached the hull, with Arieel trailing behind him, the nervous native Azzel ran up to him.

“What have you done? You have completely destroyed my home!”

“I didn’t to it,” Adam said barely acknowledging the alien. He brushed past him and fingered the control panel to open the access door.

“I’m not going to let you get away with this!”

Adam turned to see that the alien had his MK-17 aimed at him. If this creature followed tradition, he would have the energy setting at level-two. That wouldn’t kill Adam, but it sure would sting. So Adam looked over at Arieel and nodded.

The Formilian Speaker smiled slightly.

Adam turned away and entered the spaceship, with Arieel close behind. As he turned to close the hatch, he saw the rust-colored alien fumbling with his now-inert weapon, at a loss as to why it wasn’t working.

“You better back away if you don’t want to be turned to ash,” Adam called out just as the door slid shut. He had to admit, that was a pretty neat trick.

Adam lifted off, and even before reaching orbit, spotted a squadron of oblong spacecraft lining up on his position. These would be McCarthy’ remaining fake-Formilian warships.

Arieel had followed Adam to the pilothouse without saying a word and now sat in the co-pilot’s seat, looking at the display on the proximity screen.

“They are beyond my influence! Do something!”

Adam stopped what he was doing and looked over at her, a frown on his face. “Just who the hell do you think you are? You don’t tell me what to do on my ship.”

“Well you did not appear too concerned about the approaching spaceships. I did not know if you were expecting me to save us – again.”

“Just sit back and relax, sweetheart; you’re not the only one around here with super-powers.”

And with that, Adam engaged the four forward focusing rings of the Phoenix, creating a gravity-well deeper than any of the pursing ships could even imagine this far in-system. The Phoenix sped off from Uniss-3 at many times faster than a beam of light and leaving the crews of McCarthy’s ships staring at a now-empty section of space.

Adam looked over at Arieel with a satisfied grin. In return, she sent him a childish sneer, then rose out of the seat and stormed out of the room.

Adam watched her leave, a sight enhanced by the torn and revealing gown barely covering her ample form. “Hate to see you leave,” he whispered under his breath, “but love to watch you go.”

Even then, Adam knew this was going to be a very long trip back to Formil.

* * *

Once safely on the Coalition side of the border, Adam opened a CW-link with Convor on Formil. Arieel and the High Celebrant spoke for several minutes, both expressing immense relief and thanks that Arieel was safe and headed home.

Throughout the conversation, Arieel refused to give Adam credit for saving her. But once all the pleasantries were over, Convor asked Arieel to let him speak with Adam in private. Adam was shocked to see that she demurely agreed and left the room.

“Mr. Cain, we are all forever in your debt. This creature – McCarthy – was not going to release her. That would have been a tragic event.”

“You still have major problems, Convor.” Adam went on to explain how McCarthy had planned a staged attack by faux-Formilian forces on Uniss-3 in order to provoke the Federation to declaring war. Even though his plans were disrupted by the Kracori, he would still blame the destruction of the backwater town on the Formilians. After all, the Federation wasn’t looking for a real incident, just something they could base their actions on.

“And yet The Speaker still lives,” Convor countered. “This will surely prevent the Omphly from attacking.”

Adam hesitated telling Convor what he knew of The Speaker’s so-called powers. He had a sneaking suspicion that McCarthy would reveal the truth to the Omphly, that all her demon powers were simply a product of high-tech magic and trickery. If he could convince them of this, then the mystique of The Speaker would be broken, and the Federation would attack. McCarthy would get his war, and out of necessity, both the Federation and the Coalition would end up buying weapons through McCarthy’s various suppliers, with him well-hidden as the source of those transactions.

The bastard would win this round.

But what of him developing a mind-reading device like Arieel’s? Did he really have enough information to do it?

Adam watched Convor on the screen, who now sat frowning at Adam’s long silence. “Let’s hope that’s the case, Convor,” Adam finally said. “Whatever is going to happen will happen pretty soon. We’ll be back on Formil in three days. I’ll see you then.”

Adam then cut the link. He had some thinking to do; a plan was percolating in his mind that required a little more fleshing out. Then suddenly he panicked. Can that spoiled brat read my thoughts? If so, then he was indeed in for a very rough ride back to Formil.

Chapter 11

Nigel McCarthy was beyond livid.

Only one of the buildings in the compound would pass as intact, and he had moved his operations center to a large room within the shattered remains. His second-in-command, Carter Thomas, was seated in front of a door they had propped up on two stacks of broken concrete to form a makeshift table.

Thomas was a forty-year-old, ex-Army Ranger – a huge, African-American – who had been with Major Nigel McCarthy for going on fifteen years. They had both been abducted by the Klin and made part of the growing army of Humans the aliens intended to send up against the Expansion-leading Juireans. Most of the Humans who were abducted at the time did not join the Klin willingly. Instead they were either brainwashed into joining or were sent to work in the factories building the weapons of war which those who did volunteer would use against the Juireans.

McCarthy and Thomas had been a couple of the most-enthusiastic volunteers, quickly rising in the ranks of Human turncoats to become the primary advisors to the Klin on all things Human-related. They planned abduction excursions to the Earth, stalking vulnerable military personnel, mainly from the more-advanced military powers such as the US, Britain and Russia. They tried to avoid most of the more militant religious countries, figuring that those abductees would be the hardest to convert. Trying to convince these people that it was in their best interest to pledge loyalty to a group of aliens seemed like a losing proposition and not worth the effort.

They also coordinated the kidnapping of thousands of women, mostly chosen for their youth and physical conditioning. These women would be used to birth a whole other level of Human fighters, the 2G’s or Second-Generation Humans. These were people born into the Klin training camps and raised to believe all the aliens told them about their fellow man – as well as their honored purpose as the force that would rid the galaxy of the Juirean disease. The 2G’s would help protect the Earth from the Juireans, while also manning the fleets that would be sent against them.

McCarthy and Thomas, along with McCarthy’s other twenty or so most-loyal confidants, helped the Klin for several years, until a few months after the Human-Juirean War began – right up until the time they learned that the Humans were being used simply as fodder in the war. The Klin’s ultimate plan for McCarthy’s strong, savage race was to use them to reduce the Juirean forces down to a level where the Klin – along with their true allies, the Kracori – could then move in and defeat both the Juireans and the Humans.

The Klin had never intended to share the rule of the galaxy with the Humans, and McCarthy’s payment for all the assistance he had provided the Klin over the years – namely the rule of the planet Earth herself – was simply bait in order to get him to cooperate.

Once he and Thomas had learned the truth – inconveniently from one Adam Cain by the way – they had escaped from the Klin stronghold on the planet Marishal just before the aliens erased them as potential problems in their ultimate goal of galactic domination.

Several of McCarthy’s men had been killed around that time, until he was left with only nine loyalists. This team accompanied Cain to the planet Juir, where through a strange twist of fate, Adam sided with the Juireans, while McCarthy and his men sided with the alien Kracori.

Now ten years later, McCarthy was an independent contractor, building a criminal empire the likes of which had never been seen in the galaxy before, while Adam Cain worked for the Expansion Administrator, the fat blob of a creature called Kroekus of Silea.

Now Carter Thomas sat stoically in one of the few intact chairs in the entire compound, watching his boss storm around the room, cursing and throwing chunks of broken concrete through whatever walls had managed to survive the Kracori bombardment of five hours before.

Nigel stopped near the blown out opening in the wall that had once been a large window. Outside, one of his men, Kyle Baker, was surveying the damage, a Xan-Fi flash rifle cradled in his arms. A tall, rust-colored native was picking through the debris nearby, looking for any survivors in the rubble.

“Baker!” McCarthy called out.

Baker looked up at the sound. “Yes, sir!” he called back.

“Bring me that alien.”

Baker frowned, looking at the native and then back at McCarthy.

“Yeah, that one, bring him to me.”

Baker looked confused but complied, grabbing the taller, yet much weaker native by the arm and dragging him towards the room where McCarthy was standing.

Once inside, Baker shoved the alien to his waiting commander. “What do you wish?” the scared alien asked. He was dirty and with blood showing in several spots on his face and arms. He had been one of the fortunate ones, one of the survivors of the attack.

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you – except this.” McCarthy stepped forward quickly and grabbed the head of the alien. Then he twisted it nearly completely around, snapping the neck instantly. The creature went limp, and Nigel continued to hold the head tightly, supporting the now inert body of the native, his own face showing an insane intensity at the killing. Nigel then tossed the body ten feet to the other side of the room and turned back to Carter Thomas.

“Do you feel better now?” his second-in-command asked, showing no emotion on his face.

“A little,” McCarthy answered. “I just really needed to kill something, and since I can’t get my hands around the neck of Adam Cain, that alien had to do.”

Still with stone-cold, emotionless countenance, Carter said, “I sometimes get like that myself, Major.”

McCarthy looked at Carter’s shiny black skin and cold-black eyes. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile; his stoic manner was one of the only constants in McCarthy’s tumultuous life.

“Now can we get back to business?” Carter asked. “Should I open a link with Surun and let them know the Speaker is still alive, or not?”

McCarthy stared at the dead body of the alien for a few more seconds before answering. “No, not yet, I need a little time to think.”

“Cain’s going to contact Formil, and then the spies there will let the Federation know. They’ll call off the attack.”

“I know, Carter; just give me a second.” Nigel moved to the end of the door-desk and sat on a stack of concrete debris. On the table was the small bag of purple Expansion credits, thirty-million worth, that they had recovered from the other room. At least that had survived.

“Let me play this out,” McCarthy started. “Cain has escaped with the Formilian bitch in a hopped-up spaceship that none of us can catch. The fucking Omphly won’t attack now because they still fear the demon powers of the Speaker—”

“Why not just let the Omphly know that her powers are fake, just the product of an artificial gadget?” Carter asked. “Then they won’t have to fear her anymore. Nothing will stop them then.”

McCarthy thought about that for a few moments and then shook his head. “We could do that, but then the whole Formilian myth would collapse. The Coalition’s belief in her divinity is the basis for their religion, for the Coalition’s existence in the first place. If we told the Omphly, then the word would get back to the Coalition and it would fall apart by itself. Then the Omphly would win by default, and we’d have no war to supply.”

“Won’t Cain let it out? He knows the truth.”

“I don’t think so; Kroekus would never let him do that. Again, the Coalition would fall apart and Formil would be lost to the Omphly without a fight. Kroekus needs the technology from the Formilians to keep his Expansion intact. No, even though he may know the truth, Cain won’t let it out.” McCarthy slammed his massive fist down on the surface of the table, cracking it nearly in half down the middle. The bag of credits slid toward him in the valley created by the impact.

Even though the bag had been in Cain’s crotch, Nigel grabbed it and held it up in his massive fist. “Thirty million, Carter; just a drop in the bloody bucket to what we could have made off this war, and all it will take is for that bloody bitch to die. I didn’t need these credits, Carter. All I wanted was for the war to start. I should have killed her when I had the chance, or at the very least just let her explode. If I’d just waited a few more days….”

“That’s fine Major,” Carter said, “but we really do need to call Surun.”

McCarthy suddenly sat up very straight, his eyes growing wide. He looked at Carter and smiled. “That’s right, we sure do,” Nigel agreed, more enthusiastically than was necessary. “Assemble the men. Get them back to the ship as soon as possible. We do have a call to make, in fact, a lot of them.”

Carter had seen McCarthy go off like this before. It frustrated him, wishing he’d just say what was on his mind.

“We don’t have to kill that Formilian bitch. We just have to let her kill herself.” Nigel eventually explained.

“Cain’s ship will get her to Formil long before that happens,” Carter countered.

“Not unless we can delay them.”

“His ship is too fast—”

“But it’s not faster than a CW link, Carter. All we have to do is let every scoundrel, crook, pirate and anyone else willing to help, to get in his way and prevent him from getting her to the Temple within the next eight days.”

“And why would they do that, Major?”

McCarthy held up the bag of purple credits. “For thirty-million credits, that’s why.”

Carter’s big dark eyes grew wide looking at the bag McCarthy now displayed. Then the smile appeared – the first smile Nigel had seen in over fifteen years. McCarthy continued.

“We broadcast the news of the reward out in the open, offering it to anyone who can kill Adam Cain and the Formilian. Even law-abiding citizens would want a piece of that action. And the ironic thing about it the Formilians have paid the money that will be used to kill their own demi-god.”

“There’s not a lot of time to organize this, Major. It will take time for the ships to head out.”

“All we need to do is flood the area of space between here and Formil. There will be ships already in space or on the planets that are on the way. If we get enough ships out there, then Cain will be forced to change course, taking him longer to get to Formil. By then, there could be thousands of ships hunting him. And they won’t even have to kill him just prevent him from getting to Formil on time.”

“You know Cain, he may still get through.”

“I know, but this is the best chance we have to get this war started. And the beautiful thing about it, we just have to sit back and let others do all the work for us!”

“I like it, sir,” Carter said, flashing that most-rare of smiles for the second time. “But what about the Kracori, it’s obvious they mean business this time? They found us once, they can find us again. Shouldn’t you let everyone know where their planet’s located?”

“I don’t want to do that right now. We’ll head out now back to Highland. The Kracori will have a hell of a time finding us there. Besides, I want to save that bit of information for when I really need it. I don’t want to waste my best trump card simply because I’m pissed.”

“As you wish.”

“Good! Let’s get back to the ship and get off this fucking planet. We have a lot of calls to make.”

Chapter 12

It wasn’t until fourteen hours later that Adam saw Arieel again. She had locked herself in one of the Phoenix’ four staterooms and refused to come out. Adam had let her be, just thankful that she had not claimed his stateroom to lock herself in. That was his stateroom, not hers, and he was sure he would have had a hell of a time getting her out.

Adam was sitting in the central mess hall of the Phoenix, drinking a coffee and reading a letter he’d written in a hand-held datapad. It wasn’t really a letter, but a collection of thoughts he had gathered about Sherri and him, an exercise aimed at helping him put his feelings, goals and concerns into perspective, so he could better express himself if she was still around when he got back to Pyrum. It was cathartic, and a small diversion from the other, more elaborate plan that was mulling around in his mind.

Suddenly, the beverage and food processing units began to hum, and a tray of food and drink slid out of the dispenser. Adam looked around, startled by the activity, but saw no one else in the room.

Arieel then walked in and straight up to the counter. It only took Adam a moment to realize what she had done – this was probably child’s play for someone like her. Nonetheless, it was impressive.

But what really took Adam’s breath away was how Arieel was dressed – or not dressed was a better term. She did have on some clothes – a man’s shirt she had found in the stateroom – and that was all. But even a man-sized shirt couldn’t contain the heaving breasts that fought to escape the fabric, nor hide the other virtues of her sumptuous body. Four over-burdened buttons struggled to keep the front of the shirt from flying open, while still revealing her more-than ample cleavage and a fully-exposed lower region below her bellybutton.

Kroekus had been right: Human and Formilian anatomy was very similar, at least for the parts Adam could see, which didn’t leave much lacking.

He must have been gawking, because Arieel stopped in front of him, holding her tray of food and drink a little lower, but still not low enough.

“Respect, Human,” she said. “Have you not seen a female before?”

Adam snapped his jaw shut and sat up a little straighter, now looking straight in her eyes. “Eh, sorry about that, but you’re not wearing a lot of clothing.”

“I cannot help that, there was very little to select from in the cabin.”

“Couldn’t you have found something a little bigger?”

“Are you saying I am too fat for this garment? How dare you! I am The Speaker of the Order of Light. I am not fat!”

Adam had to smile. Damn, it’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?

“That’s not what I’m saying. There is nothing wrong with your – well – anything. It’s not your fault the shirt can’t cover all your female parts.”

Arieel stood up a little straighter, which caused the upper-most of the four buttons to pop loose. Already Adam was having a hell of a time maintaining eye contact with the dark-haired alien. This didn’t help any.

“Then I shall take that as a compliment, Adam Cain.” She sat down at his table and proceeded to look him up and down. Once done, she picked up her drank and took a sip, looking over the rim of the glass at him with the largest, darkest eyes he’d ever seen.

“You are an alien, Adam Cain, yet you are a Human-alien. I have heard stories of your races’ strength and physical prowess, even though I do not see how these stories could be true in light of your small muscles and short stature. However, I chose to mingle with you, since we have nothing much else to do during the journey back to Formil.”

“Excuse me,” Adam stammered. “You what?”

“I will mingle with you – engage in sex. I feel my body is sufficiently recovered for such activities. However, I must warn you, that considering your slight build, it could be dangerous for you. If ever you feel you cannot continue, let me know and I will allow you pause, but only momentarily.”

“Let’s just back up a minute,” Adam said, pushing his chair away from the table and further from Arieel. “I read somewhere that Speakers only mate once in their lifetimes, when you’re thirty-five years old. I take it you’re nowhere near that.”

Again, Arieel seemed insulted. “Of course not! I am merely twenty standard years of age. Can’t you tell?”

Adam let his jaw fall open without saying a word.

“And I said nothing about mating! I speak of sex. Does your race only mate for procreation, or do you engage for pleasure as well?”

“But I thought…. I thought. Hell, I don’t know shit.”

“Adam Cain, Formilians are very physical and sensual beings, and just because I am their Speaker does not mean I do not partake. Yes, I will mate with the High Celebrant at the appropriate time, but until then, I mingle regularly with those I select.”

“The High Celebrant – that’s who you mate with?”

“Of course, he and his bloodline are just as pure and strong as my own.”

“You will mate with Convor?”

It was now Arieel’s turn for her mouth to fall open. She sat stunned for a moment before answering. “Of course not you vile beast! Convor is my father. There will be another, possibly from the Seconds within the Order. But that time is far off.” She shook her head again. “Convor … how could you even...?”

“Sorry, Arieel,” Adam said quickly. “I guess I didn’t have enough time to do all my research. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Yet you do have an inordinate talent for doing so.”

“And about us … mingling; I have a girlfriend, sort of.”

“I would expect nothing less. But why is this mentioned?”

“Oh, crap,” Adam said, now staring up at the ceiling. When he looked back at Arieel she was sitting across the table, staring at him with a quizzical look in her huge, warm eyes. It was all Adam could do to speak the next words.

“I’m really flattered, Arieel—“

“Why?”

“Never mind; just let me say I would like nothing more than to hop in the sack with someone like you. It would be … well, damn! But that’s just not going to happen. I have someone else I care for and we don’t go around cheating on each other, not normally. And besides, the two of us are going through a rough patch right now and I just don’t think it would be fair to her.”

“While in the cabin I did some research into Humans,” Arieel said, “and I have seen Human females. They are a less dramatic version of me. I do not see why you would prefer them to me?”

Adam took an unabashed scan of Arieel’s luscious form; this time she sat there, welcoming it. It seemed to have become a contest now, a challenge for the dark-haired alien.

What am I doing? Sherri isn’t really my girlfriend in fact she may not even be there when I get back. How can I pass this up?

“There is no depth to this action, Adam Cain. It is only sex.”

Adam squinted at the alien. “Can you read my thoughts?”

Arieel was taken aback by the question. “Of course not! My Gift is tuned to my thoughts only, and to those of Mislin and Sufor.”

“Good.” At least he didn’t have that to contend with. “But Arieel, I have to pass – to say no. Maybe if this thing doesn’t work out with Sherri, then we can get together, but not now.”

“That will be too late. And I also sense that you are attaching some sort of emotional significance to this conversation. Be assured, there is none. I do not like you, and in many ways, you repulse me.”

“Then why did you even bring it up!”

“Bring what up?”

“The idea of having sex!”

“It was only for the physical sensation, Adam Cain. What did you think?”

Adam stood up, an action that afforded him an even better view of what he was passing up. “I’ve got to go to my stateroom now. Make yourself at home, and if you’re going to play with any of the electronics, just make sure you don’t kill me.”

Adam left the mess hall, a shattered and broken man, and hoping that none of the guys back at the base ever learn about what just happened. He would never live it down if they did.

It took Adam another eight hours before he felt comfortable enough to go looking for Arieel. He had spent that time formulating his plan, a plan he would initiate once they returned to Formil. In the meantime, he had a little research to do, and Arieel was his best reference.

He was surprised to find her in the pilothouse, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat staring off into space and the strange circular pattern of colored light from the surrounding stars, their spectrums curved by the presence of the gravity wells far ahead of the ship.

Her presence within the electronic hub of the ship made him nervous. Had she been fooling around with his ship, or did she just feel more comfortable surrounded by all the things of which she had complete control?

She didn’t acknowledge his presence, so he slipped into the pilot’s seat and did a quick system’s check. Everything seemed in order.

And then a red light began flashing on the air-mixture monitor. He tapped in a few commands and a graph showed that all the gases were at their proper levels. Then the light went off … just as the CW comm unit screeched. He reached for the activation button, yet before he reached it the speakers went silent.

Adam pressed his lips together and looked over at Arieel. “Do you mind not doing that?”

She looked at him with a mischievous grin.

Adam had decided it was best not to blatantly accuse her of perpetrating a fraud by using an artificial device to claim supernatural powers. Since she had been born into her position and given her ‘powers’ at only five years of age, he wasn’t even sure she knew that she had been implanted with a device. If so, then telling her could cause irreparable damage to her psyche, if she even believed him in the first place. And whether she derived her powers from an artificial device or directly from her gods, there was no denying that she had them.

He had already seen how emotional and vain she could be. He wasn’t too anxious to see what a completely devastated Formilian Speaker would do to his ship.

So he decided to use a more innocent, indirect approach to find out more about her abilities.

“You are very good at what you do, Arieel,” he complimented. “Can you control all electrical devices?’

She took the compliment gracefully, but then seemed insulted by his second comment. “I do not control such items, I communicate with them. That is why I am The Speaker.”

Adam had to be careful; this was her religion and people are often very sensitive about their beliefs. “Of course, I apologize. Can you communicate with all devices?”

“In one way or another, yet the more sophisticated units are easier, and we have more interaction. With primitive devices I simply massage their auras.”

“That’s fascinating. Have you always been able to do this?” He knew she had gone through the ‘gifting ceremony’ at age five but wanted to know how she remembered it.

“Of course not, Adam Cain; no one is born a Speaker. That only comes about at the Gifting Ceremony.”

“What does that mean?” Adam had her hooked.

“When a Morlic-Speaker – a pre-gift Speaker – turns five, we go through the gifting ceremony. That is when the Gift is placed into my body.”

“You have … something in your body?”

“Of course – the Gift. It is my conduit to Mislin and Sufor. It is the way I communicate with their essence in all their creations and even within the air around us.”

“Even in the air; I don’t follow?”

For an answer, Arieel turned away from him and held both her hands out, palms held vertical. Her dark eyes stared into the open space behind their seats and her pouty mouth went limp.

Adam began to feel the hairs on his arms begin to tingle, and he looked down to see them standing on edge, actually moving is an eerie wave-like motion. The air had a strong metallic odor, sort of like that of burning wires.

At first Adam thought he was imagining it, but then he began to make out more and more tiny flashes of streaking light zipping around the room. Then they became more abundant, dancing about in midair. They began to congeal, forming a sparkling, almost blinding, circle of electricity about the size of a golf ball between Arieel’s hands.

Once formed, Arieel appeared to rise out of her trance, smiling at the glowing ball floating in air between her outstretched hands. She turned back to face Adam, causing the ball to float along with her. The crackling globe was only a foot or so from Adam’s face and he could feel its heat, as well as tiny offshoots of miniature lightning that reached out to touch his skin. He jerked back at first, but then realized this was like one of those static electricity globes you bought at Spencer’s Gifts. Adam had one as a kid, and he would spend hours rubbing his hands over the surface of the globe, mesmerized by the hypnotic streaks of electricity. At least until he got bored.

But this was different. Arieel had conjured this up out of thin air, collecting a concentration of free electrons out of the dry atmosphere of the ship. Even though he believed the ball to be harmless, he didn’t trust that Arieel could easily elevate the ball to a deadlier level, almost like a shot from an MK bolt launcher.

Adam looked past the ball and at Arieel’s face, her perfectly smooth skin aglow in the light of her creation, impossibly black eyes now alive with dancing reflections of light. This was pure joy to the Formilian, the actual presence of her gods, held gently in her hands.

Then Adam saw her lips pucker, and with a soft exhale, she blew the ball away. If spread out into the room, wrapping around Adam’s head as it dissolved.

“That was amazing,” Adam said, truly impressed with Arieel and her beautiful innocence.

She smiled a wide, perfect smile full of brilliant white teeth. There was no challenge in her, just joy. “It takes time and effort to bring together the free spirits of Mislin and Sufor. These are the wanders, looking for a home within the devices we create. They are so grateful when they can come together, to touch others of their kind, to grow closer to their creators through me. I would do this more often, but it does take a lot of concentration.”

“How do you do it?” Adam’s question was more rhetorical. He knew he wouldn’t understand even if she told him.

“I must see the gathering first, and then they come. Since the spirits cannot be seen at first, it is hard for me to do this, but I promise I will get better the older I get.”

“I think you did a great job; you are truly talented. But Arieel, why is there only one Speaker at a time. Can the gift not be given to others? This is a great power you have.”

Arieel blinked several times and he saw her bronze skin grow a shade darker. Her smile vanished, but soon a poor imitation returned. “I know you are a non-believer and an alien of limited intellect, so I will not blame you for your naiveté, nor will I get mad, since I have come to learn that your inquiries are not malicious. Our Gods only allow one Speaker at a time, to have more would be to invade their home. The Speakers have always been Bols, and they always will be.”

“But Arieel, what would have happened if you had died on Uniss-3? There would be no Speaker then.”

“That is true, and yet already my eggs have been harvested for such an event. Whether I die violently, from accident or disease, my line will continue. The essence of the High Celebrant and my own will be combined and a new Morlic-Speaker will be born.”

“But it will take years before she’ll assume power.”

“The Order will maintain our culture. It has happened forty-eight times before, and still we survive.”

Adam nodded. She had answered his question, but not completely. “Yes, Arieel, your society is very impressive. I understand your people have been instrumental in creating almost every major development in electronics in the galaxy, even before there was an Expansion.”

“We must create the offerings for Mislin and Sufor. The more we create, the happier we make them.”

“And the Gift that allows you to communicate with your gods, do your people create that, too, or is it of divine origin?”

“Again, I will forgive you, for you do not understand. All our creations are of divine origin. How do you suppose we have acquired the knowledge to build them?”

Through science and technology, Adam thought.

“Our greatest minds have been blessed with the knowledge to build our devices, including the Gift. My place in the universe is to communicate with the Gods. Others fulfill their destiny by constructing our devices. It is a wonderful union of purpose and contribution.”

That was what he needed to know! The device that gave her the power to control electronics was manmade, or in this case, Formilian-made.

Adam’s heart was pounding and he was having difficulty breathing. He needed to get to the galley soon and mix himself a stiff drink. Possibilities were exploding in his head and he needed something to calm them down.

He stood up, his legs wobbly.

“Are you well?” Arieel asked. “You have turned even more pale than normal.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just a little dehydrated. I need a drink.”

“Then you must go. I can control the devices of this ship, yet I lack the skill at piloting.”

Adam displayed a wry grin. All she’s concerned about is having someone to land the ship.

He was relieved in a way, knowing that she at least saw some value in having him around. If that’s the case, he may actually make it back to Formil alive.

Chapter 13

Adam was in the pilothouse, alone with his thoughts, when the CW link came in from Kroekus.

The Expansion Administrator had a deep look of concern on his alien face, which Adam recognized immediately.

“What’s happened, Kroekus? You look terrible.”

“I have some very troubling news for you, Adam,” Kroekus said. “I have just received various reports that a reward has been placed on you and The Speaker, if you can be stopped from returning to Formil within the next seven days standard.”

“I’m not that concerned,” Adam said. “I’m only about twenty-five hours out. It’s a little late to come after me now. Besides, the Phoenix is faster than anything out here.”

“But, Adam, the reward is for thirty-million credits!”

Adam was stunned. This was obviously the thirty-million he’d delivered to McCarthy, and he knew that even though it wasn’t a lot of money for the Order, to everyone else in the galaxy, it was a king’s fortune.

“Yeah, well that changes things.”

“I thought it would. I have been receiving reports that nearly whole spaceports are being cleared out as hundreds of ships are heading out looking for you.”

“No shit?” Adam said, sitting up straighter in his seat, while dialing the proximity detector out to max.

“There are still nearly a dozen occupied worlds you have to pass on the way to Formil. The path before you may soon be full of hundreds, if not thousands of ships looking to collect the reward. And Adam, a word of caution: If you do make it to Formil, beware of the natives as well. There has been such an excitement about this reward that I fear there is no place where you will find sanctuary over the next seven days.”

“Is there anything you can do to help?”

Kroekus shook his head. “Even if I could, I would be afraid to. What if one of the ships I sent to assist you decided to mutiny? I would not trust anyone, Adam. Use whatever skills you and Arieel Bol can muster, but you have a very difficult path ahead of you.”

“Yes, we call it running the gauntlet back on Earth.”

“You are familiar with this concept?” Kroekus said, stunned. “So this is commonplace for Humans?”

“I didn’t say that, but the concept is understood. Thanks for telling me. I will be on the lookout.”

“Please keep me informed. You know how important the survival of the Speaker is to the affairs of the Expansion.”

“Yes, sir, I do: Cain out.”

Adam next fingered the controls for the ship’s 1-MC system. “Arieel, please come to the pilothouse immediately. We have a situation.”

Less than a minute later, Arieel entered the pilothouse. This time she was wearing one of Adam’s old sweatpants and an-oversized sweatshirt of his. Even then, the frumpy clothing could not hide the incredible curves underneath, and her lustrous black hair always seemed to have just the right wave in it, looking like she’d just stepped out of the beauty salon.

Adam shook his head to dismiss his thoughts, more inappropriate now in light of the grave situation they were in.

“What is the crisis, Adam Cain?” She asked as she sauntered up next to his chair, standing very close and smelling of strawberries – however that was possible.

“Our friend McCarthy has offered a bounty on our heads for anyone who can keep us from getting to the Rites Ceremony on time.”

Arieel’s eyes grew wide. “What is a bounty, and how does placing anything on our heads keep us from returning to Formil? Also, I was not aware McCarthy was our friend.”

Adam’s mouth simple dropped open for a moment. In spite of how sophisticated the Formilian translation bugs were, they did have their drawbacks.

“He’s not our friend, and to prove it, he is offering credits to anyone who can kill us or keep us from reaching Formil within the next seven days. Is that any clearer?” The frustration was evident in his voice.

“Yes, much clearer. But even for credits, the task would be very difficult and against the laws of the Coalition and of the Expansion. Why would anyone take up such a challenge?”

“For thirty-million credits, that’s why.”

Arieel frowned slightly and nodded her head. “I understand that such an amount of credits is a substantial to some. I take it you believe it will be sufficient to initiate a response?”

“To say the least; I just spoke with Administrator Kroekus and he says entire spaceports are clearing out as ships head out to find us.”

“I now see your concern.”

“Is there anything you can do, with all your powers, to protect us?”

“I’m afraid not,” she answered with only a slight concern in her voice. “I can only communicate with devices that are within a half a mile or so from my being. With the distances involved in space, there is nothing I can do.”

“How about with the ship’s systems, can you enhance any of them, make our shields stronger or increase the range of our detectors?”

“I cannot influence the operation of devices beyond the capacity for which they were constructed. To apply more influence would cause bodily harm to these devices.”

“You said back on Uniss-3 that your own bodily functions were being enhanced. What did that mean?”

“For sentient beings I can supplement the electrical impulses within their muscles and brain activity by drawing in the free spirits from the air. This can have the effect of added strength, durability and endurance … on a temporary basis. To influence such enhancements over time would cause even biological units to heat up to the point of failure. It is the same with non-biological devices. Too much influence and the increased heat within the device will cause catastrophic failure.”

Adam was silent for a moment as he worked through his options. “How about the monitoring devices on the Phoenix, can you help me keep track of them? I only have two eyes and it would be helpful to have another set helping to keep track of things.”

Arieel smiled. “I can do that. I can communicate with all of them if you wish and let you know when they are speaking to me.”

“That’s great; take a seat. We have around twelve systems to pass through on the way to Formil. But since we had such a head-start, we may get lucky….”

Just then the proximity sensor began to flash and chime. Only moments before he had set it to respond audibly, as well as visually, just in case he was distracted by something else. Now he checked the screen and his stomach tightened with what he saw.

It was nine ships coming out of his two-o’clock. Even though they had no organized formation, it was obvious they were all heading in his general direction. Damn, McCarthy must have calculated his departure speed from Uniss-3 and projected a current location.

Adam shifted course slightly away from the approaching ships. Their vector would allow for an intercept if he remained on course, even though the Phoenix was nearly twice as fast as the fastest ship that was closing on them. On this course he would be able to clear the range of their weapons with ease.

And then the alarm sounded again. This time there were three more ships, only these were coming in from his ten-o’clock, nearly the opposite direction as the other nine ships.

He angled the nose of the Phoenix down some. He was already at maximum-well, so increasing speed was not an option. Only his direction could be used to avoid his pursuers.

And then all hell broke loose. Across nearly his entire forward screen, ranging from nine-o’clock all the way around to three-o’clock, a literal haze of contacts appeared. There had to be hundreds of them!

He chanced a quick glance at Arieel, who now wore a lot of concern on her pretty face. “I have nothing to report,” she said. “The instruments have communicated with you as they have with me.”

Adam continued his dive, forming a large loop in order to double back in the direction they had just come. Even as he did so, he was met with seven new contacts, stragglers who had been following him, yet with no chance of catching him – until now. The seven ships opened fire, the velocity of their flash bolts increased by Adam own closing vector.

He spun the Phoenix to the right, spiraling in a wild corkscrew and heading for the star at the center of the system they were traversing.

His radical ninety-degree maneuver had the effect of drawing all his pursuers into a single, wide swatch of contacts, twisting the space in this part of the star system into a roiling cauldron of overlapping gravity-wells. With many of his followers already well beyond maximum safe well-intensity for travel within a system, their wells managed to draw in nearby ships, causing massive explosions, whose concussions only served to force other ships into the paths of others. More explosions resulted and soon the space behind the Phoenix was one massive burst of radiation, like that of a mini-supernova.

Adam and Arieel both sat stunned looking at the brilliance of the explosion behind them. Adam had no idea how many ships were destroyed, but even then, it wasn’t enough to stop them all. Along the outer limits of the great ball of nuclear fire, dozens of ships emerged. Many were temporarily blinded by the explosion, but soon their sensors came back online and they lined up once again on Adam’s position.

Adam changed course again, this time heading straight for the system’s central star, a great ball of yellow fire that grew larger as the seconds passed.

“What are you doing?” Arieel asked the worry now thick in her voice.

“I’ve got an idea. Strap in.”

He didn’t need to give the instruction, she had already done so, and when the blinding mass of swirling yellow fire filled the entire forward screen, Adam suddenly banked right and spun around to the backside of the star.

As he rounded the stellar disk, he momentarily lost sight of his pursuers. It was the moment he was waiting for. Adam cranked the control stick all the way to the right, causing the Phoenix to change course by an impossible ninety-degrees. The internal compensators were the fastest in the galaxy, but even then, at the velocity they were traveling, the inertia pressed both he and Arieel into their seats and twisted their faces into grotesque versions of reality. And then Adam cut all the power on the ship.

Emergency battery lights flickered on and the strange warping of the space outside the ship returned to normal. Having just dumped out of a gravity-well, the ship still carried an incredible amount of momentum, but even then it barely registered as one-third light speed.

The passive monitors were left on, and in the dim red glow of the emergency lights, the screens stood out like beacons. Adam and Arieel leaned in close to watch as the contact signatures indicating the positions of the pursuers suddenly reappeared around the edge of the star. They all continued along their original trajectories, until many began to slow, realizing the Phoenix had dropped off their scopes.

There were easily fifty or more ships now crowding the space off to Adam’s six. In dark mode, the Phoenix continued to put space between them and the bounty hunters, some of which had now spread out in a wide fan-like formation, yet still headed away from Adam’s position.

Even as this was happening, newer contacts were appearing, some heading roughly in Adam’s direction, yet none apparently aware of this. Adam held his breath as five huge cargo ships passed within extreme visual range of the Phoenix, heading in the opposite direction. As they passed, Adam wondered what cargo ships expected to accomplish against the Phoenix, if they had been the ones to detect him. They carried no real armament to speak of, nor shields against flash bolts. This just showed how effective was McCarthy’s bounty. Even ships that had no chance of stopping him had taken flight, and it was only going to get worse.

“We cannot keep the power off for long, Adam Cain,” Arieel said softly, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts too abruptly. “It will soon grow very cold and the atmosphere scrubbers will cause even more damage.”

“I know. We just need to get to some open space so we can bring some of our systems back online. It looks like the bulk of the other ships are heading away from us now, so just a few more minutes.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Arieel began, “why don’t we just hide somewhere until the deadline for this reward has passed? Once the seven days have passed, then the bounty – as you call it – will no longer be valid and we can resume our journey.”

Adam pulled his attention away from the proximity screen and stared dumbfounded at the pretty Formilian. “What about the Rite Ceremony? You have to be there.”

“Even though I have never missed one in my tenure, I’m sure the Order will understand my delay, based on our current circumstances.”

“But what about … what about the device, the thing inside you?”

“You mean the Gift? What of it? I still live.”

“No, the other one, the bomb.”

“What are you speaking of, Adam Cain? What bomb?”

Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Either the story of the bomb was a lie – which in a way was the whole basis of the Formilian religion – or Arieel didn’t know. Was that even possible, given her background, training and awareness of all electronic devices around her? Adam had to be careful – and then he corrected himself. Why did he need to be careful with Arieel? It was a very good chance that neither one of them would live beyond the day….

“Arieel, don’t get upset, but is there not a self-destruct explosive in your body, a device to keep the secret of the Gift from falling into the wrong hands?”

Arieel stared at him for what seemed like a full minute, before she suddenly burst out into laughter. “Of course not, Adam Cain, where did you read that information?”

“I didn’t read it, Convor told me.”

The remark caused Arieel’s smile to suddenly vanish and her dark eyes cloud over. “Explain!” she cried out.

Adam took a deep breath. He didn’t know the truth. All he could go by was what he had been told. “Convor said there is a device in your body that needs to be reset every twenty-eight days at the Rites Ceremony. If it is not reset, then it will explode. Is this not true?”

Arieel was quite once again, staring unblinking into Adam’s eyes, seeking any deception. “Why are you saying this? If I had such a device within my body I would be aware. Yes, the Ceremony is a ritual all Speakers endure; we have for thousands of years. I have never missed one, nor have any of the Speakers I’m aware of. But it is simply a ritual for our people. It has no hidden purpose.”

Adam could tell from her voice that Arieel was growing scared and uncertain. He could see her eyes trying to work through the significance of Adam’s revelation. Finally she squared her jaw and narrowed her. “I do not know the reason why you wish to scare me like this; our current predicament is scary enough as it is. But I can assure you I do not have within my being a device set to explode in seven days….” Her voice trailed off when she spoke the words seven days. The timing of the bounty and of Adams words was too much of coincidence to be pure chance.

“Is this the reason the reward expires in seven days?” she asked. “If I return within that time, I will live. Yet if I do not return for the Ceremony, then I will … die?”

“That’s what I’ve been told, Arieel. I’m not making this up. I’m sorry you didn’t know – I thought you did.”

“I must speak with Convor immediately!” Arieel suddenly proclaimed. CW communications were beyond tracing, so a link with the High Celebrant certainly was possible. But with the revelation that Convor was her father, the conversation could get very emotional.

“Are you sure? You may not like what you hear.”

“I must verify this information independently. The High Celebrant will not deceive me.” Adam watched her mouth tighten up and he could almost read her thoughts. Like he apparently already has!

“If you insist,” Adam said, turning back to his console. He tapped in the information that the CW computer would need to establish the continuous wormhole link and then waited the thirty seconds or so for the holes to form. A separate screen on his console lit up and a young, extremely handsome – as they all were – Formilian appeared.

His expression exploded when he saw Arieel on his screen. “My Speaker, I was not expecting your link! I am ill-prepared for the dialog.”

“Just get the High Celebrant. I must speak with him now.”

“My Speaker, I believe he is in council.”

“Then get him out! I must speak with him – now!”

The young Formilian blanched, having never come under the overwhelming scrutiny of the Speaker before. “Yes, immediately. Forgive me.”

Leaving the screen live, the terrified Formilian disappeared from view. Adam and Arieel said not a word to each other as they waited at least two full minutes before the image of Convor slipped onto the screen.

“My Speaker, I am so glad to see you still well. I am sure you have been made aware of the reward that has been offered for you and Mr. Cain. I have just been in council discussing what options and assistance we might be able to offer, yet my relief is beyond words that you are still well.”

“Father, what is this story I have just heard regarding an explosive device within my body? Is it true?”

The shock on Convor’s face was evident from forty light years away. First his mouth fell open, but then it snapped shut as he focused his attention on Adam. “What have you been told, Arieel?”

Adam noticed how both father and daughter had suddenly dropped the official protocol of their respective positions. This had to be significant.

“I have been told that this device will explode unless I return to the Temple by Rites seven days from now. The significance of the timing of the reward and the Rites Ceremony has me very concerned that this story might be true.”

“It is nothing to worry about, Arieel. You will be back with time to spare before the Sacrament. You will be fine.”

“Then it is true!”

“Yes, my daughter, but it is something that all the other Speakers have also had to endure.”

“But why was I not told?” Arieel had begun to cry, the tears streaming down her tan face.

“It was not necessary,” Convor said. “In all our time, no Speaker has missed the Ceremony. It is our most-constant affair, the one thing that all our people can count on.”

“Of course it is a constant, because if not, then the Speaker would die! I would die.”

“Arieel, you must realize that the Gift is our most guarded secret. If others were to learn of it, then our entire way of life would be in jeopardy. You are much too valuable to be allowed capture and investigation. The precautions you speak of are a necessary evil in order to protect you and our beliefs.”

“How am I protected if I am dead?”

Convor did not respond. Instead he watched as Arieel wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks and regained some of her composure. Finally she looked back at the image of her father, his own face a study in pain and anguish. “I understand the necessity of this action, father, I just do not understand why I was not informed? It is obvious that the presence of this device has been shielded from me – even a betrayal by the Gift itself. What else are you not telling me?”

“Nothing Arieel, the reason you were not told was so that you would not worry. The Order has protected you and will continue to do so.”

“Until now – just look at what has transpired over the past several weeks. If I had not been rescued by Adam Cain, I would have simply exploded at the appropriate time, and then your troubles would be over. A new Morlic-Speaker would be born and the Order would carry on until she is old enough to assume her position. But I would be gone.”

“It is not like that, Arieel. Your abduction was unexpected; something that has never before taken place in our entire history. We were ill-prepared for its occurrence.”

“And yet – you must admit – if the credits for my return had not been requested, you would have tried little to save me from the evil Human who took me. In time, the situation would have resolved itself.”

“Arieel, stop being like this!” her father commanded. “We were trying all we could to get you back. You are much more important to our society and our religion than just as a vessel for the Gift. Even now, your survival will prevent the Omphly savages from attacking us. If you should perish, then there will be war.”

“And we cannot have that,” Arieel said sardonically, the tears still escaping from her dark eyes.

Convor seemed to know what she was intimating, because he leaned in closer to the screen, even as a solitary tear escaped his own glassy eyes. “You are my daughter, Arieel; above all I want you back. It has always been difficult for me to separate the responsibilities of my office from those of a parent. And now I have the dual weight of saving my daughter and of saving our religion resting upon my shoulders. Both are intertwined and both are just as important.” He looked over and Adam and made eye contact. “I know I may be asking the impossible; you have already exceeded your charter, Mr. Cain, but please return my daughter to me. I know you are a Human, and probably incapable of understanding the emotions of Formilians, but I beseech you. If you can do this, then you will never want of anything from me or the Formilian race.”

Oh great, Adam thought, nothing like putting even more pressure on me!

“I understand, Convor. Unfortunately, what happens over the next seven days may be out of my control. Is there anything you can do to help us get back, and all in one piece?”

“The council was just been discussing this. We are at a loss. The offer was broadcast in the open to every world within the sector and beyond. Even the newscasts are speaking of it. It has taken on a life of its own. Within the Coalition, the subject is appalling, even though an inordinate number of spaceships have departed from the various worlds of our union. It is especially disturbing to see this happen.”

“How were they able to find us so fast?” Adam asked.

“Your approximate coordinates were revealed, as was the description of your ship and it’s very distinct gravity signature. You may possess one of the fastest ships in the galaxy, but it does leave a unique trail as it passes.”

“That it does –” Adam sat up suddenly. “Convor, I have to go. A plan just popped into my head and it’s going to get very busy around here.”

“What is it, Mr. Cain?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Even though I believe you are loyal to Arieel, I can’t say that about the others around you. The less you know, the safer we’ll be.”

“I understand fully, Mr. Cain,” Convor said. “Please use the God-given talents of your race to do all you can. I will be praying for the safe return of you and my daughter by the time of the Rites Ceremony.”

“As will we all, Convor. Gotta go….” And then he cut the link.

Arieel stared at the blank screen for a long time, still whimpering softly. Adam let her recover in her own time. In the meantime, he scanned the charts for the nearest inhabited planet. They were currently traveling in dark mode, so the planet would have to be very close. Even then, he would eventually have to engage the gravity drive. There just wasn’t enough time for a leisurely coast in.

Arieel took a deep breath and turned her attention to Adam. “What is this plan you spoke of. I assume I can be made privy to its details?”

Adam smiled. “Of course, after all we’re both in the same boat—” he raised his hand when he saw the confused look cross her face. “—ship. But it’s what Convor said about the Phoenix having a unique gravity signature. As long as we’re in this ship we can be tracked. So we’re going to have to find another one. I hate to abandon her, but if we could find another ship that’s not so prominent, then we just might be able to blend in with all the other traffic out here and slip into Formil undetected.”

Arieel face appeared to light up and a forced smile appeared. “That sounds like an excellent plan. What can I do to assist?”

“At the moment, not much, but once I find a world where we can land, I’m sure your talents will come in handy. Stealing a spaceship may be right up your alley.”

Once again, Arieel looked confused. But she smiled even more broadly and said, “You are indeed a strange creature with a very strange way of speaking, but I believe I see now that you have our best interests at the forefront. I will defer to your expertise and be ready to assist when instructed. Until then, I wish to return to my cabin so I can refresh myself. I must look hideous.”

Adam watched as she unstrapped herself from the co-pilot’s seat and left the pilothouse. “Hideous is not a word I would ever associate with you, Arieel – ever.” He said softly as she disappeared around the corner.

Just then her beautiful head reappeared around the corner, sending a large wave of jet-black hair swirling into the room. “Formilian’s have a remarkable sense of hearing, Adam Cain. I heard what you said.” She displayed a wide smile and mischievous eyes, and then she was gone again, leaving Adam questioning just what was he going to do if they ever made it out of this mess alive!

Chapter 14

At the time of the ambush, the Phoenix had been traveling through the Siyvelan star system. It wasn’t much of a place: a typical second-tier Expansion system that had joined the Coalition about two hundred years ago, impressed by the miracles of the Speaker and the common-sense basis of her religion. Everyone could see the effects of electricity all around them, so why not worship it? It was as good as anything. And if the building of advanced electronics is what they had to do to appease the gods – well it sure beat the sacrificing of virgins! Besides, the Formilians’ had a living-god among them. What could be better than that?

There was one native world within the star system whose Prime race – called the Armplanese – had also settled a neighboring world with the help of Juirean and Formilian technology. This colony world was called Bor’on, and it came with a harsher existence then the Armplanese native world, with lighter-than-normal gravity and a much more severe environment, complete with higher surface temperatures and a near-perpetual cloud cover.

Because of this harsh environment, the settlers of Bor’on relied heavily on technology to keep them alive and flourishing, something that Adam – with the help of Arieel – could use to their advantage … if they could keep Arieel from being recognized.

Bor’on lay about forty million miles from their current location, and even coasting at one-third the speed of light, it would take them over ten hours to reach the planet. Adam concluded that this was acceptable and remaining in dark mode for that long would give their pursuers more reason to believe that Adam had slipped through their net.

He changed course through a series of quick chemical burns and was soon lined up with the planet. Slowing down for the approach would be another matter; he would have to engage a shallow-well, if only for a moment, to break their speed. This was a risk he was willing to take. They just didn’t have time for any more precautions.

Even if they were able to hide the Phoenix and commandeer another ship, at normal transit speeds within star systems, it would take them six more days to reach Formil. Adding the ten hours it would take to get to Bor’on, plus the time of the surface securing a new ride, that didn’t leave much leeway if any unforeseen events occurred.

Then he had the added problem of not being able to simply show up in the space above Formil. It had been intimated that there may even be those on Formil who wished them dead; thirty million credits could counter even the most devout beliefs and loyalties. Announcing their presence in such an open manner would only invite an attack right on the doorsteps of the Temple.

So Adam would have to sneak Arieel onto the planet and into the Temple, taking even more time off an ever-ticking clock.

And then to top it all off, Adam didn’t have a clue how he was going to do any of the things just mentioned. He was going strictly on gut instinct.

Bor’on grew steadily in the viewport – yet excruciatingly slower than what they were accustomed to – until it dominated the forward screen. The planet had a consistent yellowish hue, a byproduct of starlight filtered through the light haze of clouds enveloping the world.

There was very little traffic in the space surrounding the planet, probably a consequence of everyone bolting out on missions of fame and fortune at the expense of Adam and Arieel.

The creation of a shallow-well about two hundred thousand miles off the surface of the planet would hardly be noticed, but it would suffice to slow the Phoenix enough for a long-burn chemical landing to be possible. Such a landing would exhaust Adam’s chemical fuel, so he only had one crack at getting it right.

The charts showed about a thousand or so settlements dotting the surface of Bor’on, yet only one stood out. It was a city called Fun – of all things – although Adam was sure the native translation would reveal a completely different meaning for the three-letter combination. Fun boasted the largest spaceport on the planet, and therefore was their best chance of locating a suitable substitute for the Phoenix.

Adam’s most-immediate issue came with landing the Phoenix without too much fanfare and then hiding it from prying eyes, at least long enough for them to get away.

He had already surrendered to the reality that the Phoenix would not stay hidden for long. Eventually it would be found and his pursuers would put two and two together. So the worst case scenario had him stealing a ship that could be easily traced, which would then leave him royally screwed. The hunters would still be after him, but now he’d be in an inferior ship without the capabilities of the Phoenix. At that point it would be time to cash in his chips, because it would be game-over at that point.

So somehow he would have to mask the stealing of the ship, leaving the authorities guessing which one he took.

* * *

Adam came in toward the city of Fun from the southeast, dropping in altitude on the other side of a low mountain range from the city. He skimmed the surface as best he could, until he found a wide passage between peaks and emerged over a long, barren lava flow leading up to the only thick forest he could see on this side of the spaceport.

He had consumed incredible amounts of chemical fuel during the approach and by the time he set the ship down on the surface of Bor’on, the indicator on his console was flashing red.

He landed just on the outskirts of a dilapidated suburb of Fun, crushing several stands of squatty trees while settling down. However, once Adam cut the drive, the ship was sitting below the level of the trees and fairly well-hidden, at least from the surface.

Indicators revealed a breathable atmosphere not requiring apparatus, yet the temperature was over ninety degrees Fahrenheit and relative humidity at one-hundred percent. Outside the ship, the heat was going to be oppressive.

Adam strapped a holster around his waist containing his Glock 19 nine-millimeter semiautomatic and four extra magazines of fifteen rounds each. He also threw a Xan-fi flash rifle over his shoulder and placed six extra battery packs in a small satchel. Lastly, he took his olive-colored boonie hat and pulled it over his closely cropped blond hair. He had to admit it felt good getting geared up again. It had been a while.

Throughout his prep, he had failed to notice Arieel standing off to one side of the landing bay, leaning against the bulkhead, with her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed vaguely amused by the preparations Adam was making, even though she was making none of her own.

When Adam finally noticed her, he inhaled involuntarily, not believing what he saw. Arieel had cut her hair. It was now about shoulder length – a good twelve inches shorter than when he’d last seen her. The difference was shocking, yet just as appealing. She looked slightly older, wiser, and just as sexy, yet in a different way. The thick, silky hair curled in slightly, perfectly framing her face and making her eyes look even larger than before.

She studied Adam’s reaction with humor in her eyes. “I don’t want to be recognized if we run into any of my adoring fans,” she said with a wicked smile.

“Eh, good idea,” Adam stammered, having to force his bottom jaw shut for what seemed like the umpteenth time since he’d met the alluring alien. “You ready to go?”

She grinned. “More than you, Adam Cain.”

Adam knew what she meant. She was now on the surface of a planet rich in electronics and located well within her half-mile range of influence. He was sure even now she was sensing a whole variety of devices she could control, even though they were still about a mile from the border of the spaceport. As he was landing, Adam noticed the roofs of numerous dwellings nearly by scattered within the forest. As a matter of fact, he thought he remembered one being directly below the ship….

As he walked over to the control panel for the exterior hatch, the doorway suddenly sprang to life and began to open on its own. He hesitated briefly at the hatchway, waiting for the ramp to extend. Arieel was now standing next to him with a broad smile. He didn’t know if she was showing off or if this was simply how she lived her life. Either way, it was beginning to piss him off.

Soon any thoughts of humor or playful flirting were gone, as a blast of hot and humid air filled the landing bay. Adam inhaled several times, trying to condition his lungs to the heat and thickness of the air. He was already beginning to sweat.

Even the unflappable Arieel was showing signs of discomfort. Tiny beads of sweat were forming at her temples and the deep richness of her tanned skin had turned a shade or two darker. Fortunately for her, she had changed out of his sweat pants and shirt and was now wearing a too-tightly-fitting olive-colored tee-shirt and a pair of his khaki shorts. The shoes she wore were the ones she had left Uniss-3 with; slip-ons made of a soft cotton-like material, with hard rubber soles. Dressed as she was, it would be hard to recognize her as the Supreme Leader and religious icon of the Formilian Coalition. Yet depending on the anatomy and physiology of the natives, it would still be hard to keep her from being noticed just on her own account.

Adam was hoping the natives of Bor’on were slug–like beasts who would find Human and Formilian form repulsive. He would soon find out.

Once outside the ship, Adam took the flash rifle and fired several shots into the low-density trees nearby, causing them to tumble inward and on top of the Phoenix. Soon the ship was effectively camouflaged, even though it wouldn’t take much to find it.

Adam had also been right about the dwelling. Flattened out on either side of the delta-shaped spacecraft were the remains of what had once been a wooden structure with a thin metal roof. A small dirt road joined the clearing where the house had once stood, but it didn’t look like the road had been traveled recently. It led off in the direction of the spaceport.

Firming their resolve – while sweating profusely – alien and Human soon set off on foot down the road and toward the spaceport about a mile further on.

* * *

As they cleared the tree line, Adam could see the rough outline of the spaceport spread out on the vast lava field, indicated by a broken down wire fence with radically-leaning support posts. They were at the far end of the landing field, the area where the rusting remains of the derelicts were often stored. It was the same here, and it was obvious at first glance that none of these hulking, scrap-metal carcasses would suit their needs.

They passed through one of the numerous openings in the fence and proceeded deeper into the spaceport.

“Do you detect anything, Arieel?” Adam asked, now cradling the flash rifle in ready position.

“There are a half a dozen energy sources directly ahead, spaceships with their internals active.”

“Anything you can sense that would be large enough for our purposes?”

“These are small interplanetary shuttles. They will not get us to Formil.”

Damn, he was afraid of this. What if everyone had taken off looking for them? What if there were no starships left?

After fifteen minutes, and the passing several of the small shuttles, they arrived near the northwest corner of the landing field and at the control building next to the main gate. Adam flipped the flash rifle to his back using the shoulder strap, and the two of them entered the building.

Once inside, Adam got his first look at an Armplanese, the creatures who had settled the planet Bor’on. Unfortunately for Adam – and particularly Arieel – they looked very Prime; bi-pedal, tall, slender, with two eyes, two arms and an obvious interest in the ladies – at least this was Adam’s first impression from the attention they paid Arieel as they entered. In fact, Adam could have come in naked and armed with two sacks of explosives with burning fuses and he was sure the natives would not have noticed him. All eyes fell upon the ample figure of Arieel Bol.

There were six Armplanese in the room; two seated behind simple metal desks and the others leaning against a counter that appeared to be currently serving as a cocktail bar instead of its official function. Several containers of intoxicants were littering the countertop, along with the appropriate number of empty, or nearly empty, glasses. All the Armplanese wore the one-piece uniform of the spaceport’s ground crew.

One of the more aggressive – and obviously drunk – natives pushed himself away from the counter and turned to face Arieel. “By the Gods of Mislin and Sufor, if ever there was proof of their existence, then it is in the creation of this mateable creature. Have you ever seen such a fine specimen of foreign flesh before?”

Arieel barely cracked a smile as she looked at the others in the room, all males and all staring at her. Adam pushed himself in front of Arieel, interrupting the Armplanese’s view. “Pardon me, my friends,” he said cordially, “but we were wondering where all the ships have gone? We are looking for a hire.”

The aliens continued to look past Adam at Arieel. “There are no hires; most everyone has gone,” said one of the aliens from behind a desk. “You can’t possibly be her mate,” the creature continued. “You are too small and of a different race. Are you her escort?”

“Something like that,” Adam said, growing annoyed. “Are there no cruisers or class-two’s left in the entire port?” Anything larger than a class-two normally didn’t make landfall, and besides that a larger ship would require more crew to operate. They would have to find a smaller ship, just not too small.

The alien from the behind the desk stood and walked toward the counter to get a better look at Arieel. “Of course there are ships in port,” he said to Adam without looking at him. “I just said there are no ships for hire.”

The Armplanese stood around eight-feet tall, either naturally or from genetic mutation in the lighter gravity of Bor’on. Either way, they towered over Adam, and particularity Arieel, who came in right around five-five – very short for an alien, even a female alien. Her height did not seem to deter the natives. They began to crowd around her.

Just then Adam began to hear a soft whirling sound; it seemed to be in stereo, coming from a variety of directions. Almost immediately, all six of the Armplanese reached for the small comm boxes attached to their shoulder applets. Now each of the boxes had begun to screech, and the irritating sound was growing louder by the moment. The crew fumbled with their boxes, unable to get the sound to stop.

And then abruptly there was silence. “My friend and I are looking for a ship,” Arieel said forcefully the moment the sound stopped. She turned to the one who had been sitting at the desk. “You said there are no ships for hire, but are there ships here of the grade my friend mentioned?”

The Armplanese looked down at Arieel, not liking her demanding tone. “I said there are no ships for hire. What more do you need to know—”

Immediately, all six boxes began to wail again, this time at a level that even sent Adam scrambling to cover his ears. The Armplanese began to claw at their boxes, unable to turn them off or to rip them from their clothing.

And then silence once again.

“What ships are in port?” Arieel asked again. This time all eyes fell on the tiny alien, terror filling the eyes of the Armplanese.

The first aggressive alien’s eyes grew wide, looking at Arieel. “You are her!” he shouted, pointing. “You are the Speaker Arieel Bol.”

The rest of them suddenly sent laser-like glares at Arieel. “Thirty million credits just walked into our hut,” one of the others whispered. And then forgetting all about the screeching that had come from their comm units, they began to close in.

Having been ignored by the aliens long enough, Adam stepped forward sent a right cross into the ribcage of the nearest alien; he had to go for the ribcage because the alien’s head was too tall for him to reach. The blow to the ribs, however, did the trick. The sound of breaking bone could be heard clearly, and the unfortunate creature doubled over in pain, letting out an incredibly loud scream in his own right.

Adam then flipped the flash rifle from behind his back and into his waiting hands, but rather than shoot, he lifted the barrel up and into the throat of the Armplanese who had been sitting behind the desk. This one fell like a bag of cement.

In this particular fight, that was about all Adam would contribute, because next came the loud screeching sound again, yet this time it climbed to such a high pitch and so fast, that Adam fell to his knees, grasping his head in pain. The other four Armplanese, with the speakers of their comm-units only inches from their ears, suffered the most. They all collapsed, blood streaming from their ears and noses.

The screeching stopped as abruptly as it began and Adam staggered to his feet.

“I’m going to have a headache for a week after that,” he said. “Wasn’t there anything else you could have done?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not as experienced at the art of warfare as you,” Arieel said, upset at the scolding.

“I could have taken them all,” Adam threw in.

“I thought you wanted my help.”

“When it’s needed—”

“If I knew Human swear words, I would use them on you now!”

“I’m sure you would. Now let’s find a manifest or parking schedule; we can’t waste any more time here.”

A monitor suddenly came to life on one of the now unoccupied desks. Adam rushed over only to find a blur of files already scrolling up the screen. Arieel stood in the center of the room, a far-away look in her eyes. Suddenly the scrolling stopped, and a long list written in the Armplanese language appeared.

“There is a class-two in port,” Arieel cried out. “It appears to be the only one of its size still here.”

Adam could see where the screen was displaying the information on the ship, complete with schematics, yet he couldn’t read any of the writing. “Can you decipher this?”

“Yes,” Arieel replied. “It is an old military escort almost one hundred years old, but it appeared to have passed all of its most recent readiness tests. It is owned by the Armplanese security forces and was ordered to remain in port when the rest of the ships departed. It carries a crew of twenty.”

“That looks like our ticket,” Adam said, moving from behind the desk and heading for the exit. “Where’s it located?”

“Stall 988, about a mile from here.”

As Adam reached the door, he turned to see Arieel still standing over the spread of fallen Armplanese at her feet. She looked up at him, with a look of utter coldness in her eyes.

“I have just erased all the data on the computers within the building so there will be no inventory of the ships that were in port. Yet we also cannot leave these beings alive – they will tell.” She knelt down near the bodies; some were moaning softly, others were not moving at all. “Within two of them, the brainwaves have ceased, yet the other four still have activity.”

Adam hesitated. She was right; they couldn’t leave any way of tracking them.

“I’ll do it, Arieel. You just go outside.” He knelt down beside her.

“No, I want to do it!” And before Adam could react, Arieel had pulled one of the MK-17’s that each of the aliens carried around their waists and pressed the barrel of the weapon against the head of one of the inert bodies on the floor.

“Wait, not so fast!” Adam cried out, but it was too late, at least for one of the aliens. The flash weapon discharged, and the level-two bolt easily penetrated the skull, the heat from the blast cauterizing most of the vessels and leaving very little blood to spill out onto the floor. She moved the weapon to the next one.

“Damn, woman, you’re cold-blooded!” Adam called out.

This stopped Arieel in her tracks before she could squeeze the trigger again. “Why do you say that? These creatures must die if we are to successfully escape, plus they are not Formilian, or even Human. Besides, I have felt the life energy leave their bodies to join with the other free spirits in the room. All are happy with this arrangement.”

“All but these hapless souls,” Adam said. Their eyes met and Adam saw within her dark globes not an ounce of cruelty or sadistic intent. To Arieel, this was almost like performing a religious ritual. She saw nothing wrong with the killing.

Adam backed away. “Be my guest. If this turns you on, go for it.”

Arieel stared at him for a few moments trying to decipher the meaning of his last words. Eventually she understood – or just gave up – and proceeded to blast the heads of the other three Armplanese.

And then without a grimace or concern on her face, Arieel Bol stood up and walked out of the room, about as casual, untroubled and nonchalant as could be.

Adam called after her. “Oh and Arieel,” he began, “don’t think you’re doing me any favor by releasing my energy back into the wild. I’d rather that happen on my terms.”

As they quickly made their way toward landing stall 988, Adam thought of the twenty crewmembers of the ship that awaited them. They would have no idea what was about to happen to them, but it was a necessary evil in order to preserve peace throughout the galaxy.

Adam was also curious what kind of thrill Arieel would get from the casting of twenty additional spirits back into the ether? She was a strange one – dangerous and strange – with a darker side he’d not seen before, where life and death were merely a different state of being. Of course, she had feared for her own life, but even psychopaths sought their own self-preservation….

Adam had been kicking around the galaxy for a decade now and he had encountered dozens of different cultures, religious beliefs and sensibilities, so it was hard for him to judge others, except in relation to his own moral compass. Arieel had been right – the Armplanese could not be left alive. He would have executed them for the good of the mission himself, and yet he would have felt some regret. Or would he? He had done horrible things to some deserving and some not-so-deserving aliens. It was just what he did for a living.

Yet Arieel Bol placed an importance – no, a benefit – on the act of killing. Did that make her more compassionate, or did it make her more willing to commit the act with little or no remorse?

As they neared the squatty-looking craft that would hopefully get them off Bor’on and back to Formil, Adam knew one thing for certain: Arieel could be relied upon in a fight to do what was necessary, even if that meant killing at a moment’s notice.

There was only one other woman he felt that about, but she was over six thousand light years away, and probably completely oblivious to his current situation.

“Thirty-million-freaking-credits! You’re shitting me?”

Kroekus shook his head, a head that took up nearly the entire width of the monitor. “I’m afraid not, Sherri. And I have to say, I am appalled at the response this bounty is generating. My sources put the number of ships out looking for them at over one thousand.”

“And you’re sure they’ve not been found?”

“It would be major news if they had.”

“And it’s been twelve hours since the broadcast went out?”

“Longer than that; it has been twelve hours since they were last spotted in the Siyvelan system, just before they disappeared.”

“How far is that from Belson?”

“Approximately six-thousand.”

Kroekus could see Sherri doing some quick calculations in her head. Then she looked back at him, her jaw tight and her eyes glassy. “That’s over a month away, even in the Pegasus.”

“Whatever is going to happen will be long over by then. There is nothing you can do; there is nothing any of us can do to help. They are on their own.”

“I’m going back to Pyrum, Kroekus. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you here, but I have to be there when he returns.” And then softly under her breath: “If he returns.”

“I understand completely.”

There was a commotion behind Sherri and the image of two disparate beings appeared. One was tall, with two long appendages dangling below each ear, and pale, almost translucent skin, revealing the faint traces of blood vessels under the skin. The other creature was half as tall, squatty, with a thick coat of hair and a snout ending in a shiny, almost wet-looking nose.

“Administrator Kroekus, greetings,” said Kaylor Linn Todd, Dignitary-at-Large of the Belsonian Consortium. “Jym and I would like to accompany Sherri and Riyad back to Pyrum-3. We do not know what we can accomplish there, except to give moral support to her and the other Humans, but I feel it would be appropriate. I assume you have no objections?”

Kroekus stretched out a wide grin. “Of course not, my old friend; I may myself endeavor to make the journey for the homecoming. It has been a very long while since I last saw all my old friends and adversaries from the Fringe worlds. I hope it will be for joy that we meet … and not tragedy.”

Jym pushed himself up in front of Kaylor. “Adam Cain is a very resourceful creature – eerily so,” said the little bear-like creature. “I am sure that even now he has successful evaded his pursuers and is leisurely closing in on the planet Formil.”

“But the others had flash weapons!” Arieel cried out from where she was hiding, as bursts of soil and sparking metal danced all around her.

“Yeah, and who uses projectile weapons anymore, except us Humans?” Adam lifted up from his cover and sent three quick shots toward the large generator transport where the five Armplanese had taken cover. Adam had already dropped another five, but that meant there were still fifteen armed and dangerous aliens to contend with, five outside and other ten inside the ship.

With overconfidence, Adam and Arieel had casually strolled up to the Armplanese military craft, expecting the crew to be armed with flash weapons – devices Arieel could easily turn into either unless paperweights or small hand-grenades. Instead, they found that these particular Armplanese carried small handguns that fired dart-pointed projectiles. With no electronics governing their operation, Arieel was powerless to counter them.

Adam’s Glock was more powerful that the alien weapons and he was much more accurate with his shots. Five aliens had died almost instantly, yet the other five, who had been lingering outside the ship at the time, had taken cover behind the large metal truck.

The other Armplanese within the ship had attempted to liftoff, leaving their comrades to die at Adam’s hand or by the blast of the chemical exhaust. Here Arieel had earned her keep. She shut down all the systems onboard the ship, including the weapons, and then sealed the doors so none from inside could assist those outside.

Once Adam could subdue these last five pesky aliens by the generator truck, he and Arieel would then deal with those inside the ship.

Yet who would have guessed that the Armplanese weapon-of-choice would fire projectiles? His carelessness had almost cost them their lives.

The Armplanese security forces outside the ship had panicked when they saw their comrades fall, and so they had indiscriminately began firing dozens of the dart-projectiles in their direction. This went on for several minutes, as Adam slapped two more magazines into the Glock and kept firing. He dropped another one of the aliens before an odd silence came from behind the generator truck.

There was shouting going on – shouts of panic. Adam had a pretty good idea what had happened.

He set of at a sprinter’s run for the truck. In the light gravity of Bor’on, he crossed the short distance in a blur and jumped to the top of the truck. Unfortunately, his momentum was too much for him to counter, and he fell off the truck and landed within a circle of terrified Armplanese sailors. They all instinctively aimed their weapons at him, yet no shots were fired. They were out of ammunition.

Adam smiled up at the aliens from where he lay, and then in rapid succession, proceeded to blast gaping holes in each one of them with rounds from the Glock.

When he stood and rounded the side of the truck, Arieel came running up to meet him. They both then turned their heads to the towering form of the spacecraft soaring over them, and through the forward viewport, could see a whole crowd of scared Armplanese looking down at them. Their mouths were all moving rapidly, yet no sound could be heard through the thick shield of the viewport glass.

Adam and Arieel looked up at them with expressions of annoyance. It would be simpler if they would just surrender. Sure, they’d still die, but it would save Adam and Arieel the trouble of trying to flush them all out.

Adam looked down at Arieel. “Any suggestions?”

“I could turn off the air supply, but that would take too much time for them to die.” And then her eyes lit up. “Or I could leak chlorine gas into the air system.” Her gaze went blank as she stared off into the distance. “Yes, there is a series of bypasses I can reroute the gas through.”

“Can you flush it out then before we go aboard?”

“Very easily, especially with the vessel still on the surface of the planet.”

Adam was amazed at the cavalier attitude the tiny alien took to mass killing. Despite all their apparent differences, maybe Humans and Formilians were both cut from the same cloth?

Ten minutes later the deed was done. Arieel opened every hatch and vent she could find and forced a new supply of fresh air to circulate throughout the starship. Another ten minutes passed before they felt confident enough to enter.

Even with the new air the smell was almost unbearable. Like nearly all creatures, most of the Armplanese had defecated when they died. Their deaths were still too recent for the scent of dead bodies to spread throughout the ship, but the smell of alien shit was disgusting enough.

It took Adam another thirty minutes to round up all the twenty dead bodies and store them in a section of the ship’s landing bay. He didn’t want to leave any of them lying around outside, that would have immediately alerted others to the fact that the Armplanese security ship had been taken. Once they reached space, Adam would dump the bodies … an event made even more urgent by the overpowering stench permeating the vessel.

They lifted off on chemical drive, but within thirty seconds, Adam engaged a shallow gravity well while still within the atmosphere. The hull heated up quickly, yet no damage was caused before reaching the coldness of space.

Adam set them on a course toward Formil, yet not directly at it. With all the willy-nilly movement of ships between here and Formil, a vessel on a straight-line course for the planet might stand out. He would steer slightly to the right of the system, toward another system not too far away, and then change course once they got closer. If they could maintain their anonymity for even a couple of days, then they just might be able to slip through.

There biggest problem came with just the time required for a ship of this classification to transit the distance. No matter what Adam and Arieel could do, they couldn’t change the laws of physics. Without any more diversions, they would arrive at Formil with only three hours to spare.

Chapter 15

“I hate this fucking planet!” Furkril heard one of the Humans say. A pair of the near-hairless creatures was standing around the corner from him, looking out at his family’s Number 39 Dung-Pit, a vast expanse of bubbling black and green goo that was just on the verge of cultivation. Furkril was sure the Humans had some rules against expressing themselves in such a manner while on another world, but he was sure they didn’t even know he was there.

Even so, overhearing the undisguised feelings by the alien did help to fortify what the other alien had been telling him for some time: The Humans hate the Jusepi tribe and will massacre them at the first moment they feel justified.

These particular Humans were part of a settlement delegation that had come to meet with Furkril to discuss a land-use proposal. His series of dung-pits were the largest in this hemisphere and of extreme value to the Jusepi. Yet even with their round spaceships, capable of transiting the entire planet in a matter of minutes, these aliens still felt the need to infringe on his land and his livelihood.

Furkril flicked his ears in a sign of pleasure. He would make them wait a little longer. He was fully aware that the Humans found the fragrance of the pit to be offensive – another odd thing about these creatures. So he would let them stand outside, enveloped in the strong, sweet scent of the massive pit, just to cause them a few more moments of discomfort.

Just then it occurred to him that these foreign creatures probably would not like the taste of his people’s most-prized delicacy, either. His ears pressed back against the sides of his head, an anger building up inside.

How have these things come to attain such technology and such power, he asked himself silently, when they cannot even appreciate the finer things life has to offer? If the events do come to past, then they will deserve all they receive.

When he could delay no longer, Furkril came around the corner, making his presence known.

Both Humans turned towards him and began the curious dance with their mouths that he had seen them do on almost every prior occasion. At first they would stretch out their mouths, exposing their smallish, dull-ended teeth. But then they would immediately pull in with their lips and cover their teeth again, as if they were ashamed of them. The initial reaction seemed to be the most-genuine, with the re-covering of their teeth the thing that caused them concern. Furkril was at a loss as to the meaning of the expression.

If Furkril believed the Jusepi and Human races had a future together, he would have paid more attention or tried to understand their habits a little better. Yet by all indications, such endeavors would not be necessary.

Furkril was part of a major underground movement working closely with the other aliens to bring about the removal of the Humans from his home planet of Duelux, as well as from the entire region between here and the Outer Nebulae. The task wouldn’t be easy, and certainly not possible simply by the Jusepi alone. Yet the silver creatures had already provided his people with many ships and weapons, all effectively now hidden away and waiting for the time of revolt.

If the Humans only knew that the giant metal hangars housing these new weapons of war were sunk far into the depths of his own dung-pits, he would have received immense joy simply from the observation of their expressions. It would be priceless to behold.

“Merchant Furkril, was the time of the meeting misunderstood? I thought it was to be surument-nine … I mean earlier?”

Even with the translators the Humans had brought, Furkril was amazed how often the Humans could butcher his beautiful language. Time on his planet was measured in sirumons, not suruments, whatever that was? It was just one more of the mounting frustrations he had with the Human invaders.

“Forgive me, Mr. Gordon, but my duties are great and my attention important. We can begin the discussion now,” Furkril said, his ears flicking in staged-enjoyment at his interaction with the scrawny aliens.

“Very good, but can we please go inside?” the Human asked, while looking back out at the gigantic dung-pit, stretching all the way to the horizon and beyond. “It’s a little too warm for us out here. I hope you understand.”

“More than you realize, Mr. Gordon,” said Furkril, his ears now moving back somewhat and beginning to undulate. “Follow me.”

I will tolerate these creatures only so much longer, Furkril declared to himself. These other aliens – these beings called the Klin – appear to stepping up their arming of the Jusepi. They say they know the intentions of the Humans. I truly hope so, and that their increased activity is because the time is drawing near for revolt.

For Furkril, revolt could not come soon enough.

* * *

Langril Nomar Polimic was embarrassed, and as such, it also made him angry. He looked at the emotionless expression of Pleabaen Velsum on the CW screen before him and cursed the silent thoughts he knew the Klin was thinking.

They had failed to kill Nigel McCarthy, and not only that, but the small Kracori fleet of eight ships had been utterly destroyed. Now McCarthy would seek revenge for the attempt on his life. Now he would surely reveal the location of Elision to the Humans and the rest of the galaxy.

“Have you any indication that the Humans know, Velsum?” Polimic asked. The Klin still had spies on the Human homeworld of Earth. They would know the moment anything was learned.

“Nothing yet,” the Klin leader replied, “which is strange. We do know that Nigel McCarthy survived unscathed and has only now departed Uniss-3. We have no information regarding his destination.”

“We must try again, while also accelerating your timetable with the Jusepi. We have begun to move a small advance force into the region of the Arm outside the Human system, but we cannot risk going further. As you have indicated, the Humans are quite well-established now in their own neighborhood. Detection would be catastrophic and alert the Humans as to our intentions.”

“I understand the seriousness of the situation, Langril Polimic, but you have to realize the Jusepi have had little time to prepare for a war with the Humans. It would not serve our combined purpose if the war turned out to be a mere skirmish for the Human beasts.”

Polimic knew the Pleabaen was correct. Even though the Jusepi represented the only viable counterforce to the Humans in the Far Arm, they had only recently been introduced to the galaxy at large.

Technologically, the Jusepi had actually been ahead of the Humans for most of their history. Approximately seventy years ago, they had discovered the secret of the gravity drive, even though on a more primitive scale than the Expansion. As a result, their starships ended up being gigantic vessels many miles long, necessary to accommodate the massive generators required to create even modest singularities. Within these behemoth interstellar transport stations, the Jusepi had placed dozens of smaller, traditionally-powered shuttles. The Jusepi had expanded out to the nearby star systems using these gigantic transports, but once within a system, the colonists would shuttle to the various new worlds by chemical drives.

Even now, the Jusepi did not possess very many interstellar warcraft capable of military maneuvers, at least none of their own manufacture. Over the past five years, they had managed to secure nearly one hundred aging warships from the Humans and others on the fringe of the Expansion, even if they were of inferior design. If left to their own means, the Humans would make short work of the Jusepi in an actual conflict.

The Humans had discovered the planet Duelux five years earlier by following the colonization routes to the Jusepi’s homeworld. Showing little regard for the cultural and social impact of their arrival, the Humans had simply landed on the planet and announced their existence. The tribes recoiled slightly from the tiny creatures, even though the Jusepi themselves had already colonized eight other worlds and were therefore very familiar with the concept of alien life.

Of these colony worlds, only three had intelligent life, yet none that would qualify as advanced. Two of these races now served as very efficient laborers in the Jusepi mines on their homeworlds. The third was reserved as food, with the rarity of such commanding very high prices in the restaurants and dwellings frequented and owned by the wealthiest of the Jusepi tribes.

In their fervent rush to establish their own Expansion within the Far Arm, the Humans considered little about the civilizations they contacted. Polimic had learned that a number of their new colonies had consisted of basic stone-age cultures that were suddenly thrust into a modern, spacefaring community, ill-prepared for what they found.

Once discovered, the Humans were relentless in their exploitation of these more-primitive cultures. The demand for colonies and for commerce was so great on the Earth that entire worlds were converted to gigantic resource centers, stripped of precious minerals, lumber and even physical labor. Although the Humans refused to use the term, the wages paid, and the conditions under which the natives toiled, would hardly rise above the level of ‘slave.’ Granted, each individual being was free to come and go as they pleased, but the dramatic changes in their societies had forced many to follow precisely all Human dictates.

Yes, the Human Empire was growing, and so far no race that had been contacted could withstand their expansion – at least none on their own.

The Klin had been studying the Jusepi since before the Humans had been selected as their surrogates for the coming Juirean war. They were large beings, coming from a world with gravity only about ten-percent less than Earth’s. They were covered in soft fur and walked upright, even though they still maintained a longish tail for balance, as well as essentially a third arm. The Jusepi were also coordinated and quick-reflexed, adept at the use of weapons and physical combat.

Although not a true match to the fighting skills or strength of the much-shorter Humans, the Jusepi did rate as a Prime-D on the Klin scale, along with the Humans and Kracori. With just a little help, they would provide the Kracori with just the distraction they needed against the Humans.

What happened to the Jusepi after that was none of their concern.

“Langril Polimic,” Velsum was saying, “we have been developing an event that should help prompt the Jusepi masses to rise up against the Humans. It will be spectacular and tragic event that should cause the death of thousands of tribe members. The Humans will claim innocence, yet the evidence will be overwhelming.

“Once the uprising begins, we’ve made arrangements for the Jusepi to have access to over one hundred warships at the local Human military base. With some luck, they should be able to commandeer these vessels, forming the core of their rebellion fleet. When added to the older ships they have been able to acquire to date, the Jusepi should have over two hundred ships to send against the Humans.

“On Earth, there will be a segment of the Human society who will side with the Jusepi, fully convinced that it was indeed the Humans who caused the tragedy. Again with luck, this movement will delay the Human’s response to the revolt until confusion ensues. Once the Klin-supplied ships appear within the Jusepi fleet, we want the Humans to believe they are of Jusepi origin, and not Klin. The Human fleets will be required to leave the region of Earth and proceed to Duelux. This will free up the space around the Human world for your attack.”

“The plan sounds reasonable, Pleabaen,” Polimic stated. “But will two hundred ships be adequate to initially counter the Human response?”

“Not in straight combat. But these ships will be used to raid Human settlements within the region, causing civilian casualties. The damage will be widespread, requiring an inordinate number of Human ships to respond.” And then the Klin actually smiled. “It will be chaotic for many months within the tiny Human Empire. If there is one thing we have recently learned regarding the Humans, it is that they will either wait too long before acting, or else they will overreact to a situation. Seldom is the Human response equal to the situation. They are extremely emotional and impulsive beings.”

Polimic knew that the Klin classified the Humans and the Kracori as equals in ability and in traits, so what Velsum was saying about the Humans was also directed at the Kracori. But he would let this go. The Klin were very good at manipulation. Their plan with the Jusepi would take place basically as designed, with enough latitude figured in for the unexpected.

So even if McCarthy was to reveal the location of the Kracori homeworld to the Humans, the tiny pink beings would be so involved in quelling the Jusepi uprising that they would have little time nor resources to send against Elision.

And then the Kracori would strike, ending the Human problem once and for all. After that, all the Kracori would be concerned with would be the Klin….

Chapter 16

Over the next six days, Adam and his stolen ship were able to evade most of the other traffic saturating the space leading to Formil. This task became much harder the closer they got to Arieel’s homeworld, as the hunters began to congregate nearby in a last-ditch attempt to collect the bounty.

Adam’s plan to plot a less-direct route to Formil had paid off. They had only been challenged twice, and both times the military transponder aboard the ship gave them clearance.

They were fortunate that the transponder code had not been reported as stolen. By this time, he was sure the theft had been discovered, but fortunately communications between the more backwards Siyvelan system and the rest of the Coalition was not that sophisticated.

But now the situation would get dicey. Adam was now steering a direct course for Formil, requiring him to enter the mass of ships now filling the system. The Formilians would be checking all ships, looking for assassins or others with evil intent. This was their Speaker who all these beings had come hunting. They were out to kill the Supreme Celebrant of their religion, their embodiment of the living-god.

To that end, the Formilians were taking the situation very seriously.

In most cases, this would be welcome news for Adam and Arieel however the temptation of thirty-million credits was complicating the matter. Adam had thought about contacting Convor as they neared the planet, seeking a safe zone to bring her in, yet he decided he couldn’t trust anyone beyond the High Celebrant himself. Others may be listening.

The bounty McCarthy was offering could also be earned not with the killing of Arieel, but simply by preventing her from reaching the Temple by the time of the Rites Ceremony. She wouldn’t even have to die for the conspirator to earn a planetary fortune. This made Adam’s task grow in difficulty the closer the time came for the ceremony, an event now only eight hours away.

It would take all of Adam’s ingenuity, as well as Arieel powers to pull this off – even if her powers were artificially created.

The planet Formil was now solidly in view of Adam’s stolen spaceship. The Formilians had restricted the landing of all craft for the next twelve hours without special clearance from the Order.

Adam broadcast the landing request using the Armplanese military code.

“What is your business upon Formil?” the dispatcher asked. Adam had painted his skin black using grease from the landing bay and dressed in an Armplanese military uniform. He didn’t know of the Armplanese came in black, but he was also hoping the dispatcher didn’t know either.

“The Order has requested all the assistance in guarding the Temple that members of the Coalition can provide. We are a detachment of security personnel sent to assist.”

“I am not aware of any such request. You are the only vessel claiming this request.”

“It has been relatively recent that the request was made, since the efforts to prevent The Speaker from returning to Formil appear to have failed. The High Celebrant himself has determined that all efforts must now be placed in guarding the Temple at this time.”

“But we have sufficient personnel within the Formilian population to guard the Temple.”

The dispatcher was being exceptionally cautious. Adam would have to get a little more forceful. “I am an official representative of the Armplanese people. I have come at the request of your High Celebrant to assist in a mission of paramount importance to our sacred religion. Without clearance, we will not be able to perform our mission, and my government, as well as your own, will be very upset. Is it your wish to cause an inter-Coalition incident, when all we are attempting to do is help?”

The dispatcher began to look uncertain. “I will have to contact my superiors within the Order—”

“There is no time for that! The Rites Ceremony is only hours away, and my forces need to be in place well before that time. We are already behind schedule due to the traffic surrounding your world. Every moment lost in this meaningless banter will only cause further damage to Armplanese and Formilian relations. Your name will read prominently within my report should this come to pass!”

This seemed to push the dispatcher over the edge. He typed something on the keyboard in front of him and looked up at Adam once again. His face was full of contempt. “I have transmitted your landing code. You are cleared to the Order landing field just outside the compound walls. I have requested transports to be at your disposal for the movement of your troops to the Temple. Is there anything else you require?” The question came off dripping of sarcasm and disgust.

“No, that will suffice. I regret the confusion, but the situation we are facing is grave. I do appreciate your cautious approach. That, too, will be noted in my end-of-mission report.”

The dispatcher seemed to perk-up, just a little, but then he simply nodded and cut the link.

Adam leaned back in the pilot’s seat and looked over at Arieel, who had been sitting off screen, listening to the conversation. He let out a deep sigh.

“We’ll at least be able to get to the surface,” he said to her, “and maybe all the way to the Temple doors. How do we get in from there, and what happens once the ceremony starts?”

“The Temple is a large building with many chambers. The Rites Ceremony is conducted in the Throne Room. I sit upon the throne and recite the Sacrament. It only takes a couple of minutes.”

“How many others are present?”

“Several dozen, mainly those of the High Order, along with a few visiting dignitaries who have made the pilgrimage. The event happens every twenty-eight days, so it is not that important among my other duties.” She suddenly took a deep breath, the seriousness of all the prior ceremonies now hitting her all at once. “At least I had never considered it to be very important. Now I know better.”

“We’re almost there, Arieel. Once the deadline for the bounty has passed, then you’ll be safe. And I’m sure the Order will now institute new security procedures around you to prevent another event like from ever happening again.”

Arieel’s expression suddenly grew very hard. “I am especially distressed that members of my own Order may be conspiring to kill me. There will be a purging, Adam Cain. Only those truly loyal to the Order will remain when I am done. Those who would kill their Speaker simply for credits will be no more.”

Adam had no doubt she was serious. Head would roll for this, especially since Adam was fully convinced that her kidnapping had been an inside job. McCarthy had almost admitted as much when he spoke of the inside information he had about Arieel, even knowing about the explosive within her body when even she was unaware of its existence.

In a way, Adam felt sorry for her. She had always lived her life behind a veil of protocol and ceremony, unable to experience life beyond the walls of the Temple Complex. And yet she was a lively and curious personality. It was a waste the way she was living, and yet it was what she had always known. It was simply another example of a person’s predetermined place in life confining them to a living prison.

Having experienced a brief, yet tumultuous, look at life outside the Temple walls, Adam wondered if Arieel would ever be content with her regimented existence ever again. He looked over at her, only to find her arranging her hair in the reflection of the nav monitor, completely lost in the primping. Hell, she may welcome the return of the old routine. At least that way she could always look her best – which appeared to be her main priority at the moment.

“This is getting critical Major,” Carter Thomas said. He was looking at a clock on the wall of the common room aboard their spaceship, now located somewhere between Uniss-3 and their secret base. “Three fucking hours left and still no word if they’ve been found or not.”

For his part, Nigel McCarthy was also very concerned. The bounty offer had started off with such high promise. Cain had been located within hours of its disclosure and a short chase ensued. But then he simply disappeared, having not been seen nor heard from again in over six days. It was virtually impossible for this to have happened. At one count, there were over two thousand spaceships looking for him. How the hell did he slip through?

“I assume all the steps have been taken on Formil?” Nigel asked. “As the hours go by their path will become narrower and narrower. I simply refuse to believe that they’ll be able to get inside the Temple. How could they?”

“How could they evade two thousand ships, too, but they did? At this point, I’m tempted to put my money on Cain.”

McCarthy glared at his second-in-command. “I put my money on us – thirty-five million credits worth. Have a little faith sergeant-major. It’s not over yet.”

Carter looked at the clock again. “It will be, in two hours and fifty minutes. Either the bitch will be dead, or we’ll be back to square one.”

Nigel looked at the clock as well. There’s no arguing with that, he thought. Maybe it’s about time I started working on a backup plan? And then he laughed out loud, causing Thomas to frown. But then he thought, So, I need a backup plan for my bloody backup plan! Ain’t that some shite? You know, at some point, I’m really going to have to kill that bastard Adam Cain.

* * *

The small Armplanese spaceship dropped to the surface of Formil unmolested and settled down under chemical drive on the vast Order landing field outside the walls of the Temple Complex. Adam had departed for Uniss-3 from this very field eleven days earlier, having never expected the sequence of events that would unfold during that time. But his mission wasn’t complete, not yet. In fact, the most-dangerous part may still be ahead of him.

True to the dispatcher’s word, two large transport vehicles pulled up to the ship, expecting to transport the security detail to the Temple. Since there were only two passengers aboard the ship, that discrepancy might be difficult to explain.

The black grease he had worn to deceive the dispatcher wouldn’t work face to face, so he had cleaned up, revealing his true pink complexion. He still wore the uniform of the Armplanese military, and he had even found a hat that looked like part of the official outfit. He pulled the soft-brimmed cap down as far as he could on his head while still being able to see and then opened the outer hatch. He also wore an MK-17 secured to his hip.

The driver of the first transport was a young Formilian. If Adam had thought the Formilian males he seen to date were handsome beyond belief, the younger ones were even more so. The firm, tanned body, the narrow waist and bulging muscles again appeared to be in perfect proportional to the rest of the body, leading Adam to believe again that this was genetic rather than manufactured.

“Greetings,” Adam said as he approached the Formilian.

“Greetings, are your troops ready? I understand you are to help guard the Temple. We must hurry, the ceremony will begin soon.”

Adam was surprised how well-informed the supposedly lowly transport driver seemed to be.

“This is true,” Adam said casually, “yet before I disembark my troops, I wish to survey the Temple grounds so as to best form a defensive perimeter.” Adam smiled slightly, actually impressed with his off-the cuff remark.

“I understand. But then we must hurry.”

“My adjutant will be accompanying us. It is a female, and Armplanese females are not normally allowed to be viewed by off-worlders. Will you please show her respect by not viewing her?”

The young Formilian frowned. “I will oblige; however I find that such behavior would be a deterrent to her performance of her duties on Formil. I must say, your command did not properly plan for this mission.”

Damn, the kid’s not only incredibly handsome he’s also smart as a whip.

“You are correct, young Formilian,” Adam quickly agreed. “I can tell your skills go far beyond those of a mere transport driver.”

The Formilian frowned again; had Adam said something wrong? “I am Ryfor O’yn Rey, a ninth-degree Celebrant, attached to the personal security detail of Speaker Arieel Bol. I have taken this assignment because I feel it important that as many forces protect the Speaker as can be mustered. I will myself be standing at the entrance to the Temple at the time of the ceremony, prepared to die to preserve the life of Arieel Bol.”

“Very commendable, young Celebrant and I apologize if I insulted your position. I will now summon my adjutant so we may proceed.”

A simple hand gesture brought Arieel down the ramp from the Armplanese ship. She also wore a military uniform, although they had cut off nearly two feet of the pant legs to accommodate her shorter stature. She wore a cap as well yet had also placed a scarf of matching color over her face, leaving only her eyes showing.

With respect, the young Formilian did not look Arieel’s way, but instead boarded the vehicle and allowed Adam and Arieel to slide into the seat directly behind him. With a large troop carrier behind, the cab did not have a rearview mirror, so Arieel was able to avoid scrutiny as the transport made the short journey from the spaceport, through the gates of the compound and into the very heart of the Temple Complex.

There was forty-two minutes left until the start of the ceremony. Adam smiled. That would be plenty of time; they had made it.

The large transport lumbered through the narrow streets of the ancient Temple Complex, its path hindered by the mass of people crowding the area. Most appeared to security personnel of some sort, while hundreds, if not thousands wore the ugly mustard colored robes of the Order. Adam wondered how any semblance of protection could be afforded Arieel in such a confused mess? Any one of these thousands of creatures could be a killer. Even Adam still wore an MK-17 around his waist; the young Celebrant not even bothering with a cursory search for weapons or explosives. Was it the same for all these other creatures?

Once they entered the vast plaza facing the ornate, six-story façade of the Temple itself, they found the going to be even slower. Literally thousands of people were packed into the plaza awaiting the Rites Ceremony. The way Arieel had described it; the monthly ritual was fairly routine and not very-well attended, yet not this one, apparently. Were these all devote worshipers, intent on seeing if their demi-god would survive her trials, or were they simply gawkers hoping to see a spectacle? Whatever the reason, today was shaping up to be the event of the season.

“I will be unable to get near the entrance of the Temple with the transport,” Ryfor announced from the front seat. “I will take us around to the back, where I have reserved a location.”

Adam nodded his agreement. Entering the Temple from the rear would be much easier than through the front doors, and better hidden.

The transport soon left the loud and barely manageable throng of creatures in the plaza and followed a narrow cobblestone road along the side of the towering building. Armed security personnel, all Formilians, lined the street, each cradling Xan-fi flash rifles and watching them pass with suspicious scrutiny. Around the back of the Temple was your typical behind-the-scene letdown, a large parking area, with simple wooden huts where security troops were dispatched and supervisors sat with cups of coffee in their hands – or whatever passed for coffee on Formil.

Ryfor pulled the transport into a wide space between two other large trucks at the far end of the parking lot next to a protruding arm of the Temple. Only a few additional guards were around and Adam was beginning to feel very optimistic of their chances. They only had thirty minutes or so before the ceremony, yet here they were, just outside the Temple building.

Ryfor jumped out of the cab and then opened the door for Adam and Arieel to climb out. Even though the parking space was wide, Ryfor had crowded a truck to their right, so Arieel had to shuffle over and exit out the left side of the truck right behind Adam.

Adam turned and helped her down, and the moment her feet hit the cobblestone ground, her body collapsed against his. Adam held her with both arms, seeing her eyes close, her mouth falling slack. He twisted his head around quickly and found Ryfor standing a few feet away. “Help me …” But then Adam saw the tiny dart gun held in Ryfor’s hand. The thin barrel was now aimed at him.

Anger surged up in Adam and he took a step toward the Formilian with Arieel still held in his arms. He had no idea if the tranquilizer dart would work on him, but he was willing to take the chance.

Just then three other Formilian swarmed over him, pulling Arieel away and grabbing his arms. In spite of their size and bulging muscles, the grip of the Formilians on his arms felt weak and unsubstantial. But still Ryfor had the dart gun.

The young Celebrant stepped closer to Adam, displaying a thin smile. “Yes, I knew it was you,” Ryfor said smugly. “When a ship without prior clearance lands just before the beginning of the ceremony, I grew suspicious. And when only two of you emerge, a male and female, it was so obvious as to insult my intelligence. Did you honestly believe I would not recognize my own Speaker? Even without seeing her I could smell her scent and surmise her form.”

“You’re going to kill your own god?” Adam asked between clinched jaws. “You’re a Celebrant; you worship her.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Cain. And I assure you, I will not kill her.”

Adam’s heart leapt. Was Ryfor really an ally?

“Then you will get her to the Throne Room?”

“Of course not, Mr. Cain, I was the one who originally assisted in her abduction. I am also the one who revealed to The Ma-Jor the existence of the explosive within her body. Only certain Celebrants know of this – the higher ranking … and her security personnel.”

“So you’re going let her explode? That’s still killing her, you moron!”

“I was not the one who placed the device within her body, so I do not bear the full responsibility.” He motioned with his head and the entourage moved out, entering the building through a set of double doors. They moved quickly down a deserted corridor lined with walls of solid stone until Ryfor opened another door and motioned them all inside.

It was a rectory of some sort, complete with a modest bed and work table where one of the Celebrants of the Order would have stayed. Arieel was placed gently on the bed by one of the other Formilians while the other two guarding Adam pulled MK-17’s. With Arieel unconscious, the weapons could prove lethal if set at level-one.

“So what, now we just wait?”

Ryfor smiled again. “Not we, Mr. Cain. Even though the explosive is small, it is still substantial enough to sustain considerable damage within a radius of fifty feet more. Its creators wanted to be sure to kill any around the Speaker who might be holding her against her will, as sort of revenge. As I said, I will be standing guard outside the Temple entrance when the explosion occurs.”

Adam was confused. What would become of him?

Just then Ryfor fired the dart gun again. The sharp projectile penetrated the skin of Adam’s chest and discharged it potent contents. Almost immediately, Adam began to grow weak and his vision blurry. He tumbled to the floor, his arms and legs now feeling numb and useless.

Ryfor knelt next to him and pulled his head up by the chin to look into Adam’s eyes, even as they flickered with the last vestiges of vision. “Your spirit will have the honor of mingling with that of the Speaker, Mr. Cain. For that I envy you. I have been in love with Arieel since I was very young, however, I will suppress my sorrow with the knowledge that I, and my colleagues here, will now share in the thirty-million credits you have so impressively made available to us. I did not hold out any promise that you would make it this far, and yet you did. Well done, Mr. Cain. Well done.”

Ryfor then let Adam’s head fall back as his entire body now lay prone on the floor, his eyes closed … a cold blanket of death now covering him.

Chapter 17

When the greyness began to lift from Adam mind, memories suddenly rushed in, followed by confusion. He remembered taking a tranquilizer dart in the chest and then falling to the floor. He also knew that Arieel lay near him, unconscious, and that there had only been twenty minutes or so before her body would explode.

If she had exploded, would he still be able to have these thoughts? Was this an afterlife of some kind, where his consciousness simply continued where his mortal life left off? Or was there still time?

He fought hard to open his eyes and could feel sensation returning to this arms and legs. His eyes flickered open and he found he was staring up at the ceiling of the rectory, a plaster-over-stone structure with patterns of various leaves in relief.

He was still alive, and that meant so was Arieel. Chalk another one up for superior Human physiology. Apparently the tranquilizer in the dart wasn’t strong enough to keep Adam out for very long.

He struggled to roll to his right, and from there he could see the low-lying bed with a small figure dressed in an ill-fitting grey jumpsuit resting peacefully. He pulled with his arms, dragging his body to the edge of the bed, and then with rubber legs pushed and pulled until he had reached the top.

As his body fell heavily on the smaller figure, Adam could hear a slight moan forced from Arieel lips. Feeling and strength was now gaining rapidly in his body and his superman physiology fought to overcome the effects of the drug. He propped himself on one elbow and used his other hand to slap Arieel gently on the cheek.

“Arieel, wake up!” he cried out. He slapped her again, harder. This time her eyes lids closed a little tighter and her head shook. One more slap and Arieel’s eyes began to flutter open.

“Wake up, god-dammit!” Adam yelled. He could now feel most of his body and so he sat up on the bed and grabbed Arieel by the shoulders. He shook her violently. “Wake up! Wake up!”

Arieel’s eyes began to show signs of recognition, as trails of saliva flowed down her chin. “Adam?” she said weakly. “Are you now with my spirit energy?”

“No, but that could happen at any time. Get up; we still have time to get you to the Throne Room.”

She let out a long sigh and then closed her eyes again. “I wish to join my mothers among the essence. You go without me.”

“Hell no!” Adam said, now struggling to lift her inert body off the bed. Normally, this would not have been a problem, but in his drugged state, she felt as heavy as an elephant. “I’m not leaving you! We’re going to the Throne Room – now!”

His strength was increasing by the second and soon he had her off the bed and in his arms. He fell against the wall next to the rectory door and then regained his balance. Holding Arieel against the door, he felt with his hand for the latch and pulled it open. He stepped out into the stone corridor, one of many throughout the Temple. He had no idea where to go.

Propping Arieel’s head up with his right arm, he shook her awake again. She frowned hard, but her eyes opened. “Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Where is here?” Arieel asked through her stupor. Adam had no answer. But then he noticed a marker above a door across the corridor from the rectory. It was in Formilian writing – of which he had no idea how to read – but above it was a symbol, a triangle.

Adam turned Arieel so she could see the symbol. “Oh,” she called out, almost drunk in her manners. “We are in the Celebrant quarters. Scandalous!”

“Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No I don’t. Please concentrate. Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Down there,” she said, her right arm now flailing away, indicating to Adam’s left. He took off running.

Arieel’s eyes grew wide and smile crossed her face. “This is fun, like riding a downing steed,” she said. “Run my steed! Run!”

Adam soon came to another long and wider corridor connecting on his right. “Through here, is this the way to the Throne Room?”

“Yes, my steed. Down there at your fastest gait.”

Adam obeyed, running as fast as he could, while still wobbling from one side of the corridor to the other as he went as the effects of the drug still lingered. The hallway was long, with many offshoots, any of which could be the entrance to the Throne Room.

“Oh … you passed it,” Arieel said, trying to crawl into his back and pointing. He turned around and approached the wide double doorway made of heavy wood of some kind.

“Here? This is the Throne Room?”

“Yes Adam Cain – my hero.” Arieel’s brow suddenly furrowed. “My head hurts.”

“We’re almost there, Arieel. We’re going to make it.”

Adam kicked at the door, surprised that only one swift kick was all it took to force open the massive doors. Beyond was a vast chamber lined with towering columns of polished stone and a ceiling easily fifty feet above. The room was full of beings, many dressed in mustard yellow, others in suits or flowing robes.

A hush fell over the room as the doors came crashing open and all eyes fell on Adam holding Arieel in his arms. This was not the main entrance to the Throne Room, but a side entrance. And there, off to his left, he saw the throne, an elevated chair sitting on a series of stone blocks. He took off for it.

To his surprise, many of the mustard-garbed Celebrants began to scream and pull on the other non-Order dignitaries, leading them away from Adam and Arieel. Soon a mad panic ensued, as the crowd rushed for the exit at the opposite end of the room from the throne.

Adam didn’t care, he had the throne in his sights and that was all that mattered.

And then he spotted it. On the wall to his right was a digital clock, looking out of place in the medieval look of the rest of the Temple. It was a simple device, with only a single row of white numbers on a black background.

And the number read six, then five, then four….

The throne was still fifty feet away or more. Three …, two….

He wasn’t going to make it. Adam slid to his knees and pulled Arieel close. “You didn’t leave,” he heard her whisper in his ear.

And then he closed his own eyes tight.

One…, zero….

Then nothing….

Adam opened his eyes again and looked at the clock. It had reset to a new twenty-eight day cycle. And yet they were both still alive.

Arieel was now coming more to her senses. She stretched her neck until she, too, could see the clock. Adam spun her around until she had a more comfortable vantage point.

The two of them watched the clock wind down another five full minutes before saying anything. Then Arieel looked in his eyes, a dreamy, soft look. “You could have left me and run to safety. Why didn’t you?”

Thinking that this was something out of a sappy chick flick, Adam just smiled. “We’ve come this far, my Lady. I couldn’t leave you alone now.”

Then Arieel’s eyes grew wide. “And still we live!”

“That’s the conclusion I came to as well,” he said.

And then Arieel grasped his head by her arms and kissed him passionately. He didn’t know what it was – either the fullness of her lips or that thing she could do with static electricity – but Adam truly felt sparks fly as she pressed her lips against his. They held the kiss for what seemed like an eternity until finally they broke and came up for air.

“So what happened – or more appropriately – what didn’t happen?”

* * *

“I’ll answer that!”

Adam and Arieel were both so exhausted and overwhelmed with the entire event that neither one was startled as the other person in the room spoke. It was the High Celebrant Convor Ton’al Ona, Arieel’s father, standing near the throne, his arm resting on one of its ornate sides.

Adam rose to his feet and helped Arieel stand. Her legs were stronger now, the effects of the tranquilizer now nearly completely gone. She did her best to run to Convor, but instead approached at a brisk, yet drunken-like walk. Convor moved to meet her.

Father and daughter embraced at the front of the throne, tears flowing down both their cheeks. Adam held back a respectful distance until Convor took notice of him and motioned for him to come near.

He shook Adam’s hand emphatically. “Thank you so very much, Mr. Cain for returning my daughter – our Speaker – to us. It has been a truly amazing feat which you have accomplished.”

“Thank you, Celebrant,” Adam said, a frown now plastered on his face. “But what happened? Why didn’t she explode? Was just being in the Throne Room enough to deactivate the bomb?”

“Oh no, Mr. Cain, it was not – is not,” Convor said. “In truth, we should get you up here Arieel so as to perform the ritual.”

Convor helped Arieel’s still uncertain legs climb the three steps to the throne. She sat down, looking confused at her father.

“Is there a bomb or not?” she asked, anger beginning to grow in her tone.

“Yes, there is, my Speaker. That part is true. What has varied is the time at which the bomb is set to explode.”

Adam stepped closer to Convor, his own anger growing by the second. “What do you mean? When was the bomb scheduled to explode?”

“All official Order records of the device indicate it is to explode at exactly the moment of the Rites Ceremony. Yet only the very highest of the Order know that there is in reality a six hour delay built into the program.”

“You mean we had another six hours to get here?” Adam was livid. He pulled back to strike Convor but then hesitated. He knew that in the past he had been able to drive his fist completely through the skulls of various aliens. Killing the High Celebrant – and Arieel’s father – would certainly not go over very well, especially not right in the middle of their most-sacred Temple.

“That is correct, Mr. Cain. There is an additional six hours attached to the deadline.”

“Why?” Arieel asked.

“So what just happened can be allowed to happen,” Convor said, with a sparkle in his eye.

“You’re losing me, Convor. Stop playing games and just spit it out.”

Convor and Arieel both frowned at him as the translator fought to find the right context for his words. Finally, Convor nodded. “If everyone believes the device will explode at a certain time, then all who know of this will clear the area prior to the detonation, leaving Arieel, and all the prior Speakers, alone … and with an opportunity to escape. Even the dead body of the Speaker would still explode at the given time, so killing her to prevent the detonation would not work. And, of course, the device is tamper-proof. No, the only way to prevent a detonation is to place the Speaker upon the Throne at the time of the Rites Ceremony – or in this case – within six hours of the ceremony. Then the device resets. Because those who meant you harm, my daughter, believed the device would go off at the known time, they left you and Mr. Cain alone, allowing you both to escape. I would say the creators of the device, over two thousand years before, have planned well for this very event.”

“Yet it is another thing you did not tell me, father!”

“Again, my Speaker, it was for your own good.”

Convor then took Arieel by the hand and helped her off the throne. “We must now prepare you for an announcement. We must let the galaxy know that you still live, and that the time of the reward has passed without collection.”

“What of this Ryfor guy?” Adam asked. “He helped McCarthy with everything.”

“We have apprehended the young Ryfor, along with his accomplices. There have been vids cameras placed throughout the Temple. We have evidence of him perpetrating the crime against the Speaker.”

“You had him on camera, yet you didn’t come to get us?”

“The cameras are not in the rectory rooms. Those are private. But we do have them in the corridors and other public chambers.”

“Come Arieel. Besides a change of clothes, it also appears we must also find you a wig to wear. Even though you are as fetching as ever, your public will be expecting the look of the old Speaker. Please remain, Mr. Cain. I and the Order owe you an incredible debt of gratitude. We wish to discuss the honors we will bestow on you.”

Adam watched silently as Convor led Arieel out of the Throne Room and through yet another set of side doors. Just before Arieel disappeared, she turned to look back at him, a look of sorrow in her eyes. Adam nodded back with a small smile.

So much for that, he thought. And then his jaw grew tight. And now Convor is about to learn what I really want in return for all my efforts!

Chapter 18

It wasn’t until a full seven hours later that Convor had the time to meet with Adam again. Over that time, Arieel had gone before the cameras to announce her survival and a brief description of her ordeal. She went on to chastise many of the Coalition who joined in the hunt for her and Adam, calling it a betrayal of Mislin and Sufor. She conjured up a few static balls and manipulated a few lights … as a warning. Then she disappeared again, to be hidden from the public behind an even thicker wall of security and separation from the universe at large.

* * *

Adam was brought into the private office of the High Celebrant, who rose from his chair and came around the desk to greet him warmly. “Here is our hero,” he said to the other Formilian in the room, his senior Second, Trimen Ona For. “I am sorry it has taken us so long to meet again, but you can imagine all the tasks to be achieved after such a harrowing twenty-eight days.”

“I sure do. Remember, I was there for most of it.”

“Of course you were, Mr. Cain. As I have said many times before, you have exceeded your charter. Now we wish to speak of honoring you, of celebrating your achievements so all can share in our awe and wonder. On a personal note, what do you wish from us? You seemed very impressed with the amount of the reward we paid for Arieel’s return. That same amount will be yours, or even more, if you so desire.”

Adam took a chair in front of Convor’s desk and sat down, crossing his legs and smiling back at Convor, and then over at Trimen as well, who sat in a large padded chair to the left of the desk. “First of all, let me start by saying you have a remarkable daughter there, Convor. She really stepped up when needed.”

“My thanks, Mr. Cain,” Convor said proudly.

“Now I’d like to ask the two of you a question: Do either of you know what a data packet is?”

Convor frowned and then looked over at Trimen. As a scientist, Trimen nodded. “It is a bundle of information that is stored within a device and designed to be uploaded at a future date. It is used for advanced planning and coordination, so an operator does not have to be present when an automated event takes place.”

Adam smiled. “Exactly! I would like the two of you to know that while returning to Formil, I placed a data packet into the Library, scheduled to be uploaded thirty days from now, unless I enter the code to stop it.”

Convor looked confused. “I don’t see what this has to do with your honor and reward. What information does this date pack contain?”

Adam paused for effect before continuing. “It contains a complete history of the events that have just taken place – including the fact that Arieel Bol carries within her body an artificial device which allows her to manipulate electronic devices, not by supernatural means, but by simple remote control of these devices. It goes on to detail the fraud you and the Order have perpetrated on the people of Formil, as well as the entire Coalition, in making the Speakers out to be demi-gods, when in fact they are mere mortals using technology to create lightshows designed to deceive.”

Adam was surprised he could actually remember the speech he’d been practicing for days now, but he was doing a fairly accurate job. He now sat, waiting for the reaction from the two Formilian religious leaders.

It was Trimen who spoke first. “Why would you do such a thing? You have just risked your life to save the very icon you say is a fraud against her people. But I assure you, Mr. Cain, she is no fraud.”

“You may not consider her one, but those outside your Order surely will. You have placed this mystic worship quality on a basic force of nature, and then made Arieel, and the other Speakers, out to be conduits to this magical power. As a scientist, you must know how wrong you are.”

“We are not wrong!” Convor shouted. “The knowledge to build the devices we build is a gift from our gods.”

“And yet other races on thousands of worlds can also create and build similar devices, without this so-called guidance from the gods.”

“How do you know they are not guided, even if they are not aware?”

“I’m not going to play these metaphysical mind games with the two of you. I have come to tell you that your secret will be revealed in thirty days.”

“But who would believe you without evidence?”

“They won’t need evidence. Just making the accusation will be enough to start the ball rolling – to raise suspicion. And remember, I’m a god-damn hero. Why wouldn’t they believe me now that I’ve been let into your inner circle?”

“Yet even if what you say is false and others believe you, it will destroy our very social and cultural foundation. The Coalition will fall apart without belief in the Speaker. And the Omphly, they will then have no fear and will attack immediately—”

“And without a Coalition to help defend you, Formil will fall and your race will become extinct,” Adam added.

Convor and Trimen stared at Adam for a long moment, stunned into disbelief and at a loss as to what more they could say.

Adam stepped into the silence. “As I said, the data packet will be uploaded into the Library in thirty days, an event that will spread this information throughout the galaxy … unless.”

Both Formilians leaned forward and jumped on Adam’s last word. “Unless what?” said asked in unison.

Adam smiled, thinking that their two voices actually harmonized quite nicely. If ever this Celebrant-gig didn’t work out, they could make it is a singing duo.

“Unless … you also fit me with one of these super-duper mind-reading devices just like Arieel’s.”

The look of shock on the faces of the two aliens was priceless. Their already dark skin turned several shades darker and Adam honestly thought Convor was going to have a heart attack.

“That’s impossible!” Trimen stated. “Only Speakers have the Gift. And only females. And only Formilians. There are so many reasons why this is impossible.”

“However, you will implant one of these devices in me within thirty days or the data packet will be released. It’s as simple as that. Those are my terms: Either comply … or your entire civilization will collapse with the truth. It seems like a rather easy decision to me.”

“I thought you were a hero, one of the savior-class? Now you threaten to reveal our secret unless you are given access to our gods, to our greatest Gift? What sort of creature are you?” Convor asked venom thick in his voice.

“Me! What about you and your kind? You have perpetrated a gigantic fraud on your people for over two thousand years.”

“It is no fraud! The knowledge we have is of divine origin. The devices we give to the Speaker are simply the worldly means by which she communicates with our deities. Her powers are those of the gods. Through her, we are allowed to literally touch them, to experience their reality!”

“Bullshit; it’s all fake! How she does what she does is fully explainable through science, not mysticism. The most-devout and gullible among you may be convinced, but not the masses beyond your society. Once I let them know how she does it, all your power will be lost, and there will be a mad rush to duplicate this kind of technology. In no time there will be billions of little Speakers running around the galaxy. You know this is possible – that’s why you place explosive devices within the bodies of your Speakers, just so the secret would not get out. So what I ask is not that unreasonable. It’s just me who needs to be fitted. If you do this, I’ll play along with your charade. It’s in my best interest to be only one of two creatures in the galaxy with ‘the power.’ It’s a pretty good deal.”

“I must consult….”

“The fewer people who know of this the better.”

“I have been researching your race, Adam Cain,” Trimen said, “ever since I learned of your word kidnapping. I needed to know more about a people who would treat each other as such. I also ran across another word, one much more appropriate to this situation: blackmail. We have no such word in our language, because we do not think along these lines. I hope you are proud of yourself.”

“Let’s not get all melodramatic. You obviously have a word for deception, because that is what you’ve been doing all this time. But, please, this is simply a negotiation, and in this case I have the stronger hand. Convor, what’s the harm? I’m not going to prance around proclaiming myself to be a god – not like your Speaker. I have a job to do, and although we Humans already have certain set of physical advantages, this will be just one more tool I can use against the bad guys.”

“I am beginning to see that this particular negotiation has already been decided in advance; I have little choice but to acquiesce to your demands – if my society is to survive.”

“You could say that. But look on the bright side – now there will be two of us, one public and one hidden.” Adam leaned in a little closer to the High Celebrant. “I don’t want to destroy your way of life, Convor. You may not realize it now, but I’m one of the good guys.” He chose not to tell them about McCarthy and his quest for a mind-reading device of his own. If Nigel is able to build one, then it will be Adam’s job to stop him from spreading havoc throughout the galaxy.

“Indeed, it is hard for me to see. I once considered you a friend, but now you have contaminated our most sacred institution with your greed and lust for power.”

“That may be true, but if this knowledge gets out to the rest of the galaxy, you’d soon learn that I’m the rule, rather than the exception. The power to control electric fields and devices with just your mind is too great a temptation. Just do what I ask and it will end here. Are we in agreement?”

“As I said, what choice do I have?”

“None and one last thing: There will be no self-destruct in my device. And also, if anything unforeseen should happen to me during the implant operation … well you know how quickly thirty days will pass. Now let’s get this started before my people start wondering what’s happened to me.”

“It’s not that simple, Adam Cain. Each device has to tuned to the brainwaves of the particular Speaker – or person – who will be using it. You must be tested and scanned, and then the device must be constructed.”

“How long will that take?”

“That will depend on the testing.”

Adam leaned in closer to the Formilian. “Don’t play games with me, Convor.”

“I assure you I am not. The testing is pretty straight forward. But then there is an aspect I don’t believe you’ve considered.”

“And what’s that?”

“The training. Each Speaker goes through ten years of training on how to control the Gift – the device. She begins at an early age and her thought process is honed to maximum efficiency. Without the proper training, the Gift can be just as dangerous as it can be beneficial.”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, I just want to get past the implantation.”

“I will arrange for the testing equipment to be brought to my quarters. There will be much suspicion if others within the Order become aware that a person other than a prospective Speaker is being tested.”

“Fine.”

“Once tested, I will have the various assembly teams begin work.”

“Won’t they become suspicious, too?”

“With the current situation involving the Speaker, they will assume I am doing this as a precaution. Besides, to safeguard the knowledge of the Gift, all devices are assembled in pieces by many divergent groups. Only I and my top three aides know the procedures for final assembly. It is as it has been prescribed by the gods.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Chapter 19

Four hours later, Adam was summoned to Convor’s spacious private chambers. It was obvious that rank had its privileges, and even though he was simply a lowly male and could never become the supreme ruler of the Coalition, Formilian society dictated that the High Celebrant should want for nothing. The quarters he occupied were a sprawling complex of rooms all lined with shiny marble walls and eight-sided columns that supported ceilings towering fifty feet high. The chambers reminded Adam of what the Caesars of Rome would have enjoyed, if they were so lucky.

A small, gray Jakrean led Adam to a smaller, more secluded room within the complex, where he found a dozen more of the tiny creatures scurrying around an array of electronic equipment mounted on wheeled carts. Convor was in the room, along with Trimen, now dressed in a ceremonial orange blouse.

Trimen looked at Adam with undisguised contempt. “I will be analyzing the scanning process and assist in the tuning of the Gift. It is part of my specialty,” he said with incredible effort, “even though I am still adamantly opposed to the procedure.”

Adam looked at Convor and raised his eyebrows. Convor placed a hand on Trimen’s shoulder. “He understands the difficult situation we are faced with, yet you cannot expect us to be pleasant and cordial.”

“I understand,” Adam said, “but what about the Jakreans? I just want to remind the two of you that if word of this gets out before the data packet is released, it won’t be my fault.

“This is all your fault!” Trimen corrected. “If you did not insist on the procedure, none of this would be necessary.”

“You got me there, so the sooner we get it done, the sooner we can all go our separate ways.”

Convor motioned for Adam to lean again on a padded table that was swiveled into an upright position. Once he did, the table was brought to a level position and a small, round pillow was placed under his head by one of the Jakreans. Convor noticed Adam’s scrutiny of the tiny gray creatures.

“The testing is complex. The Jakreans are efficient with the setup of the equipment, yet their thought processes do not go further to the reason for the setup. They will remain silent.”

Trimen began to place very ordinary-looking electronic monitoring contacts to Adam’s temple and forehead, along with a thin, silver mesh strip that reached from one ear to the next along the top of his head. Wires from all the contacts ran to the bank of equipment. Adam knew this was some kind of advanced electroencephalogram, a device that would read his brainwave patterns, so he had no fear. He was curious, however, how his alien brainwaves would compare to those of the Formilians, and particularly, of Arieel’s. He had witnessed firsthand the control she had over all surrounding electronic devices. He was sure it was much more involved than simply thinking the phrase: turn on lights or disable flash weapon. He knew there had been research going on back on Earth involving this very technology called artificial telepathy, although the Formilian’s were a couple of thousand years more advanced. He was hoping his training process would be accelerated because of the advanced nature of the device….

Convor and Trimen turned away from Adam and sat before monitors in the array of equipment. Adam cocked his head slightly and saw sine waves begin to scroll across the screens. “Please do not move: we are beginning the scan,” Trimen said, his voice still edged with contempt.

Almost immediately, Adam saw the two Formilians begin to tweak controls and glance at each other with ever-increasing frequency.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Convor shot back a little too quickly. “Please remain still.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“There is nothing wrong. It is just that you have an alien brain … and you are a male.”

“And that’s significant … how?”

Convor swiveled to face him. “Are you aware of the fact that the brains of most Primes have two hemispheres?”

“Yeah, the left and right brain we call it. One is the practical side, the other the more emotional one.”

Convor’s eyes grew wide. “I am surprised you are aware of this. But that is correct, in a very basic understanding. It is the same in most species. As you know, all Speakers are female, and therefore the right hemisphere is the more dominate, which is characterized by feelings and cultural awareness. However, most of the major functions of the Gift are controlled through the left hemisphere. The waves coming from this side are much more defined and sequential, more visual if you will. Our Speakers must be trained to utilize the left hemisphere of their brains in order to master control of the device, which is unnatural to them at first.”

“That makes sense. So what’s the problem with my brain?”

“Nothing.” Again Convor’s response was more emphatic than Adam expected. “Like I said, you are a male. That is all.”

“Explain.”

Trimen was the next to turn to face Adam. His expression had softened somewhat and he appeared to be almost excited. “A male brain has seldom been tested for compatibility with the Gift before, and that was simply for experimentation, to see if the Gift could be modified to function more with the right side of the brain. But never has an alien brain such as yours been tested. This is all new to us.”

“So is it going to work?”

The question seemed to surprise the two Formilians. They looked at each other, and after a moment, Convor turned back to Adam. “It seems a Human brain is strong and the brainwave patterns very defined. Your thoughts are – how can I describe it – sharp? This could also be a result of the fact that you are a male, and most of your thoughts are dominated by the left side of your brain. The best I can say is your waves have very defined edges, while the Speakers’ are … fuzzier.”

“Is this going to be good or bad? It sounds like it should be a good thing.”

Convor turned back to his equipment and he and Trimen stayed engrossed in the readings for a few more minutes. Then they both turned to him again. “Yes, this is a good thing – in a way,” Convor said.

Adam shook his head, which caused the lines on the monitor to gyrate for a few seconds before settling back out. “In a way?”

“Your thoughts are coming primarily from the side of the brain where the Gift works the most efficiently. This is an advantage you have over our Speakers. You will not have to be trained in this aspect to such a degree, since this is your natural way of thinking and processing information. However,” he paused, just enough for Adam to grow concerned.

“Go on!”

“The Gift – the device – will have no trouble reading your thoughts.”

“And….”

“It may have trouble selecting which are commands and which are simply random or everyday thoughts. Even though you will not have to be trained to structure your thoughts in a certain manner, you will definitely have to learn how to control them.”

“You mean if I think about it, it’ll happen, even if I don’t want it to?”

“That is a very real possibility. Remember, the Gift was designed to operate with a female mind, with a more nuanced thought process. Looking not only at the added strength of your brainwaves, but your waves appear to have fewer nuances, analyzing events in more basic, stark contrast.”

Adam surprised the aliens by flashing a wide grin. “This is not news to me,” he said to them. “It has always been an accepted difference between our genders. Women – the females – are more emotional and complex. Men, on the other hand, are simpler, less-complicated. Our women have found this to be a problem. Men are more cut-and-dried, more black-and-white in our thinking, while our women want to add more color to their thoughts and actions. So like I said, this isn’t news to me. All I want to know is how this affects my implant?”

“In truth, it will make the tuning of the device much easier than with a Speaker. However, training to use the device will be more critical – and the need more immediate. The processor in the device will begin to decipher your thoughts immediately upon activation and it will be overloaded with a myriad of well-defined thoughts. The Morlic-Speaker could be eased into the process, having begun at a very early age with a less-complicated mind. You will not have that luxury. Do you still insist on the procedure, even knowing the risks?”

“I don’t see this as a risk,” Adam said. “You’re saying my learning curve will be shorter than that of a Speaker. All I have to do is learn how to separate my command thoughts from my normal thoughts. That doesn’t sound too hard.”

Convor and Trimen looked at each other, before Convor turned to addressed Adam again. “That is the most difficult part of the training process for a Speaker; it is what takes the years of training. Our minds are constantly producing thoughts, even as we sleep. The device will be monitoring these thoughts constantly. Do not misunderstand me: When I say your thoughts are very strong and well-defined, this does not mean you are any smarter than a Speaker – more than any Formilian for that matter. As you have said, it simply means your thoughts come with more contrast. The device will have to work harder to learn the difference between a command and a thought, something that is easier to discern in a female.”

“Can you teach me how to do this?”

Convor pushed back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “Now you wish us to train you as well? First you intend to confiscate our technology and knowledge, and now you also want us to train you on how to use the Gift you are stealing from us?”

“Not a complete training program. Just go over some of the highlights, some of the guidelines I should follow. If you don’t, then it’s going to be harder for me to hide my new powers, if you want to call them that.”

“I will agree to give you the basic guidelines on how we train Speakers, but it will still not be enough, nor will it happen fast enough. There will be consequences the moment the device is activated.”

“When is it activated?”

“Upon implant – normally.” Convor’s eyes grew wide. “Speakers are given the Gift at the age of five. Their thought patterns at that time are very basic and arriving from the right side of the brain at a slower pace. There is usually very little fear of unintended consequences in the Morlic-Speakers. In your case, it would be wise for you to have a means of activating and deactivating the device at will. This will protect you, as well as those around you.”

“Cool – that will work! What do I do, just think ‘device on’ or ‘device off?’?”

“No, it will have to be a mechanical switch. Using your mind to control the activation of the device will not solve the problem.”

Adam thought of the communication device he had implanted behind his left ear. Simply pressing the tiny, subcutaneous button turned it on or off. So another switch like that placed behind his ear….

But then he hesitated. This new power would be used to control electronic devices, including flash weapons. Therefore it would be helpful if he could activate it while even under duress. An idea popped into his head.

“I have the perfect place to implant the switch – the pit of my back.”

Convor and Trimen both recoiled. “Why?” they asked simultaneously.

“Just put it there. And make it so that I can’t accidently turn it on. Make it something that I will have to press three times within three seconds to activate. That way I won’t be turning it on or off by accident just by sitting back in a chair or lying down.”

The image that immediately came to Adam’s mind was the one of him strapped to the chair in Foruka’s office, with his arms tied behind his back. In that position, he would still be able to activate the device. After that, who knew? Getting to learn the device, along with all the neat things he could do with it, would be most of the fun!

He smiled back at the aliens. “Now that that’s settled, when can we get this show on the road?”

The blank stares on the faces of the two aliens made him smirk. “When can you do the operation?”

“Your waves are now stored into our equipment. Once the device is assembled, it can be tuned in a matter of minutes.”

“How long does it take to assemble the device?”

Convor looked down at his feet, his lips pressed together tightly. Adam could sense the incredible conflict he was experiencing at the moment. This was it, the time when his betrayal to his religion would become real. When he finally looked up at Adam, he was fighting to hold back the tears. “It will take about three days for the teams to complete their tasks; we have been assembling these devices for two thousand years; we are very good at what we do.” He hesitated again before speaking. “You will have the Gift within your body two hours after its full assembly.”

In a way, Adam felt sorry for Convor. He knew that much of Convor’s distress came from the spiritual aspect of the procedure, which was something Adam didn’t buy into. This was simply an artificial means of controlling nearby electronic devices. It had nothing to do with gods or magical powers, no matter how the Formilians looked at it. The fact that they did attach such a strong religious significance to the device – to the Gift – only helped to harden Adam’s resolve. Seeing Convor’s emotional reaction to the situation brought only three words to Adam’s consciousness: Get over it!

Chapter 20

Good to his word, three days later Adam was reclined on a hospital bed in a sterile room occupied by only him, Convor and his assistant Trimen. According to a still very upset pair of Formilians, the most complicated part of the operation would be implantation of the pressure switch under the skin of Adam’s lower back. The actual control module would be more routine, the result of literally thousands of similar implants into the Speakers of the past.

The two aliens didn’t bother with surgical masks; in fact they both seemed rather nonchalant about the operation. Adam wasn’t sure if this was result of them not caring about Adam’s procedure or because it was so routine to them. He chose to believe the latter, if only for his own peace of mind.

From a small table next to the bed, Convor pulled back a white cloth and lifted a shiny metal cylinder about the size of a cigarette. There were no markings on the device, just a smooth surface that belied its hidden power.

“Is that it?” Adam asked. “It’s pretty small.”

“It must be placed inconspicuously under the skin; it cannot be any larger.” Adam could see both the aliens gazing upon the device, now held gently by Convor with two fingers. They each had faraway expressions, as if looking upon an object of major religious significance – which what it was to them. Convor lifted the module up a little higher, until the light from a bright lamp above the bed sparkled off its surface.

“Throughout all of time, Mislin and Sufor have guided the workings of the universe,” Convor spoke in a soft chant, as if reciting a practiced ritual. “With miraculous precision, they have guided our hands and our knowledge to provide us this channel to their glory and to their creation. We dedicate this Gift in the name of their greatness, to their eternal control over all that we are.” His voice began to crack at the end, and then he glanced down at Adam, his eyes full of tears. “May you forgive me for what I do, my Lords. To maintain your glory for the benefit of all, I must commit this greatest of all sacrilege. An outlier – and a non-female of the Speaker-strain – shall gain access to your holy chambers and witness your power first-hand. Forgive me, and all who have assisted. We have done this for you. Guide the wisdom and actions of Adam Cain for the preservation of your glory and of your Gift.”

Adam felt like shit. This was really a big deal for the Formilians. Could he let them go through with this just for his own selfish desires? This event was something that had never happened before in their entire history. First all, a male was to be implanted with the device, and secondly, it was an alien male to boot.

He swallowed hard, looking at the shiny silver cylinder with added reverence. It was so small, and yet it carried so much potential power. With it, he would be able to control nearly every electronic device within half a mile. He would learn to control it with his thoughts, and then transfer those thoughts to the devices he sought to control. As Convor had explained over the past three days, it would not work in all circumstances, namely in locations with very few electronics or those of primitive design. Yet the Formilian micro-processors dominated the Expansion universe, so out here Adam would have incredible access to nearly every operating system on every planet. Hell, the aliens even used computer-control for things as simple as lights, doors and temperature control, and all the way up to the operating of starships and flash weapons. He doubted if the device would have much influence back on his native Earth, since a lot of their devices there were powered by simple circuits without computer or micro-processor control. But he might be able to disrupt the flow of electricity to those circuits. He wasn’t sure; that would all be part of the discovery phase of his training.

But now looking at the innocuous-looking device, Adam’s heart began to race. There was so much potential here for some real superman shit to take place, and not just the occasional bashing of alien skulls. Yes, he would go through with the implant in spite of the Formilian’s attempt at laying an incredible guilt-trip on him. Screw them! To Adam, this was simply a tool, a piece of equipment not unlike his FN 17 SCAR assault weapon. Besides, he truly believed that he would use his new powers for good, something even the Speakers had not done in all their long history. All they had ever used this incredible Gift for were extravagant exhibitions and as a means of keeping the population mesmerized into obedience. Adam Cain was a force for good, and now he would be even a more-powerful force….

“Let’s get on with it, Convor,” he said finally. “And relax; I’m not looking to commune with your gods anymore then they wish to commune with me. Your religion will be safe, as will be your culture and society.”

Convor lowered his hand and placed the device back on the table. “Your words are meant to appease, but they cannot. By using the Gift of the Gods, you will be accessing their power. In that way you will be constantly communing with our gods – as you so sarcastically call it. It cannot be avoided. You may not believe as we do, but you cannot dispute the power our gods exert throughout the universe. Their presence is everywhere and in everything. Our very bodies rely on their energy to survive. They are everywhere and in everyone and everything. Can you not see their glory as you look out at all around you?”

“That’s an impressive speech, Convor, and I can see how you can put a supernatural significance to what is just a basic force of nature. I suppose it is better to believe in something than to believe in nothing at all.”

“As you do….”

“I suppose. But I am not without spirituality or morality. I just believe those traits originate from within each of us, and not from some external god or gods.”

“As do we! Do not mistake our faith for naïveté regarding the workings of science. We are much more adept at the creation of advanced electronics than any other race in the galaxy. We understand the creation of electricity and all its means of delivery to power any myriad of devices. Yet we go deeper in our thinking than most. We ask where does this power originate? Even though we know it can be created by simple magnets and copper wire or extracted from the atmosphere by the rubbing two pieces of cloth together, we seek the origin of this power. And as each magnet has two opposing poles, our gods of Mislin and Sufor have been at work since the dawn of time creating the power that runs the universe. This power is as great as the cosmos, yet as personal as the very thoughts coursing through our brains at this moment. It emanates from within, just as you say. It gives life to our bodies and to our minds. Every action of our body is controlled by impulses created by Mislin and Sufor, and then this power reaches out to influence all other objects around us. You call this a basic force of the universe, and I also agree. But where did this force come from in the first place, if not from the Gods themselves? Unlike many other religions throughout the galaxy, ours is based on tangible evidence, on things that can be felt and observed. We see it in the spark of static electricity or the flash of a lightning bolt. We also see it return to its origins among the Gods when the last spark of life fades from our bodies.”

Adam slowly shook his head. “I respect your beliefs, I really do. I just choose to attribute my own beliefs more to the individual and less to forces from beyond.”

“We are talking in circles, Adam Cain,” Convor glared at him. “Are you still going to insist on the procedure?”

“Roger that … meaning a definite yes! And you can believe what you wish, but I do not want to cause any problems for the Formilians or your Coalition. You’ve had such an incredibly-powerful device in your control for such a long time, and yet you have not used it to its fullest potential. In a way that’s good – a testament to your faith – otherwise the galaxy would be running rampant with brainiacs all sitting around fighting for control of every electronic device in sight. It would be chaos. I do understand why you have kept the knowledge of this technology to yourselves, and why so few have ever been fitted and trained to use it. I will keep your secret, Convor. You have to trust me on this. Besides, you may eventually find that I will be able to help your people with this device rather than harm them. But I’ll never be able to prove my true intentions unless you do the operation.”

Convor considered Adam for a very long time, staring into his eyes with an incredible sadness in his own. “Very well; above my most adamant protestations, I will oblige.” Convor turned to Trimen and nodded.

The other alien moved to the opposite side of the table and waved a small wand-like device over Adam’s face. There was slight odor in the air, and almost immediately Adam Cain fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The passing of time was non-existent. When Adam opened his eyes, he fully expected to find Convor and Trimen hovering over him, preparing to operate. Instead, he was alone in room with dim lighting and the soft, rhythmic cadence of a heart monitor mounted on a side wall.

So it was done – the device was now implanted in his body – under his right armpit! Adam had been surprised to learn this was where the implants were placed, under the arm rather than within the skull or along the spinal cord. As Trimen had explained, technically the device didn’t even have to be implanted into the subject to work. Once tuned to a particular brainwave frequency it could be controlled from anywhere within a twenty-foot radius. It had just proven more convenient over the millennia to carry the device buried under the subject’s skin rather than as a separate unit.

Adam took his left hand and felt the skin under his right arm. There was only a slight trace of an incision, and he felt no pain. The opening in his skin only had to be big enough for the half-inch diameter cylinder to fit through, so the operation had been minimally invasive.

The insertion of the control switch, however, was more complicated, involving a three-inch long incision, followed by the securing of the switch to his muscles so it wouldn’t slip, and then a long-term battery placed to the side. The switch then had to be adjusted so that the pressure button was located just under the skin, and not become lost over time under scaring tissue. He had been warned that once the anesthesia wore off, most of the pain he would feel would come from the location of the switch.

He had no idea what time it was or how long he’d been under. There were no windows in the room and no clocks on display. He looked around to see if he could find a call button but found none.

He was also curious how long his recovery would take. He was sure that the switch in his back would be very sensitive to touch for at least a few days, but in spite of that, he was anxious to try out his new toy, something that would involve pressing the button through his tender skin.

He heard the opening of a door – a soft swish as a panel slid into the wall to his left. When no one entered immediately, Adam called out, “Who’s there? Come in if you’re there.”

Trimen slowly showed his head around the corner – just his head – and began to look around, his eyes wide as he surveyed the room. Seeing only Adam and the quiet within, he cautiously entered.

“What was that all about?” Adam asked.

Trimen didn’t answer but was followed closely by Convor. As the two aliens entered the dimly lit room and approached the bed, Adam could see various bandages on the arms of both the Formilians, with Convor also displaying an angry red splotch on the side of his neck. It appeared as if both of them had been in a fight, and probably not come out as the victors.

“What happened to you?” Adam asked, more curious than concerned. They may have been battered, but they were still moving fairly well.

“It was as I suspected; it is a miracle any of us are still alive.”

Adam’s jaw fell open, even though he didn’t have a clue what Convor was talking about. It was Trimen who spoke next.

“The High Celebrant tried to warn you. Even though you were unconscious, your brain was still creating thoughts, and your curiosity regarding the operation of the Gift was foremost in those thoughts.”

“I’m confused.”

Convor sat down heavily in the only chair in the room. He looked extremely tired. “The device had to be tuned and the switch tested. I had hoped that since you were under deep sedation, your thought patterns would be minimal. I was incorrect.

“The Gift began to seek control of every electronic device within range and without limits,” Trimen continued. “Surgical lights exploded, automatic equipment went into spasms, and monitor screens blew shards of glass throughout the room. And the Gift was only activated for a moment.”

“I don’t remember any of that, or even any dreams I may have had.”

“Your subconscious mind was apparently fixated on the device. Even below dream level, you were thinking of every electronic device you could imagine. The visual aspect of your thoughts was easily translated by the device and turned into action. You even managed to conjure up a small static ball – which is unheard of in the small time frame the device was activated.”

“What’s a static ball?” Was this like the sparkling ball Arieel had formed? He had made one of those!

“That is not important now; I will explain later. Right now it is imperative that you not activate the device until we have had time to go over some of the protocols of the Gift, and well as place you in a safer location.”

Adam smiled. “So now you want to train me.”

“It is not a matter of want, but rather necessity. Unless you are willing to leave the planet immediately, we do this for our own safety. And if you were truthful about having a file ready for download into the Library, I must make sure you survive long enough to countermand your precautions.”

Adam nodded. “That’s pretty smart, Convor. I’m glad we’re finally working together.”

“Do not find solace in the actions I am taking. At the earliest opportunity, you will be placed onto a ship and cast off into space – but only after we are assured that you are satisfied with our side of the negotiation.”

“Fair enough, but how soon until I can take this thing out for a test drive?”

Convor and Trimen looked at each other and frowned, attempting to decipher the translation playing in their ears. Then Convor said: “You will be transported to a location in the country, outside the city, but it will still be a day or so before you will be able to activate the switch without too much pain. At that point, you will have to be closely monitored, ready to sever the contact at a moment’s notice, no matter how painful the action may be.”

“I can’t wait. Besides, what’s a little pain among friends?”

Chapter 21

It took incredible effort on Adam’s part not to activate the unit over the next two days, but the time did allow his wound to heal some. After all, he fully intended for the device to an integral part of his life from here on out. He had time to get used to it.

In the meantime, he was transported to a simple cabin located outside the capital city of Vull, in the backwoods of Formil, to begin his brief training session. The structure was constructed of wood and plaster, and consisted of a combined living, eating and cooking area, as well as two small private bedrooms, each with very basic grooming stations.

Trimen accompanied him to the cabin; Convor was too important and prominent a figure to disappear from view for the ten days the Formilians had allocated as Adam’s basic training session. Both of the high ranking Celebrants had been very adamant that at the end of this period Adam was to leave the planet, whether he felt comfortable with the operation of the device or not. It was further explained to him that all Trimen would be teaching him was the basic theory behind the device. Refinement of his skills would be self-taught over months, if not years.

During the brief time he had spent with Arieel, Adam saw that the device could do much more than simply turn switches on and off. He recalled the soft blue glow that had surrounded her body as she lay injured on the ground of Uniss-3. In addition, the comment she had made that about her life-force being enhanced haunted his thoughts.

Just what is this thing? Can it also heal wounds and increase strength? Adam was anxious to find out … as well as more than a little apprehensive. He had also witnessed Arieel’s foolish overconfidence in her abilities, and he knew thinking like that could get him killed. But one step at a time, he thought. First I have to learn how to control this thing without killing anyone, including myself!

On the morning of the first day of training, Trimen emerged from the bedroom he’d claimed for himself carrying a black and silver electronic device about the size of a large walkie-talkie. He placed the device on the solitary table in the room and sat down.

“Sit, Adam Cain,” the alien commanded, as a master would to his dog. His demeanor still broadcast the resentment he felt towards Adam, however, over the past few days he’d let slip some of the excitement he felt about the unique opportunity to study the operation of the device with the mind of a male. Trimen was first and foremost a scientist, and even though his faith had been badly insulted by Adam’s actions, his natural curiosity was sometimes hard to disguise. Adam figured he could use this conflict to his advantage. If possible, Adam would become Trimen’s star-pupil, and therefore gain the alien’s trust and respect.

“As you have noticed, there are very few electronic devices within the structure,” Trimen began. “The lights are gas-operated, as are the meal preparation facilities. We are isolated from the power grid, with no electric sources closer than ten miles away.”

He picked up the rectangular device from the table. “This is a field monitor. With this I will test your external influences, as well as study the strength and effectiveness of the link between the Gift – the unit, I will call it – and your thought patterns. There should be nothing in the cabin or in the surrounding area that can cause either of us harm, even though you will soon come to learn that the influence of Mislin and Sufor is with us always, even when no actual electronic devices are present.”

“You mean like static electricity?”

Trimen paused, looking into Adam’s eyes with impatience. “The translation is close enough. If that is what you must use to better understand, then so be it.”

Adam nodded quickly, while sending an innocent, puppy-dog-like look at Trimen. “I can’t pretend to understand all the complexities of your religion,” he said, “but I do respect them. However, it might be easier for both of us if we just used basic scientific terms during the training. The last thing I want to do is insult you even more than I already have.”

Almost instantly Trimen’s expression changed. He stared at Adam for several long seconds before nodding back. “That is reasonable. I know we come from divergent cultures and share different religious beliefs; however you appear to have a very basic understanding of science which can be our basis for commonality.”

What?

“I will dispense with the religious connotations during the training, if you agree not to demean them any further.”

“No problem; whatever you say.”

“Good, now we can begin.” He picked up the field monitor and pressed a button just below the small display screen. “This screen will provide a graphic representation of the electric fields within the room. Once you activate the unit, you will notice a substantial change in its configuration. This will be your unit scanning for all electric fields and control processors within range. The unit does this constantly.”

“Arieel was able to detect approaching flash weapons,” Adam stated. “Will I be able to detect them, too?”

“That will come later. The unit can detect all such devices. With time and skill you will learn how to interact with it, receiving information, rather than simply giving commands. But that will come much further into your training, and not something we will cover during the time we have together. Now, please activate the unit.”

Adam’s heart began to race; this was the moment of truth. Would he be able to control it, or would the unit control him? He reached behind his back and felt for the hidden nub. He winched with pain when he pressed the button the first time, but then he gritted his teeth and bore through two more quick presses of the button.

But nothing happened.

Adam sat up straighter and blinked several times. “It’s not working. Either the switch is broken or it’s the unit.”

Trimen smiled ever so slightly. “It is working, Adam Cain. See here.” He turned the monitor so Adam could see the screen. The red circle in the center was now pulsating and changing color as it did so to a brilliant – and appropriate – electric blue.

“You are more in control of your thoughts at this moment than you were when unconscious during the operation. This is good. The unit is now ready to receive input.”

“What input? How does that happen?”

“Your unit must build up a very substantial database of corresponding brainwave patterns. For example, when you think of the monitor, you produce a very unique wave pattern based primarily on your visual impressions of the device. This pattern will be stored in the memory of the unit. Now when you think of the monitor again, whether you think visually or more abstractly, the unit will recognize the pattern and seek to assume control of the device.”

“It can do that … I mean take control that easily? Can it do it for just about anything?”

“That is how it works, so of course it can, especially if the device it seeks to control has a control processor or computer module. And even when it doesn’t, all electronic devices and circuits are still emitting an electric field, which the unit can also influence. And now, the first test.”

Trimen placed the monitor on the table in front of Adam. “There is a small light above the monitor screen. Turn it on.”

Adam reached out to pick up the monitor but Trimen stopped him by intercepting his hand with his own. “No, do it with your mind. This is the most basic function of the unit.”

Adam pulled his hand back and then stared at the monitor. He could see the clear crystal globe that was the light, but it was still dark. Adam stared hard at the light, chanting to himself turn on, turn on. But still it remained dark.

Trimen smiled. “There is a process that must be followed, Mr. Cain. First you must essentially register the light in the database of the unit.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just as you did with the monitor; look at the light, concentrate, and think light.”

Adam followed the instructions, but still the light remained dark. He was already growing frustrated.

“Now imagine the light being on. A command is often the same as an image in most cases. Try it.”

In his mind’s eye, Adam could see the light come on, and then through his visual awareness, he noticed it was. He sat up straighter and smiled. This was his first telepathic command! He could see the light.

“Very good,” Trimen said with genuine admiration. “Since males utilize the left side of our brains more – the visual side – you may find the process of cataloging the images of various electronic devices to be rather easy. Even now, the unit is reading your brainwaves and associating them with all the various items you see throughout the room, even non-electronic objects.”

“So the unit will know when I think of a table and chairs, even though I will have no influence over them? Doesn’t that take up a lot of memory?”

“The unit can accommodate the data,” Trimen said smugly. “Our science is much more advanced than even others are aware. Long before the Speakers were blessed with the Gift – forgive me, it will be difficult for me not to let such terminology slip into our conversations. But even long before the Speakers, Formilian technology in the field of electronics and electricity was far beyond anything else in the galaxy. I might equate this to the Humans propensity towards weapons development, which although primitive by Expansion standards, still appear to be very sophisticated for the age and technological level of your race. If you were given another thousand years to perfect your instruments of war, how efficient would they become?”

“That’s a scary thought, Trimen. They’re already pretty efficient at what they’re designed to do.”

“Just be assured that the technology given to us by the gods – or that we have developed – is sufficiently advanced. I believe you will be amazed as your training continues. The unit you carry within you can achieve some truly magical feats, and even to this day, the Speakers are discovering more.”

“No shit? You mean even they don’t know all that the unit can do?”

“It is not so much that, but rather what more they can do with it. There appears to be a level of individual ability associated with each Speaker. Some have been basically competent with their implants, while others have been truly extraordinary.”

“So skill does come into play? And how does Arieel rank among the Speakers? Is she up there with the greats?”

Trimen smiled again. “You spent time with her on the journey from Uniss to Formil. What do you think?”

Adam was taken aback by the question – he had no idea, nothing to compare it to. “Hell if I know. She seems able to do some amazing things – when she gets past her incredible ego and arrogance.”

Trimen nodded. “Yes, those are traits often associated with our Speakers. This is understandable when you realize they are born into their status and know of no other reality. But to answer your question, Speaker Arieel is of common skill, as was her mother. We have not had a truly exceptional Speaker for nearly three hundred years. But still their purpose is served, and Arieel performs her duties efficiently.”

“Yeah, but she’s such a bitch.”

Trimen’s smile grew even more, until he almost revealed the whites of his teeth. “I do understand the translation and the connotation, Adam Cain. You are correct, and that is also an unspoken reason why there is only one Speaker at a time.”

* * *

It was only after Trimen and Adam had shared a genuine, male-bonding laugh – at Arieel’s expense – that Human and Formilian were finally able to get past the awkwardness of their situation. From then on, the atmosphere in the small cabin was much more relaxed and congenial.

For the next three days, the training went exceptionally well, with most of the time spent with Adam going through visualization exercises using the monitor of the hand-held device. Images of hundreds of electronic devices were shown, creating a series of mental imprints that Adam’s unit faithful stored away. Simply looking at images, rather than having the real thing in the room, was the safest and quickest way to register the devices. Otherwise the unit would have sought to gain control of each of them – at least until Adam learned how to manage that aspect of the unit’s functioning.

Chapter 22

On the morning of the fourth day, Adam came out of his room, unshaven, groggy and mentally exhausted from all the paces he’d been putting his mind through these past several days. He could see from the open door to Trimen’s room that the Formilian was not in the cabin.

After heating up a cup of what passed as coffee on Formil over a small gas flame, Adam sat at the table and attempted an exercise Trimen had been trying to teach him the day before.

Since it was a good bet Trimen carried the black monitor with him outside the cabin, Adam sought to reach out with his mind and detect the device. Until now, all Adam had been doing was feeding the unit with information. It was time to see if he could get a little back. He pressed the button three times.

It came first as a very strange, almost tingly sensation toward the back of his head. He sensed something, something moving. He closed his eyes and the sensation grew stronger. Adam had been told that closing his eyes didn’t really enhance the operation of the unit, but it did help him concentrate. Yes, the object he sensed – the object he visualized in his mind – was moving. It was now behind the cabin but moving to Adam’s left side and heading for the front. Adam got up from the table and moved to the front door. The object was getting closer … it was now right outside the door.

With flair and bravado, Adam whipped open door, a wide, satisfied smile coming to his face when he found Trimen standing on the small porch, holding the monitor device. Once the initial shock of Adam suddenly opening the door had past, Trimen smiled back.

“Very impressive, Adam, I was hoping you would use this opportunity to test your skills.”

“I could really feel it – almost see it – moving outside. It was amazing.”

As they both reentered the cabin Trimen said to Adam: “The skill of perception, or tracking, usually is not developed enough in a young Speaker until after two years or more of training, depending on the person. The visual acuity of the Human male mind is quite remarkable.” Adam then noticed the look of joy fade somewhat from Trimen face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, truly concerned. Adam felt that he and Trimen had become friends over the past few days.

“Unfortunately, I have had the rare opportunity to witness an alternative to the traditional uses we’ve had for our Gifts – our units. The Speakers have always been female, and always will be….” His voice trailed off at the end of the sentence.

“That’s some dangerous thinking there, Trimen. What are you getting at?”

“It is just that we may be missing out on some truly remarkable advances in this technology, at least in the uses of it. I’m not saying males are better suited for operating the unit; it is just that we’ve never really had the opportunity to study the alternatives. I have helped guide and train many a Speaker. They communicate with our gods, and are trained to manipulate their powers, essentially to become one with them from the understanding of their ways. I just feel we may be missing out by keeping it exclusively in the bloodline of the Bols.”

“That’s just the scientist inside you speaking. Your society has functioned quite well for a very long time just the way it’s set up.”

“And yet what if one such as you were—”

“Don’t even think about it!” Adam scolded. “I know you didn’t mean me specifically, but if Convor heard you talk like this it could be very bad. I’ve grown to call you a friend and I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

Trimen smiled back at Adam, not a happy smile, but sad. “I appreciate your concern, Adam, but I am only musing. As you say, it is the scientist in me who always seeks to push the bounds of knowledge.”

Trimen suddenly slapped the table and stood up abruptly, a new spring in his step. “Adam Cain, our time here is almost done. We should not waste it on speculation and wishful thinking. During these next few days we will build upon the knowledge you’ve acquired, hopefully to the point where you can then design a training program of your own for the future. You have many years of learning ahead of you, but I truly believe that once the time and energy has been put forth, you could be one of the most powerful and skilled users of the Gift we have ever seen.”

“I appreciate your belief in me, Trimen. But right now, I just want to get back to my base without killing myself – or anyone else.”

Trimen grinned broadly. “I am very adept at the training of Speakers, Adam Cain, but I am not able to perform miracles.”

* * *

Later that day, Trimen used the monitoring device to call his support staff. They showed up an hour later bringing with them a variety of small electronic devices. The couriers dropped off the equipment and then left, while Adam hid in his room. The Formilian did not want any of his kind to raise questions concerning Adam’s present in the cabin with the Number Two person in The Order of Light.

Among the equipment brought was an MK-17 bolt launcher, the ubiquitous handgun of choice within the galaxy. Being a military man, the concern of whether or not he could control this device was paramount on Adam’s mind. Trimen set the weapon on the table and told Adam to activate his unit.

Over the past few days, Adam had come to expect the surges of input the unit would provide him with each time it was activated. Unlike the Speakers, whose units were constantly scanning the surrounding area, and only providing input when new items were introduced, when Adam would reactivate his module, the device would go crazy scanning everything around him and sending an incredible amount of data into its queue. Eventually, he knew he would have to keep the device on constantly, but until he learned more control, he would only activate the device when needed and deal with the consequences.

“The MK-series of bolt weapons is a completely solid-state electronic device. As I’m sure you’re aware, it operates by consolidating the bolt charges in the power pack into balls of positively charged electricity which are then accelerated through a negatively charged mini-rail system. Flash rifles have a longer rail system, which gives them more range and firepower. But the hand-held weapons are very effective at short range.”

Adam was fully aware of the capacities of the MK. He knew the weapon had four energy settings, ranging from a weak stun at level-four, all the way up to a certain kill at level-one. The operator would set the weapon at a particular level based on the number of bolts he wished to have available per charge pack. Most beings kept the weapon set at level-two, which gave the operator ten bolts per charge pack. At level-one, only five bolts could be fired.

What Adam did not tell Trimen was that anything less than a level-one setting was non-lethal to Humans. Sure, a level-two bolt hurt like hell, but it would not kill him. This fact had helped spread the rumor of Human physical superiority throughout the galaxy. In reality, it had more to do with skin thickness than anything else. Most of the creatures in the galaxy had thinner exo-coverings and their nervous systems could be disrupted by the absorbed electrical charge from a bolt. The Human nervous system was tougher than most, as well.

“Can you detect the power module within the weapon?” Trimen asked.

Adam could easily decipher the odd feelings he now received from the device, but it went even further. The device knew what it was scanning, and it had the capability of translating this information into audio signals. Yes, the unit could talk to him. If he had the time and inclination, he could hear within his mind the English words: MK flash weapon. With just a little push of his will, the device would also give the exact location with half a mile, which was beyond the effective firing range of the weapon. Theoretically, Adam should never again have an alien with an MK take him by surprise.

But now he would go beyond simple detection.

“Yes, I detect the power module,” Adam responded.

“Now instruct the unit to sever the connection between the power source and the control processor.”

“Done.”

Trimen lifted the weapon, aimed it at a far wall of the cabin and depressed the trigger. The weapon did not go off.

“Very good, Adam!” Trimen beamed. “You achieved this with your very first try. Impressive. In addition, you could have drained the power pack to also disable the weapon.”

“I saw Arieel produce an overload in flash rifles, causing them to explode.”

“This can be achieved by unloading the power pack into the weapon while its control processor is disengaged. The energy from the bolts has nowhere to go, and the effect is multiplied by the rail accelerator. I can see how the resulting explosion could be quite powerful.”

“It saved our lives on Uniss-3, even if it nearly killed Arieel.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was standing within twenty feet of the shooters when the rifles exploded. I tackled her and kept her from being blown away, too.”

Trimen smiled. “You thought she would be killed?”

Adam’s eyes grew wide. “Are you saying she wouldn’t have been?” At the time, Adam had thought Arieel’s comment about her gods protecting her was just more of her arrogance and religious naiveté.

Trimen set the MK on the table and leaned in a little closer to Adam. “I did not think we’d even get close to this subject during our brief training program, yet your progress has been remarkable. It is time to talk of static fields of electricity.”

Trimen rifled through the equipment on the table before withdrawing a small box about the size of a cigarette pack. He pressed a small button the surface and a low-level hum began to sound. “This is a simple sonic audio source. It is used to bathe an area in a steady sound so that other readers can gauge distance, interrupting layout and the like. It has no central processor, just a battery source that activates the internal speaker. It is about the most basic device we have, and yet this device, like all other electronics, emits an electric field. This field is produced from charged particles moving from one side of the field to the other following the lines of magnetism inherent to moving electrical particles. These fields can be disrupted through interference by other electrical fields.”

“Produced by the unit?”

“In a way. As you have mentioned, you are aware of the existence of what you call static electricity. This is a form of free electrons in the atmosphere which is everywhere, even when no electronic device is present. They come about as a result of an imbalance between the charges of various materials within a given area. The imbalance builds up until it is discharged in the form a static bolt. Your unit is aware of these free electrons, this static electricity. Given enough time, the device can consolidate these free electrons, actually increasing the existing imbalance between charges, and consolidating it into a finite space. As more are accumulated, an electric field is generated, and when the field is strong enough, it can affect the flow of electrons within simple circuits, such as in the sonic source device, even when no control processor is present.”

“How does this relate to Arieel and the explosions?”

“I will get to that. First, let us see if you can accumulate a static field. You created a visible field – a static ball – while unconscious during your operation, even without instruction. That was both impressive … and frightening. It was this free-form field that caused the overload in most of the equipment in the room.”

“So how do I create one of these fields without shit blowing up?”

Trimen had become accustomed to Adam’s colloquialisms, so he pressed on. “Since you cannot see the free electrons in the atmosphere, this command is harder to register with the device. So close your eyes and attempt to visualize a ball of white electricity hovering in the space in front of you.”

Adam did as instructed; he was finding that his ability to visualize objects was becoming much easier. He didn’t know if the device was helping with this new-found ability, but he figured it probably didn’t hurt. Soon, he could see the sparkling, golf ball-size bundle of energy in his mind, using the memory of the ball Arieel conjured up as a guide.

When he opened his eyes, the ball was there, sending out a mini-lightshow throughout the room, like that from a tiny disco-ball. Trimen’s eyes were wide and his mouth stood open slightly.

“I must make a stronger effort for the Order to allow testing on more males,” he said, mesmerized by the floating ball of light. “This is incredible!”

Adam watched the ball float in the middle of the cabin. He was just as enthralled by its otherworldly brilliance as was Trimen. He had conjured up the ball with just the force of his mind – and with the help of the unit. Here was electricity pulled out of the atmosphere and then compacted into a single point of stable, controllable lightning.

“Now back off some, allowing the ball to dissipate. Yet do not relinquish control.”

The ball slowly dissolved, but he could still feel the ticklish sensation from the vibrating hairs on his arms.

“Now move the field until it envelopes the sonic source device.”

Adam made a mental command – and the humming from the device was silenced.

“There. You have disrupted the flow of electricity within the unit, even though there is no control processor.”

“That’s neat; now what about the explosions?” Adam was still more interested in whether or not the device could protect him from exploding flash rifles and such. In his line of work, that happenstance was a more common likelihood then having to turn off an annoying little buzzer – although Adam did have an unreasonable hatred for alarm clocks….

Trimen let out a long sigh. “I will tell you the theory, but what I will be speaking of is much more advanced, even for such a quick study as yourself.” Trimen took a deep breath and then began. “After years of practice, most Speakers are able to control the static fields around them to such a degree that they can manipulate them into rudimentary shields against heat and compression events, such as explosions – yet ones of only a certain magnitude. When an explosion occurs, much of the damage is caused by the compressed atmosphere rushing out from the point of origin. Often, this concussion is accompanied by blasts of heat, and if within a certain range from the source of the explosion, a debris field as well.

“The static fields the Speakers can form produce a counter compression. This tends to minimalize the effects of such events on the Speaker, and even diverts much of the heat and debris coming from such explosions. Yet please be warned, Adam Cain, it takes time to generate such fields, so unless the Speaker has been anticipating the explosion and prepared ahead, she is just as vulnerable as all others. In addition, since the static shield created is generally more of a single face creation – meaning it does not fully encompass the Speaker – only low-yield explosions can be diverted by the field. Larger explosions, or those originating from multiple directions, can overwhelm the shield. Even concussions ricocheting off other objects can circumvent the shield.

“In summary, Adam Cain, these kinds of mass-static fields, ones large enough to divert the effects of an explosion, are very difficult to generate and must be planned for well in advance. They are not the defensive tool you imagine them to be.”

“Yet Arieel was able to create one—” And then a thought came to Adam. “So Arieel could have simply disabled the weapons of the attackers; she didn’t have to make them all explode.”

Trimen frowned, following Adam’s line of questioning. “That is correct, and yet then the two of you would have had to contend with the still-living attackers, whether with weapons or not. Adam, she is not an emotionless killer, if that is what you are suggesting?”

Adam thought back to their time at the spaceport on Bor’on and mentally chose to disagree with Trimen’s assessment. “I don’t really care if she is or not, it’s just that I hadn’t pictured little ole Arieel being … well, that cavalier about the whole thing.”

“She was injured, obviously confused and very angry at being abducted as she had been. Revenge is not unknown to Formilians. Also, you must remember who she is and how she has been raised. She is our Supreme Celebrant – able to achieve feats which are reserved only for the gods – so she probably was not too happy with being handled in such a disrespectful way. I’m surprised there were not more casualties.”

Adam just smiled, thinking again of Bor’on. “Tell me, Trimen, does she realize that all her powers are merely the product of an electronic device, and as has now been proven, can be reproduced by just about anyone fitted with such a device?”

Adam saw Trimen blanch, and instantly thought he had broken the cardinal rule that had set down several days earlier. Taken on face value, his question could be another direct slap at Trimen’s religion. “I’m sorry, Trimen. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I was asking more about Arieel than about your belief system.”

Trimen nodded tensely. “I understand your question. Please remember Arieel is the single offspring of the prior Speaker, as have been all the Speakers before her. From her first consciousness, she was being prepared for the Gifting Ceremony at age five, and then was immersed in the training regimen for another ten years. This training was not as we are doing here, Adam. Nearly all aspects of hers revolved around the religious aspect of the Gift. She would never refer to the Gift as a unit, a module or a device. She has been educated regarding the technology of our people, but only superficially. She understands what she is doing and how she does it – which is through the Gift from the Gods. It may be simple circuits and computer boards to you, but to her – to most of us – this is technology that has divine origin. It may be something that advanced scientific societies can replicate, but the original gift of knowledge came to us from our gods. This is what she and all the Speakers before her have believed.” And then he hesitated and Adam could see him visibly tremble. “I shudder to think what she would do if she knew what we were doing here with you.”

“But I forced you and Convor into helping me; you didn’t have a choice.”

“That may be true. And yet if the truth ever did come out, we may not have the opportunity to explain the reasons behind our actions, not before the Speaker and the Order took action against us.”

“You’re protecting their way of life. In a way, you’re both heroes.”

A wry grin came over Trimen’s face. “In the end, that may not matter. The outrage and condemnation would be enough to overwhelm any reason or justification. And honestly, every moment you remain on Formil just increases our chances of being revealed.”

“I leave in three days, Trimen. It should be the last you hear from me, my friend.” Then Adam leaned in closer. “And yet, if you or Convor ever find yourselves threatened or in danger, let me know. If there is anything I can do, I will.”

“I do appreciate that, Adam Cain.” Again the wry smile returned. “And after these ten days, it is apparent you may have more power to help than any living being in the galaxy.”

“Thanks to you, my friend, thanks to you.”

* * *

Three days later, Adam spent his last restless night on Formil, during which he had some frightening dreams. He was in a forest, dark and cold, where he could hear voices coming from behind every tree. And yet as he reached them and looked behind, no one was there.

It was around four in the morning when he realized he’d left the unit on while attempting to fall asleep. He got up and looked around the cabin, just to see if his dreams had manifested themselves into anything dangerous to him or Trimen. But all was quite. He returned to his bed and finally drifted off to sleep, the voices no longer haunting his dreams.

* * *

The next morning, with the device deactivated, Adam was transported to the massive spaceport outside Qualim for his departure from the planet. During his time on Formil, crews had been sent to Bor’on to recover the Phoenix. Even though it now carried a series of dents and burn marks from the natives attempting to gain entry, it was still in full operating condition.

The Temple Complex spaceport was one of the most-advanced in the galaxy, and Adam found the Phoenix has been moved onto a superconducting launch pad located near the center of the field. The pad would shoot the ship upward, requiring no input from Adam’s ship, either from chemical or gravity for the first hundred thousand feet or so. Then a simple burst from the chemical jets would get him to a safe enough altitude where the gravity drive could be engaged. The superconductor saved an awful lot of fuel for all the ships departing Formil.

No one accompanied Adam to the spaceport, not even his new buddy Trimen. It seemed that all the Formilian officials had disappeared, not wanting to draw any attention to Adam or their affiliation with him. He was alone, just him … and his implant. From here on out, it would be up to him to discover the secrets of the device, which actually was scaring the hell out of him.

He considered what Trimen had told him about the skill level of the various the Speakers, and how after even two thousand years and all the training and all the support, they were still learning what they could do with the implant. Adam confessed that he was incapable of becoming even a tenth as proficient with the device as the lowest Speaker. He would certainly not live long enough to do more with his Gift. And indeed, it was a gift. It was the gift of an expanded life, a life of constant discovery.

He thought back, quickly scanning through all the crap that had happened to him since that fateful night in Afghanistan thirteen years before. He now felt different. He had just stepped over into another dimension, and if ever a place could be called The Twilight Zone, Adam’s uncertain future was it.

Chapter 23

Nigel McCarthy’s base of operations was located on a cold, rocky world with gravity exactly that if Earth’s, yet this planet was nothing like his homeworld. It was just a, barren lava encrusted ball with a noxious atmosphere and no life to speak of. However, once finding the planet, Nigel learned that tiny lichen-like creatures did exist in the darken crevasses of the more temperate equatorial regions, even though he’d never seen any. To him it was just another testament to the tenacity of life and its unrelenting propensity to survive.

Nigel McCarthy was also a survivor, so like the lichen he found a massive cave in which to hide from the elements and to build his base.

It had once been a gigantic lava tube, clearly a half-mile in diameter. Once the volcano that had kept the tube fed died out, it fell empty. Several thousand years later, a massive earthquake struck the area, shearing off half the side of the mountain containing the tube. A large section of the tube was then exposed to the outside for the first time in its violent history.

Nigel had found the giant cave while scouting planets with Earth-equal gravity. There were not many. It seemed that most rock-core worlds were either slightly smaller or less dense than the Earth with the correspondingly lower gravity, or they were located in regions of extreme heat or cold. Even though Highlands – as Nigel called his world – was cold and lacked a breathable atmosphere it was not the unbearable cold of planets further out from their stars.

Highland would work and the half-mile wide opening in the cliff face, leading to the miles upon miles of solid lava-walled caverns, would serve his needs perfectly.

Nigel constructed a thick glass and Plexiglas covering over the slice in the tube exposed to the outside and then filled the vast interior with a breathable atmosphere. The naturally insulating walls of the tube helped maintain a constant temperature of six-two degrees, which reminded him of his native England. The tube provided ample space for all his activities; in fact it continued for tens of miles beyond the boundaries of his base, if he ever needed to expand.

* * *

It had been five days since the Speaker of the Formilians had appeared on the vids, proclaiming her health, safety and miraculous rescue at the hands of Adam Cain. She had also named names – including his own as the mastermind behind of her abduction and subsequent ransom. The Formilians would forevermore include the word ‘ransom’ in their vocabulary.

The broadcast of his name did not concern him … in fact it only enhanced his reputation. The being known as The Ma-Jor would now be feared throughout the galaxy.

Even through the luscious Formilian still lived, Nigel still wanted his war. It was not only the money he’d make from both sides fighting, but he was pretty sure the entire Expansion would collapse if Formil fell, which he had every intention of helping bring about.

But none of that was going to happen as long as Arieel Bol remained alive.

Since her return, the Speaker had been sequestered behind an unbelievable thick wall of security and coupled with the Formilians’ expertise at electronics – as well as the Speaker’s ability to manipulate them – no one could get near her, least of all anyone with evil intent.

So there had to be another way to get close enough to the young Speaker to kill her. On the journey back to his base, McCarthy began to formulate a plan, but this plan was built upon a number of assumptions, and these could not be fully researched until he returned to his base.

* * *

After stowing his gear in the spacious private quarters that had been carved out for him – one of only a handful of quarters with its own private view of the desolate landscape of Highland – McCarthy visited the lab where his extremely well-paid scientists labored.

Nigel’s scientists were very skilled, yet also very morally-challenged. He now had eleven in his employ, along with a hundred or so Jakreans who served as laborers. Each of his scientists had fallen into trouble with their various authorities and had been personally selected by Nigel to receive sanctuary along with a substantial income. Even though they were required to work at his isolated base, he would allow them time away occasionally – yet always under the watchful eye of his spies. If any threatened to reveal the location of his base or speak of his activities there, they would be summarily executed. Five previous creatures had met that fate, and Nigel had been sure to let the others know what had happened. The eleven who remained were his most loyal – and pragmatic.

Kronis Nur was his lead scientist and tasked with learning the secret of the Speaker’s mind-reading device. He was a Vizzen, a near-hairless creature about the size of a silverback gorilla. Although large, slow and cumbersome, his hands boasted the longest, most delicate fingers to be found anywhere. He was a master with precision instruments and his eyesight was next to none.

“Ma-Jor, it is good to have you back,” Kronis said warmly as Nigel entered the lab. Nigel preferred the more intimidating title of Ma-Jor, to the less-threatening reference to his prior military rank. It just sounded more mysterious. “We have made great strides in deciphering the signals from the Formilian device.”

“Good – can you build one?” That was all Nigel was concerned with. Once he had learned that such a device existed, attaining one became a near all-consuming passion. Mind-control over electronic devices – the possibilities were endless.

“Yes, we actually have some prototypes constructed.”

Nigel’s eyebrows went up. “No shit … already?”

Kronis was familiar with Human idioms, so he continued without hesitation. “Yes, by analyzing the signals we were able to duplicate the transmitters and receivers. And then after adapting a Formilian translation device, with its considerable memory, we have been able to read the brainwaves of certain subjects and decipher the signals.”

Kronis walked Nigel over to a bank of monitoring screens and pointed to one of them. “You see here that this signal repeats.” He was pointing at a squiggly line on the screen. Nigel took his word for it that it repeated. “Within the subject’s brainwaves this thought corresponds to a microwave food processor. It always refers to the processor, so when this signal reappears, the computer within the modified translator knows the subject is thinking about the processor.”

“That fine, but how do we get the brain to control the processor?”

Kronis pointed to another screen. “Here is where the message is sent to a basic scanning device that searches for the electronic signature of the processor. All electronic devices emit a unique signature, and this part of the device can detect it. So now we have a thought indicating a processor and a scan of the area to locate the processor. All we need now is a way of gaining control of the device.”

“How is that done?”

“That we are still working on – but we are very close. It has to do with matching the exact signature of the device and then pretending to be that device – something we call ghosting. What security codes the device may have – and a food processor has none, so it is easy – are bypassed, allowing our signal to ride along, mimicking the original. Now we have control of the device, and the thoughts of the subject can be used to communicate what changes we wish to affect within it.”

“So when will a working model be ready? I haven’t much time.”

“A month, possibly less,” Kronis answered. “Right now our problem is in consolidating all these various functions into one unit which is not too cumbersome to transport. But then the device would have to be programmed.”

“How long will that take?”

“That is something that is done continuously. By programming, I mean adding more distinct thoughts that the device can then store in its memory. Programming can happen in real-time, as a device is being controlled, yet with more items already in the memory, the quicker will be the time from original thought to control of the device.”

“Good job, Kronis.” The Nigel turned to leave the room, but at the doorway he stopped and looked back at the bulky scientist. “I’m leaving in a month. I want a working model by then, something I can take with me.”

“An implant, such as the female had, will not be ready by then.”

“Then make it external, something I can wear or attach to my body or clothing. I’m leaving in a month and want that device. Do this, Kronis, and there will an extra million credits as a bonus.”

“A million! Yes, Ma-Jor. The device will be ready! I guarantee it.”

* * *

After leaving the realm of the scientists, McCarthy took a small cart about a mile along the spacious lava tube back to his personal residence. Since rank always has its privileges, McCarthy had dug out of the lava wall a gigantic open space easily half the size of a football field. Within this vast chamber, he placed his bed, kitchen area, bathroom, separate meeting room for guests, as well as a work area that looked out upon the desolate and rust-hued landscape of Highland. Several other members of this team had also made personal chambers that looked out on the outside landscape, yet McCarthy’s was by far the largest and most-panoramic.

Nigel sat down in a comfortable, over-padded chair at a huge granite slab that served as his desk. The patterns within the stone were magnificent, a mixture of browns and golds, with even a little blue thrown in for good measure. The desk top was easily ten feet long by four feet deep, with one long side pressed up against the thick, curving glass of the dome that protected him from the harsh elements of the planet. It was early evening on Nigel’s world, and long, deep shadows were creeping through the jagged peaks outside, a harbinger of the sub-zero temperatures that the night would bring.

But inside his sanctuary, Nigel McCarthy was safe, warm, and content with the path he must follow. He wanted his war; he had made it such a vital part of his long-range planning that to see if fade away or be postponed indefinitely was nearly unbearable.

And of all people to show up to interrupt his plans again – Adam Cain! For nearly thirteen years, the unfathomably-lucky American had been interfering with his affairs. Yes, he knew this latest interruption to his plans had been initiated by the stupid Kracori, probably once more aligned with the manipulative Klin. But all that had done was allow Cain to escape with the Formilian woman. Yet then he had been able to evade a galaxy-wide manhunt to make it back to Formil and save the Speaker. No matter how much he hated Cain, he had to admire his tenacity. He reminded McCarthy a lot of himself.

But now it was time to put Plan B into action. It had been Adam Cain who had disrupted his first plan, so it seemed only appropriate that he should play an integral part in the alternative.

McCarthy began with a seemingly innocuous statement Cain had made to him on Uniss-3 – I do odd-jobs for Kroekus now. He would start there.

In these troubled times within the New Expansion – hell, anytime for that matter – there were always people willing to sell information for money. Aliens were no exception. As a matter of fact, Nigel found aliens to be the most-willing to rollover on their friends and co-workers for a quick stack of credits. McCarthy figured this came about from the splintering of their native identity, where members of several diverse races may be working in close proximity to one another. The information obtained and the duties performed often failed to have any racial importance to the workers.

So what if this particular bit of information could harm the XYZ-race? I’m of the ABC-race, so why should I care? And the credits I’ll receive for this act are good anywhere I want to spend them.

So when Nigel McCarthy set about building his criminal empire, his first priority was to setup an elaborate system for intelligence gathering. After all, knowledge was power, and now he had the most-extensive network of spies and informants to be found anywhere in the galaxy.

Nigel had access to some of the most classified databases in the Expansion, and so he started with a simple name search of the employees and associates of the Expansion Administrator, Kroekus. Much to his surprise, the name Adam Cain came up almost immediately. It seems that the young Mr. Cain was a very prominent figure throughout the Expansion and Kroekus was anxious to exploit their affiliation.

Cain was the head of something called the Force-One Enforcement Division for the Expansion Intelligence Interdepartment. Nigel had never heard of it before, and as he read further, he began to understand why.

Even though the Force-One group was assigned to the Intelligence Inter-Department – the galaxy’s spy agency – they didn’t seem to go through too much effort to hide their existence. But the reason Nigel had never heard of them was because they were so small – just six Human members in the entire operation. Nigel shook his head in disbelief when he also found he could call up the names of each of the members of this special enforcement branch of the New Expansion government. Not very clandestine, now are they?

The team Cain had assembled – something called Cain’s Crusaders according to the report – included Adam, of course, as well as his long-time sidekick Riyad Tarazi. Then there were three other men whose names he did not recognize: Jamal Dawson, Mark Henderson and Lee Schwartz. And then he saw the one name he was hoping to find – Sherri Valentine.

So she’s still with him? Nigel thought. Good. Just the motivator I need.

And then Nigel dug deeper, again amazed at the breath and openness of the information he was able to obtain while sitting at his desk, on a barren world over six hundred light years from Juir. The file went on to report that, although the Intelligence Interdepartment was located on Juir, the headquarters of Force-One was not. Instead, it was on a planet called Pyrum-3, with a relative position to Nigel’s Highland of four-hundred eighty light years. Hell, the report even went so far as to pinpoint the exact location on the planet where Adam’s base could be found! Insane.

One last drilldown in the files from Juir also revealed that Cain’s base on Pyrum had been constructed using New Expansion government money, and hence there was a work order and reference to the plans that had been used in its construction.

Now giggling with delight, Nigel accessed the official construction database for the Expansion, a huge amount of information that was quickly sifted through with a keyword search of ‘Pyrum-3.’ It seems that only one facility had been built on the planet using government funds – Cain’s base. A few more click-throughs and Nigel McCarthy was looking at the official construction plans for Cain’s entire facility, all the way down to the plumbing and landscaping schematics.

He printed out hard copies of all this information, material he would use to plan the assault on Cain’s base. Again McCarthy shook his head. It seemed that Cain and his team felt they had nothing to hide. They were such a small group, operating by authority of the Expansion Administrator, and always at locations far from their home base. Why should they hide?

If Nigel McCarthy had anything to do with it, many of Cain’s team would not live long enough to realize the short-sightedness of their assumptions.

In thirty days, Nigel and a select team of twenty of his top Human commandos would depart Highland for Pyrum-3, and by that time Nigel McCarthy will possess one of the greatest weapons in the galaxy. No one would be able to stand against him, not even the insufferable Adam Cain. He would get his war and he would get his revenge on the insolent former-Navy SEAL.

All in all, Plan B was shaping up to be a very satisfying alternative to Plan A, and especially with the added bonus of the impending death and humiliation of Adam Cain.

Chapter 24

Adam left Formil and set a beeline course for Pyrum-3. Once the auto-pilot was set, he flicked a switch that would replay his messages. There were ninety-one of them, all from either his team or Kroekus. Forty-two were from Sherri alone, with each one growing more-panicked as they went.

Just after returning to Formil with Arieel, Adam had sent a coded link to Pyrum informing his base that he was going to be out of touch for several weeks … while doing research. He didn’t tell them what that research entailed or even what subject it would cover. A quick acknowledgment had come back from his base.

But then they began to panic. No one had really expected him to stay out of touch for so long, especially not Sherri. Adam grimaced at first as he listened to her messages become more frantic and then transitioning into full-blown anger. Then the tone changed, and she started accusing him of shacking up with Arieel. Her protestations became more and more adamant, even though she kept reminding him in nearly every message that she really didn’t care what he did. Adam was a big boy, and if he wanted to trade spit with an alien that was his choice. Yes, it was his choice, yet Sherri was not shy at proclaiming her disgust with the whole concept.

Then Adam began to feel guilty. Sherri’s tone had changed in the last few messages; incredible pain and loneliness replacing the anger and pride. She had given up. He could do what he wanted, she said, even if that meant leaving Sherri alone and twenty-thousand light years from home.

Now feeling a panic himself, Adam opened a link to Pyrum-3. Jamal Dawson answered immediately, fighting back a tremendous yawn as he came on the screen.

“’Sup?” he said, looking slant-eyed and only half-awake. “Thought you was dead or something.” Since there were so few Humans left in this part of the galaxy, his team had long ago dispensed with formal military protocol, even though rank did come into play during ops. In the meantime, it was all very casual.

“Not hardly,” Adam answered. “Is Sherri around?”

Jamal glanced to his left. “Man, it’s oh-three-thirty here. She’s probably in dreamland – someplace I’d be, too, if I hadn’t covered Riyad’s watch. You know, you really need to get more of us in here or find some creatures who can tolerate the damn gravity. Just ain’t enough of us to go around to cover all the shifts.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, sergeant-major. Now can you go wake her? I’m sure she’d like to hear from me,”

“Not at no three-thirty in the freaking morning, Capt’n. But I’ll let her tell you that herself. You’re just lucky she hasn’t already bugged out. Sure did take your sweat-ass time callin’ back.”

It was a full nine minutes – Adam counted – before Sherri stuck her disheveled head in front of the screen. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and stared at Adam with vacant eyes. “So you’ve decided to take a break from your little alien whore? Don’t let us keep you away too long.”

“C’mon, Sherri, you don’t really believe I’ve been with Arieel all this time?”

“Nah, just part of the time, even a superman like you needs to come up for air now and then.”

“I haven’t seen her since we got back to Formil. I’ve been checking up on Nigel McCarthy and his activities around here.” Adam felt bad about having to lie to her, but he certainly couldn’t tell the truth about what he’d been doing for the past twenty-two days.”

“You could’ve done that from here.”

“The Formilians have some of the most-extensive records anywhere in the galaxy. If anyone could help me track him down, it would be the Formilians.”

“So did you find him?”

Adam hesitated.

“I didn’t think so,” Sherri said, casually looking away from the screen. “I don’t know if Jamal told you, but I’m getting ready to leave for Earth. Like I told you before, doing this whole Princess Leia thing is growing old.”

“I’m on my way back to Pyrum now. I’ll be there in four days. Don’t do anything until I get back.”

“I can’t promise you that, Adam.” Sherri had finally regained enough of her senses that she could now look straight into the screen. “You should have called, especially during those seven days when the whole fucking galaxy was out looking for you,” she said, a slight glassiness beginning to cover her eyes. “And since when do we go on missions alone? Even if you weren’t screwing around with little Miss Tight-Alien-Ass, you could have been killed – hell, you should have been killed!”

“I didn’t choose to go on this mission by my—” Even as he spoke the words he did his best to inhale them back into his lungs. He knew Sherri had refused to go on the mission, letting her emotions get the best of her after Adam’s reaction to an image of Arieel. Now Sherri broke down completely.

“I’m sorry, Sherri,” Adam said, desperately looking for anything he could say to make her feel better. He knew much for her pain and anger came from her own feelings of guilt at having let Adam go on the mission solo. “I was just playing with you before, about Arieel. There’s absolutely nothing going on between us. And look at me, I’m okay. I survived another mission.”

“This time, Adam, this time! You know we’re all pushing our luck with each mission we go on. And I didn’t come back out here to work with you and Kroekus because I had some kind of a death-wish. It’s just that things were kind of boring back on Earth.”

“So what’s changed?” Adam asked, remembering that they had already had this conversation before. “It’s the same as when you left. You’ll get bored again if you go back.”

“Yeah, but I won’t have to be afraid of the people I care for coming up as worm-food every other day.”

“I feel the same way, Sherri,” Adam said. “It is tough working this kind of job, especially with someone you care about. I don’t know what I would do if anything should happen to you.”

“So maybe it’s best this way? Maybe it’s better to be bored than dead?”

“I understand; I really do. But please don’t leave until I get back. If you do, we’ll both regret it for the rest of our lives.”

“So what, I stick around just so you can talk me out of leaving, again?”

Adam attempted a smile. “Something like that,” he said. Sherri just snorted. “I won’t give up without a fight,” he said seriously.

“And I think I’m about to give up fighting.”

“Four days, Sher. I’ll be back in four days.”

Sherri wiped the tears from her eyes with a cloth offered by someone else in the room off camera. “We’ll see. Just get back safe.”

“Will do, Sherri,” Adam promised. “Four days. I’ll see you then.”

Sherri just nodded feebly and cut the link.

Chapter 25

When Adam returned to Pyrum-3 Sherri was still there, but just barely. She was packed and already had the Pegasus prepped for departure to Juir. From there she would catch one of the rare shuttles back to Earth, which the thousand or so members of the diplomatic mission used. She had reserved a hiberpod aboard the shuttle, so that even that long trip would pass without her having to think about her future – or her past.

Yet she hesitated leaving, Adam’s words about regret haunting her thoughts. She knew he would have to present one hell of an argument for her to stay. Failing that, she could be gone in an hour, without a lot of time to second guess her decision.

Adam came to her apartment and found her surprisingly small stack of personal belongings sitting by the front door. His heart jumped at the thought that he might have missed her by mere hours. “Looks like you’ve already made up your mind,” he said to her, a little too abruptly. He was growing angry that she wasn’t even going to give him a chance to change her mind.

“I’m just ready if things don’t work out,” she said. “You know me, always have to be prepared.” Her attempt at a smile failed miserably.

He took her hand and led her over the couch. They sat down next to each other and Adam put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t, Adam,” Sherri said. “Let’s just talk; anything else would be just delaying the inevitable.”

Adam nodded and removed his hand. “So what is it that’s really bothering you? You can’t honestly believe there’s anything going on between me and Arieel?”

“So you’re on a first-name basis with the bitch – sorry.”

“It’s better than calling her Speaker all the time. That gets awkward really fast.”

“Look, I don’t care if you hook up with her. Hell, even I think she’s the most-beautiful thing in the freaking galaxy—”

“You should see the Formilian men,” Adam interrupted with a smile. “I’d probably feel the same way if you’d gone to Formil instead of me. But just the fact that they are all Greek-god-gorgeous should tell you that Arieel would have no interest in me. We’re just a race of scrawny, pink-skinned nerds to them.”

The smile finally came to Sherri’s lips – finally. “Yeah, I’ve seen the pictures and the newscasts. They are disgustingly good-looking, aren’t they, every damn one of them!”

“You got that right. Not only that, but they’re also really smart – all except Arieel.”

“What do you mean,” Sherri seemed to perk up with this change in the conversation. There was no denying Arieel’s beauty, but if she were stupid….

“She’s been raised in a sheltered environment her whole life. She has no common sense or street cred, I guess you might call it.”

“Like I do.”

“Exactly! You’ve been around. You’ve always had my back, always been there when I needed you.”

Sherri looked down at her feet, dangling off the edge of the couch. “I guess you’ve always been there for me, too, even though I hate to admit it.” She looked back at him abruptly. “So what’s this bullshit about spending almost thirty days on Formil trying to track down McCarthy? You really expect me to believe that?”

He hesitated again, looking her in the eye. “I was researching something – and not the body of Arieel Bol! It’s something that if it works out could really help us do our job out here, something that will make it safer for us to operate.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you … yet.”

Sherri’s eyes grew wide and her jaw tightened.

“Seriously, I can’t tell you yet. I promised someone. But if it works out, then you’ll be the first to know, I promise you.”

“And you always keep your promises?”

“I try, you know that.”

Sherri looked away again. “How long until you can let me in on your little secret?”

“Give me six months—“”

“Six months – no way!” Sherri sat up straighter on the couch, almost ready to stand and walk away. “I’m about to go bat-shit crazy out here. I can’t take another six month of this god-damn alien universe. I’m craving a Big Mac right about now, and a mindless sitcom to help me escape all the horrible things I’ve seen and done.”

Sherri then reached out with her hands and grabbed his shirt. “I love you Adam Cain, that’s why it’s so hard to leave, and the adventure has been fun at times; playing superwoman can be a real headrush. But I’m really missing normal shit. You have to be feeling it, too?”

“I do. And here’s another thing I’ll promise you: give me six months – at the most – and then after that we’ll both go back to Earth, if not permanently, then for a really long vacation. Nothing to do but pig out at In ‘n Out Burger and watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory!”

Sherri smiled and moved in closer to Adam. “That sounds good, really good. But make it sooner than six months. If I have to fight for my life one more time, I may just give up and let the alien gods take me. I’m just getting too tired to try anymore.”

“Let’s get you unpacked.”

Sherri pulled Adam in closer and kissed him hard. When they separated, she looked lustfully into his eyes and said, “I’ll unpack tomorrow. Right now all I want to think about is how human we both are, and how well our bodies do fit together … naturally.”

“No argument there. I’m sure there’s nothing much going in the universe tonight that can’t wait until tomorrow for us to save.”

“Oh, Clark Kent, is that a rock of kryptonite in your pants, or are you just glad to see me?”

Adam laughed a little too loudly at the ribald comment, thinking how Nigel McCarthy had used his own variation of the line back on Uniss-3. Only this time, Adam was glad to see her … and there was definitely something rock-like hiding in his pants….

Chapter 26

Nigel McCarthy knew that any approach of Cain’s base from the air would be noticed, however with all the sea-traffic on the large, shallow sea where the island was located, an approach by water was a better option.

He came in a single spaceship, packed heavy with the twenty members of the assault team along with all their equipment. Even though there were only six other Humans they were going up against, Nigel had read their short bios and knew it would not be a cake-walk. Besides Cain being a trained Navy SEAL, Henderson and Dawson were Army Special Forces – the same as his second-in-command Carter Thomas.

The other military man was Lee Schwartz, who was the nephew of one of the big-wig admirals during the Human-Juirean War. The young Navy Commander had earned his chops while commanding the Human Shadow Fleet. This clandestine force had been comprised of the overinflated and imaginary casualties the Human’s had suffered during the battles leading up to the grand finale at Falor-Kapel. In reality, the Humans had suffered far few losses than had been reported. These phantom losses were then consolidated under the command of Commander Schwartz, and when the Juireans turned to face what they thought was a vastly inferior Human fleet, it had turned into a rout. Schwartz and his fleet had swept in and annihilated the Juireans. The battle of Falor-Kapel was the deciding factor in the war. From then on there was no force capable of standing against the Humans, not even the Klin and their allies, the Kracori.

Schwartz had commanded the Shadow Fleet, and now he was a member of Cain’s Crusaders.

The last male member of Cain’s team was the former terrorist and galactic pirate Riyad Tarazi. He was an accomplished strategist and urban fighter who could never be underestimated. More than once, Tarazi had help foil the plans of the Klin, and indirectly, of McCarthy’s as well.

Finally, the lone woman on the team: Sherri Valentine. Sherri was a study in contrasts: A former veterinary student, who after being abducted by Nigel’s forces had managed to escape from Klin custody to become one the most-feared assassins within the Fringe Worlds, working for none other than Kroekus of Silea during his criminal enterprise days.

All-in-all, Cain’s Crusaders were not to be taken lightly, and hence the twenty-trained Human killers McCarthy brought with him to Pyrum-3.

However, his greatest asset was the large, silver medallion he now wore around his neck.

The scientist Kronis Nur had earned his million-credit bonus, having built the primitive control device Nigel now wore. Even though it wasn’t as small, fast or sophisticated as the Formilian device, it still was capable of reading Nigel’s thoughts and hacking into local electronic devices.

And one of the first tests Nigel had undertaken with his new powers was to see if he could override the micro-processors found in flash weapons. The test had been a success and now Nigel pranced around the staging area on the mainland of Pyrum-3, six miles by sea from Cain’s base, feeling as invulnerable and indestructible as a man could feel.

* * *

Nigel’s force had come in low from the opposite side of the planet until they arrived at the long spit of land that was the closest part of the mainland to Cain’s base. They had set down in a large field about a mile from the beach, where clumps of bright green, canopied trees grew. As McCarthy and his men set about unloading their equipment and inflating the Zodiacs they would use to reach the island, they noticed the dozen or so centaur-like creatures grazing near the trees. The large beasts appeared to be untroubled by the presence of the Humans, although occasionally one would lift it’s very Human-like head and look at them, before returning casually to its grazing.

An hour after landing, the assault force set off for the beach, carrying three inflatable boats above their heads along with all their gear.

As soon as they had disappeared over the first large sands dunes leading to the beach, Ka’lo, leader of the Cupin’los of Pyrum-3, set off in at a gallop for his domicile three quarter-mars away. There was a communication device there supplied by the Humans on the island. Even though Ka’lo did not understand who these other Humans were, the simple fact that they had landed on the mainland and not on the island meant they were probably not of Adam Cain’s herd. And they also carried weapons, lot of weapons, and boats in which to make the journey to the island. All-in-all, Ka’lo did not feel comfortable letting this information go unreported.

And maybe if he could gain the favor of Adam Cain by reporting this to him, he would allow the other Humans to ride him and his fellow Cupin’los more often.

* * *

By the time Ka’lo reached his domicile, McCarthy and his men were already halfway across the channel to the island. According to the charts they had studied, there was a large opening in the barrier reef facing the mainland where most of the access to the island flowed. It was dark when the force passed through the opening and entered the shallow lagoon, their boats silently powered by compact electric motors, ironically designed by Formilian engineers.

The base was clearly defined on the island, brightly lit structures and a scattering of other perimeter lights around the one concrete dock jutting into the lagoon. McCarthy was in the lead boat, scanning the shoreline with a pair of night-vision binoculars. There was no one to be seen moving around the dock area and shifting to the large shell-shaped living quarters, he could make out two people standing on high balconies appearing to be having a barbeque.

Nigel smiled. They think they’re back home, without a care in the world. This might actually be a cake-walk—

Suddenly every light on the island went out! Nigel turned to see all his men also donning night-vision goggles just as he slide his down over his eyes, replacing the binoculars. He motioned for two of the boats on either side of him to spread out and head for the beaches on either side of the dock. He would still proceed to their primary LZ of the dock, but now it was obvious Cain had detected their presence.

Even in the tense moment prior to engaging in battle, Nigel stretched out a thin smile. He felt with his new device and identified the main electrical cut off to the lights for the base, knowing that with a thought, he could turn them back on. But then Cain would know something was up. Cain knew McCarthy was working on learning the secrets of the Formilians. By overriding the cut off, Cain would know he had succeeded. So unless it was absolutely necessary, Nigel would keep his new powers a secret, at least until he had secured Cain and Valentine.

All three of the boats made landfall within a few seconds of each other and the commandos poured out onto the shore and took up defensive positions. McCarthy and the eight men with him, including Carter Thomas, scrambled onto the dock and sprinted down the short deck before taking cover behind a series of crates and storage lockers. Each of his men carried Xan-fi flash rifles set on level-one, along with an M4-A1 assault rifle and 45-caliber sidearm. McCarthy knew he could control flash weapons, so he instructed his men to begin the assault with the energy guns, hoping that any countering force would also use the more readily available MK’s or Xan-Fi’s. If they did, then McCarthy would simply send a command to override the weapons of Cain’s defenders, hoping that they also chose to leave their real weapons – their carbines and HK’s – back at the arsenal.

If not, then his men were ready for that, too.

The squad to Nigel’s left had left the beach and entered a grouping of low storage sheds just to the left of the Ops Center building. Nigel knew two of the Humans had been three stories up only moments ago in the big shell-shaped building at the center of the three main structures. Another would undoubtedly be in the Ops Center, standing watch. That left only three more scattered around the grounds, and more-than-likely also in the central building. From the time lights went out into now would not have afforded the unsuspecting Humans enough time to form any organized defense. In one way this was good, in another not so much. If Cain’s force had consolidated to single location, then Nigel could have easily overwhelmed it with his vastly superior force. But now he had to contend with five or six individual points of defense. Nigel still had the advantage, but in this scenario he would suffer greater casualties.

Just then, a sudden burst of staccato automatic weapon fire sounded off to his right. He looked over to see three of his men collapse. Shit! They were using real weapons – Human weapons. These Nigel could not control.

His men opened up on a location about fifty yards away, near the entrance to the large hangar building. Knowing the layout of the facility as he did – thanks to the construction plans he was able to pull off the Library – he knew there were dozens of places to hide around the hangar building. He pressed the button on his should comm unit. “Proceed to the hangar. The shooter is probably long gone. Secure the area.”

He watched as the remaining squad on his right – four men – scrambled off toward the hangar. As they neared the point where the original shots had been fired, the lights pointing down at the hangar entrance suddenly flashed to life. The four commandos, now blinded through their night-vision goggles, dove for the tarmac while ripping off their glasses. Three more lines of fire shot out from a point now to the right of the hangar, cutting down Nigel’s men where they lay.

And then the night went dark again.

Nigel had just lost seven commandos to a single gunman. He didn’t like how this was starting out.

“Thomas, and the two of you, move to the right and position yourselves near that tanker, and take off your goggles. Get ready to shoot anything that moves. Go!”

A moment later, Nigel felt for the light control for the hangar, and with a thought, caused them to flash on again.

As he was hoping, he caught the gunman moving to another position closer to the hangar. Stunned by the sudden bath of light, he hesitated, and Thomas and the other commandos opened up. The defender fell and lay there, unmoving.

I hope that wasn’t Cain. I need him.

In the meantime, the force to Nigel’s left had reached the Ops building and secured the doors. There were only two into the structure, and so only two commandos were needed to trap whoever might be inside, taking him out of the fight. The other five moved off to the living quarters where the bulk of the defenders should be located. They would deal with anyone in the Ops Center later.

The thirteen remaining commandos reached the base of the living quarters without incident. There were stairs and an elevator in the building. Six of the apartments were located on the top floor, with three on the second level along with a large cafeteria/lounge area. The bottom floor, which was located just above the heads of the Commandos on the parking-ground level, contained environmental controls, power backups and other utility facilities. Nigel sent his commandos into the stairwell, and soon they emerged on the first floor without meeting any resistance.

The second and third floors would contain the most people, not counting whoever might be in Ops, if any. By crowding them all into a floor or two, Nigel’s chance of capturing more of them in one place was looking better.

His men secured the stairwell leading to the second floor and then took up positions guarding the doorway into the common room. Nigel came up near the door. It was locked but done so by an electronic device. The smile returned to Nigel’s lips. He sought out the control box and deactivated it with his mind. He then nodded to one of his men, who grabbed the handle and pulled open the door.

From inside the room, Nigel could hear the sound of running. His men stormed into the large room, furnished with large couches, reading chairs and a scattering of dining tables. Someone was running for an exit door at the far end of the room. Nigel reached out and found the controls for the door, locking it instantly. He could hear the sounds of frustration erupt from the runner as he cursed the now-locked door.

Nigel’s men closed in, and found a husky black man sitting at the base of the door, hands above his head. This would be Jamal Dawson. Nigel moved up to him; he was unarmed and more than a little pissed.

“I thought fire codes said all these doors must remained unlocked at all times,” Nigel said with a sparkle in his eye. He reached past Dawson, who was now guarded by a dozen automatic rifles, and pressed on the handle. It opened effortlessly.

Dawson’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide. “Well fuck me halfway to Nashville! I swear that thing wouldn’t open only a second ago.”

“It’s all in the wrist, sergeant-major.” Nigel nodded and several of his commandos lifted Dawson from the floor and placed nylon-string handcuffs on his wrists behind his back.

“Where are the rest of them?” McCarthy asked his prisoner. “We’ve already killed one out by the hangar.”

Again, Dawson’s mouth fell open. “That would be Schwartz. He was over there working on the Phoenix – you bastard!” He struggled to reach Nigel but was held back by the commandos.

“Relax Dawson,” Nigel said. “I didn’t come here to kill you, just to have a little talk with your boss. So where is Cain?”

Dawson’s jaw tightened up. “I’m not telling you shit! You’re that bastard McCarthy, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh, but again, I didn’t come here to kill anyone. I just want to talk with Cain.”

“Find him yourself … before he finds you!”

“Sergeant, if I have to go floor-to-floor and building to building, I will keep running into your people, and more of them will get killed. Just give me Cain and I’ll leave the rest of you alone.”

Dawson hesitated. He looked around the room and Nigel could see him mentally counting the number of commandos. “There are more outside, too.” Nigel said, helping him out. “Keep this up and you’re all going to die.”

Nigel saw Dawson’s shoulders slump. “He’s one floor up, along with Henderson and Sherri. Riyad’s over in Ops, or he was the last I heard from him.”

“Any of them armed?”

“They may be by now.”

“Can you call them? It would be better if we could negotiate a truce.”

Dawson just nodded. The commandos shoved him over to an intercom unit placed on the wall near the door. There was a keypad and a speaker grill.

“One-one-one will get you building-wide.”

“Thank you sergeant, you probably just saved the lives of the rest of your team.”

Nigel punched in the code and then leaned in close to the speaker. “Good evening, Mr. Cain,” he began, hearing his own voice echo throughout the common room. “You probably have already guessed who has dropped by for a chat. I have your Mr. Dawson down here on the second floor, and I’m sad to report that it looks like Commander Schwartz has just resigned from your team, permanently. We can keep picking off the remaining four of you, or we can talk. The choice is yours.”

Almost immediately the speaker crackled. “Schwartz is dead?”

“That’s what I meant by his resignation.”

“Yeah, I got that, you fucking bastard. What do you want to talk about?”

“I promise you, I do not want to kill any other members of your team. I just want to talk, and then to make you a proposal. After that, I’ll leave.”

There was a long moment of silence before Adam came back on the intercom. “All right,” Adam said, his voice trembling with anger, even over the speakers. “Riyad is in Ops. Let him come out unharmed and the rest of us will come down to you.”

“Perfect, mate! Make your call and then will all have a chat.”

Chapter 27

Ten minutes later the remaining five members of Adam’s team were in the common area, hands fastened behind their backs and seated together on two couches. Sherri was sobbing softly over the loss of Lee Schwartz while the men just glared at McCarthy with unadulterated scorn.

Nigel stepped up in front of them. “I just want to tell you that Commander Schwartz took out seven of my commandos before we could put him down. He died a soldier’s death.”

If this were meant to make them feel better, it was a catastrophic failure. Adam thought back to all the missed opportunities he had had to kill McCarthy over the years, and how if he’d done so, Lee would still be alive. The guilt was helping to feed his anger. “What do you want, Nigel? You’ve gone through a lot of effort for something. I’m sorry if Arieel is still alive, but there’s nothing you can do about that now. I’ve never pictured you as someone who does anything simply out of revenge.”

Nigel raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I appreciate that, Mr. Cain. I would hope I wouldn’t.” He motioned for his men to take the other four to one of the apartments on the floor, leaving him alone with Adam.

Once the room was clear, Nigel pulled a chair from one of the dining tables and turned its backside toward Adam and sat down, resting his arms on the backrest. “Here’s my proposition for you, Adam. I still want my war, and as we both know, the only thing that’s preventing it is that our lovely Arieel Bol still breathes.”

“Those are the breaks, man,” Adam said. “She’s safely at home and there’s nothing either of us can do about that.”

“Ah, yes, but there is. You can go see her again. The two of you are apparently very tight, as you are with the bosses of the Order. You could get in to see her, in spite of all the security.”

“And tell her what? Nigel wants you dead, so please keel over?”

“No, you don’t have to do that. All you have to do is step up to her and break her lovely neck.”

Adam threw his head back with a loud laugh. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because if you don’t I will kill the equally lovely Miss Sherri Valentine.”

Adam felt himself go pale and weak. He sat for several moments staring into Nigel’s eyes, eyes now filled with the sinister sparkle of the criminally insane. “You’re serious?” was all Adam managed to say.

“Deadly serious, Mr. Cain. You see, I want my war and you’re the only one who can get close enough to the Speaker who also has the skills to kill without a weapon. After all, I doubt the Formilian’s would let even you close to their precious demi-god with a weapon. Yet you’re a trained killer, and she is just an alien. It will be a snap – a snap of her neck! And knowing how resourceful you are – as well as bloody lucky – you may even get away once the deed is done.”

“And if I say no, then you’ll kill Sherri and everyone else here.”

“Why wouldn’t I? They mean nothing to me. But if you do kill the Speaker, then I will let them all live, including yourself – if you manage to get away.”

“What guarantee do I have you’ll keep your word?”

“None … I’ve always wanted to say that!” McCarthy said, the insane look in his eyes growing more intense, more savage by the moment.

Nigel’s really enjoying himself, Adam thought, probably some throwback to a childhood fantasy of being the arch-villain in a comic book.

“You don’t have any choice, Adam. If you say no, I’ll kill Ms. Valentine right in front of your eyes, and in the slowest, most-painful way I can imagine – and I have quite the imagination when it comes to things like that. And now that I have even more captives, I’ll kill them, too. Lastly, I’ll set my attention on you. That will be the most fun. You won’t die quickly – hell you may not die at all! But if you do live, then you’ll be more grotesque, more hideous than any of the things we’ve seen out here. Need I go on?”

Adam knew McCarthy was serious. He also knew he had no choice but to comply – at least for now.

“So what now, are you going to ship them all off to your super-secret base or are you going to wait here while I go wring Arieel’s neck?” Adam had had his device on since he first got the call from Ka’lo. He could pick out the flash rifles carried by McCarthy’s men, but also knew they carried traditional weapons. And it wouldn’t do to have the flash weapons explode – if he could even do that at this stage in his training – not with his team nearby.

For his part, McCarthy was not carrying a flash rifle; instead he wore only a Colt M1911 pistol in a holster around his waist. The only other piece of electronics he had on his body was the shoulder communication module … plus a strange looking medallion hanging from a chain around his neck. Adam sought to learn more of the medallion but found just a void area in his scan. Either the medallion was not electronic or … McCarthy had built a Formilian-type control device!

The revelation shocked Adam to his core. This was one of his worst fears – what if McCarthy learned the secret of artificial telepathy. He scoured his memory to see if he could remember if any of McCarthy’s men also wearing medallions but didn’t think so. He was sure he would have noticed, since the pendant was so prominent on Nigel. So if it was only Nigel he had to contend with, then he just may have a chance. Besides, Adam was pretty sure Nigel didn’t know about Adam’s own device.

“We’ll be parting company here, Adam,” Nigel was saying. I will take your team back to my base for safekeeping, while you take one of your hotrods back to Formil. I know how fast your ships can go, so I wouldn’t lollygag if I were you.”

Adam was almost positive he’d never heard Lex Luther or one of the Bond villains say lollygag before, but he was also sure there’s never been a super-villain named Nigel before, either. That kind of thinking – at a time like this – was not helpful.

McCarthy stood up and pulled Adam to his feet. He flicked out a Fury commando knife and cut the nylon straps from his hands. “You may need your hands free to pilot the ship. Now let’s get you going. I’m sure you have everything you need aboard your ship.”

McCarthy led Adam to the elevator and then down and out of the living quarters building. During the walk to the hangar, neither said a word. Nigel walked with the confidence of a person who knew he was in complete control of situation, and in some ways he was. He had four of Adam’s closest friends locked away in another building and under guard by twelve highly trained commandos. He was also wearing a device around his neck that allowed him to control electronic modules.

Adam’s one ace-in-the-hole was that he sure his device was of a more-advanced and that he had training from the masters, something Adam was sure Nigel lacked. Once he got to the hangar, with its myriad of electronic equipment, modules and machines, Adam would make his move.

As they approached the building, Adam saw that the lights illuminating the entrance to hangar were on, even though he had turned them off himself – mentally. He also saw the bloody corpses of Nigel’s commandos strewn out on the tarmac. And there, off near the edge of the building and situated between two empty power-module containers, was the still body of Lee Schwartz.

Adam felt an incredible wave of sorrow flow over him. He had known Lee for over three years and could count the missions they’d gone on together at over twenty. He had played cards with the man and traded jokes. They each shared a love for the ocean – the ocean of Earth – and the scenic beauty of the California coast. But now here he was, on a world twenty-thousand light years from his home with no one to grieve for him, except only in passing.

McCarthy would pay for this! Even though Lee was just one more casualty to be added to McCarthy complicity in a billion others, this one was right up there with the deaths of his wife and child during the Juirean attack on Earth.

As the two of them passed through the gaping entrance to the huge hangar, Adam could feel the awareness grow within him. The device was either mirroring his anger or had sensed it on its own. Either way, the unit was geared up and ready for action.

First, Adam severed the leads to Nigel’s shoulder communicator, isolating him from contacting his backup. Then they approached the ramp leading up to the airlock within the Phoenix.

“I’ll be watching the newscast,” McCarthy said at the head of the ramp. “The news of the Speaker’s death needs to be broadcast; I need my Omphly allies to know when the deed is done. Only then will I release your team, including Ms. Valentine.”

Adam had already entered the airlock when he turned back to Nigel. “I need to use a tractor to pull the ship out of the hangar,” he said while walking back down the ramp past Nigel.

“Make it quick—”

As Adam passed McCarthy he lowered a shoulder into the Englishman’s side while at the same time grabbing the chain holding the medallion around his neck. He shoved Nigel further up the ramp and into the airlock while ripping the medallion away. Once Nigel was inside the airlock, Adam commanded that the hatch close and the inner door lock, trapping McCarthy inside.

Adam stood panting on the incline ramp, holding the medallion in his right hand and feeling really proud of himself. That was easy. Now McCarthy was out of the picture; all Adam had to do was head back and rescue the rest of his team—”

Suddenly the outer hatch began to open! McCarthy was standing at the entrance now holding his Colt firmly in his right hand. “You dumbass! The device still works for several feet away from my body. It’s my brainwaves that count. Now give it back and stop fucking around.”

Adam backed away, holding the medallion out in front of him. “You can’t kill me. If you do you’ll never be able to get to Arieel.”

“I’ll figure a way; I’m good at that. But I could also just start killing your team. I didn’t need that medallion to take over your base, I don’t need it now.” He reached up to activate the comm unit. “Carter, come in.” He waited … nothing. “Carter, come in. Where the bloody hell are you?”

As Nigel slowly walked down the ramp toward Adam, talking on the communicator and holding the Colt steadily on Adam, he didn’t notice the slowly moving electric tractor that had come around the front end of the Phoenix. Adam cautiously guided the heavy-duty cart along the side of the ship and toward the ramp. Then just as it got to within ten feet of the ramp, Nigel noticed the movement out the corner of his eye. As he turned – his eyes wide – Adam sent the tractor slamming into the ramp, sending Nigel tumbling down the metal incline.

Adam took off for the stack of energy modules, all held securely in impenetrable metal canisters. Nigel McCarthy was a crack shot, and even as he rolled down the ramp, he managed to let loose with three very accurate shots in Adam’s direction. One scorched his shoulder, while the others ricocheted off the metal floor of the hangar, barely missing him.

Nigel was soon on his feet again and running toward the energy modules. Adam crawled on his belly between two large stacks and circled back as Nigel rounded the stack. He jumped to his feet and ran again, rounding the back of the Phoenix while still grasping the medallion.

Two more blasts erupted from McCarthy’s weapon, the rounds making barely a dent in the hard surface of the spaceship. The sparks, however, from metal hitting metal, flew off the ship and landed on Adam’s face – they were that close!

As Adam ran around the ship he noticed a large tank of acetylene gas standing near the central construction workbenches. The release for the gas was electronic – of course – as was the igniter draped over the tank. With his mind, Adam imaged the release value and commanded that it open, releasing the gas into the air. But now he reached a quandary. The inner wall to the hangar was directly in front of him, only about ten feet away. The tank was about thirty. Adam pressed himself against the wall and turned toward the work area. And then he began to concentrate. He’d seen Arieel do this before; all he had to do was envision what she had created.

McCarthy rounded the back of the Phoenix and spotted Adam standing in plain sight against the far wall. He stopped running and began to approach cautiously, the weapon still leveled at Adam’s chest. “Now you’re being reasonable,” he said. “There’s no need for either one of us to get hurt….”

McCarthy slowed his approach as he began to imagine a thin blue light between him and Adam. He frowned and cocked his head, squinting to see if what he was imagining was real or not.

Adam continued to concentrate, letting his face go limp and his eyes staring off into space. He could see the shield in his mind’s eye, and when he refocused on the space before him, he could see the image of McCarthy shimmering on the other side of a light blue aura.

Suddenly Nigel’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. “You right bloody bastard – you, too?”

Just then Adam lit the igniter above the gas tank, causing a tremendous explosion of heat and blue fire to envelope the inside of the hangar. McCarthy was blown to his right, impacting the side of the Phoenix with such force that it would be a miracle if he survived. Meanwhile, the effects of the blast spread out over the entire north end of the hangar, heading straight for Adam.

He fought with every ounce of his mental concentration to maintain the image of the shield, and when the concussion hit, it was like nothing he expected. The explosion shoved him hard against the metal wall of the hangar, the flame and searing heat only inches from his body. The inferno continued for what seemed like an eternity, with yellow and blue fire trailing off to his left and right, yet not penetrating beyond the shield.

Finally, it was over, and the shimmer blue shield recoiled back from his body. He was alive – and unharmed. But that couldn’t be said for this section of the hangar. It was a smoldering remnant of its former self, with debris piled against the sturdy bulk of the Phoenix and against the outer walls. The area where the acetylene tank had been was devoid of anything, except for blackened streaks on the metal flooring.

The life-saving shield of static electricity slowly faded away and Adam moved out into the center of the work area. He looked around quickly trying to find the medallion that he remember as last being held in his grasp, but no longer there. Then against the wall, he saw the broken and charred remains of the device. It was destroyed … at least was this one.

He heard moaning coming from near the Phoenix and immediately realized it had to be coming from McCarthy. Damn, he survived. Can’t anything kill this guy?

A pile of debris fell near the spaceship and a leg appeared, the clothing burned the skin underneath red and bloody. Adam walked over and rifled through the pile until he found Nigel’s head. Except for a bad gash under his left eye and half the thin hair on his head missing, the big Englishman didn’t to be too badly injured. His beady blue eyes were glowering at Adam.

“You … you have it, too.” He managed to spit out through swollen lips.

“Yeah, but mine’s the Cadillac of the telepathy machines. Yours was an Edsel.”

McCarthy managed a painful laugh. “But I can mass produce the things. Can you?”

The thought sent Adam’s stomach into knots. That was definitely something that gave McCarthy the upper hand, even if he wouldn’t be around to guide it. His technicians knew.

Adam quickly pulled Nigel from the pile of debris and found a metal chain that had blown nearby. He wrapped it around Nigel and then placed a metal bolt through the links to keep it from coming undone. In Nigel’s injured condition, it should be enough to hold him. Adam now had to prepare for the blow back from the explosion. Surely McCarthy’s commandos had to have heard it.

He ran to the front of the Phoenix just as half a dozen armed men appeared at the hangar opening. They had their M4A1 carbines securely in battle ready stance as they approached. They also still had the flash rifles strapped across their backs.

Adam slipped down behind one of the big landing pads of the Phoenix and tried hard to remember what Trimen had said about how to turn a flash weapon into a bomb. That was it! Disconnect the fire control and discharge the power pack into the weapon. He closed his eyes and began to envision the inner workings of a Xan-fi flash rifle. He had used this weapon for years now and knew nearly everything about it. The images poured into his mind.

Within ten seconds, Adam could hear the every-increasing hums coming from the weapons. There were panicked voices as the commandos sought to understand what was happening. It only took a few more seconds for them to realize the sound was coming from their flash weapons. By then it was too late.

The force from six simultaneously exploding flash rifles was staggering, strong enough to slide the Phoenix away by around ten feet. Adam was protected behind the landing pad and took the short ride with the huge spacecraft.

Without waiting for confirmation that all the commandos at the hangar were dead, Adam sprinted from under the Phoenix and out of the hangar, heading for the living quarters. In his mind’s eyes, Adam knew seven commands had bit the dust outside the hangar. That still left six in the building with his teammates – including Sherri.

What would Nigel’s men do now that they’ve just heard a secondary – and more powerful explosion – than before? Would they simply execute Adam’s team and then head off the island?

With energy derived from panic and desperation, Adam ran for the shell-shaped building. There were more lights on now, something he had not done. And then he heard the voices. They were coming from above him, from one of the balconies on the third floor of the building.

Adam skidded to a stop and looked up. That’s when he saw Sherri, leaning over the railing and waving. She was smiling.

“Relax, Adam,” she called down to him. “We’ve got it under control up here.”

Just then Dawson and Riyad appeared behind her, cradling M4 rifles and manhandling a couple of McCarthy’s commandos to the edge of the deck. “Thanks for the distraction, Captain!” Dawson yelled down at him. “It was just what we needed to get the jump on these assholes.”

Adam bent over and placed his hands on his knees and taking in several deep breaths. When he looked up, Dawson and Riyad were still smiling broadly, but Sherri’s smile had vanished. Even from that distance, he could see the pain in her eyes.

This would be the last straw.

Chapter 28

Medical specialists were flown in from a system ten light years away to tend to McCarthy’s injuries, which turned out to be nothing more than a broken left leg, several cuts and bruises and a patch of third-degree burns on his left arm. After surveying the effects of the explosion, Adam was amazed Nigel had survived at all, let alone as relatively unscathed as he had.

Eight days after the attack, McCarthy was cleared for travel and placed aboard the Phoenix for transport to Juir. From there, the Human diplomatic mission would take charge of him for transit back to Earth.

Already Adam and his team had received numerous CW links with Earth congratulating them on the capture of Nigel McCarthy. It seemed that the experts in the black rooms were anxious to get their hands on him, and to use their skills to extract that most-valuable of information the Englishman carried with him – the location of the Kracori homeworld. Planners within the Planetary Governing Authority were already drawing up rough strategies for the assault of Elision, having every confidence that attaining the information was only a matter of time.

In the meantime, Adam and his people went about preparing the body of Lee Schwartz from transport back to Earth as well. He was placed in a special cryogenic casket, and after a brief yet tearful ceremony was also placed aboard the Phoenix. In about a year’s time, Commander Lee Schwartz, U.S. Navy, would be home, to be buried at the fully-rebuilt Arlington Cemetery with full military honors.

As the team tried to get back to a somewhat normal routine, they received a message that a delegation from Formil would be arriving in a few days, ostensibly to present Adam with an award of some kind. He had had it up to his neck with awards and accolades, and after witnessing Sherri’s initial reaction to the news, he was ready to call the whole thing off. But then Kroekus informed them that he would be arriving for the ceremony, as well as the Human Ambassador, John Daulton.

Sherri bit her bottom lip and stormed off to her apartment, after agreeing with Adam that there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He was pretty sure she was up in her quarters, packing for Earth – for about the tenth time this month!

Chapter 29

Mark Henderson had just about reached his breaking point; this was the third time in as many days that the killer Nigel McCarthy was asking to see him. For Henderson’s part, he couldn’t wait for their arrival at Juir so McCarthy could be transferred to a larger ship with hiberpods. Then they could place the arrogant Englishman in one of them and crank the cold-meter down to absolute zero. At least then he wouldn’t have to hear his uppity Baroque accent anymore. Some people may find the accent interesting and sophisticated. Not Mark Henderson. On one level, he equated it to that of a hillbilly drawl … just another funky way of talking.

* * *

McCarthy was locked away in one of the executive staterooms aboard the Phoenix, complete with a king-size bed, large grooming station, a small food processing center, along with all the DVD’s he could watch. Technically, he could exist in the room for the rest of his life – however long that may be. Once Henderson got him back to Earth, he was sure McCarthy’s life expectancy would be measured in days, if not hours.

Henderson didn’t fear McCarthy. Although he may be huge and well-trained, he still carried a cast on his broken left leg and a thick wrap around the burns on his arm. He had minor bruising of his ribcage, along with numerous other bandages where his cuts were healing. Overall, Nigel McCarthy was in no condition to take on a six-foot two, two-hundred nineteen pound former Army Ranger. So Henderson simply fingered in the security code on the door and entered without knocking.

Nigel McCarthy was seated on the stateroom’s solitary couch, a caramel-colored drink in his hand. He looked relaxed and seemingly confident … for some reason.

“Captain Henderson thanks for coming.” McCarthy greeted warmly. “There’s a drink ready for you on the counter.”

“I’ll pass,” Henderson said, annoyed that McCarthy was acting as if he was the host, rather than the prisoner. “What do you want this time? It looks like you’ve made yourself right at home.”

“C’mon, mate, sit down. We have a lot of time to kill. What’s the harm in passing it with a little conversation?”

“Nothing … mate. It’s just that you don’t have anything I want to hear.”

“Oh, but I think I do.”

Henderson looked over at the drink sitting on the counter to his right and thought what the hell? It had been three days since they’d left Pyrum-3 and in all that time Henderson had not had a single sip of alcohol.

He walked over the counter, scooped up the glass and then sat down in one of the chairs at the small table affixed to the left-side bulkhead. “So what do you think I would want to hear out of your traitorous mouth, you limey bastard.” There, that should let him know what I think of him.

McCarthy smiled and took a long swig of his drink. “Now, now, Captain Henderson, let’s try to be cordial.”

“Why should I? You have such a long record of screwing over your own people – including killing my friend Lee Schwartz – you don’t even deserve to be spit on. I wouldn’t want to insult my spit by wasting it on you.”

“Fair enough, but I believe your impression of me may change once we’ve had our little talk.”

Henderson raised his eyebrows and sent a wry smile back toward McCarthy. “That would take a fucking miracle.”

McCarthy nodded. “Well, let’s see if this qualifies. You are aware that I know the location of the Kracori homeworld, a planet called Elision, don’t you?”

“Of course; everyone does. And no matter how much you want to keep it a secret, the people back on Earth will be able to pull it out of you. In fact,” Henderson said, smiling more broadly, “I’d love to give them a hand. And I’d do it for free.”

“You won’t have, Captain. I’m willing to give it to you right now, voluntarily.”

Henderson tried to hide his shock. He knew McCarthy was probably playing a game with him, and if he really was going to give him the coordinates, it would more-than-likely be in exchange for his freedom.

“Okay, go ahead. Give it to me.”

“Come now, mate, we’re both a couple of smart guys. You know I want something in return.”

“Yeah, your freedom; it didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. So, let’s see, I just let you go and say I did it in exchange for the coordinates. I think the powers back on Earth would say thanks a lot, but now, Mr. Henderson, you’re in a heap of trouble for letting McCarthy go. Like I said, they’re going to get the information out of you anyway, whether you want to give it up voluntarily or not. And then they’ll still have you. They’d be really pissed off if I let you go and spoiled all their fun with executing you a billion times over.”

“You are a very intelligent person, Captain – I commend you. You have a quick mind and can analyze a situation at a moment’s notice. That’s what made you such a good officer. You know Cain was enlisted before he was given a field commission. He’s no more officer material than, well this glass I’m holding. You should have been the ranking officer of The Crusaders.” Still holding his glass, McCarthy made a half-quotation-mark gesture with his free hand around the term The Crusaders.

“Cain’s paid his dues. He’s been through a lot. Besides, he caught you, didn’t he?”

“He had help. Did you know he has the same powers as that Formilian woman, the one who can control electronic devices?”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s true. How else do you think he was able to capture me and defeat nearly all of my best commandos virtually single-handed? He has the power; they gave it to him as a reward for rescuing their princess, or whatever she is to them.”

“Then good for him.”

“Yes, but Captain, why hasn’t he offered this power to the rest of his team? Would that be something that would help all of you to be a more efficient fighting force? It’s because he wanted to keep it for himself, so he would be superior, even to you.”

“So what?” Henderson knew what McCarthy was trying to do, to turn him against Cain. It was insulting to Henderson that McCarthy would try such an obvious ploy on him. “Also, you’re not sure he won’t give us the same powers later on. He was a little busy after all trying to stop your fucking commandos from killing us all.”

“That’s true, but we’re getting a little off the subject.”

“I didn’t start this.”

“No you didn’t, but just let me draw you a scenario.” McCarthy emptied his glass and then took a deep breath. He looked Henderson straight in the eye and began: “Here’s my proposal: I give you the coordinates to Elision, then you doctor the ship’s log to indicate that the Phoenix was attacked by Kracori. They’ve already tried to kill me once over the past three months, and Cain knows this. He’ll believe they tracked me down again and attacked. You then take a shuttle off the ship and blow it up. I, in the meantime, will be in another shuttle heading in the opposite direction. You just say I was killed when the ship blew up.”

“Sounds great, McCarthy, let’s do it! That’s the best fucking plan I’ve ever heard.” Henderson said, mockingly. “Just one thing: there are about a dozen holes in your plan.”

“You mean the dozen other people aboard the ship?”

“For starters.”

“Well, Captain Henderson, let’s carry this out a little further. As the Kracori are attacking, I give you the coordinates, just so the bloody bastards will have to pay for killing me. You’re then the only person in the galaxy who knows the location of Elision, outside of the Kracori and the Klin, of course. You do realize that this information is the most valuable in the entire galaxy? Not only does Earth want to learn the location of the Kracori homeworld, but so do the Juireans. Either party would pay a frigging fortune for the information you will have.”

Henderson hesitated slightly before responding. He hadn’t thought about getting money for the information – maybe he should have. And McCarthy was right: the location on the Kracori homeworld was one of the most-sought after bits of information in the galaxy. “I can see selling the information to the Juireans – after all, the Kracori did destroy Juir. But I couldn’t really sell the information to the people back on Earth. That would make me out to be a royal asshole, kinda like you.”

“No, but you could certainly expect a reward, a finder’s fee if you will. Considering the value of this information, what do you think ten-percent or even twenty-percent as a reward would come to? Millions … billions? Not only that but think of the fame that will follow you. You would have options, Captain. Sell the information to the Juireans for Expansion credits and continue to live out here among the aliens – but on a planet of your own! Or return to Earth for a ticker-tape parade down Broadway, plus more money than you could ever spend in a dozen lifetimes.”

“Why don’t you negotiate something like that for yourself, McCarthy? Save all the enhanced-interrogation experts all the trouble.”

McCarthy nodded. “I could possibly do that. Maybe even negotiate to save my life. But then I’d have to go into hiding. You do realize that my name now carries with it a reputation even worse than Hitler’s? I’m an accomplice in the deaths of over a billion of my fellow Humans. For many, I’m considered even worse than the Klin, the Kracori and the Juireans combined. I betrayed my own people. No, Captain Henderson, I don’t think that is anyway to live. And let’s face the truth; your enhanced interrogators would probably get off on pulling this information out of me by the cruelest means possible. I’m sure there would be a very strong argument presented against granting me any kind of concession for my information. It just seems like such a waste letting this information go for free….”

Henderson was feeling sweaty and hot. His heart was pounding and the chair he was sitting in suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. Was he actually considering doing what McCarthy wanted? What kind of person did that make him? The idea of taking the information in exchange for McCarthy’s freedom seemed straight-forward enough; he had something of value he was willing to trade for his life. And why shouldn’t Henderson then benefit for giving the information to the Earth? Even though the authorities wanted McCarthy so they could make him pay for his crimes, the information he carried was much more important than revenge for crimes committed over ten years ago.

No, the only thing mucking up the whole plan was Jamal Dawson. He was the only other Human aboard the ship carrying McCarthy. The rest of the crew consisted of four aliens of some race he’d forgotten the name of who were piloting the ship, along with half-a-dozen of the gray Jakrean creatures, those bug-eyed things what were – or had been – the representation of all alien visitors to Earth in nearly every science fiction movie or abduction account in the past. Henderson had already proven it to himself – that like nearly all of his kind – alien life didn’t hold much worth. He’d already killed dozens since joining the Crusaders, even though he had been expecting to kill more when he’d mustered out to the galaxy five years before.

While still attached to the Human forces in the Expansion, he had dreamed of exciting space battles and laser sword-fights, the kind of which his childhood fantasies had been based. He had found no such thing. It was only after he joined Cain’s group that he saw any real action at all. But even that was limited and constrained.

In reality, his time out in the galaxy had been a complete letdown. Maybe it was time to return home? The only question was how would that homecoming be received? Would it be simply as another disillusioned soldier, returning home from a distant battlefield, alone and unappreciated? Or would it be as a conquering hero, bringing with him information containing one of the best-kept secrets in the galaxy?

If only Dawson wasn’t aboard!

“You’re thinking about Dawson, aren’t you?” McCarthy said, breaking into Henderson’s silent deliberations. “Isn’t it a small price to pay for such a great reward?”

“Shut up – I’m thinking!” Henderson shot back, angry with himself that he would even be considering McCarthy’s proposal. And then a thought struck him. “How do I even know if the coordinates you’ll give me are real or not? Knowing you, they could just be a bunch of random numbers you’ve pulled out of your ass!”

“Fair enough, and I’m prepared to give you a sample, something to prove my worth. At the end you’ll have part of the information, but not all of it. In time, the people on Earth might be able to narrow it down, but that would take time. And once you do have the coordinates, I will be out of bargaining chips. My value to you will be gone, and all the people of Earth would want me for at that point would be to pass judgment on a billion consecutive life-sentences, just to show that justice has been served. You could give it all to them on a silver platter – minus me, of course.”

“What’s this sample?”

“I will need access to the navigation charts.”

Henderson again hesitated. Could he trust McCarthy? The answer was obvious. And yet McCarthy was bargaining for his life, and for the past ten years he had confined his illegal activities to the Expansion, leaving the Humans alone. Maybe he just wanted to remain out here, to be eventually forgotten among the stars.

“So what if I go along with all this and then you reappear sometime. I said you were killed in the explosion, but now you suddenly show up alive. Won’t that look suspicious?”

“Just tell them you thought I had died. Once the Kracori attacked and you had the information about Elision, you felt it was more important to get safely away with the information than to verify if I had died in the explosion. Besides, you can always say McCarthy’s a resourceful guy. He’s escaped from situations before, this was just one more. I think they’ll believe you.”

Damn, he was making it difficult to say no. “I’ll activate the computer here; that will give us access to the nav charts. If what you show me convinces me that you will give me the full coordinates, then I’ll think about your offer. But why can’t I just bring Dawson in on this? I’m sure he’d like to share in the reward, too.”

“But are you willing to share, Captain? And are you willing to take the risk that he won’t just freak out and go running to bloody Cain, or to anyone else. I didn’t know you two were such good friends?”

We’re not, Henderson thought. We were thrown together and just kind of stayed that way once all the other Humans left. We never really even hang out….

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Mark Henderson moved to the small table with the inlaid computer keyboard and inset monitor in the bulkhead. He turned on the device and punched in his security code. Every stateroom aboard the ship had such a similar computer, but Henderson had placed a security lock on the one in McCarthy’s. He didn’t want him attempting to do … well anything, on the computer.

Once the nav program was accessed, McCarthy came over and sat down at the desk. He quickly entered a set of coordinates and a region of space appeared. Henderson hadn’t seen the numbers being entered – he’d typed them too fast. And then McCarthy zoomed in on the region of space displayed. The image on the screen showed a blaze of stars, obviously within a stellar nebulae somewhere; there were just too many for this to be a normal region of space. And then he pointed.

“Do you see anything odd about this section right here?”

Henderson was not a very experienced space navigator; as a matter fact, he had absolutely no experience with it at all. He was a soldier, not a pilot and not a scientist. But he did see that the region of space McCarthy was pointing to seemed to be devoid of stars, which seemed very strange considering the neighborhood it was in.

“It looks like an empty space, no stars at all.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. The Klin have doctored the star charts that everyone uses to hide the location of Elision. It’s located there, within that void region.”

“That’s it? That’s where they are?”

“In that area. But it’s still rather large, containing over forty stars, but Elision’s in there.” McCarthy then pressed another button on the keyboard and a display appeared: Ecliptic plus 9, Sector 22.

Henderson felt like such an idiot. He knew the coordinates meant something, but he didn’t know what. He had never piloted a spaceship himself, nor had he ever had to worry about plugging in destination coordinates.

McCarthy saw the blank expression on Henderson’s face. “Those are the first two coordinates, out of four, that you need to plot a point in space.”

“So what are the others?” Henderson asked, trying to mask his ignorance.

“The other two are the distance from the galactic core and from Juir. These first two indicate the relative distance up or down from the galactic plane, and what sector it’s in. The Juireans cut the galaxy up into ninety-two segments, so this location is in sector twenty-two and nine degrees above the plane. Once you have the two distance figures, you’ll know exactly where the planet’s located.”

“This isn’t enough,” Henderson said. “That’s still an awful lot of space where they could be.”

“That’s why I’m going to reveal one more number. It’s the distance of the planet from the galactic core.” He pressed another button and the number sixty-two appeared.”

“Sixty-two light years from the center!”

“Sixty-two units,” McCarthy corrected. “But the conversion to light years is simple. It’s closer to eight-thousand light years.”

“Oh.” Damn, he had a lot to learn … if he wanted to bother. Otherwise he could take McCarthy up on his offer and just return home and leave all this Buck Rogers shit behind him.

“This will now give the people back on Earth an arc to follow. Somewhere along this line, in sector twenty-two, is the planet Elision. Just one more number and you’ll know exactly where.” McCarthy hesitated and turned to look at Henderson, who was now leaning over McCarthy’s shoulder, looking at the screen. “You know what you have to do to get the last number….”

Henderson stood up straight. “I still have to think about it,” he said soberly.

“Don’t take too long. We’ll be at Juir in three days, and the closer we get, the harder it’s going to be to disguise the fact that Kracori did not attack the ship. We’re pretty far out now, without a lot of witnesses. I’d say you have about twelve hours before we’re too deep into Juirean space.”

Mark Henderson, formerly Captain Mark Henderson, U.S. Army, nodded briefly and then pressed the key on the computer that would relock its operation. He then turned and walked from the room without saying another word. Outside in the corridor, he punched in the code that would lock the door to McCarthy’s stateroom and then fell against metal wall next to the door.

Can I do this? As he had thought before, the exchange of information for freedom was a pretty straight-forward offer. Yet in order to cover his tracks, Dawson would have to die. And then a small grin appeared on Henderson’s face. Hell, what if it had been Dawson who answered McCarthy’s summons? I have no doubt what he would do….

And with that thought, Mark Henderson made up his mind.

Chapter 30

Twenty days after Nigel’s attack – and nine days after his death – Arieel Bol and Convor Ton’al Ona arrived on Pyrum-3. This was only a few days into Arieel’s twenty-eight-day Rites cycle, so there was no fear of her not making it back to Formil in time. They had come at Arieel’s bequest, ostensibly to offer Adam an award for the saving of her life.

In reality, she wanted to see Adam again. Even though the Human was nothing like the males she normally associated with, there was still something about him that attracted her. She would work through this, knowing that Adam had chosen his female Human companion as a permanent mate. And it was apparent – even though not from the research she’d done concerning Human mating rituals – the pair intended not to stray from this arrangement.

But there was something a lot more important than her libido she wanted to discuss with Adam. He would find it shocking, yet it was a conversation that had to be made.

* * *

Adam was as nervous as a school boy before his first county-wide debate. He and Sherri were standing on a raised platform that had been constructed in the massive hangar at his base on Pyrum-3, and crowding the cavernous room were dignitaries from the New Expansion, including the Administrator himself, Kroekus of Silea. There was also a smattering of Humans there as well, part of the diplomatic mission on Juir who had accompanied Kroekus to Pyrum. Adam’s team was there, too, what was left of them, all standing behind him on the platform. All in all, there were over a hundred beings in the hangar, and they were all looking at him.

But as he thought about it, he realized that wasn’t entirely true. As a matter of fact, at that very moment very few eyes were on him; instead they were all focused on the incredible figure of Speaker Arieel Bol as she slowly approached the platform between two rows of seated dignitaries. Arieel and the High Celebrant, Convor Ton’al Ona, had come to Pyrum-3 to present to Adam the highest honor Formilian society had to offer – the Crest of Honor – for his success at saving the life of the Formilian Speaker. To him, it was all just a big photo-op, and he was feeling very out of place standing there on the platform. He had just been doing his job – and trying to save his own life in the process.

But the person who was really making him feel uneasy was the one standing a step behind him and to his right – Sherri Valentine. As Arieel approached, her dark, almond-shaped eyes now locked on Adam, she was looking as incredibly beautiful as ever, and Adam knew Sherri would be scrutinizing his every move, his every glance, while in the presence to the Speaker. Sherri had already admitted that even she considered Arieel to be probably the most beautiful and seductive female she’d ever seen, of any race. So what was he – a mere male – to do in light of that fact? It would take incredible restraint on his part not to completely screw up this entire encounter.

But Adam did have one ace up his sleeve – Convor. Even though the High Celebrant was easily sixty years of age, he was still an incredible example of virile manhood. (Adam chose not to bother with changing his thinking to Formilian-hood anymore; it just didn’t matter. The old guy was simply a hunk, and he knew Sherri would notice.)

So Adam would himself be on the lookout for any reaction from Sherri to Convor’s presence, ready to use it as a counter argument against any criticisms she may later send his way. It would have been simpler if they’d just mailed me the god-damn award!

“Greetings Mr. Cain,” Arieel said warmly as she stopped in front of him, her voice strong and projecting, so the entire chamber could hear. “It is very good to see you again.”

“Same here,” Adam stuttered, his voice already crackling and revealing his nerves. Arieel locked eyes with him for longer than was necessary, a sly smile curling up the corners of her ample lips.

Eventually Arieel broke eye contact with Adam and looked over at Sherri. Both females were about the same height, yet one blonde, the other dark haired. “You must be Adam’s mate, Sherri Valentine,” Arieel said with small bow. “You have such a lovely name, almost like that of a song.”

Sherri’s mouth fell open, as she found herself at a loss for words. Finally she was able to blabber her own awkward reply. “Oh, thank you, Ms. Speaker, or Arieel. I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you?”

Arieel flashed one of the brightest, warmest smiles Adam had ever seen. “Please call me Arieel. We are all friends here.”

Convor then stepped up and greeted first Adam and then Sherri just as warmly. Adam could see Sherri’s checks go flush as the tall, barrel-chested, deeply tanned hunk of maleness leaned in close to her and kissed her on the cheek. Adam had never seen Convor do that with any female before but figured he must have considered the gesture a common greeting of Human females. Whether or not this was the case, it caused Sherri to wobble slightly before she regained her composure.

Sherri looked over at Adam and smiled, yet her eyes said it all: Holy crap! We’re both in trouble, aren’t we? Adam just returned the smile.

Arieel then stepped back some and straightened her back. “Adam Cain,” she began formally, “I have been hard at work petitioning the Order to award you a special honor afforded to you and to you only. Even though Speakers in the past have faced grave danger in their lives, in my case it was the worst ever encountered in the entire two-thousand years of the Speaker’s existence. If it wasn’t for you, I would have surely perished, and even our entire way of life may have been compromised.”

Adam chanced a quick glance Convor’s way and noticed from his expression the High Celebrant was not sharing in the joy of the occasion. Convor knew the truth; the truth about how little Adam cared for the Formilian way of life, and how close he had come to bringing it all crashing down.

“So here, my friend Adam Cain, I present to you the Formilian Crest of Honor, the first ever given to a non-Formilian, and the highest award my people have to offer.” Arieel stepped forward and placed a ribbon over his head with a large, silver medallion hanging from it.

She then turned to the audience so they could all see Adam’s glimmering award. The crowd began to clap – or at least half of them did. The other half produced a cacophony of dissonant sounds ranging from hoots to screeches, as each represented race had their own distinct form of expressing congratulations.

Then Convor stepped up to say a few words to the audience, to be followed by Kroekus, and then Ambassador John Daulton, the highest ranking Human in the New Expansion.

You look nervous, Adam Cain. Try to relax.

Adam’s eyes blinked several times as he heard the words echo in his mind. He was sure he heard them, but they seemed to come out of nowhere … and everywhere.

He looked around the podium. Sherri was still flushed in the cheeks and staring, mesmerized, at the view of Convor’s back, or more correctly, his butt. Next he turned to his left and saw Arieel looking at him with one of her trademark seductive smiles.

Don’t be alarmed, the voice said again. It is only me, Arieel.

Adam’s eyes grew wide and his gaze locked on the stunning alien. What the hell’s going on? he thought.

Just try to imagine we are talking traditionally. Use the skills you’ve acquired until now to imagine this. You can do it.

Are we talking telepathically?

Of course, Adam, how else could you hear my thoughts?

You said you couldn’t read my mind! Adam was angry, as well as a little embarrassed.

I am not reading your thoughts. We are communicating through our Gifts.

Adam’s mouth fell open.

Yes, I know you carry within you a Gift, just as I carry. Even though it is an affront to my religion and a threat to our very way of life, I have come to accept the fact that you have it, and that – regrettable – it has been deemed a benefit to the Formilian people.

What do you mean? And you knew about my implant?

Of course I knew. I knew the moment it was born in your body.

Why didn’t you tell me?

Oh, this is a secret even the Order does not know. Throughout the long history of the Speakers, we have been able to communicate with other wearers of the Gift, but we have chosen not to reveal this to the others. It is how my mother and I communicated throughout the years, as I was trained, and up until the very moment she relinquished her contact with Mislin and Sufor. She taught me a lot during our private conversations, and I am sure the loss of our intimate contact is what hastened her death upon losing our link. It has been the same for nearly every other mother-Speaker pair.

And now we’re linked?

Yes. This is such a unique occurrence that I hesitated at first to reveal it to you. Yet in light of recent developments, I felt it necessary.

Adam looked over at Sherri almost in a panic and saw her looking at him, a frown on her forehead. “Are you all right?” she asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little anxiety attack being up here in front of all these people, I guess.”

“You’ve done this before, Mr. Hero of the Human Race. What’s so different now?” Sherri looked past him and at Arieel, who was watching the two of them with an amused expression.

Does she know? Adam asked through his mind.

How could she? She does not possess the Gift.

“I’m fine,” Adam repeated, patting Sherri on the shoulder. “It will pass.”

Sherri frowned a little deeper, but then slowly looked away and back to Convor, who was still speaking.

You do not have to look at me for us to communicate, Arieel’s voice told him.

Thanks, that helps a lot, Adam thought. Now what do we do?

We are at a critical crossroads in the affairs of the galaxy. Even with the creature McCarthy’s death, we do know that his technicians now possess the knowledge to construct more of his primitive devices. This could be catastrophic to the Formilians, as well as the structure of the entire galaxy. If the knowledge and use of these counterfeit Gifts becomes widespread, it could alter everything.

I agree; that was one of the reasons I insisted I get the implant – the Gift. I knew McCarthy was on the verge of learning how to build one, and I needed to be a counterforce against him having it.

Adam, we both know that it was also the power you sought as well.

Adam looked out at the adoring crowd, now beginning to stir restlessly as Kroekus took the stage. He wondered if she could also read his interior thoughts, his own deep musings.

I sense a caution on your part Adam. We can only communicate when you chose to communicate. The Gift will know the difference between a public thought and a private one. So, once again, please try to relax. This is a wonderful Gift you’ve been given, as unique as the award I just gave you.

So can we only do this within the range of the device?

Technically, yes. But remember, we can control nearly all electronic devices within that range, including conventional communication devices as well as CW links. If you wish, your thoughts to me can attach themselves to any other communication, and I will hear you.

Can McCarthy’s device communicate with us, too?

No. That device was of a completely foreign design, a blasphemous design, not given by the Gods. We may be able to detect its presence, but we cannot communicate with it, nor can we control it. This is of grave concern to me.

Adam smiled, while still looking out at the crowd. So it’s just you and me against the universe and the forces of evil?

Exactly, my friend Adam. I fear that this knowledge will get out and then we will have to fight constantly to keep it under control.

But Arieel, you’re the Speaker of the Formilian Coalition. You can’t be out wandering the galaxy searching for bad guys with a medallion hanging around their necks.

No, but I can help coordinate the search for such devices, as I’m sure they will appear. But it will be up to you to be the tip of the sword.

What if I need help? Can I bring in others?

You mean your mate, do you not?

Possibly.

We shall see. If the need arises, then of course. Our primary objective will be to keep the existence of such devices a secret for as long as possible.

But Arieel, I am leaving for Earth in a short while, I may be gone for as long as a year or more.

With McCarthy’s death, you should have time to do what you must to preserve your mating pair. We will still be able to communicate, and with the new ships you possess, transit times between Human space and Expansion space has been greatly reduced.

There was a deep silence in the depths of his mind before Arieel’s voice came through once more.

Adam Cain, we are at the beginning of something very new, something neither one of us has ever experienced before. We will learn as we go forward. I know you are a neophyte in the ways of the Gift, having only discovered its most basic functions. I will help when I can, to guide you to new levels of awareness and of control. Go to your Earth, take time to recharge your spirit energies, and then return. There is much work to be done before we can both truly find peace.

Adam looked over at Arieel and they shared a long, serious look. She was right. If the knowledge of McCarthy’s device got out, then it would be as Adam had predicted – a mass rush to build and acquire these devices by everyone, friend and foe alike. He knew that until now all he’d really used the device for was to turns things on and off. But he also knew it was capable of so much more. It took Arieel ten years and more of constant training to get where she is now, and she’s still learning. It would take Adam even longer. It would be a solitary journey, smoothed occasionally by the ephemeral voice of Arieel Bol – unless he could bring on a partner.

He looked at Sherri again. She was also looking at him, now an expression of nervous concern. She knew his mind was elsewhere – literally – and she would be at a loss as to understand why. But he also knew she would focus on the logical target of his distractions – Arieel Bol. Somehow, he would have to put her mind at ease.

Chapter 31

The day after the award ceremony, Arieel and Convor left Pyrum-3 for Formil. Kroekus and the Ambassador left as well, and soon the base was nearly deserted, as was its normal state of being.

Sherri had been very warm towards Adam over the past twenty-four hours, trying her best to ignore the obvious chemistry that existed between Adam and Arieel. It also made her worry about the plans they had made only a week before.

“Are you sure you still want to go?” Sherri asked as they cuddled on the couch in Adam’s apartment. “I know it hasn’t been six months, but after all the crap we’ve been through over the past few weeks, I really need a vacation. And you did promise.”

“I know, and I’m with you, Sherri. I could certainly use a vacation, too. Let’s go – let’s pack up and head back to Earth, at least for a while. It will be good to be in a place where aliens aren’t trying to kill you every few seconds, someplace where we can just relax.”

“Exactly! I once said it was boring there, well that’s just what I need; someplace boring, where nothing happens … at least nothing involving aliens and galactic empires and ancient vendettas.”

“Earth sounds like just the ticket – probably the most boring place in the entire galaxy these days.”

Sherri moved in close to Adam. “Now there’s that other thing – that secret you won’t share with me. I know it has something to do with you and Arieel. Don’t try to deny it; I saw how the two of you have some sort of special connection, and it’s something more than could have developed over seven days onboard a starship while running for your lives. So what is it? Do you two have a love-child together, or what?” She attempted a feeble smile.

Adam raised his eyebrows at the question – and surprised at just how close to the truth the statement was, in a manner of speaking. Sherri saw his expression change and her eyes grew wide. “No way; I was only kidding!”

“It’s not what you think,” Adam said, gently taking hold of her shoulders. He looked her straight in the eyes and his expression grew serious. “You have to promise not to say a word to anyone. This is deadly serious – I mean it.”

Sherri was taken aback by Adam’s dark tone. She nodded nervously. “Okay, if you want to know then I’ll tell you – no, I’ll show you.”

He then pushed her away slightly, creating a separation between them. Then he held out his right hand, as his face relaxed and his eyes stared at her without seeing. Just then Sherri began to notice faint streaks of light zipping around in the space between them. Soon the streaks became more prominent, now more than just an illusion; they were real, and dancing around in the air like a frenetic swarm of fireflies on a warm Southern night. The tiny bursts of light began to congregate just above Adam’s still extended hand, beginning to form the shape of a ball just above his palm. The ball of light grew brighter until both their faces were aglow with sparkles and bursts of white.

Sherri’s eyes were now wide with shock and wonder. She was mesmerized by the swirling mass of electric light now hovering in Adam’s hand. As she stared at the ball, it all became suddenly clear. She opened her mouth and simply said, “No freaking way!”

A wide smile began to stretch across Adam’s face. This was the dawning of a new age for him and Sherri, as well as for the entire Human race….

Epilogue

Nomar Polimic, Langril of the Kracori, had never been this far from his home. He looked out the observation dome aboard the mightiest ship the Kracori had ever built – a behemoth nearly half-a-mile long – and saw the star known as Oiferin blazing in the distance. Somewhere out there nearby in the emptiness of space was the planet Duelux, which would place him well within the Far Arm and an area of the galaxy claimed by the primitive Humans.

The journey here had been long and tedious, but one Polimic felt he had to make personally. Near here, on a dead ball of rock orbiting a white dwarf, his fleet was gathering. It would be from this base that the ships would launch that would attack the Human planet of Earth, raining nuclear fire down upon its surface until the very rock boiled. After that, there would still be Humans left in the galaxy – millions perhaps – but they would be without a home, with all their history gone for eternity. The Legend of Earth would be broken. Almost like what the Kracori had done to the Juireans….

Even though the Kracori forces had not been able to stay on Juir long enough to complete their sterilization campaign, the creative genius of the local commander had helped them get closer to achieving their goal. He had towed a small asteroid to Juir and then dropped it on the planet. The resulting damage lasted even until today, with temperatures on Juir still ten degrees below normal. Estimates put it at twenty to fifty years in the future before Juir would return to the way it had been before the Kracori arrived. But that was only the climate of Juir. As far as the Legend of the Juirean people, that was gone forever.

However, it would be millennia before Earth would ever recover – if even then.

The Klin Pleabaen, Wesselian Velsum was in the process of shuttling over from his own massive flagship to meet with Polimic. The slender, silver creature was in the region overseeing the supply of warships his people were providing the race called the Jusepi, in preparation for their own revolt against their Human masters. This revolt, in Polimic’s opinion, was long overdue and he wanted to personally question Velsum about the delay.

Pleabaen Velsum was escorted to the observation deck, where Polimic hoped he would be impressed by the size and scope of the great warship. Even though it had been the Klin who had taught the Kracori how to build starships, Polimic’s was larger than anything the Klin had ever attempted.

Velsum entered the room and approached the Kracori, a neutral expression on his face. He did not look around at the blaze of stars above them, but rather stepped up to Polimic and bowed slightly. “Greetings Langril Nomar Polimic, this is our second face-to-face meeting. I hope this occasion finds you well?”

Polimic neither bowed nor nodded, vaguely annoyed by the formalities of the Klin greeting. “Yes, I am well. Our two ships were in the same vicinity, so I thought it appropriate we meet again in person.”

“I agree. CW communications are very effective, yet they lack the intimacy of being in the same room as another.”

“Have you had a chance to survey my ship, Velsum? It is the largest in either of our fleets.”

“It is impressive,” Velsum answered without sincerity. “It is similar in size to a Juirean Class-4, or the Human’s Reagan Starcruiser. I hear the Humans now have a vessel twice the size of the Reagan-class, and of course the Juireans once boasted two Class-7’s.”

Polimic could feel the veins in his neck begin to pulsate. How dare this weak, arrogant creature insult the pride of the Kracori fleet? He may be able to sight examples of larger ships built by other races, but he could not give any examples from his own.

“Velsum, I have noticed that the massacre we spoke of several months back has not yet occurred. Why not? That event is needed to initiate the Human-Jusepi War.”

“That is correct, Polimic. The incident will take place when the timing is right.”

“I thought the timing was right back then?”

“It was not,” Velsum moved to the nearest edge of the glass dome and looked out the shining star nearby. “We could not initiate the war prematurely. It would not serve our purpose to have the Humans defeat the Jusepi before the location of Elision was revealed; otherwise they would have a battle-ready fleet assembled which they could send against your homeworld. The more time we have to arm and train the Jusepi, the greater damage they can inflict on the Humans. We will continue to supply the Jusepi until they are ready … or until the location of Elision is revealed.”

“We will never know for sure when that time will come. McCarthy escaped us once and since then he has not been detected again. He may never reveal the location, in which case we will be at the mercy of the Jusepi and your excruciatingly slow operations.”

Velsum turned back to look at Polimic. “That is not entirely true. Our spies have just now reported that the Humans now know of Elision’s location.”

Polimic was stunned – and scared. This was the news his people had feared for over ten years, the time when the Humans would learn of their location and send their near-inexhaustible military strength against them. During the past decade, the Kracori had also been building up their forces, yet their resources were limited. The Humans, on the other hand, had built a small empire within the Far Arm and were pulling raw materials out of a dozen mining worlds. Their fleet was estimated to be near five thousand warships, and as Velsum had stated, included some truly massive vessels.

And now they knew the location of Polimic’s homeworld.

He and the Kracori race would now be fully committed to this new course of action. It was now a matter of life or death.

“Then you can start the war, the war here!” Polimic exclaimed.

“Yes, it is time,” Velsum agreed. “However, the Jusepi will still be no match for the Humans, but the distraction will be enough. Soon the Humans will pull their forces from around Earth and send them to this region. That will clear the space for your units to attack.”

Velsum walked up to the taller Kracori, until he was only a foot or two away and well within Polimic’s circle of comfort. “You must now hasten your preparations, Langril Polimic. The war between the Humans and the Jusepi will be brief, and there is a very good possibility that the Humans will learn that the Klin have supplied their new enemy with ships and weapons. After the initial Jusepi ships are destroyed, and yet more appear, it will become evident that they are receiving assistance. This will alert the Humans to the fact that we are once again in their region, and they will take precautions. Your attack must have taken place by then.

“Soon a deadly darkness will fall upon the face of the Earth. It will be from your ships in the skies of Earth, Polimic, causing the starlight to fall. It is starting; the time for the destruction of Earth is near.”

The End

Cain’s Crusaders

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

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