The Andromeda Mission

The Human Chronicles Saga #19

T.R. Harris

An Adam Cain Adventure

Contents

Copyright 2017 by T.R. Harris

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Cast of Characters

The Alien Games Trilogy:

The Human Chronicles Saga

The Andromeda Mission

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

Epilogue

Look for the next thrilling adventure in

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Copyright 2017 by T.R. Harris

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

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Contact

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Saga

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

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 George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

Cast of Characters…

Adam Cain:

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

Riyad Tarazi:

Another abductee by the evil aliens known as the Klin, Riyad was once a high-ranking freedom fighter/terrorist back on Earth. Once free to roam an area of the Milky Way known as the Fringe, Riyad deftly uses his skills to climb the ranks of the Fringe Pirates, before becoming their feared and ruthless leader. Then he meets Adam Cain—first as enemies, then as friends—and his whole life changes. Throughout the years, the two friends have saved each other’s butts more times than they want to admit. Now they’re the most-deadly Human duo in the Milky Way Galaxy.

Sherri Valentine:

Once a young and carefree veterinary student in Phoenix, Arizona, Sherri took a fateful jog one evening and ended up like the others—as an alien abductee. Yet once she escapes, she goes on to make a very good living as an alien assassin, working for various cartels and criminal organizations in the Fringe. After hooking up with Adam and Riyad, she’s gone on to become one of the ‘Big Three’ Human heroes, known and feared throughout the galaxy. She’s beautiful, pragmatic—and deadly.

Kaylor & Jym:

These two aliens were dealt a strange hand of fate when they rescued Adam Cain from certain death aboard a booby-trapped Klin starship. Over the years, the pair of galactic scoundrels have accompanied Adam and the Humans on many an adventure, and in the process become Adam’s closest alien friends.

Copernicus Smith:

Passing himself off as a pragmatic starship repairman—specializing in servicing the Milky Way’s criminal element—Copernicus hides a secret which makes him one of the deadliest Human operatives in the galaxy. Affiliated now with Adam Cain, he’s become a vital part of the team, helping to round out its lethal effectiveness.

Arieel Bol:

Recognized as ‘The Most Beautiful Female in the Galaxy,” Arieel is the quasi-religious leader of the planet Formil. She’s also the mother of Lila, an immortal, mutant genius, who was the result of an inter-species union between her and Adam Cain—something the specialists said could never happen. Now as on-again, off-again lovers, Arieel and Adam are the only two beings in the galaxy carrying Artificial Telepathy Devices (ATD’s) implanted under their skin. These brain-interface modules enable the control of electronic devices, such as lights, doors, computers—and energy weapons—as well as telepathic communications between the two. Arieel’s arrogant, spoiled—and drop-dead gorgeous.

The Alien Games Trilogy:

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Adam Cain and his team face off against the Nuoreans—invaders from the Andromeda Galaxy—whose entire society is built around gladiator-like contests, between not only their own people, but alien races as well. Seeking new challenges, the Nuoreans find a way to link with the Milky Way through the use of a gigantic gravity-well, making jumps between the two galaxies in mere seconds.

Unlike any enemy Adam has ever faced, the Nuoreans revel in the challenge of combat and gamesmanship. They even welcome defeat, as this only means there’s a worthy opponent for them to out-maneuver and overcome. They have no fear or anxiety. To the Nuoreans, there is no such thing as defeat—just delayed victory.

Early in their plans to invade the Milky Way, the Nuoreans recognized Humans as their ultimate challenge—and Adam Cain as the top player (warrior) they must face. Now Adam and his team not only have to save themselves from the Andromeda invaders, but all the other advanced species in the galaxy.

And to complicate matters, Adam must also rescue his kidnapped mutant daughter Lila from an alien race over three billion years old who possess technology far beyond anything that exists today. The mission seems impossible…but it has to be undertaken. It’s just what heroes do.

Together, Adam and his band of intrepid warriors take on their greatest enemy—and journey to where no Human has gone before.

The Alien Games Trilogy of The Human Chronicles Saga is a thrill-a-minute space opera ride of galactic proportion…and only one in a series of multi-book adventures featuring Adam Cain—The Alien with an Attitude.

Check out the other mini-series within

The Human Chronicles Saga:

The Human Chronicles Saga

The Fringe Worlds & Beyond

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

The Human Enemy

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

The Sol-Kor War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

Revenge & Redemption

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

The Alien Games Trilogy

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

The Human Chronicles Saga

…now available in convenient, bite-size mini-series.

Available exclusively on Amazon.com

and Kindle Unlimited.

The Andromeda Mission

Adam Cain is an Alien with an Attitude.

His story continues….

1

“Wake up, Luke. There’s been a disturbance in the Force.”

Adam pushed Riyad away. “Leave me alone; I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sleep later, young Skywalker. It’s time to get up and kill aliens.”

Adam opened an eye—just one. “How many?”

Riyad flashed his trademark smile. “Hordes, my friend. Tall ones, short ones and in all the colors in the rainbow.”

“You promise?”

Riyad backed away, feigning indignation. “Luke…I am your father. Would I lie to you?”

Now fully awake, Adam sat up on the bed. “Now that’s a disgusting thought.”

“You could do worse than my golden bronze skin-tone and heart-melting smile.”

Adam grinned. “I take it we have a new gravity wave?” He stood up, feeling refreshed and anxious.

“Yes…and a strong one.”

“How far?”

“The report came through a couple of minutes ago. Command estimates we’re about two hundred light-years away. And it’s a tight schedule. This one might work, if you still think this is the best way to go?”

A moment later, Adam Cain and Riyad Tarazi were headed for the bridge of the Najmah Fayd. “I’d rather try this than a couple of thousand trans-dimensional jumps to the midpoint generator,” Adam said. “If anything went wrong on the way, we’d be trapped in one-and-a-half-million light-years of open space.”

“So hitching a ride with the Nuoreans over to Andromeda is a better idea?”

“We’ve been through this before, Riyad. As soon as we pop into their galaxy, we’ll make a quick jump away from any bad guys in the area.”

“It could be three minutes or more while the batteries recharge sitting in the middle of an enemy fleet.”

Adam smiled back at his friend. “Yeah, that could be…stimulating. Certainly better than a hot cup of coffee. Speaking of which, I need one. I’ll meet you on the bridge.”

“Hurry, the party can’t start without you, Mein Fuhrer.”

* * *

Adam entered the bridge two minutes later with a cup of coffee in his hand and a spring in his step. This was the moment the team had been waiting for. All the other gravity waves detected so far had been too distant to reach in one jump. By the time they arrived, the transit’s return pulse was already gone, along with any waiting Nuorean invaders. That last part was fortunate—and disappointing. That meant the entry point was dead and the aliens would realign the midpoint generator to a new location on the edge of the Milky Way. For four long months they’d done nothing but chase their tail across half the galaxy.

But two hundred light-years was a walk-in-the-park for a trans-dimensional jump starship like the Najmah Fayd; they could make that in a single hop. The only question was what kind of reception would they get at the other end?

Kaylor surrendered the pilot seat to Adam, taking the second seat instead. In the past, the Belsonian muleship-driver had been considered the superior pilot. But recently something had changed. Adam was just a little bit quicker, a little more prescient at the controls. Adam knew why; the others mistakenly chalked it up to the alien’s advancing age.

“The wave was detected sixty-one hours after its creation,” Riyad reported from the comm station to Adam’s left. “Once the techies were able to triangulate the location, it’s left us with only an hour to get on station before the next transit pulse.”

“First wave in the sequence?” Adam asked.

“That’s affirmative. If there’s a second transit, we should be able to catch it.”

A month ago, the team had spent six days sitting in the middle of an entry point, waiting for it to be reactivated. It never was. This confirmed their suspicion that only when enemy ships were present would a repeat transit take place. If the aliens had already bolted for the interior of the galaxy it meant the entry point was abandoned.

The gravity generators of the midpoint station require three days to recharge, since it takes a lot of power to create the pair of super-massive blackholes needed to link space across two-and-a-half-million light-years. Once created, however, space between the two opposing points would be drawn to the midpoint. Then in the blink of an eye, polarity was flipped, allowing the opposing points to switch places. The generators would then be shut down, allowing the space/time continuum to return to normal. In the process, what had once been in Andromeda was now in the Milky Way…and vice versa. The resulting surge of returning space was what created the ripple effect of the gravity waves.

First detected over six months ago, the waves were now monitored as best they could by an array of several thousand passive buoys laid along the leading edge of the galaxy closest to Andromeda. But the Milky Way was a huge place. It would take a million more buoys to make for timely detection of the shockwaves, at least enough for allied forces to arrive on station to counter the incoming alien war fleets.

For now, the desperate people of the Milky Way were fighting a losing battle. Just when they had a bead on a new Nuorean entry point, the aliens would shut it down and shift to a new location. The difference could be as little as a few hundred light-years, all the way to ten thousand or more—and only the Nuoreans knew where the next entry point would appear.

By consensus, the midpoint generators were the problem. And it was Adam’s mission to take them out…by whatever means necessary.

Adam swiveled his chair around and looked at Sherri Valentine, seated at the nav station, the tiny bear-like alien Jym at her elbow. “Can you get us in close without being spotted?”

“Already plotted,” she answered. “There’s a star system about half-a-light out. We should be able to hide our arrival and slip in for a closer look after we land.”

Her expression was anything but enthusiastic. A year ago, she and Copernicus Smith had accidently been sucked into the Andromeda Galaxy through the very process Adam’s was trying to replicate. It was by sheer luck the pair made it back. The prospect of a replay wasn’t something she was looking forward to.

Adam looked next to Copernicus at the weapon’s console. The two men shared a nod. No matter how this turned out, there was a good chance there would be some shooting along the way. Coop was ready.

Everyone strapped in, their expressions conveying the shared belief that this jump was different from the others. This could be it. Within minutes they could be in another galaxy, with no back-up, no quick-extraction plan, and no friendly forces to help. Once committed, there would be no turning back. Either they succeed…or they never come home.

If the six people on the bridge of the Najmah Fayd were having second thoughts, none chose to voice them. Instead they turned stern-faced to their stations, resolute in their mission.

Call them heroes if you like, but someone had to step up to the plate. Besides, Adam didn’t trust anyone else but him and his team to get the job done.

With a firming of his jaw, Adam Cain activated the controls to the trans-dimensional jump drive.

A greenish glow filled the forward viewport—the sign of a transit to a parallel dimension. A moment later the glow vanished, after which the Najmah Fayd spent the next twenty-four seconds in an alien universe—a universe separated by only the width of a hydrogen atom from their own. After a slight shift in the return portal location, the glow returned. There was a sensation of nausea throughout the jump, but Adam’s team was used to it. Even still, when the stars of their home universe reappeared through the viewport, they breathed a sigh of relief. Each jump into a foreign dimension was a crap shoot. They had no idea where they would appear—in open space, or the middle of a star. There was no way of telling; they didn’t carry navigational charts for parallel universes.

But now they were back, two hundred light-years from where they had been only a minute before…and a hundred thousand miles from a fleet of several hundred alien warcraft.

* * *

“Shields up!” Coop cried out. “Some of the gray bastards have already fired on us.”

“I’ve located the entry point!” Sherri Valentine yelled out from the navigation station.

“Too soon to jump,” Adam pointed out. “We can’t sit in the middle of a transit zone for an hour.”

“We cannot say here, either,” Kaylor added. “The Nuoreans have a protective screen out to a light-year around the entry point.”

“How long until we can jump?”

“Seventy-seconds…give or take a lifetime,” Riyad replied.

The Najmah Fayd rocked as the first plasma bolts impacted the diffusion shields.

“Second round incoming,” Copernicus reported. “We can handle one more full charge. After that, the shields could fail.”

Adam scanned his active screen. There were hostiles everywhere. He cranked up the maneuvering well and shot farther into the stellar system Sherri had placed them in, the one swarming with enemy warcraft. It wasn’t her fault. The Nuoreans were serious about this entry point. It was located in an obscure region of the galaxy, lightly populated and poorly defended. They could bring in three or more fleets before having to break off. That many ships in one contingent would be hard to counter. They could stake claim to half an arm of the galaxy with a force that large.

As Adam guided the Najmah Fayd into the star system, the cluster of alien warships following becoming a bright mass of contacts on their six, their gravity signatures melding into one. The dominant star in the system was a main sequence yellow, about three times the mass of the Sun. There were the requisite rocky inner worlds, but none classified as habitable. No help—in the form of allied starships—would be lifting from their surfaces.

Adam checked the chronograph on the bulkhead. He still had fifty-one minutes to kill before he could safely jump over to the transit zone. He knew of history-altering space battles that didn’t last that long. He could always jump to another location, but before making the final leap to the TZ they would have to make sure they could safely land without crashing into another starship. And that meant a close-in recon.

“They’re coming from in-system now,” Riyad reported, “trying to box us in. Might be a good time to exit stage left.”

“Are we ready?” Adam asked Kaylor.

“Fully-charged.”

“Where to?” Sherri asked.

“Take us to the other side of the entry point. We still need a look at the TZ. We want to be in the middle, and not along the edge. Too risky.”

“You’re good to go.”

Adam jumped the ship.

As he was expecting, there were Nuoreans here as well, but the defensive screen they’d established was beyond this new location. Once inside the main defense line, the enemy ships became scarcer.

That didn’t mean they were out of hot water. Two main-line battlecruisers were changing course, heading their way. With three minutes required to recharge the TD batteries, the Najmah Fayd was trapped in normal space, operating on standard gravity-drive, just like any other starship.

Without warning, Adam gunned it, racing headlong toward the enemy warships. Flashes from bolt launches lit up the hulls of the invaders, as six fiery balls of plasma headed their way.

“Hold on,” Adam ordered.

The inertia compensators within the Najmah Fayd were rated AAA—the best available—but the corkscrew maneuver Adam executed to weave his way through the incoming bolts strained their limits. Everyone—except Adam—cried out as shoulder restraints cut into tender flesh and g-forces rattled brains. Fortunately, the pain didn’t last long, before the ship was beyond the attackers and coming about for a run from behind.

Copernicus fought to bring his eyes back into focus, but soon he had the alien warcraft lined up in his sights. He fired a barrage of powerful flash cannon bolts at near point-blank range. Energy bolts have a nasty habit of losing intensity over time and distance, but this close they blasted through the diffusion shields and slammed into the aft maneuvering engines of the Nuorean warships. Hull metal deformed into wide blossoms on each ship as the fiery glow of the engines faded. The ships slowed, falling to a steady velocity based only on forward momentum.

Adam slowed the Najmah Fayd as well and steered his much smaller ship just above the top-oriented hulls of the invaders. Viewports were lit, and from within he could make out tiny dots—aliens holding their breath, defenseless against the will of the Humans now that their engines and weapons were dead.

Before departing on the mission, the Najmah Fayd had stocked up on some of the latest weapons from the Human military research departments, as well as from the Juireans, Formilians and even the Incus. Some were exotic, others throwbacks to a simpler time.

“Why don’t we test out a couple of those bunker-busters?” Adam said to Coop. He felt no compassion for the helpless crews on the other ships. They were the heartless enemy, and would continue threatening the Milky Way if allowed to live.

“My thoughts exactly. Give us some separation. I wouldn’t want to scratch your fancy new paint job.”

The two small devices Copernicus launched against the Nuoreans weren’t exactly bunker-buster bombs, but they served the same purpose. They were designed to penetrate the hulls of enemy ships before detonating a mini-nuke deep inside. If just one of these tiny weapons managed to get through, that was all she wrote.

The polarizing feature of the forward viewport protected those on the bridge from the blinding flash of two simultaneous explosions. Adam smirked. Although there were an estimated four thousand alien warships surrounding the entry point, he found solace in the fact that they could now subtract two from that number.

“How much longer?” Adam asked, annoyed. He was anxious to get the real mission underway, and all this screwing around at this end of the transit line was getting old.

“Ten minutes,” Sherri reported. “But I wouldn’t cut it too close.”

“What’s the traffic like?”

Sherri and Jym studied the nav screen. “Pretty thick in the middle. Looks like a lot of ships are rotating back to the home galaxy.”

“Can you get us in?”

Sherri smiled, a wicked, confident grin. “Piece of cake, Captain Cain. Give me ten seconds.”

The next jump ended up almost too close for comfort. The Najmah Fayd appeared near the center of the transit zone, the huge bubble in space which was the primary area that would be sucked to the Andromeda Galaxy. A clunky-looking spacecraft lay off their starboard quarter at a range of about two thousand meters. That was razor-thin by space standards. Adam looked at Sherri, his forehead furrowed.

She just smiled back and bounced her eyebrows.

“Threats?” Adam asked the room.

Riyad studied his board. “Take your pick. There’s about two hundred ships all packed in here, waiting for the train ride back home. Most are giving off minimal offensive signatures; probably a lot of supply tubs. But there are a few squadrons of warships—none of the biggies, though.”

“What are they doing?”

“Not much. I don’t think they expected us to jump into the fire—at least not voluntarily.”

The clock on the wall was down to four minutes. If the Nuoreans held to schedule, the jump would be coming anytime now.

“The ships on the perimeter are initiating their gravity drives,” Kaylor announced. This was good news. Vessels outside the main transit zone were still subject to the effects of the powerful gravity-well. They powered up their engines to keep from being drawn in.

“Looks like this is the real thing people!” Adam called out.

“Incoming warship,” Riyad reported. “Lining up to fire.”

Adam looked at Coop. “We can’t move…not now. We have to hold them off.”

“A Hades?”

Adam nodded. “Good idea, Mister Smith. Give ‘em hell.”

A moment later the ship lurched, as Copernicus launched one of the new Hades IV missiles at the incoming warship. This was one of the weapons that used primitive technology to overcome advanced countermeasures. Defensive energy shields draw power from attacking plasma bolts, as well as any other device relying on electronics for guidance and detonation, rendering them ineffective until the screens became fully saturated. The Hades missile was conventional in that regard; it was the warhead that made the difference. It was packed with several thousand metal ball bearings the size of marbles. They would be released moments before the missile impacted the shields. The missile itself would be destroyed, but the cloud of deadly ballistic hull-shredders would pass through the electronic barrier with impunity, until they perforated the enemy ship like a mini-gun through rice paper. The weapon was new…and the Najmah Fayd had a compliment of thirty-five such missiles onboard—now thirty-four.

Riyad manually angled the shields to counter the incoming bolts from the Nuorean warcraft. Without maneuvering, this was the only way to achieve maximum defense; however, he didn’t have to stay at the controls for long. A moment later the entire forward quarter of the alien warcraft disintegrated.

All exploding warships follow the same basic evolution. First the hull is breached with incoming fire. Next the interior atmosphere explodes outward with the force of a powerful bomb, using pressurized air to multiply the effect of the initial attack.

As the Nuorean ship dissolved into a cloud of debris, fragments buffeted the shields and hull of the Najmah Fayd, causing little damage. Adam still scowled at Copernicus. “There goes my paint job!”

Coop just shrugged.

After dispensing with the man-o-war, Adam noticed the supply ship next to them begin to move away on maneuvering jets. Another vessel to its starboard side was late in clearing a path and the two ships came together. There was no explosion or other catastrophic damage, just a lot of dented metal, along with—Adam imagined—a fair amount of yelling between the two captains.

“It’s happening!’ Sherri yelled. “Oh damn…here we go again!”

2

It had never been fully settled whether the transit over two-and-a-half million light-years happened instantaneously, or whether those taking part in the journey experienced some kind of time lapse. Either way, it didn’t matter.

One moment the Najmah Fayd was in the Milky Way Galaxy…the next it was in Andromeda.

Yet there was one thing the crew discovered conclusively upon landing in the huge, alien galaxy: Passing through a pair of super-massive blackholes on the way here drained most of the batteries and caused diffusion shields to, well…diffuse.

“How long to recharge?” Adam barked out. This wasn’t asked simply for information, but for survival. All the ships that had made the jump now rested in the center of a huge, open area of space. And just outside the boundary of the transit zone sat five thousand Nuorean warships, each waiting their turn to make the next jumps to the Milky Way.

“Raise the shields!” Riyad yelled.

“I got nothing!” Copernicus replied.

“The batteries—for both the shields and the jump drive—will take ten minutes or longer to recharge,” Jym reported. The tiny alien strained against his safety harness, his natural excitability held in place by the straps.

Adam’s heart was in his chest. He wasn’t expecting this. Maybe a few minutes to build up a jump charge, but not ten minutes sitting defenseless in the middle of the largest enemy fleet he’d ever seen. But then he noticed something curious.

None of the enemy ships were moving to engage.

“I think we caught them by surprise,” Kaylor said from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Yeah,” Sherri agreed. “We’re the last thing they expected to see appear at this end of the rainbow.”

Their fortunate reprieve didn’t last long, however. Their jump companions were bolting away on chem drives from the Najmah Fayd, moving off in every direction. Adam was also sure comm links were blowing up with reports of the intruder. Still, it took the Nuorean captains a few moments more to get the message, after which several of the huge battlecruisers began to move into the transit zone.

Adam gripped the control stick and cranked it over hard to the right. The ship surged forward on its own chemical exhaust, making a beeline for the outer perimeter of the TZ. They reached it only seconds later, and plowed straight into the middle of the Nuorean fleet.

“I think we should have taken a vote on whether to commit suicide or not,” Riyad said from the comm station. “That’s usually a very personal decision.”

“Just hold on…I have an idea.”

The massive Nuorean contingent was operating on chemical drive as well, being too close to one another to use gravity-wells, even light maneuvering wells. Several of the ships on Adam’s starboard side reacted to his arrival by unleashing cannon bolts at the small Human starship as they sped by. The distance-to-target was measured in hundreds of meters—not thousands—and the hot plasma balls were at the Najmah Fayd in seconds flat.

That’s when Adam flipped the ship over on its back. Every bolt, rivet and weld throughout the ship protested in no uncertain terms, the screeching and whining adding to the chorus of screams from the inertia-tortured crew. Adam had used a combination of chem drive and maneuvering jets to send the ship into a pinwheel motion he didn’t even know it could do. But it worked; the bolts passed under the Najmah Fayd, heating up the hull only twenty feet away.

But then the plasma bolts kept going. Three Nuorean cruisers on the port side of the Najmah Fayd had their vision blocked to the launching of the bolts. Their shields were down—a fatal mistake—and the six bolts burned effortlessly through their grey hulls a heartbeat later. The ships shuddered violently, as secondary explosions erupted from within.

Two other ships had also launched bolts at the Human ship, and it was all Adam’s crew could do just to hold on as he performed another series of twists and cartwheels to dodge the incoming ordinance. This time, however, the nearby fleet was ready for the rogue bolts. Some of the ships raised their shields in time, while another abruptly changed course. Unfortunately for the fleet, this unexpected course change set off a chain reaction of collisions in the neat rows of alien warcraft. A small explosion was seen off in the distance, while the rest of the damage consisted of banged up hulls and torn off antenna arrays.

But the shooting stopped…as Adam had anticipated.

The crew of the Najmah Fayd sat in stunned silence as their ship drifted slowly past dozens of enemy warships, all sitting idle, daring not to shoot for fear of friendly-fire casualties. Copernicus didn’t light off his weapons, either. That might initiate an all-out firefight regardless of the friendly casualties.

Adam glanced at the chronograph on the bulkhead. Someone had reset it to reflect the time required to recharge the batteries. Adam pursed his lips in disgust. All his great tactics and wild maneuvering had only eaten up three minutes. They still had another seven to kill. He focused on the last word in his thought: kill—as in to die. The question now became: how long would the Nuoreans let this strange truce last?

The comm line crackled.

Adam turned to Riyad and nodded. A dialogue with the aliens could buy them time.

“This is the Noobean Security Vessel…Bob,” Adam stammered. “We inadvertently entered your restricted area in the Milky—I mean the Kac—Galaxy. We mean you no harm. We just wish to return to our galaxy.”

Riyad frowned, and then mouthed the word ‘Bob.’

Adam shrugged.

“Noobean…?” a Nuorean voice said over the comm link. “Our reports are conflicted. You are an enemy warship that intentionally breached the staging area in the Kac.”

Adam watched the seconds tick off the clock. “That’s not true. Why would we do that? It would mean certain death.”

“Your ship performed extraordinary maneuvers. That confirms your identity as a Kac warship.”

“I said we are a security vessel. Of course we would have capabilities beyond those of normal ships. I understand the Nuoreans have extensive files on all the races within the Kac. Please check your records. You will find the Noobeans are neutral in the present conflict.”

“Neutral? There are no neutral parties. We have made no such agreements. All races within the Kac are potential challenges.”

“Check your records. You’ll find that is not so.”

There a long pause on the comm-link. The clock was down to one minute, forty seconds.

“I…I am checking, yet I still do not understand the nature of your claims,” said the alien through the speakers. “Transit ships are reporting your vessel appeared unexpectedly in the transfer area, after destroying two of our ships in a prior engagement. Then you destroyed a third within the zone.”

“They’re mistaken. Check your records.”

The nearby ships in the Nuorean fleet had been slowly moving away, opening up space around the Najmah Fayd. They were preparing to engage and making enough room to do so. It was going to be tight.

The clock ran down to zero.

Adam muted his microphone and looked anxiously over at Jym. The alien shook his head. “Another twenty seconds,” he said.

An enemy cruiser had broken the line and was moving in behind the Najmah Fayd. Adam rested his finger on the jump button, waiting for Jym’s word. The Nuorean ship moved a little closer, making sure that if the intruder initiated any more radical moves, they could still strike their target.

Jym nodded…and Adam pressed the button.

The greenish glow filled the viewport once again.

“Where we going?” Riyad asked.

“Does it matter?” Sherri answered. “Just anywhere out of the hornet’s nest.”

The glow flickered momentarily before returning, and a moment later, the clean black of normal space filled the port.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief. That was—

“We have company!” Copernicus yelled from the weapons station.

“Not more Nuoreans?” Riyad said.

“Not more…the same. We pulled that attacking ship along with us in the TD jump…and he’s firing.”

Perhaps Adam should have warned the others before he acted, but he didn’t; he figured they would forgive him after he saved their lives. He initiated a small gravity back-well, which jerked the ship to the rear, throwing everyone forward in their seats. The small singularity also gobbled up the two incoming plasma bolts.

Unfortunately, the enemy warship was too close on their six to avoid the gravity-well—as well as the careening Najmah Fayd.

The angle of intercept was off by just a fraction, which avoided a full on collision with the alien starship. However, the gravity-well had done a job on the forward superstructure of the enemy warcraft, absorbing most of the nose of the ship while sending huge chunks of debris racing into space before Adam could shut down the well. But the Najmah Fayd still had momentum and crashed into the mangled mess of the Nuorean battlecruiser becoming entangled within the metal skeleton.

Adam brought the Najmah Fayd to a stop relative to the bulk of the alien ship, hoping to avoid any more crucial equipment pods being torn from the hull. The deafening screeching sound stopped, with the Najmah Fayd now held firmly within the ragged arms of the dead Nuorean warship.

There was a long, tense silence on the bridge, as the crew soaked in the reality of their situation.

Riyad broke the silence. “Where are we?”

Sherri laughed. “Besides stuck inside an alien warship, I haven’t a clue. We’re in an alien galaxy with no navigational charts for the local terrain.”

Adam had the exterior cameras scanning the carcass of the Nuorean ship. “I wonder if their nav computer survived?” he asked rhetorically. Looking at the utter destruction displayed on the forward viewscreen, he didn’t hold out much hope.

“We can take a look, fearless leader,” Riyad said, “as we cut ourselves loose. But we should definitely have a Plan B.”

Adam switched the screen view to that of a graphic of the local area out as far as their sensors could reach. They’d landed just outside the diffused boundary of the gigantic galaxy. There were several star systems nearby, but nothing like the density they would find farther in. Their scans provided only rudimentary information.

Fortunately, they did have a bead on where they’d just left—the transit zone surrounded by five thousand alien warcraft. They’d jumped fifteen light-years out into the void between galaxies. It was far enough to avoid detection from the TZ, but still too close for comfort.

Adam unbuckled his shoulder restraints. “All right, first things first,” he began. “We have to get free of the loving arms of our new friend. Coop, you’re the mechanic; take Riyad and Kaylor. And see if there is an intact navigation computer aboard. Sherri, Jym and I will stay here and see if we can make any sense out of the local scans. My friends, our Andromeda Mission is now officially underway!”

Adam was a little disappointed when there came no return cheers of enthusiasm and or a single ‘hooyah’ war cry. Instead, the crew simply unbuckled—and dejectedly—went off to perform their appointed tasks.

3

An estimated seventy-four percent of Nuoreans don’t live on the planet Nuor. A thousand years before—as their population grew—they commandeered six worlds close to the Nuorean system and moved the bulk of the population to them. With a whole galaxy at their disposal, the race never worried about overpopulation, or even the lack of natural resources. They simply took what they needed.

Now with a population of over one hundred billion, the race continued to produce an ample supply of eager players—for both the Andromeda Galaxy and now the Kac.

The planet Nuor was still the capital of the empire—if the Nuoreans considered their conquests an empire. But they didn’t think like that. They took only what was necessary to sustain their society, while dominating alien planets for raw material and contestants in their immunity challenges. Other than that, these worlds were free to exist, as long as they posed no inherent threat to the Nuoreans.

Nuor housed the administrative, military and accounting functions of the society, including the residences of the Qualify Masters and the Grand Masters, as well as their security arm, the Third Cadre. The other six worlds were populated by the six main blood-teams, along with dozens of minor teams still in the process of amassing members and points.

Nuorean society was much like the bulk of advanced life. They lived in mating pairs, had children in the conventional sense and lived in homes and communities. Most had jobs off-planet, and every six days would depart in fleets of shuttles to the various manufacturing worlds in the area. They would serve six-day shifts before returning to their assigned planet and their families. There they would remain for another six days before the next shift change.

Yet during their days off, Nuoreans did more than just relax with their families and play with their pets. This was a time of training for the games, as well combat in the local arenas. Although they acquired proficiency points at their jobs, it was the points they earned in the games that provided them with the bulk of their wealth. And points were everything to a Nuorean. They determined the type of home they lived in, the mates they acquired and the influence they had in local affairs.

The combat arenas numbered in the thousands and were scattered across every world. Fourteen broadcast channels televised the matches constantly, since few of the natives had the time to attend live contests unless they had a vested interest in the outcome.

Most of the challenges were between different blood-teams. This way wealth was transferred from team to team, rather than from within.

In the distant past, each blood-team had been settled on a particular world, but this caused problems. Challenges were more frequent between team members, and mating within the bloodlines resulted in deformities and other maladies. Four hundred years ago, the worlds were integrated, which solved most of the problems. It was now easier to face challengers from other blood-teams.

Occasionally aliens were brought to the sub-worlds—as they were called—allowing qualified players to acquire immunity points directly. This category of points was earned only by fighting aliens. Traditional combat only resulted in the transfer of possession points and were never to the death—except accidentally. Immunity challenges were always to the death.

Immunity points allowed a Nuorean to engage in more competitive challenges without the potential loss of status or possessions, allowing players to seek higher levels without too much inherent risk. But for the common Nuorean, immunity points had become hard to come by recently.

Only the most-qualified Nuoreans were allowed to face the aliens, not so much for fear of injury, but because of the scarcity of the other-worlders. For thousands of years, the players of Nuor had decimated the populations of the most-worthy races, until now they were managed much like growth crops. And for those Nuoreans who didn’t rate meeting aliens face-to-face, they had to challenge others of their kind with immunity points in their awards package—and win.

Even so, the aliens brought to the sub-worlds were minor races, offering little challenge. The truly worthy races were reserved for the grand arenas on Nuor.

There was a hierarchy of combat facilities on Nuor, culminating in the grand center called the Noc Arena. It was named for one of the founding blood-teams, and it was here where the Qualifying and Grand Masters fought—if allowed.

Nuoreans could only engage in combat challenges between the ages of twenty and eighty. Beyond eighty, a Nuorean would retain whatever position they’d attained—unless another acquired more points to unseat them. Most of the QMs and GMs were beyond challenge years, which meant they would carry these titles with them for the rest of their lives.

The accumulated points of every living Nuorean was a matter of public record, which is why the Fourth Cadre—the accounting division of the Nuorean government—was so important. There was no disputing the number of points acquired or the resulting leadership of the race. Whoever had the most points was the leader, the highest Grand Master of them all.

The Qualifying and Grand Masters live on Nuor and are given vast estates relative to their status. The QMs had lands equal to ten square miles in size. The Grand Masters ruled over estates one hundred miles square, with the most magnificent views and in the most-temperate climate zones. And no estate was grander than that of Rodoc (1,402) Kallen-Noc, the current leader of the Nuorean race.

* * *

The breeze filtering in through the open expanse of sliding doors was cool and refreshing, which helped to vent the growing mustiness from the twelve people assembled in the vast dining area. They were seated at a round table, with the most senior of the Nuoreans afforded a view through the opening. The others had their backs to the portal.

Rodoc had the best view, even though as the estate’s current master he’d seen it countless times before. Still, his guests were impressed. The huge home extended over a steep cliff above a rocky beach several hundred feet below. Beyond was a shimmering sea, reflecting sparkles of yellow and orange from the rapidly setting sun.

Only the four Grand Masters and two Qualifying Masters in attendance had experienced the view before—with a few exceptions. For the others—the Lead Players and Third Cadre members—this was a unique privilege they were being afforded.

But this wasn’t a social gathering. It was to discuss an odd event that had occurred only a few hours before.

A holographic image glowed above the center of the table. Displayed was a cluster of Nuorean warships surrounding a dark grey spacecraft about a fifth the size of a battlecruiser. It was of alien design; oblong with a bulbous nose and tail and two small wings projecting from the aft third of the ship. It was gliding along a row of Nuorean vessels, seemingly with impunity.

And then it disappeared—along with a battlecruiser close to it tail.

The attendees had watched the same scene half a dozen times already, at regular speed and in extreme slow motion. The result was always the same. One moment the ship—ships—were there…the next they weren’t.

“It is some form of stealth covering, cloaking in a manner,” said Third Cadre Commander Bindas (324) Kallen-Noc. “It is beyond our technology—at this time.”

“But why send just one ship?” asked Qualify Master Dasic (455) Lindon-Ca. “If the Kac has such technology, why are they not employing it against our players even now?”

“These are challenging questions,” Rodoc said.

“If I may, Grand Master,” said another of the Third Cadre officers present. He was Morlon (783) Voden-Mor, the highest ranking of his class in attendance. “There could be another explanation.”

Within Nuorean society there were no status barriers. Any Nuorean was free to speak to any other Nuorean, if respect was offered beforehand. “Please, Morlon, continue.”

“I have been studying the records from the battle around ND-12 in the Kac. This is where my Third Cadre teammate Azon (1,901) was slayed by the Human Adam Cain.”

“Yes, I have also viewed the broadcasts that were operational at the time. They are of poor quality, yet they tell the story.”

“As that relates to this new situation, there was a report of an enemy vessel suddenly appearing above the planet. With a battle taking place in the space beyond, the ground forces were very aware of traffic within their skies. There was no trace of the ship’s approach, just its appearance.”

“And what did this vessel do upon arrival?” ask the Qualifying Master Dasic.

“It landed near the arena where Azon was fighting and subsequently evacuated the Humans from the facility.”

“Including Adam Cain?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Could this be the same ship?”

“It displays the same abilities.”

“And Adam Cain?” Rodoc asked.

“That is unknown,” Morlon answered. “Yet it would make sense that the Kac’s greatest player would make a move on our home ground.”

One of the others at the table laughed. “It is but one ship,” said Grand Master Hant (122) Lindon-Ca. “I hear concern in your voice regarding this threat.”

Hant was one of the oldest in attendance, and Rodoc noticed a slight frown appear on the face of the Cadre officer following his statement. It almost implied fear on the part of Morlon.

“It is not concern you hear, Master Hant, but curiosity,” Morlon replied evenly, maintaining his composure. “The players of the Kac operate according to purpose, just as we. Therefore, there must a purpose for this incursion. The fact that the ship is here would indicate so. It could be merely for reconnaissance, or more tactical in nature. It is our challenge to find the true mission of the vessel, whether it be manned by Adam Cain or some other player from the Kac.”

“Morlon is correct,” said Rodoc. “This single vessel risked much—even with its capacities—to come here. Yet I doubt it is for reconnaissance, otherwise it would not have appeared in the middle of our fleet for all to see and note. So what other purpose does a single ship operating beyond enemy lines serve within a game plan?”

The question was voiced rhetorically, and the master players in attendance knew the answer as well as Rodoc. Still, they deferred to his position for the reveal.

“They are on a mission of sabotage, employing a stealth vessel capable of entering areas under strict quarantine. They care not that we know of their presence, because they believe their technology to be superior and unstoppable.”

“I must concur with them on that point,” said Dasic. “So the next questions become: What is their target and what can we do to stop them?”

Any number of the guests could answer those questions. They were the most-experienced players of the Nuorean race. Tactics and strategy was their life. Yet, again, they deferred to their leader.

“Even without an extensive knowledge of our social, military and industrial structure, our opponents would know that our system must be diverse and wide-spread. Even if the alien ship carries some form of super-weapon capable of destroying an entire planet, to eliminate Nuor would do little to stop our activities in the Kac. The only way to do that would be to destroy our ability to reach them.”

“Yet to reach LP-6, they would have to transition through the LP-5 portal,” said Grand Master Hant, stating the obvious.

“Exactly,” Rodoc replied. He placed another holographic display above the table. It showed the two galaxies, with the Suponac twice as large as the Kac. In the void between was a pulsating blue dot with a white line connecting the two galaxies. There was another blue dot, halfway between the Suponac and the larger flashing blue dot. A line joined the galaxy with the midpoint station—LP-6.

“It took two hundred years to reach into the galactic void and build LP-6. We did it in stages, building other generators that would allow us to extend farther out. The LP-5 is our link with LP-6 and its only access.”

“Then we should shut it down,” Hant said. “Do not allow the aliens even the chance of reaching LP-6. And destroy the Human vessel at the earliest opportunity.”

There was a nervous silence around the table. Rodoc knew what the others were thinking: Grand Master Hant was growing senile. He had lost his instincts, those that had allowed him to reach such a lofty position within Nuorean society. This happened from time to time. Minds atrophied and memories faded. Rodoc made a mental note to exclude the senior Grand Master from any further strategy sessions. It was no disrespect; if Rodoc ever reached such a point in his life, he would wish others to place him in a comfortable place to live out the remainder of his life without endangering the society.

“If I may, Grand Master, I might suggest an alternative strategy,” Rodoc said to Hant. “I do not feel LP-6 is in real danger. The obstacles the Human must surmount to reach it would be considerable. Rather, I say we hunt down this intruder and capture their ship. With such cloaking technology, our fleets could move throughout the Kac with impunity. We could achieve so much more with less effort and fewer casualties.”

No one looked at Hant, except Rodoc. The elderly Grand Master mouthed something silently before nodding. “Yes, that is a much more sensible plan. I defer to you, Rodoc. There is reason you lead. I spoke before considering the best course of action.”

Rodoc smiled. “That is why we hold such meetings, my friend, to study a challenge from all angles, having heard all options.”

The sun had set into the black sea, the wondrous lights of the Suponac making their presence known across the sky. Rodoc pushed away from the table.

“Let us conclude this portion of the planning session. Food will be served on the grand balcony and accommodations made for those not wishing to return to their homes this evening. Discuss details among yourselves. In two days I will come to Indisor and view your various ideas for executing the plan. For now, relax and enjoy the beautiful view.”

Rodoc met Morlon’s eye. A subliminal message passed between the two. They would meet later. There was more to discuss.

* * *

Half of the attendees would be staying over, their bellies filled with the best meal the Nuorean race could provide their most senior leaders. The others would be heading to their own estates or back to the capital city of Indisor. The Third Cadre was headquartered on Nuor; their members had homes in the city. Morlon (783) would be staying at the estate.

Rodoc was near the railing of the balcony, lost in the soft swish of the waves below and the brilliant glow of the Suponac sweeping across the star-filled sky. Morlon stepped up to him, a drink in each hand. The leader of the Nuorean people took one of the glasses.

“You have more to say regarding this situation,” Rodoc said quietly. “Speak now; the meeting is thinning out.”

The Third Cadre officer leaned in closer to his superior. “It has to do with the cloaking feature. I believe it is more.”

Rodoc frowned. “More? In what way?”

“My suspicions come from the fate of the trailing cruiser. If the aliens had a simple means of cloaking their presence—and that cloak extended to include the other vessel—how was control of our ship obtained?”

“Control?”

“Yes. If our ship became cloaked, it could have easily maneuvered away from the influence. It did not. Add to this, the aliens still had to navigate out from the center of our fleet, all the while with a ship five times their size in tow. Yet we detected no magnetics, no gas residual, no gravity wave signatures—nothing, for either ship. The final point: We lost all communications and transponder signal with our cruiser the moment the alien ship disappeared.”

“You are suggesting a means of teleportation, similar to our transit portals, yet on a much smaller scale?”

“I do not know how they do it, yet you are right. The ship wasn’t cloaked—it shifted position in space somehow, and it took our ship with it.”

Rodoc stretched a thin smile across his face. “Then there is a possibility our problem has been solved. Our warship may have destroyed the alien vessel once arriving at their new destination.”

“We would have received word by now if that had happened—”

Rodoc waved his hand impatiently. “I wasn’t being serious, Morlon. I’m sure the aliens were quite prepared to deal with our craft, otherwise they would not have invaded the fleet. They showed an arrogant disregard for the risk they were undertaking.”

“Unless they did not consider it a risk. The aliens—and I assume they must be Human—have experienced our technology and strategies for over a cycle now. I do not believe them to be stupid or reckless. They made this journey with full knowledge what to expect.”

“And yet still they made it.” Rodoc turned back to the sea, resting his free hand on the railing. “Never in our history has an enemy taken such a bold action. Yes, long ago, fleets united against us, to no avail; however, this is a single ship on a singular mission.”

“Those accepting death as a final result can be very hard to stop,” Morlon cautioned.

“You believe this to be a mission of ultimate commitment?”

“You know as well as I the chances for success, on any level. And to expect a safe return to the Kac as well? The Humans may be bold and brash, but they are not stupid or delusional.”

Rodoc felt a welling up in his chest. He was growing excited with the conversation. This was what Nuoreans lived for, the challenge, the competition, and the greater the foe the better. Yes, the aliens may achieve their end goal—they could destroy LP-6. But the Nuoreans would simply rebuild the station, even if it took another two hundred cycles. Their society would not suffer. In the interim, they would draw more aliens from the Suponac Galaxy and place them in the arenas. Life would go on, even if immunity points would become scarcer.

But now it was the technology of the alien ship that was the most intriguing to the Grand Master. How had they achieved such a breakthrough? And as was mentioned at the meeting, why was this technology—be it cloaking or teleportation—not being utilized within the Kac? If it had, the Nuor would have been driven out long ago. But Rodoc’s forces were still there. The logical conclusion was that the only working model of the teleportation device was within this single ship. And now it was in the Suponac.

Morlon waited patiently for his Master to speak. Rodoc turned to him.

“You admire these Humans, do you not Morlon?”

“They produce results, even without trying. You have experienced that first-hand, Master.”

* * *

Half a cycle ago, Rodoc went up against a Human in a challenge of opportunity, in his private arena and under the watchful eye of the Third Cadre.

After the Cadre officer Azon (1,901) was nearly killed by one of the unskilled Humans brought to Nuor for study, the remaining four prisoners were given over to the Grand Masters so they could acquire first-hand experience with this enigmatic race from the Kac. The contests were held in secret, with the Third Cadre looking on for any sign of danger to their Masters.

It had been four cycles since Rodoc had last met an opponent in the arena, although he still practiced every day, even at his age. The Human he selected was one with black skin, standing nearly as tall as the Grand Master. He was well-muscled and showed coordination when he moved. Morlon insisted on being at the contest, even though he’d lost the argument against such a challenge being held in the first place. It was too risky for the leader of the Nuorean race to undertake. Nevertheless, Morlon would guarantee the safety of his leader as best he could—or as much as Rodoc would allow him.

The Human player was given a sword, but no shield. Even the Grand Master entered the ring absent a shield and no armor to speak of. He wore only a wrist guard on his sword arm.

The contest began slowly, the Human scared and tentative. From his first steps and awkward swings, it was evident he had no prior training in this method of fighting. Yet even in this first feeling-out round, Rodoc experienced the power of the alien in the sword clashes. Humans come from a world with substantially higher gravity than Nuor. This made them stronger and faster. This advantage was expected and taken into account. Yet by itself, it would not be enough to overcome the skill and years of experience of the Grand Master.

Rodoc toyed with the Human at first, allowing him to gain confidence the longer the contest continued. They took a break five minutes into the contest, during which the aging Nuorean recovered from the exertion. The Human showed no signs of fatigue, another benefit of the lighter gravity of Nuor.

When the contest resumed, the Human displayed even more confidence. He seemed to ignore the imposing surroundings and the attendant Cadre guards, which numbered fifteen, each ready to act if needed. Even if the Human managed to kill the Grand Master, he would surely die, if then at the hands of the Third Cadre. On some level the Human ignored this reality and focused all his attention on the Grand Master. Live or die, he was going to put up the best fight possible.

That’s when Rodoc discovered the sheer force of will of the Humans. They were much like the Nuor; winning was everything, even if only for the moment. The alien knew he was going to die, but he wanted to go out with a victory.

The Human’s growing confidence ended up being his downfall. He knew he was stronger and faster than Rodoc, so he put all his focus on that, swinging wide and hard with his sword to wear down his opponent. Rodoc let him believe he was doing just that—which, of course he was; Rodoc was not a young Nuorean any longer. But there was more to swordplay than strength and endurance.

At one point their swords met, with the Human driving Rodoc’s blade into the dusty soil of the arena. He held it in place with his superior strength, preventing Rodoc from lifting his weapon from the ground. Through the corner of his eye, Rodoc saw the Third Cadre guards begin to move in, but he wasn’t ready to surrender his victory to others.

Instead of fighting against the Human’s superior strength to lift his sword, Rodoc simply slid it out towards him, freeing the blade. Then he spun, holding the blade out at arm’s length. The tip barely reached the Human, but it was enough to slice open the skin on the alien’s neck and left shoulder. The creature stumbled back, using his free hand in an attempt to stop the flow of blood gushing from the wound. It was to no avail.

Like most creatures of advanced evolution, the brain was fed by a master artery. The one in the neck of the Human had been severed and was now pumping out streams of thick, red blood with each beat of the heart.

Rodoc stood back—as did the Cadre guards—and watched the Human drop to his knees. His face was expressionless, his eyelids beginning to droop. Rodoc knew the alien was in shock and would be turning cold from the loss of blood. Moments later, the eyes closed completely and he toppled over to his left, the top layer of dirt absorbing the pool of blood as the flow subsided, until it was a mere trickle.

On that day, Rodoc had met Morlon’s scolding look with understanding. Here was an untrained alien facing the most-skilled—at one time—player in the Nuorean race, and even though Rodoc could have ended the contest at any time, the Human had showed a remarkable ability to adapt to his surroundings. Swords were not the preferred weapon of his race, yet he took to it instinctively. Where he gained such insight was a mystery to both Rodoc and Morlon.

However, the lesson was learned. Rodoc had met a Human and experienced their craftiness, strength and temperament. He catalogued the contest within his mind, along with the one thousand, four hundred, eighteen other challenges he had won over his playing career.

From that moment on the Human race was declared Jundac—an alien species too dangerous for standard immunity challenges, perhaps too dangerous for any challenges. The Third Cadre—at the direction of Grand Master Rodoc—began devising plans for the eventual destruction of the Human’s homeworld—the planet Earth. The Human race was too dangerous to exist.

4

Copernicus Smith flew between the bent and twisted girders that had once been the main superstructure of the dead Nuorean battlecruiser. The internal gravity wells of the Najmah Fayd had been shut down, allowing the three-person repair crew to operate in zero-g surrounding the vessel. Coop, Riyad and Kaylor each wore spacesuits with small maneuvering jet packs on their backs. They also carried laser cutters with power packs strapped around their waists.

The damage to the Najmah Fayd wasn’t as bad as it first looked. Although the ship was buried deep into the broken beams of the much-larger spacecraft, only one of the redundant comm antennas had been torn off. This could have been serious—if they had anyone in this galaxy to communicate with. As it was, the surviving antenna would do fine.

The Najmah Fayd was being held in place by five arching beams, resembling the rib cage of a blanched desert skeleton. These had to be cut through before they could escape. The team positioned themselves around the base of the first stanchion.

“I’m worried about Adam,” Riyad said through the helmet comm.

“How so?” Copernicus asked.

“He seems to be saving our hides at an accelerated rate these days.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

A brilliant beam of light lit up the tangled mass of metal, wires and floating conduit tubes—along with a few frozen Nuoreans. Kaylor had set to work on the other side of the huge beam with this torch. Riyad ignited his and the pair began cutting through from opposite sides.

“I’m jealous,” replied Riyad. “We used to share the glory. Now he’s hogging it all for himself.”

“He’s always been like that,” Copernicus said. “Still, I know what you mean. He’s done some pretty nifty piloting recently. I still have the bruises to prove it.”

“I could have done the same,” Kaylor countered over the comm line. “Opportunity is often the precursor to glory.”

Riyad and Coop looked at each other through their faceplates and smiled. An alien with an inferiority complex.

“I’m sure by the time this mission is over, you’ll have plenty of chances to be the hero, Kaylor,” Riyad said.

“That is not what I meant. I was simply—”

“That’s okay, my friend. At one time or another, we’ve all been overshadowed by the magnificence that is Adam Cain.”

“You know I can hear you?” Adam said through the helmet speakers.

Copernicus checked his comm controls. “How…we’re on a private link?”

“You forget about my little gift from the Formilians,” Adam replied. “The ATD can pick up all nearby transmissions, as long as the equipment is controlled by their technology.”

Riyad chuckled. “It was a compliment, my friend.”

The first beam was cut, and the Copernicus helped guide it away before giving it a strong shove. The arching piece of metal—fifty-feet long—began to drift away. Kaylor was already at work on some of the smaller entanglements before moving onto the next huge beam. They had four more to cut away.

“Hey, buddy, if you want command, you’ve got it,” Adam said. “I was enjoying a quiet nap when you came in and woke me up. Hey, do realize that was only three hours ago, and look how much progress we’ve already made.”

“Progress?” said Copernicus. “We’ve been in four dust-ups with alien warships, made a two-point-five million light-year jump through space and time, and now find ourselves stuck inside the ribs of a dead alien spacecraft…and with no idea where the hell we are. We’ve made something all right, but I wouldn’t call it progress.”

“Always highlighting the negative, Mister Smith,” Adam said. They could hear the smile in his voice. “You think you have it bad now? Just give it another day or so and you’ll have more context for all your bitching and moaning.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m gonna sign-off now,” Adam said. “Your girlfriend and I have some navigatin’ to do, if you know what I mean?”

“Just keep it above the sheets, Mister Cain.”

“That’s Captain Cain to you.”

* * *

Sherri shook her head. “What is it with you two?”

“Just having a little fun with your new boy-toy,” Adam said. “Now…let’s find out where we are and where we’re going.” He leaned in closer to the nav screen.

“And now you want to get serious?” Sherri said.

“You heard the guys; they’re counting on me to save their asses—again. I don’t want to let them down.”

The cold, steady stare of Sherri’s blue eyes made Adam flinch. He’d known her for twenty years and suspected by now she could read him like a book. He had to be careful. She would eventually learn his secret, but for now, he wanted to keep it to himself.

“Six systems within ten light-years,” he said to distract her.

Slowly…Sherri turned to look at the screen. “Yet only two have the right size of star and age to have planets that can support life as we know it. We’re going to have to move farther into the galaxy.”

“The problem is we have no idea where Nuor’s located. If we’re not careful we could end up on the gray bastards front door.”

Sherri flicked a switch on the console to open a link with the repair crew. She didn’t have an artificial telepathy device imbedded under her skin like Adam—at least not a working model. She had to communicate the old-fashioned way.

“Any chance of finding the nav computer in the wreckage?” she asked.

“Not a chance,” Coop answered. “The whole front of the ship—bridge included—got eaten by the singularity. We’re going to have to find another one somewhere else.”

“Roger that,” Sherri said. Then meeting Adam’s eye with a glint: “Love you. Be careful out there…in space.”

“Will do, sweetie.”

“That was so…high school,” Adam grumbled, feeling an unwelcome tightening in his stomach. Over the past twenty years, Sherri had had relationships with all three of the men onboard, and Adam was pretty sure he wasn’t over her…not yet. But her current affair with Copernicus seemed to suit her. He wouldn’t do anything to interfere, so long as Coop didn’t break her heart.

His quiet snicker made Sherri look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking….”

Sherri’s expression softened, believing Adam was reminiscing about them and what could have been. She was wrong. Instead, he was thinking about how there was a very good chance that in a couple of days they’d all be dead.

* * *

Four hours later, the Najmah Fayd sped away from the mangled alien spaceship, making a beeline for the first of the potential systems from the initial survey. No one expected the first one to have what they were looking for, and they were right. Two days later, and still no luck, Adam passed through the common room with an announcement.

“Strategy meeting on the bridge in five, all crew required to attend.” With purpose, he kept walking toward the bridge.

Riyad looked at Sherri and frowned. “Required to attend? Who died and put him in charge?”

“I know. Just because he was in the military—like a century ago—he thinks he can boss us around,” Sherri added.

“Delusions of grandeur if you ask me,” Copernicus chimed in.

“I can hear you.”

Copernicus coked his head. “But he does have some damn good hearing…for an old guy.”

Adam had to give him that. Copernicus Smith was the youngest onboard, technically making Sherri the cougar of the Najmah Fayd and Adam the old man at forty-nine. He had no idea how old Kaylor and Jym were. It didn’t matter. They were on a different biological clock than the Humans.

With mock irritation, the crew gathered on the bridge, slumping into seats, most propping feet onto control consoles. A sea of stars shown through the viewport, casting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from blue and red, to yellow and orange.

Adam sat down on the weapons console, careful that his butt didn’t activate any of the fire controls.

“Okay, here’s our situation,” he began. “We haven’t found any worlds with star-travel capability, just a few with primitive lifeforms more suitable for barbecuing than helping us find the Nuoreans.”

Sherri was seated in the pilot seat next to Copernicus. “Gee, I must have slept though that part, Captain Obvious.”

Adam smirked. “I’m glad we’re all in good spirits.”

“We’re bored, Adam,” Riyad groaned. “When are we going to see some action?”

Adam patted his pockets. “Let me check my crystal ball—oh, yeah…I left it in the Milky Way. Seriously, I know it’s only a matter of time before we find a star-traveling civilization with a nav computer we can borrow. If not, then we’ll make our way back to the midpoint generator transit zone. There were over five thousand Nuorean ships assembled there, ready to make the jump. That’s enough for two transits, the last coming four days from now.”

Jym sat up in his chair, suddenly interested. “Are you suggesting that if we do not find a nav computer that we might return to our galaxy?”

Adam blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. Once a mission was a go, he seldom looked for a way to back out. “That wasn’t what I was suggesting. There’ll be a lot of Nuorean ships around. I was thinking of grabbing a nav computer off one of them as a last resort.”

“But retreat could also be a last resort.” Kaylor said.

Adam looked at the faces in the room. The aliens were ready to call it quits, while the expressions on the Humans were that of universal resignation.

“If we have no hope of finding Nuor—or the LP out to the midpoint generator—what good are we doing here?” Sherri said softly. “I know our mission is important, but without a chance of success, we’re just wasting our time…and potentially a lot more.”

The original plan called for the team to make the jump to Andromeda and then find the transit zone out to the midpoint generator. Intelligence reports had the Nuoreans calling each of these generator locations LP’s—launch points. The one they were looking for was designated LP-5.

As the aliens built their bridge to the Milky Way, they first used conventional gravity drive to travel deep into the intergalactic void, where they built the first of the elongated gravity generators. The first was LP-1. It reached from the galaxy out to a point forty-seven thousand light-years into the void. Here the Nuoreans built LP-2, with a range of ninety-four thousand light-years. Through this process, they kept hopscotching farther into the vast emptiness between galaxies. LP-5 reached from Andromeda to the one-and-a-half-million light-year mark. Here the midpoint generators were built—designated LP-6. They were the largest and most-powerful gravity generators ever constructed—how big, Adam and his team had no idea. Scientists in the Milky Way had their estimates, but only the Nuoreans knew for sure.

This fact confounded Adam’s plans even more. He had no idea how effective the explosives they carried aboard would be on something that big, even using nukes. But that was something they’d assess on site—once they got to LP-6.

And the way to LP-6 was through the LP-5 transit line.

“Have some patience,” Adam said. “We’ve just begun our mission. And contrary to popular belief, I’m not calling this a suicide mission. I want to live, just like the rest of you.”

Sherri snorted.

Adam wrinkled his nose at her. “It’s always been the belief that the LP-5 transit zone would be close to Nuor. There’s been no need to change it, not like with LP-6. They would keep it static and close to their supply sources. Once we find Nuor, half our job will be done.”

Copernicus raised his hand, but began talking before he was called on. “After our unexpected arrival, the Nuoreans probably have several thousand ships out looking for us. We may not have to go out looking for a Nuorean ship with a nav computer. They’ll come to us.”

“That’s another possibility. The bottom line is the mission doesn’t really start until we learn the location of Nuor.”

“I thought you said the mission began when we escaped from the middle of the Nuorean fleet?” Jym pointed out.

“Or when we made the jump to Andromeda?” Riyad added with a grin.

“You’re right, both of you. But this is mission-start two-point-oh.”

“Three-point-oh.” Sherri corrected.

Even though he knew they were toying with him, Adam could relate to their frustration. “Tell you what. Give it another three days to find a nav computer. If we can’t locate one in that time, we’ll make for the LP-6 transit zone. That’ll give us a day to get into position for a possible jump back home.”

“And if we miss that, the TZ shifts,’ Copernicus stated.

“At that point, we’ll have no choice but to continue. The Nuoreans will move the transit zone and the destination point in the Milky Way. After that, the only way to get home will be to learn the new location at the LP-6—or wring in out of some high-ranking Nuorean who knows.”

“I like the sound of that,” Riyad said.

“Trust me people, I don’t want to die in the Andromeda galaxy.”

“Then lead on, Mister Cain,” Copernicus said.

Adam opened his mouth to speak, but Sherri shut him down. “Don’t! It’s getting really old.”

5

It was with reluctance that Copernicus made his report.

“Gravity sigs, moderate space traffic and comm chatter,” said Copernicus. “All signs of your everyday, run-of-the-mill star-traveling society.” He knew this meant a continuation of the mission. He wasn’t happy.

“Have they scanned us?” Adam asked. It was two days after the last meeting on the bridge, and they were just now entering a promising star system on the edge of the Andromeda galaxy.

“General scans of the system only. They know we’re here, but no one’s making a fuss about it.”

“Good. Get us within long-range visual distance as fast as you can. I want to see what we’re up against before they send out the welcoming committee.”

All the crew was on the bridge and at their stations as the Najmah Fayd approached the planet. By then they’d identified five distinct varieties of gravity signatures from the nearby ships, meaning five different manufacturers with slightly different designs. That was a lot. In the Milky Way, nearly all gravity-drives followed the same basic Klin blueprint, with only slight variations. The Human and Juirean designs varied the most, and that was mainly out of racial pride. Neither wanted to be accused of copying the other.

“Nuorean sigs showing up,” Jym said from the nav station. Sherri confirmed his findings. From experience, they could identify the unique signature of Nuorean grav-drives. The pattern was well-known throughout the Milky Way.

“As we expected,” Adam said to calm any run-away nerves. “We’re still within five hundred light-years of the current LP-6 TZ. And this is Nuorean territory. They’ve had thousands of years to colonize this part of Andromeda.”

“There’s only a few of them,” Sherri reported. “Most of the other sigs are different. I thought the Nuoreans were supposed to have wiped out all intelligent life in the galaxy? That’s why they came after us.”

“Keep us clear of the Nuoreans,” Adam said to Kaylor in the pilot seat. “Put the images on the main screen. Let’s take a look at the planet.”

Since Nuoreans were classified as Prime in the Milky Way, any world they chose to inhabit would naturally fit a common mold. And this one fit it to a tee. It was slightly smaller and less dense than Earth, but had the same mix of ruddy brown land, covered in vast expanses of green vegetation, yet dominated by huge seas of cloud-patched blue. Sensors indicated an average temperature of fifty-six degrees Fahrenheit around the zones with the largest population concentrations. From this vantage point, there were nine of these major cities visible from space, with countless others of smaller size.

Adam was in the command chair behind the pilot stations when he leaned forward and pointed. “What are those dark circles to the left of that large city?”

A moment later, the ship was close enough to recognize the shape of Nuorean combat arenas. There were hundreds of them, filling a great plain to the west of the city, with a rugged coastline to the east. Yet as they achieved orbit and zoomed in closer, they could tell most of the arenas were in a state of disrepair and abandonment.

“Signs of more a prosperous time?” Copernicus said, “before they ran out of aliens to fight.”

The camera swept over the city, which didn’t fare much better than the arenas. But here there were signs of habitation, with box-like transports passing along mostly-deserted roads. It was nearing dusk in this part of the hemisphere and lights could be seen popping on in the bulk of the buildings. A large rectangle of evenly-spaced lights came on to the northeast of the city. Upon closer examination, the crew saw the familiar signs of a spaceport—not large—but with a cluster of small-to-moderate sized spacecraft placed haphazardly around the grounds. And each one of those ships would have a nav computer onboard….

“No challenges?” Adam asked, knowing the answer already.

Riyad shook his head. “I guess that means free parking.”

“Let’s see. Kaylor, take us down. And if there are any Nuorean ships in port, park as far away as you can.”

“As I was planning.”

* * *

The ship set down on what appeared to be a dirt field, but was in reality a concrete pad covered over with years of blown dust which no one bothered to clean off. Kaylor positioned them behind a bulky cargo vessel, with a Nuorean destroyer-class starship on the other side and some distance away. No one was on the field; they were either in town or inside their ships.

“Oops, there’s someone,” Sherri said from the nav station. She had sensors out looking for any ground movement. A transport was coming their way; a boxy wagon with an enclosed top. They couldn’t tell who—or what—was inside.

A data stream ran along the side of the main view screen. It indicated a suitable atmosphere outside for Humans and a gravity coefficient equal to point-seven-nine of Earth.

Adam unbuckled his seat restraints. “Sherri, you come with me, along with Kaylor and Jym. I want them to see we’re a diverse crew, and not manned by only mean-looking Human-types.”

“Weapons?”

“Ankle holsters only. We don’t want to make the natives nervous. Riyad, Coop, you have our back.”

“Yessir,” Copernicus said, seriously. He was all business when facing an unknown race on an alien planet in the Andromeda galaxy.

A moment later, they cracked the hatch and stepped out onto surface. They wore heavy coats to protect against the rapidly dropping temperature and constant wind blowing in off the nearby ocean.

The vehicle pulled up to the four crewmembers and an entourage of natives climbed out of the truck. There were nine of them, smallish creatures with iridescent skin stripped in a rainbow of colors. Their faces were thin, with wide, crazy-looking eyes and mouths that appeared to carry perpetual snarls. They wore thick clothing of a variety of styles—not uniforms—that appeared stained in the fading light of early evening.

The two groups faced off, neither speaking, as first-contact protocols were observed.

In the unseen world of electronic communications, translation programs set about searching for established baselines between the various languages being transmitted in the ether. When a match wasn’t found, the programs set out deciphering the languages using a tried and true method. At the speed of a supercomputer, millions of images and videos—displaying actions, emotions, objects and concepts—were matched with those in a variety of languages. Each program had their own set of standards, which were used to match words, building up the vocabulary at the speed of light. The computers knew what they were doing, and within forty seconds of being linked, the basic translation was complete.

Adam heard a soft ‘speak’ in his ear. He stepped a little closer to one of the smaller creatures.

“Greetings, we seek landing rights to your port.”

One of the creatures stepped forward, and without warning, two wide fans of flesh, located on each side of the thin face, flared out and began to vibrate. Startled, Adam stepped back. He’d seen this before, on certain lizards on Earth and in pictures of extinct dinosaurs. But on these aliens, it came as a shock.

What came next should not have been surprising.

The alien spit on him.

A thick glob of yellow mucus hit him in the chest and oozed down the front of his coat. Without thinking, Adam laid the alien out cold with a quick hit to the side of his head.

“Why did you do that?” This was asked by an older alien. His fans had begun to come out, but were quickly pulled back in.

“He spit on me!” Adam yelled. “Is this toxic or an acid? I’ve seen this kind of thing before.”

“I want some of that,” Sherri said, as she leaned in with a datapad in her hand.

“What the hell for?”

“To test it, stupid.”

Every datapad had a sampling wand, used primarily to test food and drink before consumption. It could tell if the slime on Adam’s coat was dangerous or not.

Two other aliens were on their knees, tending to their fallen comrade.

The old alien was in Adam’s face. “That was a greeting, a welcoming to our planet.”

Adam looked down at the front of the alien’s garment. It was stained in a sickly-looking brownish color…as were the fronts of all the others.

“A greeting?” Adam stammered.

“Yes. It is custom.”

Adam looked at the unconscious alien. “Will he be all right?”

“Yes. She will recover.”

Adam caught the gender indication. He looked at the creature on the ground and then at the others. They all looked alike. Were they all female? He was afraid to ask.

“It’s just mucus and saliva,” Sherri reported. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m really sorry,” he said to the old alien. “I wasn’t expecting that type of greeting.”

“That is apparent. What are you…and why are you here?”

“We’re a crew from a distant part of the galaxy. We have come to restock our supplies.”

The alien suspiciously scanned the others, resting his eyes a little longer on the tiny bear-looking Jym. “I have not seen your particular kind here before, either as neutrals or as contestants. You did not give the names of your species.”

“The names would not mean anything to you. Are you the authority here? What must we do to get permission to land?”

The alien snickered—a very Human-like expression. His fans extended out half way and began to wave. “Permission? You have already landed. Permission to remain should now be your greatest concern.”

Adam pursed his hips. He was cold and really wanted to get inside to clean off the slime from his coat. “Okay then, do we have permission to remain?”

“Remain if you wish. We have no force to stop you, although we could inform the Nuoreans.”

“Are you affiliated with them?” Adam asked.

The alien looked over his shoulder in the direction of the Nuorean warship. “You do not know the Nuoreans well if you ask such a question. No race is affiliated with the Nuoreans.”

“We spotted hundreds of arenas on the way in. Do they still hold games here?”

“Not for many years, except for a few testing contests.”

“What is your name?” Adam asked.

“What is your name, alien?”

“I’m called Adam.” This time the Human bowed slightly. In almost every culture, a bow conveyed friendship, if not compliance and servitude.

“I am Afton. I hold the lowly position of port supervisor. My assistant is Nissi.” He looked down at the groggy alien on the ground, who was just coming to with the help of the other aliens. “She will long remember your arrival…Adam. Now what is your true purpose here? Those who are so quick to fight are not the kind of beings who would land with Nuoreans present. You are just what they are looking for.”

Adam studied Afton carefully. He sensed the alien didn’t hold any love or loyalty for the Nuoreans. In that case, he may be a valuable ally. Besides a nav computer, Adam needed information—information about this galaxy, about the Nuoreans and the general lay of the land. He looked at Nissi as she was helped to her feet. He hoped he hadn’t created an irreparable diplomatic incident with his impulsive fit of anger. He needed the aliens.

“May I extend my most sincere apologies again to your assistant Nissi,” he said with feeling. “And may I invite the two of you to a dinner aboard my ship? As I said, we are new here, and we seek your wisdom as to the proper protocols and traditions of your world.”

Afton eyed the eclectic mix of aliens from the alien starship. “If you wish to learn of our ways, then you should join the Us for a meal in our residence. Remaining sheltered and unaware within your craft will only make the lessons harder to learn.”

Adam bowed again and smiled. “That makes perfect sense. When and where?

* * *

The meeting was set for two hours from then; Afton would send a transport to pick them up. Adam asked if it would okay to have four guests total; Kaylor and Jym would stay aboard the Najmah Fayd to keep an eye on her. The alien agreed.

As the four Humans snapped flash weapons into ankle holsters, hidden under pant legs, Adam briefed Kaylor. “The ghost of my ATD is still active in the ship. I’ll send you a live feed of the conversation through the ship’s comm system so you can listen in. If anything goes screwy, you’ll know. Our location can be pinpointed through the ghost as well.”

“Will you hear me if we are approached by Nuoreans?” Kaylor asked.

“Just use the comm. I’ll be monitoring.”

“Can you trust the alien?”

“No more than he can trust us.”

“That’s what I am afraid of.”

Adam placed a hand on Kaylor’s shoulder before turning to the Humans. “Our ride’s waiting outside. We’re off to have some local grub.”

“Remember,” Sherri began, “these are the people who spit on you to say hello. Who knows what we’re in for?”

“Just bring along your trusty sampling wand. It would be a shame to come all this way just to die of food poisoning.”

6

Afton’s home was a simple box made of huge slabs of granite on four sides and the floor, with a lighter wood-frame roof covered with flat tiles. He lived not far from the landing field, at the end of a row of similarly built structures and facing an empty expanse of ancient lava flows that jutted out to meet the vast ocean. Half the homes were dark, and none of the natives were outside as the transport moved along the dimly lit street.

Most two-legged, mammal-like creatures shared the same basic accoutrements of life. They bent at the knees, which meant traditional chairs for seating. They had tables, running water and electric lighting. Most preferred to sleep on padded mats and somewhere within the structure was a bathroom. And the other trait of most alien homes—a god-awful smell.

Afton’s house was the rule, rather than the exception. It took a moment for the Humans to adapt to the stench, which came either from the unseen bathroom or from the food being prepared in the kitchen area. Mostly likely, it was a combination of both.

After sizing up the three huge Human males and the one intense-looking female, Afton introduced them to his mate. Her name was Kies—and she looked just like Afton. Obviously, there were differences in their anatomies somewhere; Adam just couldn’t tell without some probing.

The female Nissi was present, as well, half her face covered in an angry black and yellow bruise. She showed no emotion when Adam entered the home, seeming to still be a little rattled from the hit she’d taken. Adam was sure that if she had a choice she’d rather be home in bed sleeping it off.

The chairs they were offered around the large, rectangular dining table creaked as the heavy Humans sat down. Kies didn’t seem very happy about the impromptu dinner party, especially for what to her were a group of smelly aliens. Of course, this was Adam’s interpretation from the scowl on her face. For all Adam knew, this was the native’s look of absolute joy. She didn’t speak a word as she went about her chores.

“What do you call your race?” Adam asked, attempting to break the ice.

“We are called the Us.”

“Us? That translates as a pronoun indicating a group of people,” Sherri commented.

“That is correct. We consider all of us as the Us. Is there a problem?”

Adam and Sherri shook their heads. “Of course not. It makes perfect sense,” Adam said. “In fact, we come a planet called Earth—”

“Earth?”

Adam could see the confusion on Afton’s face. “Yes, it translates as dirt in most languages. But we consider it to mean the mother soil, the stuff that makes our world firm and solid.”

“Which also makes sense,” said Afton. “And where is this Earth of yours?”

Adam hesitated. He had the feeling the alien was baiting him, having already figured out the answer. Afton stepped into the silence.

“You are from the Kac, are you not?”

“Why do you say that?” Riyad asked.

“For generations, my world of Bancc-Bin has played host to hundreds, if not thousands of races in the Suponac, brought here by the Nuoreans for testing. We have seen nearly all the advanced species on this side of the galaxy—”

“And we have never seen you before,” Nissi snapped, not hiding her venom for the Humans.

Adam saw Coop’s and Riyad’s hands slide down their legs, ready if the Us decided to try anything.

“You’re correct,” Adam admitted. “We are from the galaxy you call the Kac.”

“Why are you here?” Nissi demanded. She was having trouble speaking through the pain in her face. To her credit, Adam was surprised she was still alive. With his enhanced strength, he could have killed her.

“From our earlier conversation, I believe you have no loyalty to the Nuoreans. Is this true?”

“If it were not, do you believe we would tell you?” Afton answered, a slight grin on his snarling lips. His fans flared out and vibrated for a moment before receding. A laugh?

Adam smiled back, careful not to fully expose his teeth to the alien. The Us were constantly exposing their own sharp, wicked-looking teeth. Still, Adam wasn’t taking any chances.

“A very good point, Afton. But yes, we are from the Kac and we have come because the Nuoreans are threatening our galaxy with their silly challenges. We mean to stop them.”

“You…and your solitary ship?” Nissi growled. Literally…she growled. “You must not have experience fighting the Nuoreans. It will take more than that to defeat them.”

“We don’t want to defeat them—just stop them from entering our galaxy,” said Copernicus, speaking for the first time. His response was a growl itself.

Afton raised his hand, attempting to calm the tensions around the table. “Your mission is your own, and you have come a long way to accomplish it. I trust you believe in your abilities, so I will not question them.” He cast an angry eye at his fiery assistant.

The conversation was interrupted by the serving of the evening meal. Kies carried a large tub into the room and placed it at the center of the table. She then brought in seven small torches on wide bases—flames shooting upward three inches—along with seven sharp knives.

Something moved in the tub. The Humans were taller than the Us and could see over the edge of the container. Just then, a number of pointy tentacles slithered over the edge.

Afton reached out quickly and grabbed one of the spongy arms, then with his knife, cut it off and placed the bloody end into the flame of his torch.

“Hurry,” he said. “Cauterize the end to hold in the juice.”

“The juice…is blood,” Riyad pointed out.

“Yes,” Afton beamed, as he bit down hard on the charred end of the tentacle. Then he placed the bit end back in the flame to once again seared the flesh—to seal in the juice.

Sherri reached across the table and grabbed one of the wiggling tentacles. She cut it off and placed the bloody end in the flame. The three men watched her, their mouths agape. Once the tip was blackened, she removed it from the flame and pierced the flesh with the sampling wand on her datapad. After a moment, she sighed.

“Sorry guys…but it’s editable. Can’t guarantee the taste, though.”

“Please try,” Afton prodded. “I realize it is alien to you, but even as we must suffer your particularly foul odor, so you should taste our food.”

Each man took a tentacle and placed it in the flame. Then in unison, they bit into a still wiggling and warm, gooey finger of flesh.

Blood squirted out the sides of Adam’s mouth, as the foul warmth of the barely dead animal’s blood met his tongue. His eyes grew wide, and he looked at the others, each sharing the same expression. After the first bite was down he looked across the table at his host. “What does this taste like?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s not chicken or beef. In fact I don’t think it takes like meat at all.”

“Plums,” Copernicus offered. “It tastes like sweet, warm plums.”

“That’s it!” Adam exclaimed. “It tastes like a fruit rather than a meat.”

“The body chemistry of each species produces a different reaction,” Afton said. “We have provided gandt to numerous species. All have enjoyed it, to one degree of another. It is a product of our ocean. Others collect them by the thousands each day to be sold in the market. Please, let us eat before resuming the inevitable questioning you have for us. Our appetites may be altered by the grave topics to be discussed.”

* * *

After the meal, everyone went outside and sat around a roaring fire, while listening to waves crash against the rocks at the base of the high bluff. The glory of Andromeda was evident in the sky, shining with the intensity of a galaxy twice the size of the Milky Way. Even on its fringe, the light from a billion-billion stars lit up the night, casting a soft, even glow across the landscape and sparkling on the black sea beyond.

The smell of burning wood made Adam quickly forget about the stench inside the house, and he got the impression even the aliens were welcoming the masking fragrance of the fire. Adam was reminded of his home in Tahoe, and the countless nights with pine-scented smoke wafting through the trees. It was hard for him to believe he was in an alien galaxy. It only proved that atoms were atoms, and molecules were molecules everywhere. The laws of chemistry and physics were universal, and wood in one galaxy burned just like wood in another.

Taking in the tranquil scene sent a thread of melancholy through his mind. He missed his home—and his homeworld. He wished all the turmoil and conflict would just go away and leave him and his race alone. They had never asked for any of this. But now he and his closest friends were on a desperate mission of life or death in a place unimaginably far from home. Suddenly, all the tasks before him rose up like a chain of Everest mountain peaks, blocking his way. He closed his eyes and tried to wash away the depression. Only the sound of his friend’s voices brought him out of his waking nightmare.

“How many Nuoreans are on the planet?” Copernicus was asking.

“Several hundred,” Afton answered. Kies was at his side, huddled close for warmth against the cold ocean air. “They are here when the need arises for nearby races to be drafted for the games. There are few worthy opponents left, so they rarely call them up, not until their numbers increase.”

“Why are the Us not in danger?”

Afton smiled. “Look at us. We are small and frail. Although accommodations have been made for us in the past with regards to weapons, we cannot provide adequate competition in the games. You will find that there are many like us. The Nuoreans do not force us to fight, yet they use us for other things. Some worlds provide raw materials, others, food sources. Bancc-Bin has been a preliminary staging ground for several hundred years. Our gravity and atmosphere is a near-match for Nuor so potential immunity races can be tested here, to see if they can stand against the challengers. The Nuor may be heartless savages, but they do like competitive matches.”

“Do you know where Nuor is located?” Adam asked over the crackling of the ember-producing fire.

“It is five thousand light-cycles from here, on the other side of the Mournis Gap.”

“Have you ever been there?”

Afton laughed. “I have not been outside my system. I may manage a spaceport, yet I am not a star-traveler.”

Adam moved around the huge fire pit to sit next to Afton. “I have to be honest with you, Afton,” he began. “We came to your world looking for a navigation computer. We’re here to break the link between your galaxy and ours, but we can’t do that without first learning the location of Nuor.”

“You came all this distance without knowing?”

“How could we? We’re the first of our kind to come here. Can you help us? Can you provide us with navigational charts for Andro—for the Suponac?”

Afton looked to his assistant, Nissi. She sat silent, her iridescent skin shimmering in the light from the fire. She looked like she was about to explode.

“There is a—” Afton began.

“You cannot help them!” Nissi stood up, the fans on the sides of her head flaring out and vibrating. “They will upset the peace we have on Bancc-Bin. They come here from a smudge in the sky, and there they will return, leaving the Us to suffer the consequences.”

“All we need is a computer,” Adam countered. “After that, we’ll leave, and no one will have to know where we got it.”

“They will know. And you said it before, you are not here to defeat the Nuoreans, just to make your galaxy safe from them. And what about the Us? We will still be here and subject to their wrath.”

“How will they learn that you gave us the computer?”

“Because I told them where you are. I will not let you hurt the Us.”

7

“The Human ship is on Bancc-Bin!” Morlon reported over the comm link to Rodoc.

“Where is that?”

“One of the staging planets, in sector nine.”

“What is it doing there?” the leader of the Nuoreans asked.

“Unknown. It landed three hours ago. A local informed us of the arrival.”

“We must secure the ship above all else.”

Morlon nodded. “I understand. I have dispatched Third Cadre to the planet. It will take two days to get there. Until then our local forces are tasked with securing the ship and the crew.”

The disgusted look on Rodoc’s face spoke volumes. Nuoreans assigned to such an insignificant station would not be expected to be the best-trained. Morlon could read his expression.

“We must rely on what is available, Master.”

“Yet these are Humans, Commander. The local force will have no concept of what they are facing.”

“I will inform them.” Morlon looked hard at his superior. “It is the ship that has value at this point. If the Humans become too difficult to subdue or to hold, I will order their execution.”

“That would be a prudent strategy. Make it so.”

* * *

Did you hear that, Kaylor? Adam asked through his ATD, now linked with the ghost program in the Najmah Fayd’s comm system.

I did, came the response in his mind.

Lift the ship and then jump. I’ll contact you with a location to come pick us up.

Does your ATD have the range? How far can we jump?

That will be a problem, Adam conceded. Slip back near the surface in two hours. I’ll contact you then.

Adam was on his feet, as were the other three Humans, flash weapons drawn from their ankle holsters. “Do you hear that?” he asked the others.

“What?” Sherri asked. “I can’t hear anything over the ocean and the fire.”

“It sounds like the exhaust from jet packs.”

“I can’t hear it.”

Adam looked hard at Nissi. “We’re not your enemy,” he said to the defiant female alien.

“You are not our friends either. You are…a problem.”

Adam turned to Afton. “What’s that way, along the bluff?”

“Open territory, out to the point. You can see it in the distance.”

Adam nodded. “Everyone get going,” he said to his team. “We just need to stay ahead of the Nuoreans for two hours. I’ll have Kaylor meet us at the point.”

Copernicus, Sherri and Riyad took off at a fast sprint into the dim light beyond the fire. Adam stayed behind with Afton.

“Are you going to be safe?” he asked the alien.

“Very unlikely, but I will deal with that.” He cast an evil eye at Nissi. “Hurry; I have seen the Nuoreans swarming tactics.”

No sooner had Afton spoke before Adam spotted a dozen or more dark figures descending from the galaxy-lit sky. It never got fully dark on Bancc-Bin, so the armored figures stood out clearly against the glow of the night sky.

Adam set off after the others.

Only a few yards beyond the fire pit, the terrain turned coarse, the rock-strewn top layer of a massive volcanic lava flow that formed the miles-long bluff jutting out into the ocean. Adam could see the others ahead of him, winding around narrow canyons, cracks in the flat shield flow that were slowing their progress.

Adam was approaching one of the crevasses himself. It looked to be about fifty feet across. As he drew closer, he figured this was as good a time as ever to test his new mutant abilities. A few feet from the abyss, he felt muscles surge in his legs, having received the message from the bundle of mutant cells lurking in his brain. He jumped, instantly feeling the awesome sensation of flying.

He landed on the other side with room to spare. Even in the light gravity of Bancc-Bin it was a world-record long jump.

Three dark figures landed in his path—Nuoreans with jet packs. Without thinking, Adam threw his body sideways and body blocked one of the aliens. Then he twisted in the air and landed back on his feet, squared against another. The alien was armed with an energy weapon in his right hand and a long narrow shield in his left. He struck at Adam with the shield, slamming it into his face and chest. Adam fired his flash weapon point-blank at the alien. The bolt hit the shield and was absorbed.

Momentarily surprised by the hand-held diffusion screen—he didn’t know something like that existed—he was struck from behind by the shield of the other Nuorean. He stumbled forward into the other one, causing all three to fall onto the sharp, obsidian rock covering the ground. The Nuoreans wore body armor, so they were unaffected. Adam was slowly transforming into a mutant, so he too ignored the cuts and bruises.

His new-found strength and quickness was enough for him to swarm over his two assailants, snapping necks and busting skulls before all was quiet. He looked across the landscape, where brilliant streaks of light flared out from flash weapons two hundred feet away. The other Humans were engaged in a battle of their own, up against what looked to be a dozen Nuoreans. After a moment, the flashes died away, and Adam could see his friends being surrounded and shackled by the dark figures.

Another light on his left caught Adam’s attention. It was a small aerial transport, maneuvering for a landing.

Adam was on his feet, watching his team being taken prisoner, and standing on the opposite side of a wide crevasse across from them. He ran off in the other direction, stopped and turned toward the dark pit. He had jumped one canyon…he could jump this one too.

Everyone on the other side was watching him—the Nuoreans included—wondering what he was doing. Then he took off at the fastest sprint his enhanced leg muscles could provide. He planted his right foot on the edge of the crevasse and launched his body into the air. A split second later he was fifty feet in the air, his legs running through empty sky, heading for the other side.

And he almost made it.

Even with his mutant cells working overtime, it still wasn’t enough. He dipped under the edge of the canyon and hit hard onto the flesh-cutting rock. His head bounced off something hard and he slid to his right, before beginning a long tumble down the rock face. Even though he could tolerate pain more with the changing he was going through, this was asking too much. His mind took over and he blacked out, moments before splashing into the cold surf at the base of the bluff.

The shock of the water stunned him awake. He fought against the surging current, before being lifted up and dropped against a solid wall of sharp rock. He struggled to stay above the surface, but was pulled away again by a return wave. Three times in rapid succession he was lifted up and dropped, before finally surrendering to the relentless battering. He fell into unconsciousness once again, welcoming the warm arms of darkness and the soothing sensation of floating….

* * *

“Adam!” Sherri yelled. The Humans gasped when they saw his body disappear into the dark abyss of the canyon. Several Nuoreans raced to the edge, sending probing shafts of light far below. More aliens came forward, these carrying ropes. They began to make their way down the canyon face. Even if he was dead, they needed the body for proof.

The trio of Humans was shackled and then herded into the back of the aerial transport. Sherri tried her best to catch one last glimpse out the back before the door closed, but aliens swarmed in and blocked her view. She looked at the faces of her companions. Riyad and Copernicus stared back with stern, angry expressions. They had all run over the rocks making up the large lava shield and knew them to be loose and razor sharp. The bluff was made up of a hundred feet or more of the flesh-ripping material. Add to that the pounding surf below, all cast in the dull glow of Andromeda, and hope was in short supply.

In their depression, none considered the incredible height Adam had reached with his leap. If they had, they would have chalked it up to the light gravity of the planet. All they were thinking at the time was that no one could have survived such a fall.

Sherri slumped on the bench seat, her body held in place by netting on the bulkhead. The craft lifted into the air and made a steep turn. She tried to focus on the here and now; sadly, Adam’s fate was already sealed. She wondered if he contacted Kaylor before he fell, or did the Nuoreans get to the spaceport first? And even if Kaylor did get away, they had no way to contact him. Without the ship, their mission to destroy the midpoint generator was a bust.

And now there was the minor issue of them being prisoners of the Nuoreans—master warriors with more fighting skill than the Humans had ever faced.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t about to cry—not in front of the aliens—but she was certainly filled with enough hate to firm her resolve. At that moment, Sherri Valentine vowed that she wouldn’t go out like this, not without taking a few of the grey bastards with her.

* * *

Jym spotted the incoming Nuoreans just as Adam was giving his warning. They were approaching in ground transports, as well as in two small destroyers in the atmosphere, directly above them.

The generators were already charged—Kaylor had a habit of doing this, even on the surface. It made for quicker getaways.

“Hold on!” he yelled at Jym. The two muleship-drivers had worked together for enough years that their actions were as one. Jym was already strapped in at the weapons station, ready for liftoff.

But Kaylor didn’t send the ship skyward. Instead, he sent it skidding along the dirt and asphalt surface of the landing field, churning up reddish dust in the dim light of night on Bancc-Bin. The field was illuminated by the light from the galaxy, plus a few lights set along the perimeter, and within seconds the ground was shrouded in a glowing pink cloud of swirling powder. He moved the ship from underneath the destroyers and launched it on plumes of grey and white chemical exhaust, which only added to the smoke screen.

When five hundred feet off the surface, he jumped the ship.

He already had a location programmed in, and a moment later the Najmah Fayd appeared above the moon of one of the gas giants in the outer Bancc-Bin star system. Kaylor pitched the nose toward the surface, settling into the dark shadow of a small crater. He immediately cut power, sending the ship into dark mode.

In the dim galactic light filtering in through the viewport, Kaylor looked at his friend Jym. Their expressions of concern mirrored each other. They would wait here for the two hours Adam asked them to, before quietly making their way back to the planet.

On the off-chance that Adam’s ATD could reach this far, Kaylor sent out a call. “Adam, can you hear me? Adam, come in if you hear me.”

Even if he was within range, Adam Cain was in no condition to answer his friend.

8

“The Human ship has escaped the planet.” Morlon regretted the report to his leader, but he didn’t hesitate to make it. It was reality, and reality is what future strategies were based on. He watched the reaction of the Grand Master on the comm screen. He didn’t appear very pleased with the news.

“And the Humans?”

“Three are in custody.”

“Who’s piloting the spacecraft?” Rodoc asked.

“Unknown.”

“Adam Cain?”

Now Morlon smiled. “No, Master. The local informant has identified Adam Cain as being with the other three Humans at the time the ship lifted, in a residence along the coastal bluff. Our forces report he attempted to jump a wide crevasse and fell to his death on the rocks below.”

“I want proof, Morlon.”

“They are searching for the body now. It is still night on the planet, and the surf is high. They will stay with it until the body is found.”

Rodoc stared hard at his Third Cadre officer. “Did the ship…vanish, as you earlier suggested?”

“Yes, Master. It was barely off the surface—with our ships posted above—when it simply disappeared. No trace signatures of movement within a cloaking shield.”

“Then you could be right about this being something more. How do we stop such a vessel from reaching LP-6 when we cannot track its movements?”

“I have a plan,” Morlon said without hesitation.

“Make it a strategy, Morlon. I need assurances.”

Morlon nodded. “The informant told us the Humans were seeking a navigational computer for the Suponac. This makes sense. The Humans have no knowledge of our galaxy. They apparently do not even know the location of Nuor.”

“That would be to our advantage, I would imagine, Commander.”

“I suggest—strategize—that we let the Humans know the location of the transit point for LP-5, which is their gateway to the LP-6 control station…their ultimate destination.”

Rodoc studied the face of the Cadre officer before responding. With his player’s instincts, the Grand Master already saw the possibilities, as well as the risks. “We control the time and location when the alien ship will appear, and then be ready when they arrive.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Yet can we guarantee success? We have yet to stop the ship, or even track it. And destroying the vessel would steal away our chance to learn its secrets.”

“I have been studying the reports of the ship’s appearance at the LP-6 entry point,” Morlon continued. “The alien vessel was in the area for over ten minutes before it disappeared. On Bancc-Bin, it lifted and jumped in a matter of seconds. I believe the teleportation drive is disabled for a longer period when the ship transits through an LP singularity. It affects our standard drives…why not this new technology?”

“Are you further suggesting we allow the Human vessel through the transit to LP-6? That would place them just where they want to be.”

“Yet if I’m right, they will be susceptible at that point. And making the offered transit would be an impossible-to-dismiss opportunity on their part.”

“If we can stop them at LP-6; it is a risk.”

“A calculated risk, Master. When the Humans first arrived in the Suponac, our forces were not expecting them. This time we will be ready, and have ample units waiting at LP-6 to disable the vessel. I will also send ships through the LP-5 transit point with them, to form a compression point at LP-6. As they appear, we close the trap. The prize will be ours, as play concludes.”

“The game sounds…stimulating, Morlon. We play the Jundac Humans, with both a high chance of success and a challenge factor worthy of our planning. However, the Humans could—should—sense a trap.”

“Of course, yet from my research, Humans are arrogant and believe in their own myth. They—like us—will see this as a challenge.”

“Perhaps, but Morlon, if there appears even the slightest chance the Humans could fulfill their mission, the ship must be destroyed, regardless of the technology it holds. Is that understood? We cannot risk losing LP-6.”

“I understand. And I will be on station awaiting their arrival.”

“Do not underestimate the Humans, Morlon. Others have before, with tragic consequences.”

“Adam Cain played a role in those tragic events, Master. He is no longer a factor.”

“I would have more confidence in your statement if we had a body to view. Do not stop looking until you do.”

* * *

A splash of cold salty water snapped Adam awake.

He opened his eyes slowly to see a brilliant, cloud-streaked morning sun rising fifteen degrees above the horizon, reflecting vibrant orange on the shimmering sea below. He smiled, thinking how beautiful it was.

His next reaction was a laugh. Here he was pressed against a slab of rock, a bed of barnacles biting into his skin, his right foot wedged in an opening and unable to move, his clothes in tatters and stained in blood from the numerous cuts he’d suffered throughout the night…and he could still admire a beautiful morning sunrise.

He rested against the rock for a while longer, taking in deep breaths of thick ocean mist. The tide had receded leaving him atop a rock fall about ten feet above the surf. Not much of his clothing remained, and sometime during the night he’d lost his shoes. His bare right foot was stuck in an opening in the rock, sharp points tearing into water-logged flesh with every tiny movement.

His mutant cells helped lessen the pain, and a quick survey of his exposed arms showed a rash of red dots where once open cuts had been. He didn’t heal with the speed of a Panur, but as he’d observed before, this was far better than the old way of doing things.

He shifted his head to look at his trapped foot. The ankle didn’t feel broken, but it was wedged in there pretty tight. He bit his bottom lip and took a deep breath. It was time to test his new found tolerance for pain.

Adam pulled, groaning gutturally as layers of skin were ripped away on the prickly barnacles. His bloody foot appeared, leaving trails of red liquid coloring the shallow pool of ocean water trapped in the opening.

He pushed off the rock and sat up.

“Damn,” he said to the vast ocean. “Now what?”

* * *

He rested for another thirty minutes. By then his foot had stopped bleeding and the open cuts were beginning to close. Strength was returning, but slowly. He stood up and tested his injured foot. He could put weight on it, but the ankle was badly sprained. Walking barefoot on the sharp rocks was another challenge, but he had no choice. He looked toward the top of the craggy bluff, trying to identify a path to the top. He had to get off the beach before the tide came back in, and the only way was up.

Adam moved gingerly on the rock, closer to the cliff, trying his best to ignore the new cuts on his feet. The climb wouldn’t have been too hard…if he wasn’t barefoot.

Suddenly he ducked into a shallow crevasse in the cliff face, slicing his shoulder open on a razor-sharp piece of lava in the process. Two Nuoreans were making their way along the rocky beach, heading his way. They were armed with flash rifles slung over their shoulders and pistols in holsters around their waists. They scrambled from rock to rock with ease and confidence, but more aware of their footing than what was in front of them. They were looking for a body, not an adversary.

Adam took a loose rock in his right hand and prepared himself. They would be on him any second. Unfortunately, the Nuoreans weren’t traveling side by side. The trailing alien was a good twenty feet behind the other.

When the first alien came parallel to his hiding place, Adam jumped out and slammed the rock into the gray-skinned face, leaving the rock embedded in the crushed skull. He caught the slumping body in his arms, removing the flash pistol before letting the corpse fall to the rocks and off the side into the surf. Before the other Nuorean could react, Adam took aim and placed a bolt square into his face.

Adam rushed to the dead alien and removed his shoes. They fit—if a little big. Next he took off his uniform jacket, flash rifle and holster. A moment later, Adam was dressed, armed and ready for the climb up the cliff.

He scanned the beach for more aliens. They were there, but farther away, looking out at the sea or into crevasses in huge rock boulders deposited on the shore from the bluff above. They weren’t looking for him per se…just his body.

Adam began climbing, gaining strength and energy as he went. It was a strange sensation. Rather than growing fatigued by the climb, his cells were being fed energy through a mysterious process. Adam didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth; without his unexpected mutant gift, he would have surely died from last night’s fall.

Of course, he also wouldn’t have attempted a hundred-foot leap in the first place.

* * *

It took less than five minutes for him to reach the top of the bluff. He looked down, surveying the area where he’d fallen the night before. The base ended in a pointed canyon where the high surf surged up, amplifying the force of the waves. Fortunately, his mind protected him from the memory.

There was an alien car sitting about a hundred yards away; on each of the sections of the lava flow, between the periodic cracks that were the wedge-shaped canyons, another car sat. The search for his body was extensive, along several miles up and down the shoreline. Fortunately the Nuoreans were below and not on the bluff.

Adam ran to the car. Alien vehicles seldom had locks or even ignition keys; this one was no exception. He rummaged through the back seat and then into the holding trunk where he found cold weather gear, including a slick raincoat with a hood. He slipped the garment on. It would help disguise his alien face.

He set the electric transport in motion, following a fresh set of tracks in the red-colored rocks and soil. The ride was bumpy and he had to take it slow to make sure he didn’t puncture a tire on the sharp obsidian shards.

After a while, he came upon a paved road. It was narrow with little traffic, running north and south. He turned left, toward the city.

Nearly all the light traffic was heading in his direction and he slipped in behind two off-white vehicles similar to his. He hoped they were official Nuorean vehicles that would lead him to their headquarters.

With mental acuity, Adam accessed his ATD.

Kaylor, can you hear me?

After a brief pause, Jym’s excited voice came into his mind. Adam! Are you okay?

I’m fine. Where are you?

We are on a moon of one of the gas worlds in the system. We came to the coordinates you gave us last night yet no one was there. We feared the worst.

Adam remembered seeing his friends being surrounded by Nuoreans and an airship coming in for a landing. That was moments before his drop into the abyss.

The Nuoreans have the others. I’m free and going after them.

Adam! Is it you? Kaylor said, coming into his mind as well.

It is, my friend. I want you to stay where you are until I call. Don’t try to be the hero. That’s my job.

Indeed. Yet I thought your ATD could not reach this far?

I gave it a little boost. Now stay put and safe. I’m going after the others.

He broke the connection.

* * *

Kaylor was right; his ATD should not have been able to reach across billions of miles, even to the ghost program embedded in the computers aboard the Najmah Fayd. It was only possible from the small cluster of mutant cells forming a tiny tumor within his brain.

He didn’t know how he knew it, but he understood the workings of his residual mutant cells, at least in a general sense. They sent out instructions to his normal cells, causing muscle cells to fuse together tighter and in greater numbers, making him stronger when needed. They also sent surges of electricity to other parts of his body to quicken his reaction time. They enhanced his healing time and helped with memory and recall. His eyesight was sharper; even his spirits brighter.

These enhancements weren’t omnipresent however. Most only manifested themselves occasionally, as the brain sensed they were needed, before his body would return to normal. He felt there was more he could do with his new powers, but was frustrated that they only showed themselves when called upon. He wasn’t able to sit around and play with them. And as evidenced by his fateful leap the night before, they did have their limits—limits he wouldn’t know until it was too late.

He also felt this was as good as it was going to get. Immortal mutant cells didn’t need to grow or multiply. They were what they were, and Adam only had a finite number of them. In a way he was relieved. This meant he had the best of both worlds—enhanced abilities, while still retaining his humanity. He didn’t complain. All he needed was a little help now and then from his little friends.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, he came to a three-way split in the road. To the left was the spaceport and Afton’s neighborhood. Straight ahead was the city. The two cars he was following went right, to the west and the graveyard of Nuorean combat arenas. He followed them.

A few minutes later, he began to pass dozens of dilapidated arenas, their high walls crumbling and overgrown with vines of dry, brown vegetation. The farther he traveled, the better the condition of the arenas, until the two cars in front of him slowed and pulled onto the grounds surrounding a huge rectangular building similar to a domed football stadium.

The place was a chaotic mess, with hundreds of natives scampering around the building, in the process of painting the exterior. They had huge, hand-held sprayers and looked to be about a third done. Dozens of Nuoreans were also on site, guiding the actions of the natives.

Adam merged with the trucks, cars and pedestrians crowding the parking area, winding his way toward the rear of the building. He spotted a lone Nuorean, hunched over the hood of his transport, studying one of the square databoxes the Nuoreans used, rather than the thinner datapads common throughout the Milky Way.

Adam pulled next to him, placed the hood over his head and stepped out, drawing the flash pistol as he approached the alien. He stepped next to the thin, young-looking Nuorean and poked the barrel of the weapon into his ribs.

The alien turned, reacting instantly to Adam and his gun. There was only a moment’s thought of fighting in the alien’s eyes before he surrendered to his situation.

“You are Adam Cain,” the young Nuorean said with enthusiasm. “I recognize you from the video images. You are presumed to be dead.”

The alien’s apparent joy was unsettling, but Adam appreciated the fact he wasn’t putting up a fight, not out here in the public parking lot. “Yeah, I guess they presumed wrong.”

“Obviously. I am Second Player, Lower Level Joris (435) Voden-Mor.” He glanced down at the weapon pointed at his midsection. “I assume I am now your hostage.”

“Good guess, Joris,” Adam said, still a little uneasy at the alien’s pleading—almost hopeful—attitude. “Where are the others…the other Humans?”

“They are within the facility.”

“Where within the facility?”

“In the holding pens, sub-level one. Do you want me to take you there?”

Adam blinked several times. “Well, yeah, that would be helpful.”

The alien began to move away. “It is wise that you keep the hood over your head and stay close as to not reveal the weapon you hold on me.”

“Thanks, good advice. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Joris led Adam through one of the open doors. Nearly every door in the building was open to help ventilate the paint fumes. They passed several creatures, mostly Us, with a few other species thrown in, along with half a dozen Nuoreans. Joris made no move to signal his people.

“What’s with all the improvements? You expecting guests?”

“Yes, Adam Cain. There is a Third Cadre squadron on the way. They will be here tomorrow to take you and others to Nuor. Grand Master Cashin (1,345) Kallen-Noc is with them. There is to be an upgrading of the base as they search for your spacecraft. There is much enthusiasm surrounding its discovery.”

“But you haven’t found it.” Adam said, hoping he knew something the Nuorean didn’t.

“Not yet. But an all-out effort is being made. This is Nuorean space. It will be found.”

The pair came to a wide stairway leading down. With his new-found mental powers, Adam could read the Nuorean writing on the wall: Sub-Level One. His talkative friend was still babbling on.

“The holding pens below are where we keep aliens awaiting trials and classification. In a past time, hundreds would be here,” Joris volunteered. “We Nuoreans will face any creature with the proper challenge factor. Often this involves races with different atmospheres and air pressure. Within the holding pens we can regulate such factors, then either the alien or the Nuor will be provided gear to accommodate such differences. This facility is where the matches are held to verify challenge factors. Beings who can tolerate our atmosphere will meet in the outside arenas.”

“What are you, some kind of tour guide?”

“No, I am just a standard player, but I must say I am quite excited to be living out a T35R scenario. We learned about this in school, but seldom does a Nuorean get to participate in real life.”

“What’s a T35R scenario?” Adam asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“It is a hostage-taking for the purpose of accessing restricted areas.”

“You learn this in school?”

“Yes, it is all part of our game strategy training.”

They were moving along a wide corridor, passing several glassed-in chambers on the right and monitoring stations on the left, with very few Nuoreans at the stations. Sub-Level One looked mostly deserted.

“So tell me, Joris, how does this T35R scenario usually play out?”

“That depends,” the alien answered with barely restrained enthusiasm. “If the hostage-taker has a relatively good chance of achieving his goal, then we are taught to deceive and manipulate the truth. If the chance is poor, we tell the truth. At that point, it matters not and will help put the hostage-taker at ease.”

“And what have you told me?”

“I’ve told you the truth.”

Adam was afraid he was going to say that. “And why do you believe I have a poor chance of succeeding?”

Joris stopped and turned to face Adam. “Because…I activated an emergency alert within my uniform the moment you confronted me. Our conversation has been monitored ever since.”

The corridor was suddenly filled with more aliens than it should have been able to hold, all with flash weapons aimed at Adam. The whole operation was quiet, quick and efficient. Adam nodded with admiration.

He turned to his young Nuorean guide. “Well played, Joris. Well played.”

The alien beamed. “I thank you, Adam Cain. To a Nuorean, that is the greatest compliment we can receive.”

The alien was still bubbling over with pride as Adam was hustled away.

* * *

Two minutes later, Adam was pushed through a doorway and into a large glass chamber, filled with cots, a toilet, a washbasin…and his three companions. They rushed to him, looks of utter shock on their faces. Sherri wrapped her arms around his neck and didn’t let go for a full minute, leaving the men to pat his back or shake his hand.

“For a bunch of superheroes, we sure do get captured a lot,” said Riyad wryly.

“It’s not the getting caught part that makes us heroes,” Adam corrected. “It’s all the damn escapin’ afterwards.”

“You know, you’re supposed to be dead,” Copernicus Smith said matter-a-factly. “When we saw you take a nosedive into the canyon, we thought you were toast.”

Sherri let him go. “Yeah, how did you survive?” She looked at him, deep furrows on her forehead. The Nuoreans had removed his raincoat and uniform jacket; they let him keep the shoes. His shirt was ripped and stained with blood, his pants in matching condition. She focused on the red splotches on his arms, anger building on her face.

“What the hell, Adam?” She took his arms and held them out in front of her. “These were open wounds only a few hours ago, they shouldn’t be healed this much. And don’t think I didn’t notice the cut on your arm that Nuorean bastard gave you in the arena. You tried to hide from me how fast it healed. But I’m no fool; this isn’t right.”

“What are you saying, Sherri?” Riyad asked.

“I’m saying he’s exhibiting some of the same abilities…as a mutant.”

“That’s crazy,” Adam said. “I’m not a mutant. You’ve known me—”

“Yeah, that would explain a lot, actually.” Coop interrupted.

“So what is the truth, my friend?” Riyad asked. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Adam studied their faces. One part of him was reluctant to reveal the truth; another wanted to let it all out. It looked like now he had no choice.

“Why don’t all of you sit down; this is going to take some explaining.”

* * *

Half an hour later, he had told them about the mind-meld between him and Panur, and how a small portion of the immortal mutant’s brain cells had been left behind when he withdrew. Since then, Adam has been feeling out his new-found abilities; some experiments successful, others not so much—like his attempted leap over a hundred-foot-wide canyon.

“This is great!” Copernicus exclaimed. “Now use your magical powers and get us out of here.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Adam said. “They only enhance my natural abilities, and only when needed.”

“Let me get this straight,” Copernicus started. “You have an Artificial Telepathy Device, latent mutant superpowers and, well…you’re Adam friggin’ Cain. And still you can’t get us out of here?”

“I didn’t say that. Just give me a little time to come up with a plan. Oh, and by the way, there’s a squad of Third Cadre on their way to pick us up, along with a Grand Master. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“To take us to Nuor?” Sherri asked.

“Yep.”

“Have you contacted Kaylor?”

“Uh-huh. He’s safe and waiting for my call.”

Riyad smiled. “So it looks like we may get to Nuor after all, even without a map.”

“Seems all roads lead to Nuor,” Sherri said, “at least in the Andromeda Galaxy.”

9

The holding pen was like living inside a racquetball court. There was no place to hide, and now the outer corridor was swarming with Nuoreans. Some were on guard, while others just came to gawk, curious about the prisoners. They’d heard a lot about Humans from their comrades in the Milky Way, while others had never seen a Jundac race in person.

After having no effect on their audience, Adam and the others stopped flashing them the bird. They didn’t grasp the insult.

The Nuoreans observed a day-night cycle within the building, dimming the lights by half as evening fell. The strong smell of fresh paint gave them all headaches—Adam’s lessened by his helpful mutant cells—but it still lingered, just behind his eyes. Eventually, they all claimed cots and fell asleep—again, all except Adam. He could get by on less than hour’s sleep per night; the rest of the time was spent working out escape scenarios in his mind.

He contacted Kaylor again through his ATD and filled him in. They briefly discussed the possibility of the Najmah Fayd sweeping in to save the day, but that was discarded as being too risky. The Nuoreans were after the ship, and if they succeeded in capturing it intact, not only would their mission fail, but the Milky Way would be in worse shape than it was already.

The best time to attempt an escape would come during the transfer from the holding cell to the Third Cadre ship arriving sometime the next day. Would it land at the spaceport or somewhere near the Nuorean base? Throughout the night, Adam categorized the various options; if this…then that, and so forth. By the time the lights came back to full strength in the cell, Adam had about a dozen escape plans all locked away in his mind.

What actually happened was not one of them.

* * *

Adam was starving—this was a constant since becoming part mutant. Panur and the others could absorb energy directly. Not Adam. He had to wolf down all the food he could to help feed the energy requirements of his mutant tumor.

“Can we get some food in here?” Adam yelled through the glass wall.

A Nuorean on the other side shook his head. “You will not be here long enough. The Cadre is on site.”

At least now Adam had a timetable to work with. But he was still hungry.

Sherri and the others knew something was in the works. They could also see that the best time to escape would be once they were out of the cell. Tensions were high, their future uncertain. Adam simply considered it SOP—Standard Operating Procedure—at least for his band of Human heroes.

Feeling like animals in a zoo, Adam and his team stared through the glass at the huge entourage of Nuoreans who showed up a couple of minutes later. One old alien was deferred to more than all the others. He was tall, wide-shouldered and wearing a tan cape over his simple clothing. This had to be the Grand Master, one of the council of leaders of the Nuorean race. Adam knew they achieved such status through years of combat wins, against both Nuoreans and aliens. Although he was old and past his fighting years, Adam could sense the strength and confidence in the alien. He was part of an elite class, and one based on ability, and not politics or backroom maneuverings.

The alien stepped up to the glass; the Humans moved to join him on the other side.

“Some of the other Grand Masters have met Humans in private combat; I, unfortunately, was not afforded the opportunity,” the Nuorean said in a strong, clear voice. “Perhaps when we get to Nuor, I will remedy that.” He focused on Adam. “I recognize you as Adam Cain, and the other members of your support team.”

“Support?” Copernicus snorted.

The Nuorean eyed him for a moment before returning his attention to Adam. “You are well-known, and as one player to another, I offer you respect for your many accomplishments. You will find our two races are very similar in make-up and attitude.” The Grand Master smiled. “That is why we cannot allow you to exist.”

He motioned for the door to be opened and the prisoners removed.

“I am Grand Master Cashin (1,345) Kallen-Noc,” he announced as the Humans were shackled in wrist restraints. “The Kallen-Noc blood-team is the largest of the six prominent families within our race. There are others, yet they have not joined to form more powerful teams. At this time, the Kallen-Noc rule the Nuoreans.”

Adam turned to his friends. “I believe this is a version of the T35R scenario; he’s telling us the truth because he doesn’t believe we’re going to live.”

The look of shock on the face of the Grand Master was priceless. “I have no understanding how you could know that? That is truly impressive, Adam Cain. Yet I have no need to employ such a strategy. You are my prisoners, and as prisoners you will die. Move them along.”

Cashin held back, discussing something with a few of the Third Cadre officers. The Cadre was distinguished from the others by the three yellow stripes on the chests of their black uniforms.

Adam and his team were led along the corridor and up the wide stairway to the main level of the huge building. The smell of paint was especially strong here, as Us workers still scurried about, putting the final touches on a job that obviously hadn’t been completed in time for the Grand Master’s arrival. Adam imagined there would be hell to pay for the missed deadline.

They exited through the same doorway the alien Joris had led Adam through the day before. It was early morning, and the brilliant Bancc-Bin sun glared over the distant pillars of the Us city—the name of which he never learned. Nuorean guards rushed forward to clear away the painters, opening a path to two boxy trucks, one with the back open, waiting for the prisoners.

Without warning, the right side of Adam’s face was sprayed with a sheet of off-white paint. He raised his shackled hands to wipe the thick liquid from his eye, as he caught glimpse of chaos erupting outside the stadium door.

Several of the natives were armed with powerful sprayers, each with long nozzles aimed at the Nuorean guards. Paint was everywhere, as blinded and soaked Nuoreans thrashed about, slippery hands unable to hold flash weapons against the continued onslaught of even more paint jetting their way.

Strong hands took Adam by the arm and pulled him away. A moment later, he was thrown into the back of a truck—not the Nuorean truck, but another—and the door slammed shut. The vehicle shot away at reckless speed.

Adam rolled over, still blinded in his right eye, but able to spot Sherri, Riyad and Copernicus on the floor next to him. They too were covered in paint.

Someone offered him a wet towel. It was Kies, Afton’s mate. She was on a bench seat running along the inner wall of the truck. She was strapped in and able to stay in place as the truck swerved and bounced away from the Nuorean base.

Adam wiped his face with the cloth. “You’re going to get in some major trouble for this,” he said to the Us female—he still couldn’t tell the genders apart.

“It is to be expected,” she said. These were the first words he’d heard her speak. “My cherished was taken away last night and killed by the Nuoreans, simply for affording you courtesy, betrayed by that insoric Nissi. I have never liked her; she had interests in Afton. Now with my life shattered, I will get my revenge on her by helping you escape.”

Adam and the others sat up, with Coop and Sherri taking a seat across from Kies. “Thank you for helping,” Sherri said. Kies nodded, accepting Sherri as a female of the Human race, and therefore more relatable. “Where are we going?”

“I witnessed your space vessel at the Windward Point last night. It did not find you, so I assume it is still free to act.”

“That’s right,” Adam said. “I can make contact, tell them where to find us.”

“We are going to the Grand Park in central Linnor-Kis. Your ship can meet you there.”

“Is it visible from the air?”

“Very much so. And I also believe you were looking for one of these.”

Kies leaned over and pulled a three-foot-square metal box from under the seat. There were slots on the front and connectors along the other three sides.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It is a navigational module from a cargo vessel. It should have the information you seek, if you can find a way to connect it to your system. That is beyond my knowledge.”

Adam smiled and took the thin hand of the alien in his. “We’ll manage, Kies. Thank you very much. And along with you, we mourn the loss of Afton. He seemed to be a decent being.”

“He was. As are all the Us…except for Nissi.”

“Yeah, she was kind of a bitch.”

10

The comm screen in Rodoc’s private office flashed on, signifying a priority message coming in from the capital. The Nuorean leader slipped into his chair and activated the return signal.

“Master, good news,” said the Third Cadre officer Morlon. His face was animated. “Adam Cain was captured yesterday on Bancc-Bin. He is now with the others.”

“I thought you said he was dead?” The accusatory tone was biting. “Now you see why I insisted on viewing his corpse.”

“You were correct, Master. He is an elusive and worthy opponent. But now he is in the holding pens at the screening facility. He—and the others—are secure. No alien has ever escaped from the pens.”

“Where is Grand Master Cashin?”

“He arrived a while ago on the planet with the Third Cadre force. I am sending in additional units to assist in the search for the Human space vessel. And Master Cashin has requested a challenge match with one of the Humans. He mentioned Adam Cain.”

“Of course he would,” Rodoc said, grinning widely.

Morlon grimaced. “That would not be recommended. Adam Cain is extremely dangerous.”

Rodoc smiled and cocked his head. “You wish to save him for yourself, is this not true?”

Morlon turned serious. “I have proven my combat skills, Master, as has the Human. It is not pride or ego with which I propose this immunity challenge, only common sense. Even in a controlled environment, the alien may prove…unpredictable. I would not want the Grand Master—or any Grand Master—to risk his life in such a challenge.”

Rodoc waved his hand. “Your words are convincing, yet I know you better than most, Morlon. Your concern for the Masters is noted, yet I know your true motivation. I will take your request under advisement. Now…get the Humans safely to Nuor. And find their ship. There have already been too many disappointments to date.”

* * *

An hour later, the comm screen flashed again. The Grand Master was still at his desk and was annoyed at this new disturbance. He had work to do.

It was Morlon again. This time his face was sullen and grave, not animated like before.

Rodoc spoke before the Cadre officer. “Adam Cain has escaped,” he stated, almost with humor.

“That is correct, Master.”

“Is the Grand Master dead?”

Morlon eyes grew wide. “No. He was still in the building when the escape took place. The Humans were assisted by the natives.”

This information intrigued Rodoc. “In such a short time, aliens to our galaxy were able to elicit the assistance of the natives, even at the risk of their own wellbeing? I find that fascinating.”

“All the facts are not in.”

“And the prototype vessel?”

“It appeared in the local city and took the Humans away. We have no track on the vessel.”

Rodoc let out a deep sigh. “Then it is time to implement your plan to trap the vessel. There is no option. It will appear at the transit point, whether we want it to or not. There should be a strategy in place when it does.”

“Yes, Master. I will begin immediately setting up the scenario.”

“And Morlon?” The cold intensity in the voice of the Grand Master made Morlon freeze. “There have been far too many miscalculations with the Humans. And now you are lighting the path for them to our most important facility. I only hope you take the proper precautions, because if you fail, I will not be able to protect you from the consequences.”

Morlon stared back at his leader. He wasn’t afraid, only insulted that his skills were being questioned. “I understand, Master. But if I fail, my fate will be deserved.”

“Remember that, Morlon…if that time ever comes.”

11

“It does not go in that way!” Jym exclaimed. “The ports face to the side and connect with these attachments.”

Copernicus shook his head. “You don’t know what these ports are for, so how can you know?”

“It makes sense. These are transmission lines. They must be connected to a reference device.”

“I really wish the two of you would stop arguing,” Adam said. Jym and Copernicus were stuck in an opening under the nav console trying to install the computer they’d gotten from Kies. It barely fit under the station, and the connectors had to be cut and replaced to mate with those of the Najmah Fayd. Adam knew both of his friends were wrong; neither knew what the connections did until they were hooked up, which was turning out to be into an agonizingly long process.

“With all your mutant genius, we could really use some help,” Copernicus barked.

The barrage of mutant-this and mutant-that had been non-stop since the Najmah Fayd jumped into space after leaving Bancc-Bin. They hopped six light-years away, and since then had been cruising along on standard gravity drive. Sherri was at the comm station doing her best to bring in local broadcasts, searching for any word about their escape or the region-wide search underway for the trans-dimensional starship. As was always the case, acquiring the advanced technology of the Najmah Fayd had taken precedence over the capture of the crew, and somewhere in the vastness of space, hundreds of enemy ships were on the hunt.

Adam had scanned the data manuals for the nav system aboard the ship, learning all the intricate details of how it worked. His mutant abilities helped, and now he had superior recall of the details. That’s why he was just about to take over the install process, rather than let Jym and Copernicus continue to screw things up.

“Jym’s right, Coop,” he said. “The unit follows a logical in-out configuration. But, Jym, the ports on that side are for the input, not the output. Flip it around. Try that and see if it lights up.”

“But that….” Jym studied the three-foot-square box. “Oh, I see. Yes, let us try that, Copernicus.”

“You mean he’s right?”

“Possibly,” Jym scowled. “He will be even more insufferable than before if this works.”

A moment later, the lights on the module flashed on and the screen embedded above the nav console came to life.

“See,” Adam said with pride.

“You scare me, Cain,” Copernicus said, no humor in voice.

Adam slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Coop, I scare myself sometimes too.”

Jym and Copernicus extricated themselves from under the console, with Jym slipping into the main seat to begin working his magic. Jym had been raised in spaceships, having accompanied his mechanic birth-father on his assignments, beginning at seven years of age—in Fulquin years. He took to the intricacies of starship systems with uncanny skill, and his small size allowed him to move within the tight confines with ease. Now his stubby, fur-covered fingers danced over the input board, searching data files for the information he needed. Within seconds he was able to bring up a schematic of the major star systems for this section of the Andromeda galaxy.

“There it is—Nuor,” he announced proudly. All the crew gathered around. Jym punched a few more buttons and a distance measurement appeared on the screen: five thousand six light-years from their present location. Within an area of competing gravity sources, the Najmah Fayd was restricted to TD jumps of about six hundred light-years at a time. With recharge times, they could be there in less than a day.

And then what?

Adam leaned back against the command chair. “Anything about the location of the transit points for the LP stations?”

“Not on here,” Jym said. “That is not something I would assume to be public knowledge.”

Riyad cleared his throat. “Adam, you once proposed to wring the information out of some high-ranking Nuorean,” he pointed out. “Is that still an option? Please say it’s still an option.”

Adam laughed. “That’s always an option, if not for information, then for sport. A guy has to have his hobbies.”

“There’s a lot of broadcast chatter,” Sherri said. “It’s a jumble, but we may be able to pick up something.”

“Again, I do not believe they would be speaking publicly about this subject,” Jym reiterated.

Kaylor raised a hand for attention. “The transit zones we are looking for are old and well-established, and as pointed out before, stationary. The LP-6 transit zones keep changing, as the Nuorean switch the landing points in our galaxy. But the others are more like roadways to distant stations that must be serviced on a continual basis. And with no apparent enemies in their galaxy, the Nuoreans would see no need to keep these locations secret.”

Jym grunted. He hated to be contradicted, even by his oldest friend.

“Sherri, have the comm record all the chatter,” Adam ordered. “Then set up an algorithm to search for any references to LP stations, transit points, zones—or whatever they call them. Hopefully something will show up.”

Sherri stared at him with her wide, blue eyes. “And exactly how do I do that? I’m not a computer expert, but I assume you are…now.”

Jym placed a furry hand on Sherri’s arm. “It is not that difficult, really. I will assist you.”

Adam smiled back at Sherri. “See, even Jym can do it.”

That last statement didn’t go over very well with his little furry friend.

* * *

“We should not go much closer until we have a better idea where we are going,” Kaylor said over his shoulder to Adam sitting in the command chair. “Traffic is building. I suggest we remain hidden here until…well, until it is time not to stay hidden.”

“Good idea,” Adam said wryly.

The team had taken a leisurely tack on their way to Nuor, yet were frustrated at the lack of progress in identifying any of the elusive transit zones. Only Jym seemed pleased with the outcome; it would prove he’d been right all along. Now they were only four hundred light-years from the Nuorean homeworld, cloistered in a violent triple star system that looked ready to blow at any moment. They’d chosen the location because most of the other space traffic in the area was avoiding the system like the plague. Kaylor kept the trans-dimensional jump batteries charged and ready, with his finger never too far from the launch button—just in case the locals knew something he didn’t.

“All this electromagnetic interference isn’t helping with the comm chatter,” Sherri griped. “We’re closer to Nuor but only receiving about…. Wait!”

Her comm screen had just begun displaying streams of Nuorean writing. She slapped the console with her right hand. “Dammit Jym, did you set this thing to display notices in Nuorean?”

Jym scurried over to her. “I apologize. I did not set a preference. This must be a default, displaying in the native language.”

“That’s okay,” Adam said as he lifted out of his chair and went to Sherri’s station.

She looked up at him with utter disgust. “Don’t tell me you can read Nuorean now? This is getting ridiculous.”

Adam dismissed her sarcasm as just one more case of mutant-envy. For days now, most—make that all—of the crew had been experiencing the illness to one degree or another. He wished he could share the wealth, but he only had a limited number of mutant brain cells…and he was keeping all those for himself.

“I tapped into the translation program a few days ago. Let me take a look.”

Station chairs were affixed to a sliding rail in the deck. Sherri pushed her chair to the side but didn’t surrender it to Adam. She would make him stand as he read the message.

Adam pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, while placing his right hand on his chin in ‘Thinker-like’ fashion. “Well, let’s see. Uh-huh, very good. Yes, definitely,” he mumbled as he read.

“You pompous ass,” Sherri grumbled.

“Now children, let’s not get personal.” He stood up straight to make his report. “Multiple references to LP transit zones, announcing some kind of anniversary celebration commemorating the date of the initial completion of LP-1.”

“Does it say where, and any mention of LP-5?” Riyad asked.

“It mentions LP-5, but no specific location. It seems this should be common knowledge to all who are interested.”

“Look! I have something on the nav board!” Jym yelled, prompting a wholesale shift in the crew across the bridge to where the tiny bear sat. Jym pointed. “See these faint red spots, they were not there before.”

Jym was indicating five slowly pulsating dots, all in a line and radiating out from Nuor. “These are transmission beacons, now activated. As I said, they had not been active before.”

“They turned them on to show their people where the celebrations will be held?” Kaylor asked.

“Or they turned them on to let us know where they are,” Copernicus suggested.

“It does seem a little coincidental,” Adam said. “The Nuoreans are master strategists. They probably figured out our endgame the moment we showed up in Andromeda.”

“Now they’re inviting us to take a run at LP-5,” Riyad said.

“Why would they do that?” Jym asked.

“Because they’ve been stymied at every attempt to find the Najmah Fayd, so why not set a trap and see who walks in?”

“They would do this only if they believe their plan will succeed,” Riyad added. “Otherwise they’re opening up the front door for us. They’re not that stupid, but they expect us to be.”

Adam studied the screen for a moment. The dots were in a line, but which one was LP-5? He considered how the build-out would have progressed. Once the smaller, hopscotch stations were built, they would be essentially shut down as new ones came online. The last one—the one servicing LP-6 and the link with the Milky Way—would be the second most-important station and the one getting the most standard traffic, tasked with keeping the midpoint generators maintained and the station manned. It would make sense from a long-range perspective that this last station would be the closest to the main population center and supply lines. He focused his attention on the dot closest to Nuor. It was actually within the system, placed between two of the ubiquitous gas giants nearly all systems had.

There was a conspicuous silence on the bridge, as everyone waited for Adam to speak. When he did, it was accompanied with a thin smile.

“If they’re going to roll out the red carpet, I say we don’t let them down.”

“It’s a trap, Adam,” Sherri said with sarcasm.

“Of course it is. But I say we accept their invitation, just not on their time schedule. The report said the celebration is to take place in four days. I suggest we hang out here for eight. Then when we don’t show up on time, they’ll start to doubt their plan. Security will relax as alternative strategies are worked up. Then we show up. Surprise!”

Sherri looked out the forward viewport. “That might work…if this damn system doesn’t blow itself apart within that time.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Adam said. “Kaylor, work up an alternative jump site, just in case we have to bolt from here.”

“Already plotted.”

“Good man—or I mean Belsonian.”

“I know what you meant.”

12

The home star of the Nuorean system was called Or, and the native word for two—or a pair—was nu. Located on the second planet from Or, the homeworld of the race became known as Nuor—Second from Or.

The Nuoreans had advanced basically to the stage of the ancient Romans when the aliens arrived, yet a thousand years before, they had taken a different path to building the culture that would one day dominate a galaxy. The Nuoreans had developed a society where combat was the accepted means of advancement, as well as achieving wealth and possessions. Yet in those early days, nearly all challenges were to the death. That changed when the aliens arrived.

The Nuoreans received star-travel—along with most of their other advanced technology—like most other races: They got it from others. The Juireans took theirs from the Klin; Humans, from everyone else. In those ancient days, the Nuoreans didn’t have much to contribute to galactic society; however, the arrival of the aliens on Nuor changed the race dramatically.

They continued to hold their gladiator games, yet in light of their new-found place in the universe, the Nuoreans began to value their own kind more, at least enough to stop the wholesale slaughter in the arenas. They retained the tradition of combat to attain wealth and status, but they made these contests more ritualized rather than lethal. An injury of a significant degree was enough to call the match and declare a victor. This way the race maintained their fighting skills as their population grew.

When the inevitable wars began with their galactic neighbors, the Nuoreans had neither superior technology nor weapons. What they did have were superior gaming skills. These initial clashes—three thousand years ago—were hardly contests. Every move the aliens made, the Nuoreans were already one or two steps ahead. Soon, the natives of Nuor had expanded their reach across half the rim, with no alien species able to stand against them.

But still they felt the bloodlust for combat to the death.

Having conquered hundreds of worlds, the Nuoreans began staging contests against the most-worthy aliens. Fighting other Nuoreans was a predictable endeavor; they had all been trained in the same techniques, almost from birth, so the challenge was limited. With the aliens, however, it was a whole new game. They fought unconventionally and with enthusiasm, especially after the Nuoreans introduced the concept of immunity challenges. It became a matter of life or death for the aliens, with nothing in between, which only made them fight harder.

The Nuoreans reveled in this new opportunity to hone their skills and achieve fame. Yet the aliens had no possessions the Nuoreans wanted. So instead of wealth transfer, these contests ended with the awarding of immunity points, which could be used to shield native combatants from loss of their own wealth, at least to a degree, depending on the challenge factor of the opponent. This new system flourished, and at the height of Nuorean power and influence, over five million immunity challenges were fought every day on a variety of worlds.

It must also be noted that the Nuorean claim of having killed off all the advanced races in the Andromeda Galaxy was an exaggeration. A billion years before, the interior of the huge galaxy had suffered a collision with a smaller galaxy, turning that region into a living Hell for space travel. What species had been there were wiped out, and the deadly conditions made any new attempts for life to gain a foothold almost impossible.

The surviving species developed along the rim of the galaxy.

And not every race—advanced or not—became the target of the Nuorean’s alien games. In fact, over eighty percent of advanced life along the rim was considered not worthy of combat, while less than one percent were classified Jundac, and too dangerous to fight.

The Nuoreans focused only on the most-challenging races, and primarily the combat-aged males. Children, females and the aged were spared. Yet when most of the able-bodied males of a world are taken away to be killed, societies tend to suffer. In the early days, the Nuoreans didn’t care—there were still hundreds of worlds to draw from. But when the truly competitive races began to grow fewer in number, the Nuoreans began a program of population management. This worked to a point, yet the Nuoreans still longed for the halcyon days of near-unlimited immunity races and the subsequent contests. Immunity challenges allowed for more aggressive ambition among the Nuoreans and faster advancement up the ladder.

The Kac was their answer.

The Nuoreans discovered the means to travel between galaxies quite by accident. While experimenting with a dual-singularity space drive, the Cadre One scientists noticed how when the two blackholes interacted, they produced their most-prominent gravity effects along a straight line, rather than in a sphere. By building generators in pairs, the Nuoreans were able to create series of matching blackholes that would fight to join up, elongating the structure and confining their influence to what could be best described as gravity tunnels—hundreds, then thousands and finally millions of light-years long.

This breakthrough wasn’t for normal space travel, however, since the massive generators required had to be stationary to work properly. But the opportunity to enter a narrow gravity well at one end…and reappear thousands of light-years away at the other, was revolutionary.

The only drawback to the new technology was that it couldn’t be used near any competing gravity sources. This was the same as with traditional gravity drives. The theoretical top-end for a standard grav-drive could never be reached within a galaxy. Only in the great void between the star islands could truly impressive speeds be attained—and the true reach of the dual-singularity device realized.

For thousands of years, not only the Nuoreans, but most of the advanced races in Andromeda, had studied the Milky Way—the Kac in the Nuorean language. Here was a smaller galaxy, yet free of the convoluted mess that was the interior of their own. The players of Nuor could imagine the opportunity for more and challenging immunity contests in the Kac—if they could figure a way to get there.

Their new gravity technology—designated Launch Points, or LP’s—would give them that access. It would open up a new era in the history of the Nuoreans, while some even suggested moving their entire race to the Kac. That idea had never caught on, but plans to invade their neighboring galaxy were begun in earnest.

* * *

Morlon (783) Voden-Mor was the fourth highest ranking member of the Third Cadre. He was fifty-one Nuorean cycles old and had spent the first twenty of his challenge years within the Second Cadre—the military arm of the Nuorean government. Even back then, he was a legend within the race, having in the shortest time accumulated more points than any other Nuorean before or since. He was on the fast track toward Grand Master status, with the potential to eclipse the record points for the species and become its greatest leader.

And then Morlon joined the Third Cadre. Very few understood his reasoning, yet once it was done, there was no turning back. Members of the Third Cadre were different than all other Nuoreans. They had to have an extremely high level of points—both possession and immunity—show unrivaled skill at tactics and strategy, and possess a more-independent mind than most other Nuoreans. This last trait was the reason Morlon chose the Third. Members of the Cadre were the trouble-shooters of the race. Although many worked in teams—evaluating alien races for their potential as viable immunity races—others acted more independently, investigating the various oddities that faced the race as they encountered more of the universe around them.

Rodoc (1,401) had met Morlon twenty-two cycles ago, when the future Grand Master had first achieved Qualify status at the first level. Morlon was assigned to secure the residence and other privileges of the rank, as well as make accommodations for the former QM. Individuals at the bottom of the ladder were the most vulnerable to the up-and-comers, be they QMs or GMs. The current Qualifying Master in that position had been living on borrowed time for two cycles; it was only a matter of time before someone beat his point total.

There was some grumbling from the much-older QM as the relatively young Rodoc took his place, but other than that, the transition was uneventful. Morlon went on to become the primary supplier of Rodoc’s immunity aliens, personally testing each race before allowing them to face Rodoc. In his private arena, Rodoc would stand on the sidelines and marvel at the skill of the young Third Cadre officer, knowing without shame that he would not prevail in a contest between the two.

But victories against fellow Nuoreans was not what Morlon sought. He saw in Rodoc the opportunity to challenge far more aliens than he could have otherwise. For every alien Rodoc faced, Morlon had dispatched five beforehand.

It was the killing of aliens that Morlon lived for, not the rule of an empire.

* * *

But now Morlon (783) was upset, probably more than he could ever remember being.

He stared at the black comm screen, which only moments before had displayed the angry face of Grand Master Rodoc—the leader of his race. Morlon had just suffered a verbal beating like never before, and there was nothing he could do in his defense. He had pleaded for more time, telling Rodoc that he believed the Humans would eventually show up in their enhanced starship. The fact that they didn’t during the mock celebration at LP-5 only meant they had figured out his strategy. That aside, the Humans still had to use LP-5 to achieve their ultimate objective. The aliens were still in the Suponac, and it was only a matter of time before they showed up at the transit zone.

What upset Rodoc so much was that Morlon could not give him an estimate when the Humans would show. Originally he had—the date of the celebration. But that had come and gone three days ago. Being a smaller generator complex than the much larger midpoint station, LP-5 recycled every twenty-nine hours, rather than the seventy-two it LP-6. Three transits had already taken place since the celebration—and still no Humans. Nuoreans were used to controlling the game, and now it looked as though it was the Humans in command. The aliens could hold off for months if they chose. All the while Morlon’s ships had to remain on station and alert at every jump.

Morlon understood Rodoc’s frustration, yet he felt it unfair that he should suffer all the blame. He had done his best to lure the Humans into his trap—and it would still work—if Rodoc would only give him time.

Instead, he’d tasked the Cadre officer with devising another plan, something more proactive. Already, four hundred ships were blanketing the region between Bancc-Bin and Nuor. But with the capabilities of the Human’s jump ship, they could be anywhere by now.

Anywhere except back in the Kac.

This knowledge gave Morlon hope. His prey was still around. He would find them—or he would make their mission moot.

Morlon (783) began work on a new strategy. This one would be sure to impress the Grand Master—all the Grand Masters.

But first he had to test his theory.

* * *

Rodoc trusted Morlon implicitly—or he had up until his latest failure. In reality, Rodoc had been venting his own frustration on the young Cadre officer. He had fully supported the plan to set a trap for the Humans, even against the advice of some of the other Grand Masters. They believed revealing the location of LP-5 was too risky, and now that the plan had failed, the others voiced their concern for the long-term effect of the failure. They said the Humans now knew the way to LP-6, and in theory, could achieve their mission. That would have the effect of isolating Nuorean forces in the Kac and be a major blow to their overall plans.

The worst part—as Rodoc grumbled—was the plan should have worked. The fact that the Humans—and he used the name Adam Cain as a placeholder for the entire race—had detected the trap and turned it against Morlon and his forces, was troublesome. The Nuoreans had faced clever and strategic adversaries before, but Cain was becoming a dangerous anomaly. Rodoc’s people even had the Human in captivity several times, and yet still it did not matter. He always found a way to escape and cause even more problems for the Nuoreans.

It was clear to Rodoc, one way or another Adam Cain had to be eliminated.

* * *

It was three days after the browbeating, that the Third Cadre commander came to Rodoc, requesting his presence at a demonstration he’d prepared. It would take place off-planet, and the Grand Master would have to put all his other affairs on hold.

The brashness of the request piqued Rodoc’s curiosity. Morlon had to know this would be his last chance to redeem himself, not only to Rodoc, but the rest of the Grand Masters. He was taking an awful chance—and it was the seriousness of the situation that convinced Rodoc to go.

Morlon apologized for the time this would take out of the GMs schedule, but he assured him it would be worth it. They left Nuor in the early morning and journeyed to the LP-3 transit zone nine hours away. This was an extremely long time for Rodoc to be away from either his residence or the capital, but as the hours passed—and Morlon offered no explanation—the Grand Master began to treat the day as a game and refused to ask Morlon for more detail. He would let Morlon run his gambit.

The LP-3 transit line was the third to be built as the race reached farther into the galactic void. The generators had been constructed by workers traveling through the LP-2 line to their limit range of ninety-four thousand light-years from the Suponac. Here the generators for LP-3 were built, extending the reach out to one hundred ninety thousand light-years. The LP-4 station followed at three hundred seventy-five thousands light-years. LP-5 completed the transition to the midpoint between galaxies, and the construction site of the massive generators at LP-6.

The LP-3 transit line was now used mainly for maintenance and shift changes for the small crew manning the space station at LP-4, near its huge gravity generators.

The small starship—with a security escort of six other vessels, assumed their positions in the center of the transit zone, and moments later, were all transported to the end-point. Rodoc still marveled at the technology, as he gazed out the viewport at the blaze of stars that was the Suponac Galaxy. From this distance he could make out the edges and the general shape, with its huge, glowing center dome and fiery inner ring, which was the remnants of a collision with a much smaller galaxy a billion cycles ago. That collision had increased the size of his galaxy, but at a cost.

This frustrated Rodoc, knowing that a galaxy so huge and with so much potential, was mostly an illusion. What life there was now hugged the edges, away from the deadly center of the Suponac.

Now that they had reached the final destination for Morlon’s demonstration—there was nowhere else to go from here—Rodoc was anxious to learn what all the mystery was about. But he had to wait a while longer. The ship proceeded to the space station at LP-4 and entered a huge hangar bay. Electric carts awaited the small entourage, and within thirty minutes of arriving at the destination-point, Rodoc and Morlon were in the command center of the station, with four huge video screens active, techs at their controls.

There was a large clock on the wall, counting down the minutes.

“Now, my friend,” Rodoc began. “You have brought me here—at a distance equal to twice the width of the Suponac. I’m sure you intend to impress me with this demonstration of yours.”

Morlon’s expression remained passive. He seldom expressed emotion. He was all business, all the time. And after their last conversation, Rodoc sensed tension between the pair.

“The purpose is not merely to impress, but to show…viability.” Morlon looked at the clock and then nodded to one of the Cadre One techs.

The top left screen displayed a distant view of a mostly brown planet, with a thin white line of an atmosphere standing out in relief against the black backdrop of space.

“This is a world designated 465-DSK. It is uninhabited and of no commercial value. Its location is within the A-4 Sector, approximately four hundred light-years inside the recognized boundary of the galaxy. This is an active view, transmitted by wormhole communications. Please observe.”

Control panels surrounding the pair began to light off. The screen below the one with the planet came to life, showing a large section of space with a dotting of stars off in the distance, toward the galaxy. A circle appeared on the screen, a graphic representation of the transit zone at this end of the LP-3 gravity tunnel. The generators for this point were much smaller than those needed for the intergalactic transits, so the recharge time was greatly reduced. Still, it had only been less than an hour.

Rodoc looked at Morlon, the question on his face.

“I supplied additional batteries to the LP-3 generators for this demonstration. I know your time is valuable. Now observe the planet.”

It took only a moment before Rodoc noticed a change. At first he had trouble understanding the meaning of what he saw, as a thin white cloud was forming on the right side of the planet, being drawn into space to form a sharp point. Then the cloud turned ruddy in color, mixing with the white of the atmosphere. The camera zoomed in, showing huge chunks of the planet—the size of mountains—being ripped off the surface and joining in the catastrophic exodus into space.

That’s when Rodoc noticed something on the screen which displayed the transit zone for LP-3. As he watched, his jaw fell slack. Appearing within the four-hundred-thousand mile diameter jump zone—and racing off into space—were the same massive chunks of rock, interlaced now with frozen sheets of atmosphere and ice. The area continued to fill, resembling a disjointed asteroid field consisting of thousands of objects. This continued for another fifteen seconds until the transit was complete.

Rodoc stared at the screen for several seconds, watching the mass of debris race from the transit zone. He looked at the screen with the planet. The brown globe was now grossly misshapen, with a large, ragged bite taken out of the right side. The atmosphere no longer glowed as a massive cloud of brown haze was already beginning to fall back on the planet, obscuring some of the most catastrophic damage.

Rodoc looked at Morlon. “Why?”

“To prove it was possible. No one has ever transported a planet through an LP before. There was a possibility the singularities could rupture or disintegrate.”

“And you tested it now, with me nearly two hundred thousand light-years from Nuor? What if there is damage to the generators?”

Morlon turned back to the controls. “This was not our first test, Master. I would not have risked your life if so.”

“You’ve done this before…destroyed a planet?”

“Yes. Three. This was the fourth.”

“Again, I ask why?”

“This is a potential solution to our Human problem in the Kac.”

Immediately, Rodoc grasped the meaning. “Yet the Earth is located much farther into their galaxy than was this planet. We would need a direct line…and the use of the LP-6 generators.”

“That is what we are looking into. I already have Cadre in the Kac taking precise measurements of the location of Earth. I will know more in a few days.”

Rodoc looked back at the rapidly expanding debris field. “Why was the planet not transported here complete? The zone is adequate in size to hold such an object. And the objects at this end are moving. That is not normal for a transit.”

“Our transit lines work best without opposing gravity fields. That is why we aim them at the outer edge of the Kac—that and because the entry points on our side would have be placed farther into the Suponac. In this case, a planet exerts its own strong gravitational field which resists the transit pulse. As these forces oppose, the planet is ripped apart. We may not be able to pull the Human’s homeworld entirely out of the Kac, but what will be left could hardly be classified as a planet. And we could always link again in three days and do even more damage if necessary.”

“And the movement of the debris?”

“The transit zone at the target world was offset slightly. Debris was drawn into the zone, which produced momentum. When the material appeared at this end, the momentum was maintained. Once we passed through LP-3, I had the transit zone shifted to the target world, which set the corresponding exit point at this end further into the void. I will return it to normal for our journey back.”

“And what happens on our end, as the Human world is drawn to us?”

“It matters not. The destination point will be somewhere deep in the Suponac and of no interest to us.”

The idea of killing billions of creatures in a single act did not weigh on Rodoc’s mind. What dominated his thinking was his renewed admiration for the Third Cadre officer. After his failure at LP-5, he had taken the initiative to act on his planning, enough to have already destroyed three worlds before this one. Rodoc chided himself for not seeing the potential of the gravity generators as a planet-busting weapon. Yes, the Humans were Jundac and deserved to die in the most efficient manner. Yet this new use for LP-6 could be employed against other problem worlds or even huge fleets of warships—if their position could be discerned in time to adjust the aim of the generators.

And the other advantage of this new use for LP-6, it required no additional equipment, construction or even fleets of warships. With selected targeting, the Nuoreans could beat the Kac into submission without losing a single player. Take out Juir and Formil—along with Earth—and surrender would be next. The enemy would have no defense, no place to hide.

Rodoc could tell by the stern look on Morlon’s face that the Cadre officer had already thought of all the uses for his strategy—and how this would restore the Grand Master’s respect for him. Morlon was right.

Then Rodoc’s stomach tightened.

“Adam Cain?” he said to the Cadre officer.

“He becomes a non-factor. Once I have the precise coordinates of Earth, I will personally travel to LP-6 and make the adjustments. Cain may eventually reach the station—even manage to return to the Kac by some manner—but his homeworld will be gone.”

Rodoc frowned. “As will be LP-6.”

“We will rebuild. We are a patient race, and once LP-6 is back in operation, planets all over the Kac will begin to be ripped apart. They will know who is doing it, yet will be helpless to do anything about it. And that, Master, would be the worst case. If not, then Adam Cain dies and LP-6 remains. As I said, he is no longer a factor. His world will be destroyed long before he can do anything to stop us.”

The Grand Master beamed at the Cadre officer. “You have my full support, Morlon. Well done. You may have just single-handily conquered an entire galaxy.”

13

Adam had had enough. The Najmah Fayd was small enough already and the conditions cramped, but this was too much.

He went aft—to one of the small staterooms—and pounded on the door.

“C’mon you two! You know we can hear you.”

“Sorry!” came Sherri’s breathy voice. “Lot of tension…need relief.”

“Well…we’re jumping in a few minutes. And I mean through space, and not bones.”

He heard Sherri’s squealing laugh through the door. “That was…funny,” she moaned.

“Well hurry up.”

Copernicus’s deep, throaty voice now came through the door. “Aye—” grunt, “aye—” grunt, “Mister Cain.”

Adam breathed a deep sigh and walked away. “That’s Captain Cain to you,” he whispered. He couldn’t help himself; it was habit by now.

* * *

Adam had amended his original plan and stayed away from the transit zone for a full ten days. They had left the triple star system several days before and jumped in closer to Nuor, following a checkerboard of systems, planets and asteroid belts to stay hidden. As they drew closer, they were able to learn more about the Nuorean homeworld from their sensors and comm chatter. That’s when Adam noticed a major increase in both incoming and outgoing ships every six days. Since the LP-5 transit zone was within the system, it would be very hard to get close without being noticed. This cycle of traffic flow could provide some cover.

He was also sure his delay was causing a significant amount of confusion on the part of the Nuoreans, or at least those who had been expecting him to show up at the so-called celebration. For master tacticians, their plan was pretty transparent, which in a way insulted Adam. They weren’t taking him as seriously as they should—or will—once he made the transit to LP-6….

The good thing about where the LP-5 transit zone was located meant they didn’t have to go all the way to Nuor to reach it. It was barely in the system, about three billion miles from the planet, and the stream of space traffic avoided the zone for fear of gravity contamination. Adam also noticed that the TZ became active every seventeen hours, according to the increased gravity readings detected. This was a good thing as well. It meant a quicker return if they were able to make it to LP-6 and set the bombs.

Adam still wasn’t ready to accept this as a suicide mission. He was still planning on making it back home.

14

“Any idea how we’re going to get through?”

Sherri always asked a lot of questions, and mainly concerning how Adam was going to do one thing or the other. Most of the time he just made something up just to get her off his back. But this time he had a real answer.

“This TZ cycles every seventeen hours. The next one is coming up in thirty-four minutes….” All eyes were on their fearless leader—more so now that they knew he had mutant abilities. Adam had always been their default leader, but now he was even more so.

Sherri grew impatient with his pregnant pause for effect. “And then what? We just waltz in?”

“Not exactly waltz. I was thinking more like a tango.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“We time the jump exactly, then pop in at full thrust and shoot right through before anyone notices.”

Adam was in the pilot seat, ready to make any super-human evasive maneuvers should they become necessary.

“That would take some precise navigation to make a moving jump into a specific area,” said Jym from the nav console.

All eyes returned to Adam.

“Yeah, I can do it,” he said, answering the unasked question.

“I’m not so worried about this end,” Riyad said. “It’s the other side I’m worried about, when we’re operating on just chem-drive.”

“Our momentum will help with that. We’ll land already moving at a pretty good clip. But still, it’s a chance we’ll have to take. Floundering around like we did the last time came as a surprise to everyone. This time we’ll be ready.”

“Ready for what?” asked Sherri, still not convinced. “Another Nuorean fleet waiting for us? I was hoping for something a little more creative, maybe even spectacular.”

A thought crossed Adam’s mind, triggered by what Sherri just said. He turned to Copernicus, who was seated—as always—at the weapons console; he liked playing with high-powered ordnance. “What if we send in a little insurance policy ahead of us? You know, give the Nuoreans something else to think about?”

“Like what, a Hades?”

“A full complement of them, about five seconds ahead of us.”

Sherri shook her head. “You know those metal balls will shred our hull just as easily as they will a Nuorean ship. It will only take a few to poke enough holes in us to put me in a bad mood.”

“You’re always in a bad mood,” Copernicus said with a smile, “so how would we know?” He was sleeping with her, so he could get away with saying things like that. He was also telling the truth.

Unlike the Nuoreans, Copernicus fully understood the meaning of the hand gesture Sherri made in his direction.

“I have another idea,” Adam said, “a corollary from my last brilliant contribution. First of all…Sherri, you’re right about the ball bearings.” She stuck her tongue out at Copernicus. “So what we have to do is exit the landing zone in the quickest and safest way possible. And that would be with a ninety-degree turn to the side, while the ball bearings shred everything in front of us.”

Kaylor picked up on the idea. “An auxiliary thrust vector, designed to turn us, even without gravity-drive.”

“Exactly,” Adam said, pointing a finger at his Belsonian friend.

“Assuming we could do that, making such a radical turn at speed could tear the ship apart,” Copernicus pointed out. Although he was an intergalactic super-spy in his covert life, he was also a damn good starship mechanic. He knew the limits of Human engineering and construction. “We’d have to re-route the primary exhaust jets to one side. It wouldn’t be a true ninety-degree turn—not if we want to stay in one piece—but we should be able to overcome our forward momentum to avoid the ballistics. I would also recommend spacesuits for all, just in case we take a few hits.”

“And remember,” Adam said, “we only have to avoid the bad guys for around ten minutes. Once we get our battery power back, we’ll be gone and they’ll never catch us.”

Riyad stepped over to Coop and Jym. “C’mon guys, let’s start the re-routin’. If you haven’t noticed, Captain Cain is far too important to get his hands dirty anymore. He’s too busy thinking.”

Adam grinned. “Someone has to do the thinking around here—for all of us.”

Riyad sent his own hand gesture Adam’s way. “Think on this for a while.”

15

Morlon (783) barely had time to return the Grand Master to Nuor before he was back in a transit zone and waiting to be hurled over a million light-years into space. He took a squad of ten First Cadre technicians with him, specialists who knew better than anyone the procedure for realigning the gargantuan generators at LP-6. With the target so far into the Kac, the precision required was above the paygrade of the standard generator techs on the space station. He recruited the top experts for the task, knowing he couldn’t afford a miss, even if it only meant a three-day delay before attempting another shot. His reputation had to be restored, and in spectacular fashion. He had to get it right the first time.

In addition, Adam Cain was still out there. A tingling on the back of Morlon’s neck was a warning that something was about to happen regarding the Human, something that would take all his skill and training to overcome. That’s why when his ship appeared at the end-point for LP-5, he insisted on taking a personal tour of the sentry ships on duty, the ones waiting for the Human’s eventual entrance. He sent his personal ship along to the LP-6 station so his techs could get a start on the realignment, using the precise coordinates he had just received from his spies in the Kac.

As expected, discipline was lax on the ships he visited, a condition that quickly changed when news of his presence spread throughout the fleet. Nuoreans don’t normally shirk their duty, and it would be wrong to assume the crews aboard the forty-eight waiting starships had done that. Instead, it was boredom that infected the crews. They were players, and most of them would have engaged in some level of challenge combat in the ten days they had been on station halfway between galaxies. There was an arena on the LP-6 station, but they were not allowed the rotation time to use its facilities. With the unpredictable nature of the enemy, no one could be spared, not with the seventeen-hour recycle time for the transit zone.

Morlon moved among the crews, made up primarily of Second Cadre military types, with a few Thirds thrown in as supervisors. It was the Third Cadre officers who received the brunt of Morlon’s admonitions. They were the cream of the crop within Nuorean society, and were therefore responsible for the actions of the crews.

Still, as Morlon boarded a small shuttle for the four-hour journey to LP-6, he felt the frustration of a job left undone. Cain had come to the Suponac to stop his people from invading the Kac, yet every three days, more Nuoreans made the passage through LP-6. Morlon had to imagine the Human was under some form of deadline. He couldn’t afford to wait weeks—even months—before making his move on the LP. And yet still he remained hidden, a ghost.

Perhaps something had happened to him and his ship? That was a possibility; after all, they were in a foreign galaxy with dangers unknown. Morlon laughed. If that were the case, then his forces would spend weeks, months—even cycles—waiting for an enemy that never arrives.

Morlon had been correct in his summation to Grand Master Rodoc, regarding the fate of Earth and the LP-6 station. Even if the Humans did destroy the station, it could be rebuilt. Yet it was his casual acceptance of this fact that had been disingenuous. Morlon feared for the station’s destruction, whose reconstruction would not be completed within his lifetime. He also worried he would never see the end result of his glorious game—that being a cloud of rock and debris in space that had once been the planet Earth. He so wanted to see that before he died.

* * *

Morlon was pleased to find the LP-6 space station a buzz with activity when he rejoined his team. He had never been to the space station before and was in awe of it size. It was the largest such station built by the Nuoreans; even so, it was dwarfed by the massive metal and composite object floating in space nearby.

The Cadre officer stood in rapt admiration of what his race had built, and only after he learned the massive silver tube was over five thousand miles from the station did he come to grasp the full scope of LP-6. The generators looked to be only a few miles away, yet it was their sheer size that caused the optical illusion. They were two long tubes, each measuring seven hundred miles in length by forty wide. Morlon had trouble imagining a building seven hundred miles long, and that was just what the generators were—both of them. The tubes were connected in the center by a spherical metal framework measuring ninety miles in diameter. This was the venting area where the double blackholes were created. The pressure was so intense that the frame had to be replaced every ten transits or so, which meant down-time and a constant stream of workers and materials coming through the LP-5 transit line. The scheduled maintenance wasn’t due for another four shots—twelve days from now.

Morlon wondered if that was what Cain was waiting for, but then he questioned how the Human would even know the maintenance schedule? Impatiently, Morlon shook his head. He was giving the alien too much credit and letting him dominate his thinking. He would put the Human out of mind for now, to concentrate instead on his plans to destroy the birthplace of the Human race.

* * *

As with most plans, Adam once again modified his. Instead of barreling into the Nuorean system with engines ablaze, they approached quietly, merging with the incoming traffic, in order not to attract too much attention. Even still, they had all space drives aboard—both conventional gravity and trans-dimensional—fully charged and ready. It was decided they would make the balls-out run for the TZ only if and when they were challenged.

Long-range sensors showed the transit zone for LP-5 to be less populated than the TZ’s the team was used to. Their only other experience came from LP-6 and the jumps between galaxies. These staging areas were always packed with either invading warships or those returning home after a tour of duty. There were barely nine ships waiting at the LP-5 transit zone.

Even if this side of the gravity tunnel looked innocuous enough, they knew it wouldn’t be the same at the other end. That was where the trap would be sprung, and Adam was sure the Nuoreans had enough firepower on hand to overwhelm his small ship while its engines were down.

As they moved slowly through the outer reaches of the Nuorean system, Jym noticed a new cluster of grav-sigs lining up behind them. The jig was up, and that’s when Adam realized this was the Nuoreans plan all along—to trap the Najmah Fayd between two fleets of alien warships, one in front, the other from behind.

The re-routing of the chemical engine control thrusters was complete, allowing the powerful exhaust to be channeled through a makeshift conduit and nozzle strapped to the starboard side of the ship. The stream could be toggled between the aft jets and the exhaust tube. Once shifted, the ship would make an abrupt left turn—and hopefully stay in one piece.

Copernicus was set to launch two quick barrages of Hades IV missiles ahead of their flight path, fourteen rockets in total. He set them to spread out, covering a radius of one hundred twenty degrees. With the detection of the ships behind them, he set another fourteen to cover their tail. All-in-all, the stage was set for an extremely dangerous environment for any metal-hulled vessels within the transit zones, the Najmah Fayd included.

As per Coop’s recommendation, all the crew dressed spacesuits and the atmosphere throughout the ship was evacuated, eliminating the possibility of pressure explosions from within.

Adam watched the clock as the time to the transit drew closer—as did the ships behind them. The Nuoreans apparently had the same idea: to accelerate into the TZ the moment it activated. They would have fifteen seconds to make it into the TZ before the portal closed.

The Najmah Fayd was four thousand miles from the edge of the transit zone when gravity readings began to go haywire. The portal was opening.

Coop released the missiles—both front and rear—as Adam waited an excruciating-long five additional seconds more before gunning the chemical engines, currently channeled out the tail of the ship. He couldn’t use a gravity-well because that would eat up the screen of Hades IV missiles shooting out in front of the ship. Once on the other side, he would switch to the jets to the starboard side nozzle for the turn to port.

Even before they made the transit, enemy warships were exploding in the rearview mirror.

The journey to the LP-5 end zone was half the distance they’d traveled getting to Andromeda, so only a second went by before they burst into the space of the opposite TZ. The threat board exploded with contacts, with several of the Nuorean ships already underway after only a couple of seconds’ delay. They were definitely waiting for them, and extremely quick at the controls.

“Hold on!” Adam yelled as he diverted the chemical exhaust stream and turned ship.

It was strange what happened next.

With no air in the ship to carry sound waves, rivets popped and welds snapped in absolute silence. A thin crack opened up along the portside bulkhead of the bridge, and one of the ship’s stubby wings broke off.

The crew screamed in their helmets as the g-force tried to tear their bodies apart—as it was doing to the ship—while pressure from the chair restraints threatened to rip open the fabric of their suits.

Just then, something small and unseen pierced the forward bulkhead and passed through the bridge, creating another small, round hole in the aft wall. Adam caught sight of Riyad. They shared a look, knowing that the metal projectile would continue to rip through multiple walls and bulkheads until it exited the ship—hopefully without hitting anything critical.

Adam returned his attention to his course board. They were turning, making a severely arching track to port and out the transit zone. Another five seconds passed before he cut the engines.

The effect was immediate and welcoming—to the crew and the ship. The pressure ended and they could breathe again.

The bridge was dark, except for the fluorescent glow from the still-active monitoring screens and the red flashing light of the emergency alarm. They couldn’t hear the alarm, not through the vacuum within the ship. Internal gravity was off as well.

Jym was feverishly working the nav sensors, looking for any ships in the vicinity that could pose a threat. There were plenty around, even after making the turn; however, the momentum of the Najmah Fayd was moving them away from the deadly cloud of invisible hull-shredders spreading ever-wider within the TZ. The plan had worked—to a point. Now all they had to do was repair the extensive damage to the ship.

That’s when Adam noticed something strange about the alignment of the alien warships. They had all changed course and where now heading away from the transit zone at flank speed. It took him only a moment to realize what they were doing: matching the direction and velocity of the metal ball bearings. It was masterful, not only for the simplicity of the strategy, but also for the speed at which the entire fleet had adopted it. Most the forty-odd ships were now ahead of the cloud and again changing course, this time heading in the direction of the Najmah Fayd.

“We got trouble,” Adam called out. He unbuckled his restraints and floated into the center of the room. “The Nuoreans are on their way. We have to do damage control and get the TD drive back up pronto. Coop, Kaylor…you’re with me. Riyad…see if we still have weapons control. Sherri, Jym…start patching holes.”

Adam led his workers to the aft engine room, where both the gravity generators and trans-dimensional drive were located. The monitoring screen to the TD drive was dark—which wasn’t good. Kaylor hurried to the console and fastened small anchor lines to his suit so he wouldn’t float away as he worked. He booted up a backup diagnostic screen and began to run the program. Moments later he began to bark orders.

“Panel four, seventh circuit—replace it.”

Copernicus was at the box first.

“Adam, go to the auxiliary power generator. We need to prime the system.”

At the base of the twin grav-generators was a smaller, oval shaped unit resting on a pair of metal legs bolted to the deck. There were two large switches on top. Adam planted his magnetic boots to the deck and began to flick the switches back and forth several times before leaving them in the on position. Although he still couldn’t hear the hum of generator being spun up, he could feel the vibration through his boots.

The lights came on in the room, and the main screen for the TD drive lit up. Kaylor shifted his position and began typing at the console. The vibration on the deck grew stronger, and a moment later Adam felt his stomach turn. He looked at Kaylor with a frown.

“Did you just jump the ship?”

“Yes, but only half-a-light from our last position. I used what was left in the storage batteries and the aux. They are drained again, so we have at least another ten minutes before we can jump again.”

“Half-a-light isn’t very far,” Coop said. “The Nuoreans can be here in about six minutes.”

“How about the grav-gens?” Adam asked Kaylor. “Can we get anything out of them?”

“Possibly. The problem is the stress that the gravity drive places on the hull. We have numerous cracks and broken seals already. We could literally fall apart if we activate the drive.”

“Sherri, how are the patches coming?” Adam asked through the suit comms.

“Okay. We’re using chemical welding panels. They work great. Just slap one over a crack and they go to work melding with the bulkhead. It’s like it never even happened. The problem is we have five more cracks to seal and about a dozen small puncture holes before we can restore atmosphere. I heard what Kaylor said. I wouldn’t risk engaging the drive until we have more of the cracks repaired.”

“Heads up everyone,” Riyad’s voice echoed in their helmets. “We may not have a choice. The bad guys are coming fast…and our weapons are down. Our only option is to run.”

Adam looked at Kaylor and nodded. “Take is easy…and we may catch a break seeing that there’s no atmosphere in the ship creating internal pressure on the hull.”

“That is a very good point, Adam. But still, I will go easy. Get ready…I’m activating the gravity drive.”

If Adam thought the vibrations through the deck had been bad before, he hadn’t seen anything yet. Something was off-balance in one of the huge generators spinning up in the room, and if the pull of the singularities from the grav-drive wasn’t enough to tear the ship apart, the violent shaking was only moments away from doing the deed itself.

Kaylor cut the drive and the shaking cycled down.

“Another light-year was all I could do, Adam. I couldn’t risk running it any longer.”

“That’s fine, buddy. Riyad, where are the Nuoreans?”

“Coming about and tenacious as ever. We’re going to need the TD drive if we expect to survive.”

Adam unhooked his magnetic boots from the metal deck and floated over to Kaylor. He scanned the data on the diagnostic screen, surprised he could understand the readings with relative ease. Once again, he thanked the mutant tumor in his head.

“We need to tap directly into the gravity generators—at least the one that isn’t out of balance. But we can’t channel the power in directly, it has to be filtered through the batteries.”

“They’ll explode,” Kaylor said.

“We need an inverter—the ship’s power module!”

“It is too weak, Adam.”

Adam began to tap on the keyboard of the control console. “Capacitors…I’ll stream it through the matrix. Hold on everyone. This should work.”

Twenty seconds later, a new and steady vibration was felt through the deck as the working gravity generator spun up. After a moment, a power bar on the screen for the TD drive began to fill in, climbing higher up the scale.

“Ten seconds. We’re set for a fifty light-year jump out into the void. Hopefully that will give us breathing room to make the repairs before the Nuoreans show up.”

The ship jumped.

“Threat board quiet, Captain Cain,” Riyad reported a moment later. “Looks like we’ll live to fight another day.”

“That’s always the objective, Mister Tarazi,” Adam sighed. He looked through his helmet lens at the relieved faces of Kaylor and Copernicus. “Okay, let’s get the repairs going. There’s still a lot of work to be done before we can go home.”

Sherri’s voice came through the speakers. “I’m glad you added that last part. I was afraid you’d tossed that option out the window a while ago.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, suicide is the last thing on my mind. Besides, we’re just at the point where our true mission begins.”

A chorus of moans was heard through the speakers. Adam figured his constant string of mission resets didn’t sell any longer, not with this crew anyway.

16

Morlon was in the main control room of the LP-6 space station, surveying the progress of the specialists realigning the massive gravity generators, when a Third Cadre messenger rushed into the room

“Commander, the alien warcraft has breached the LP-5 transit zone.”

Morlon stared at the young officer, questions exploding in his mind. “It survived? How?”

The messenger handed a databox to his superior. He spoke as Morlon read. “The aliens flooded the landing area with tiny metal ballistics. The waiting ships had to deviate course to avoid damage.”

“It says here the Human ship shifted course dramatically once entering the zone. How was this possible? Their engines were offline.”

“Chemical reaction jets, Commander. The turn was sharp and unexpected. By the time our ships were able to resume the pursuit the enemy ship had vanished.”

Morlon paced the room, not out of anger or fear, but from excitement. Adam Cain was indeed a worthy opponent, and the only regret Morlon had was that the two of them would never met in the arena. But now he had to play the game, calculate the odds, create a new strategy. The Humans were coming to LP-6, that was a given. That gave Morlon the place. And the time was soon.

“Alert the station’s security forces. Prepare for outside intrusion. And set a screen of defenders around the generators and venting complex. Pull all ships from the transit zone to assist.” He glanced at the huge clock on the wall that was constantly counting down the time to the next transit. Sixteen hours. Adam Cain would move within that time if he hoped to catch the return pulse through LP-5. Yet what would be his strategy? Morlon needed time to think.

He dismissed the Cadre messenger before barking out additional orders to the station commanders. There were fourteen hundred Nuoreans onboard, plus another six hundred scattered over the huge generator complex. Cain had a single ship with a crew estimated to be less than eight. Surely the complex was not in danger.

But that’s just the type of thinking Morlon dismissed. He couldn’t afford the luxury of assumptions.

He retired to his assigned stateroom—the largest and most-luxurious aboard—to think. Previously, his only concern was how Cain would make it to LP-6. Now that he was here, Morlon had to put himself in the Human’s place and determine how he planned to destroy the station. Only when enemy plans were deciphered could truly effective deterrents be put in place. Morlon had to think like a Human if he expected to defeat a Human—a Human named Adam Cain.

* * *

“We’re screwed,” Copernicus said to Adam. They were in the engine room staring at the thick iron shell of one of the gravity-drive generators. “An internal fan blade broke off and shredded a couple around it. We can’t replace them and we can’t run the generator the way it is.”

All the breaches in the hull had been repaired and atmosphere restored to the ship. The two men wore jeans and t-shirts, after spending almost three hours in the spacesuits.

“The other generator still runs,” Adam pointed out.

“Yeah, but it takes an incredible amount of energy to feed the dynamos that create the singularities. We can get maneuvering wells out of the one still operational, but nothing above light speed.”

The TD drive was smaller—yet infinitely more complex. It had been designed by the immortal mutant genius Panur and consisted of a bank of modules anchored to the aft bulkhead of the engine room. The drive didn’t require generator power to constantly feed the unit, only a store of electricity from a series of batteries set in the inner wall lining and deck plates of the spine corridor. All the drive had to do was open a portal to another universe and then another back into theirs. There was no real propulsion taking place—just a manipulation of time and space. The drive was an amazing piece of technology, and one the scientists back on Earth had yet to fully comprehend. They could duplicate the effect, but only through the application of prodigious amounts of energy. Panur’s device did it with only twelve ordinary fuel cells linked together.

The TD drive was fully functional now, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was they couldn’t go around jumping everywhere. At some point they needed to use conventional gravity propulsion—even chem drive—for precise movements and maneuvers. The chem drive only had twenty percent of its fuel reserves left, and the grav-drive could only achieve sub-light speeds. And to make things worse, the missiles they carried were launched through a rail-gun apparatus, which also required a considerable amount of electricity—electricity normally pulled from the grav-generators. With only one unit operational, it was either run the engines or fire the missiles. You couldn’t do both at the same time.

With all these limitations and considerations, Adam’s mutant-enhanced mind was working overtime on workarounds.

He shook his head at the disassembled gravity generator. “It is what it is,” he said to Coop. He accessed the ship’s comm system with his ATD and made an announcement. “Okay team, let’s meet in the common room. We’re pretty much set for the run on LP-6. We just need to figure out what we’re going to do when we get there.”

* * *

Morlon lay on his bed, an arm resting across his forehead and staring wide-eyed and unblinking at the ceiling. He was attempting to recall everything he knew about Humans—and Adam Cain in particular. The Third Cadre was tasked with studying the thousands of alien races the Nuoreans encountered, be they innocuous or Jundac. The Humans had been classified Jundac several months ago—with some of his kind suspecting they were so even before the invasion of the Kac. As a result, the species was the most-studied and analyzed of all the races in the alien galaxy. Morlon was privy to all this data. In fact, he was the ranking officer charged with this information, making him the foremost expert on the Human race.

Over the past thirteen days, all his superior knowledge had done him no good. Cain still succeeded against every obstacle Morlon set before him. Yet in most cases, the Cadre officer had been merely reacting to events, and when he sought to control them, artificial timelines were placed on him that gave the appearance of failure on his part. The only true setback Morlon felt responsible for was the failure of his ships to destroy or capture the Human starship when it appeared at LP-5. That round he awarded to Adam Cain. But the contest was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.

Morlon’s first step in predicting the actions of Adam Cain was to determine the ideal outcome for the alien’s plan. He and his fellow saboteurs would want to destroy the midpoint generators…yet not before they could travel back to the Suponac and catch the last pulse through LP-6 to their home galaxy. That meant the ordinance would have to be time-delayed and impervious to disarming. Next, they would have to know the location of the LP-6 transit zone and have the time to reach it before the next launch. Following the best-case scenario, Cain would expect the zone to be located somewhere along the rim of the galaxy—as were all the others—probably within a thousand light-cycles or so of Nuor, a destination easily reachable using his teleportation drive.

If all these factors came to fruition, the Humans would consider their mission a success.

Now Morlon had to think of obstacles and countermeasures to make sure their mission failed.

The fact that Cain was unaware the generators were now aimed at his homeworld made little difference at this point. That would come as a surprise. And add to that, the new transit zone for LP-6 was not within a thousand light-cycles of Nuor, but rather over six thousand inside the galaxy, dictated by the target at the opposite end of the transit line—the planet Earth.

Could Cain set his bombs, transition back to the Suponac, and travel six thousand light-cycles to the transit zone in—Morlon checked the time again in his personal watch—a little over fifteen hours? Highly unlikely…but not impossible.

If faced with this scenario, would the Human choose suicide over complete victory? The Nuoreans long understood the concept as a viable means of achieving a goal, yet they did not respect it. Sacrificing one’s life in a losing cause was not the way of the skilled player. The strategy was taught in school, but not widely practiced.

Morlon considered what Cain would do knowing his world was about to be destroyed? He would surely seek to either destroy the generators or change their focus. By diverting the aim, the Earth would be saved and the Humans would still have an opportunity to make it back to the Kac. This would be their preferred option over suicide.

Yet if Cain couldn’t shift the focus, then he would certainly hasten the destruction of LP-6, even if it meant being trapped in the Suponac for the rest of their short lives.

So Morlon’s next challenge became: Stop Cain from changing the aim of the generators, which he would attempt to do before choosing suicide as the last resort.

The fifteen hundred miles of generator complex was controlled from the space station. Hundreds of maneuvering jets could change the alignment by fractions of a degree or by miles if necessary. Morlon could disable the controls aboard the station, but there would always be the possibility Cain could find ways around that. The only sure way was to destroy the link between the station and the generators. Morlon was not a technician, but he knew there was a control room in the Io-Generator—the number one generator—where all comms were centered. He would break the link there…as well as on the station. He would build challenge upon challenge in an effort to confound his worthy adversary.

Following his thinking further, Morlon next had to figure a way to stop Cain from destroying the complex prematurely—as a last resort. To do this, Morlon would have to stop any explosives from being set, or disarming any that were. Although the Humans had never seen the midpoint generators, they had to imagine they were of incredible size and come prepared for the challenge. This would involve the use of either nuclear or even gravitational bombs. Morlon had no idea how hardened the generator facilities were, or whether the builders had even considered the possibility of sabotage? Would one bomb set off a chain reaction that could destroy the entire complex? He would investigate this question further when he made his journey to the Io-Generator.

That’s when Morlon laughed. All his careful planning and strategizing would become moot if he could hold off Cain for another fifteen hours. There may be some follow-up damage done to the facility, but the fate of Earth would be sealed.

After that, if Adam Cain wished to visit his homeworld, all he would have to do is travel six thousand light-cycles to find the shattered half of his world that had been transported to the Suponac. If that fantasy ever came to pass, Morlon hoped he could play host. It would be immensely satisfying to see the look on the Human’s face.

He got up from the bed, straightened his uniform and then set out for the main launch bay for the space station. He would personally inspect the generator control room and remove the comm link. He also wanted to get a feel for the security measures in place on and within the huge complex.

He checked his watch again. Fourteen hours, forty-eight minutes.

Morlon had to admit he would be disappointed if Cain didn’t show up on schedule. He so wanted to meet this particular Human.

17

It was Riyad’s turn at the nav computer, and when he coughed and cleared his throat, everyone on the bridge got the message.

“You know that fleet that was chasing us a couple of hours ago? Well I found it.” The main screen lit up, showing a long solid object next to a much smaller round contact. And intermingled between and around the two objects was a minefield of contacts classified as enemy warships. There were more than forty—the strength of the contingent at the transit zone. A quick computer count placed the number at sixty-one, plus a dozen small shuttles zipping between the major structures.

“Looks like someone is serious about keeping us out of their playground,” Coop said.

Adam was in the pilot seat, crunching numbers for the next jump of the Najmah Fayd. In a normal situation, he would accelerate the ship to a respectable velocity outside the range of the enemy ship’s sensors and then go dark, coasting in without being detected. But the maneuvering wells and chem drive couldn’t get them going fast enough. In addition, it was almost impossible to go dark with a TD charge building up for the next hop. The aliens knew they were coming and there was no subtle way to make the approach without being seen.

Another complication: Adam needed to learn the current TZ for LP-6 in the Andromeda galaxy. Assuming they could place the charges—and they weren’t disarmed—they needed to know the way back home and the quickest way to get there. That meant boarding the space station and wringing the truth out of the aliens. Riyad was chomping at the bit for a little Human-on-alien action, and whole-heartedly volunteered for the duty. That was normally Adam’s job, however, so he denied the request. Besides, Riyad had another task to perform.

Fortunately, most of the Nuoreans ships weren’t coming out to meet them. They were content to form a screen around their precious LP-6 complex and shoot anything that came in range.

“That’s a damn big station,” Sherri pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a thousand or more crew aboard. That’s a lot of heads to bash. And that’s after we get past the starships.”

The chronometer on the bulkhead had been reset to count the hours until the next pulse through LP-6. A smaller clock was mounted below it that showed the time to LP-5’s next transit. Although the launch points operated on different recharge schedules, they were nearly synced up for their next shots. LP-5 was four hours fifty-two minutes away; with LP-6 at five hours forty-one minutes. Theoretically, this was a near-perfect scenario for the team. They could set the bombs and pass back through to Nuor in just under five hours, followed by a TD jump to the LP-6 transit zone and the pulse back to the Milky Way forty-nine minutes later.

And then the bombs would go off.

Mission accomplished.

That was assuming no one tried to mess with their time-table….

* * *

Time-tables would be studied later. For now, the crew was distracted by the long, thin tube floating in the void between galaxies. The white line on the screen was deceptive, until numbers began to appear next to the object.

“Am I seeing that right?” Copernicus asked. “Almost fifteen hundred miles? That thing is that long?”

“Yeah, that’s what she said,” Riyad joked.

Kaylor didn’t get the ribald humor and continued in a more serious vein. “The Klin Colony Ships are twenty miles in diameter,” Kaylor pointed out. “And they are the largest objects ever built in space—until now.”

“And how many nukes do we have onboard—six?” Coop said, answering his own question.

“Relax people,” Adam said. “We don’t have to blow up the whole thing, just enough to put it out of commission. I’m sure something that big and complicated is also very delicate. Half a dozen nukes going off on the surface should do the job.”

“And nuclear devices do have a wider range in space than they do within an atmosphere,” Jym added, wanting in on the conversation.

Adam had brought the Najmah Fayd to a stop relative to the space station and the LP-6 generators. Both the warring parties now sat motionless, staring at each other on contact boards, waiting for something to happen. It was obvious the Nuoreans were content to run out the clock, knowing that if Adam and his team didn’t make this next transit, they’d have to wait another three days.

They wouldn’t survive another three days, not with a broken ship and nowhere to hide.

Adam looked over at Copernicus and Riyad. “You guys ready?”

Riyad snorted. “When is a guy ever ready to hop aboard an open-air flitter with three atom bombs strapped to his back and travel seventeen thousand miles through alien-infested space to reach the largest damn gravity generator he’d ever seen?”

“Well, consider yourself lucky,” Adam said. “You don’t have to run a gauntlet of sixty deadly warships, only to force your way into an alien-invested space station, and hope they let you stay and gain access to their most sensitive data files.”

Riyad considered Adam’s words for a moment. “Yeah, you win. I think I’d rather take my chances in outer space.”

Adam tapped his console. “Well then, let’s get started. The damn generator complex isn’t going to blow itself up.”

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, there had been some advance planning done before Adam and his crew embarked on their mission. Knowing that they would have to pass back through the midpoint generator before blowing it up, the brains back on Earth came up with what they thought was a brilliant plan. Their theory was about to be put to the test.

Adam and the team assembled in the small launch bay of the Najmah Fayd, where they stood staring at the two small vehicles that resembled over-sized jet-skis more than spaceships. These were PAVs—Personal Assault Vehicles—one-man rocket ships designed to avoid enemy contact and reach a target in space as far a hundred thousand miles away. Riyad and Copernicus each had one, and they would strap in and lean forward, while the tiny speeders zipped through space on a combination of compressed gas and minimal chem drive. The goal was to produce the lowest detection profile possible—both from the small size and minimal exhaust. They could reach speeds of ten thousand miles per hour or more in the vacuum of space, while leaving barely a trace.

Adam actually envied his two friends. He imagined it would be a blast riding one of these things. And he would have been right—if it wasn’t for the presence of the two, eight-foot-long tubular-shaped objects strapped to each side, with a third attached underneath.

These were the SENOs—Specially-Enhanced Nuclear Devices—with each having an effective yield of seventy-five megatons. Riyad would take his nukes to one of the huge generators; Copernicus to the other. Adam had seen a lot of exotic weapons in his day—both Human and alien—yet he was still amazed that such destructive power could be contained in such a small package.

Before setting out on the mission, it was assumed there would be opposition in place trying to stop them. That’s why this approach was chosen. However, it was hoped that huge structures in space, guarded by faster-than-light starships, would also assume any assault on the complex would be grand in scope and execution. The small—almost microscopic by space dimensions—PAVs could pass through any defensive screen. At least that was the plan.

They were about to find out.

* * *

Riyad and Coop were in specially-designed spacesuits which would integrate with the tiny spaceships, providing extended oxygen supply, along with a whole array of heads-up displays to help carry out the mission. Contrary to Riyad’s earlier pronouncement, he was anxious to hop aboard and get things going.

Jym stepped up to the first PAV, looking small and insignificant next to the vehicle. “I have programmed the guidance systems with the location of all targets. Automation should provide a reliable track to the generators while avoiding the defenses. Once on site, you will take over individual control to place the bomb locations.”

The two Humans climbed aboard their respective machines. Automatically, securing clamps closed on their legs and torsos, while life-support connections were secured. Thrust and guidance controls were placed on a pair of traditional-looking handlebars, which only added to the jet-ski-like resemblance. The men were now lying prone on the vehicles, with all systems green.

The generators were located seventeen thousand miles away, which meant it would take just under two hours to reach them, factoring in deceleration time. To meet the LP-5 transit pulse, Riyad and Copernicus could remain on station for no more than fifteen minutes before having to leave for the space station, five thousand miles from the generator complex. Hopefully by then, Adam, Sherri and the two aliens would have the information they needed—namely the location of the LP-6 transit zone—after which the team would make a timely retreat to the LP-5 TZ for the trip back to Andromeda.

It looked good on paper. Reality could be a whole different animal.

* * *

All those not leaving for the generator complex exited the launch bay and the chamber was opened to the vacuum of space. Riyad gave a thumbs-up just before gripping the control handle. On tiny jets of air, his PAV moved gingerly out the back of the Najmah Fayd, followed closely by Copernicus. Once a few hundred yards from the ship, each man engaged their engines—and at a pace designed not to kill the Human passengers—each PAV accelerated away at incredible velocity.

The Najmah Fayd disappeared almost instantly on Riyad’s screen. The g-force was noticeable, but tolerable. He looked up, along his flight path, and could see nothing but the glowing ten-degree arc of white light that was the Andromeda Galaxy. There were a few individual stars showing up as single points of light between here and there. Space between galaxies wasn’t completely empty, with a few rogue stars drifting helplessly in the void, having escaped their mother galaxies in some far distant past.

The acceleration continued, adding weight to Riyad’s body, until reaching terminal velocity when weightlessness returned. They couldn’t continue to accelerate all the way to the generator complex; that would require a deadly deceleration at the other end of the journey. Instead, halfway to his destination, he would turn the PAV and begin slowing down.

Just then, he felt a shift in his inertia as the vessel changed course slightly. It changed back a moment later, apparently moving to avoid an unseen target. Riyad looked at the glowing screen in front of his face. The range was set to a much narrower field than a normal threat board, but still it showed two contacts, identified as Nuorean battlecruisers. He moved to within a thousand miles of each before reaching clear space again.

Again, Riyad looked up and round at the vast emptiness of space. He had no sensation of movement; this wasn’t like shredding a lake with radical spins, or feeling the rush of ocean spray on his face like he’d experience on a terrestrial jet-ski. In fact, so far the trip was a letdown.

He could see the generator complex on his screen now, growing larger and brighter as a contact. He settled into the monotony of the voyage, knowing the peaceful interlude would be short-lived.

But so far…the plan was working.

18

Adam was finished with his calculations. In the back of his mind, he knew they were correct, even though confidence in his enhanced mental abilities was still lacking. Part of him didn’t trust the new Adam Cain, failing to understand the change taking place. The other tried to suppress the doubt. Only through constant checking and rechecking was he finally convinced his numbers were right.

Jym, however, wasn’t convinced.

“It is too precise,” the tiny alien stated. “I cannot see a favorable outcome if you continue along this path.”

“Trust me,” Adam said. “I’ve left a little wiggle room.”

“We could materialize inside the space station, not above it.”

“It doesn’t work like that—”

“I know! We would not fuse with the station,” Jym barked back. “But our volume would appear and force all other solid material away, resulting in a catastrophic explosion.”

Adam tried to reason with the alien. “What would you do if Panur was making the jump? Would you protest as much?”

Jym’s mouth snapped shut. He was about to say something rude, but thought better of it. The question had validity.

“I suppose I see your point. Yet you are not Panur—not yet.”

“And I never will be. But I’m close enough.”

Adam looked at Sherri at the weapons station. With Coop gone on his ride to the generators she got to play with all the neat stuff. Kaylor was in the co-pilot seat and Jym at nav. Adam was piloting, and moments away from making the most-technically challenging trans-dimensional jump of his life.

It had been decided there was no realistic way they could run the gauntlet of sixty-plus alien warships between here and the space station. The only solution was to hop over them. Adam had a target destination lined up two thousand feet above the top center of the circular-shaped station. If all went according to plan, they would pop in and then send out magnetic grapples to pull them to the outer surface of the station. From there, they would cut an air-tight access into the interior. Any defenders would think twice about firing on the ship for fear of damaging the station.

The only concern came from the fact that none of the apparently stationary objects—the space station, the generator complex, even the Najmah Fayd—were truly stationary. Each was moving through space, and all on slightly difference vectors and at varying velocities. With relative positions changing constantly, Adam’s jump calculations were too. That’s where a slice of mutant genius came in handy.

With one hand on the TD controls, and the other on the attitude jets of the Najmah Fayd, Adam made the jump.

* * *

The distance to the space station was the shortest hop Adam had ever made, so the time interval between transferring to an alien dimension and back again was barely noticeable.

“Watch out!” Jym yelled from his station.

Adam knew instantly what he meant.

Fortunately, the Najmah Fayd did manage to materialize just above the huge space station, yet it carried with it a certain thrust vector from its previous location. In English…the ship was racing toward the station at about a hundred miles per hour.

The small gap between the two objects closed in a matter of seconds. Adam fired a strong blast of maneuvering gas to slow them down. It wasn’t enough. The Najmah Fayd slammed onto the top of the station, deforming hull metal, which quickly rebounded, propelling the ship back into space. With the exhaust jets assisting, Adam watched as a mile—then ten—separated them from the station.

Nearby Nuorean ships noticed the widening gap and felt confident they could take a shot at the Najmah Fayd without hitting the station. They were right. A pair of plasma bolts erupted from launchers, streaking through space toward the ship.

At the last second, Adam sent a short burst of chem exhaust through the still-functional starboard side nozzle. The ship slid sideways, causing the two bolts to slip past without impacting. Next he sent air through the topside jets, reversing course. The ship raced for the top of the space station…again.

Kaylor was ready with the grapples, and when they slammed against the hull for a second time, he let them out. Their banged-up starship rumbled with a high-pitched vibration, as the harmonics of both ship and space station synced up.

They were now locked on top of the station, not exactly at the center, but close enough.

There was a docking port on the bottom of the Najmah Fayd with a ten-foot long access tube that could be extended to form a secure airlock. Everyone quickly unstrapped and left the bridge, using the stolen gravity from the station to give them traction. The access port was located just aft of the common area. Adam pulled the hatch open and they all jumped inside.

Laser cutting tools had already been placed in the chamber, and after donning dark eye shields, Adam and Sherri set to work on the now exposed surface of the space station. Adam had no idea as to the construction and layout of the station, but the metal fell away easily, exposing an inner hull with a skeletal array of bracing beams.

He slipped inside the void between the hulls and located an area of clear metal between the braces large enough for them to pass through. He made quick work of the sheet metal before it fell away, crashing to the floor of an inner compartment. The room was vacant.

In the light Nuorean-based gravity, Adam dropped to the floor, followed by Sherri. Kaylor and Jym began to pass weapons to the Humans; the aliens would stay aboard the ship and prevent any Nuoreans approaching along the outer hull from gaining access.

Adam nodded to Kaylor and the Belsonian backed away, securing the access hatch behind him.

The Humans geared up.

At first, Adam had ordered Sherri stay behind and let him—and his new mutant abilities—take it from here. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with it. And when Sherri Valentine made up her mind, a supernova couldn’t change it. Adam had acquiesced, but insisted he take the lead.

Adam had a Xan-fi flash rifle slung across his back and an M-101 assault rifle in his hands. He also had eight flash-bang grenades, two flares, a .45-cal Colt and a 9mm Glock on his utility belt, plus a supply of extra ammo and extra battery packs enough to choke a small elephant. Sherri was similarly armed, the lighter gravity helping with the load. Yet even counting up all the ammo and bolt capacity they carried, it still wouldn’t be enough to kill all thousand-plus aliens aboard the station.

That’s where Kaylor and Jym would help.

Two of the bunker-busting nuclear-tip weapons had been modified with a trigger device on each, rather than the automatic timer they normally carried. Once the aliens made it back to the bridge, Kaylor launched the rockets.

They arced high above the vast expanse of the space station before returning to plunge through the metal hull and deep into the interior. Then using an acoustic contact placed against the hull, Kaylor gave the crew of the station the bad news.

The weapons could be set off by his command, so all Nuoreans wishing not to become radioactive waste should evacuate the premises post haste.

Of course, Kaylor didn’t use exactly those words, but the Nuoreans got the message. And as Adam and Sherri left the compartment and entered an outer corridor, a steady stream of unarmed alien techs was seen executing a rather organized and orderly evacuation. They eyed the heavily-armed pair of Humans with neutral expressions, yet none tried to engage.

That would be left to others.

19

The audio and video links to the space station were still intact—only the control links had been severed. Morlon had also destroyed all the local controls to the maneuvering jets for the generators and the pulse shot. Even if Adam Cain could make it to the generators, he would be unable to divert the alignment or stop LP-6 from firing.

But now Morlon was looking at a video screen of the Human starship sitting atop the control station. Reports were coming in of a hull breach, followed moments later with news of nuclear weapons aboard the station.

What was Cain planning, Morlon wondered? Did he think destroying the space station would render the generator complex inoperable? The Human couldn’t be that naïve. But still, there had been no detection of bombs on or in the generator complex.

Morlon shrugged off his questions. At the moment he felt secure that LP-6 would fire on time and on target. That left only one task to accomplish. And for that he had to return to the space station.

* * *

Having flipped around, Riyad now felt the artificial gravity of deceleration in his head and upper torso. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just a little annoying as he approached the huge generator complex ass-end first. He couldn’t look up and see his target, just the image projected on his video monitor.

But soon the signal sounded and the tiny ship came to a stop relative to the generator, five hundred miles below. This is where the fun began. Riyad took manual control and spun the PAV around to get his bearings. He checked the contact radar and decided here looked as good as any place. He released his bombs to float leisurely in the vacuum of space.

Next, he cranked the handlebars around and shot off toward the looming surface of the generator. Moments later he was skimming along the surface, feeling like Luke Skywalker in an X-wing fighter. His destination was the area just this side of the spherical network of girders and ribs connecting the two massive generators. He didn’t know the purpose for the ninety-mile-in-diameter sphere, but it was decided this would be the weakest part of the complex. Copernicus was targeting the same location on the other generator.

Hostile contacts appeared on his board, these being small, one-Nuorean worker pods. Riyad didn’t know what type of armament they carried—if any—but he wasn’t taking any chances.

He dove closer to the surface, which looked to be a combination of metal and composite material. Near the edge where the round, metal cage connected the generators, Riyad began to circle the tube, releasing the contents of his sprayers at three equal distance patches along the circumference.

When brilliant lines from laser weapons passed by him, he knew it was time to split. He could see Copernicus on his screen making his departure as well, after painting the surface of the other generator. The pair raced away from the complex, heading for the space station five thousand miles away and just ahead of a small swarm of repair pods.

* * *

Within minutes, nearly all the Nuoreans onboard the station had departed, taking escape pods to the small fleet of starships encircling the station. That didn’t mean Adam and Sherri were out of the woods. They encountered spotty resistance in the form of the black-uniformed aliens with the yellow strips on their chest—the Third Cadre.

At one particular corridor intersection, they came upon ten of the pesky aliens and had to expend a lot of their ammo reserves to eliminate the threat. Farther along, at a deserted control station, Sherri plugged in a datapad while Adam utilized his newly-acquired talent for alien computer hacking. Soon they had the layout of the station, with the main control room set as their destination.

They met additional resistance, but nothing they couldn’t handle, and when they entered the huge room, with its multiple banks of computer terminals, they found it deserted. Yet more of the Third Cadre was just behind them. Adam shut and locked the door, placing Sherri on sentry duty.

Adam rushed to what looked to be the central console and sat down. He began tapping on the keyboard, which had a combination of letters and short-cut symbols as options. He could read the screen, and soon was on the hunt.

“I got it!” he called out.

“Great, hurry,” Sherri said. “We only have forty-eight minutes before LP-5 sets off and we’re nowhere near the transit zone.”

Adam scanned the data—which revealed the staging area for the LP-6 station in Andromeda—their way home. Then he scanned it again…and again. This wasn’t right.

Sherri was looking at him, baffled by his long silence. “What’s wrong?”

“The LP-6 transit zone….”

“What about it?”

“It’s six thousand light-years into the galaxy beyond Nuor.”

“Six thousand!” Sherri fell back on her butt, leaning against a console, M-101 rifle cradled in her lap. “We can’t make that in time, no matter what we do.”

There was another long silence in the room before Adam began tapping again on the keyboard.

“What are you doing?”

“I have an idea.” He spoke as he typed. “This station controls the generator complex, including the alignment. All I have to do is figure out how to do that and I can bring the transit zone in closer.”

“You can do that?”

“I should. I can’t see why not.”

He continued to feverishly tap the keys—until be pushed back in his chair, staring at the console.

“Now what?” Sherri asked.

“The links…they’re gone.”

“What links?”

“The links to the generators, or at least to the alignment and fire controls. I can’t even stop the firing from here.”

“You mean they’ve been disabled? Well…we’ve got to find a way to bypass it.”

“They haven’t been disabled, but totally cut. They no longer exist between the two locations.”

Adam left the chair and ran to where Sherri sat. “I have to get to the control room at the generator complex. It’s the only way to change the alignment.”

Sherri was on her feet, checking the load on her weapon.

“I need you to stay here.”

“No frigging way!”

“Really. I need you to monitor the alignment. I have an idea that just might save our asses all around, but I need you to help guide me.”

He took her to the main console screen and pulled up a graphic representation of the generators and their programmed alignment. “I’ll link with your ear comm with the ATD. Five thousand miles is nothing for the device, so we can stay in contact. I’ll take the Najmah Fayd to the generators.”

“You think the Nuoreans will just let you hop over there without putting up a fuss?”

“I’ll deal with that. You just stay here and monitor the screen.”

“You know there are Nuoreans outside the door?”

“I’ll take care of that too,” he said with a wicked grin.

“Go for it Superman!”

Adam removed all his gear except for the M-101 and laid it at Sherri’s feet. “In case you need it.” Sherri nodded.

Then Adam set himself at the pressure door to the control room. With another nod, Sherri activated the controls.

The six Third Cadre troops in the outer foyer were caught off guard by the door’s sudden opening. They weren’t expecting a counter assault, but that’s just what they got. Adam sprayed the area with hot lead, ripping apart five of the aliens. A sixth appeared to his left, and promptly ate the butt end of the M-101’s stock.

The door to the control room was still open, with Sherri standing in the portal. Adam sent her a wink before racing away.

20

Adam’s ship was sitting atop the space station, nine levels above his current location. Yet as he ran through deserted hallways, he began to encounter an inordinate number of closed and locked pressure doors. They hadn’t been closed before, and with nearly the whole crew off the station, it didn’t make sense they would be closed now.

He had memorized the layout of the station, so he kept altering his path back to his ship to avoid the locked doors. His task became more difficult, until only one path remained.

He burst into a large circular room, with a double-high ceiling and a deck covered in dirt. Adam instantly recognized this as being one of the Nuorean combat arenas, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Someone moved on the other side.

Adam unleashed a spread of M-101 bullets following the path of the running Nuorean, but didn’t strike him before he ducked behind a metal partition along the circumference of the arena. Adam’s weapon clicked empty; all his spare magazines were with Sherri in the control room.

The alien hiding behind the partition heard the clicking, as well, and understood the meaning. A well-proportion and fit-looking Nuorean stepped out from behind the barrier, wearing the uniform of a Third Cadre, yet with two sets of three stripes each on his chest. He stepped forward a few paces before stopping, a standard Nuorean combat sword held in each hands.

“Who the hell are you?” Adam asked, as he tossed the useless M-101 to the side.

“I am Morlon (783) Voden-Mor. I am the Third Cadre officer who has been your primary opponent since your arrival in the Suponac.”

“My opponent?” Adam said with a smirk. “Well, you haven’t done a very good job of it. You haven’t stopped me from getting here.”

Adam saw a vein in the alien’s neck pulse and his jaw set. “No, I have not,” Morlon said. “Yet you will go no farther.”

Adam knew the only way to the Najmah Fayd was through the door behind the alien warrior. He eyed the two swords in his hands. Even with that, Adam was sure his mutant abilities could get him past.

“Before you contemplate any rash movements, I must warn you.”

“About what?”

“Who I am.”

“I don’t care who you are.”

Adam’s comment surprised the Nuorean, but he recovered quickly and smiled. “You should, Adam Cain. Before I joined the Third Cadre, I had acquired more points for my age than any Nuorean before me. I did that because I’m the best—the best player the Nuorean race has ever produced. Yes, you may be able to dispatch others of my kind with relative ease—even my Cadre teammates—but you will find I am at an entirely different level. You will not defeat me.”

“Not with you holding all the swords.”

Morlon laughed and looked down at his weapons. “Oh, both of these are not for me.” He tossed the one in his left hand over to Adam. “I intend to make this an honor match: the Kac’s greatest player against the Suponac’s greatest. I only regret this challenge will not be broadcast. It would be a match for the ages.”

Adam didn’t have time for this. The clock was ticking down to the launches of both LP-5 and LP-6, and this alien asshole was standing in his way.

Adam twirled the lightweight sword with a flick of his wrist. Morlon did the same, before beginning a defiant march toward Adam.

A surge of energy coursed through Adam’s body, a sign that his mutant cells had got the message. And it was needed as Morlon made his first attack.

With seven consecutive slashes at phenomenal speed, it was all Adam could do to counter the blows. He wasn’t expecting this, and only his enhanced reaction time saved him from being sliced to bits. His mutant healing abilities helped with cuts and bruises; but he doubted they would make much difference if he was decapitated.

The attack resumed after only a brief pause, with Morlon displaying remarkable footwork and balance, along with his speed and agility. Adam could counter the strength of the alien; that was no problem. But it was Morlon’s skill with the blade he couldn’t overcome. Only through luck and residual mutant cells, did Adam manage to slip back just as the tip of Morlon’s blade sliced open the front of his shirt and split the skin. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bloody—for a moment.

Morlon was aware of everything on the battlefield, and he watched wide-eyed as the cut stopped bleeding almost immediately. The wound was still open, but the first thing Adam’s mutant cells did was order the surrounding skin to seal the broken blood vessels. In addition, the pain was minimal, allowing Adam to send a thin smile back to his alien opponent.

Morlon’s confusion only lasted a moment before he was on the attack again. This time he combined his strikes with fantastic cartwheels and flips. It was really quite amazing, because each time he landed he was balanced and in position for another thrust or slice.

This went on for a full minute before Adam’s mind finished cataloguing most of the alien’s moves, at least enough to send instructions to his muscles and limbs, allowing him to counter each of Morlon’s strikes, almost by instinct.

The alien had enough combat experience to know something wasn’t right. He had defeated thousands of opponents—both Nuorean and alien—yet this felt different. He was giving it his best, and still it wasn’t enough. Adam could see the concern clouding the alien’s eyes.

The pair separated, at which point Morlon asked: “What are you? In all my research on Humans—including live demonstrations of your fighting skills—I have never witnessed anything like this.”

“It’s because I’m Superman, dickhead.” Adam pulled back his torn shirt, showing were the cut was now only half the width it had been a minute before. His healing juices were working overtime, perhaps triggered on the adrenalin in his blood. He was healing at even a faster rate than before.

“You are not…normal.”

“Normal is a relative term. But now—what did you say your name was…Morpheus?—I have something to do and you’re in my way.”

“It is Morlon (783), and if you are referring to the realignment of the gravity generators, you are embarking on an impossible mission.”

The wicked confidence of the Nuorean made Adam’s stomach churn.

The alien stepped into the silence. “I assume because you are rushing to the generators that you have discovered the location of staging area for LP-6. You believe you can shift the transit zone, possibly bring it closer. As a master strategist, I have foreseen your actions and have destroyed the controls for all the attitude jets, as well as for the launch sequence. You cannot adjust the alignment and you cannot stop the launch.”

Morlon was growing more excited by the moment, reveling in the shock on Adam’s face. He continued: “As defeated as you feel now, I have more to tell. This information you will find of particular interest. Have you considered why the staging area for LP-6 is so far from the rim? It was done for a purpose…so we could reach a particular point within the Kac. Do you know where that might be?”

Adam broke out in a cold sweat. “Let me guess…Earth.”

Morlon smiled. “Yes, your planet Dirt.”

Adam’s mind began to work overtime deciphering what he just heard. It made sense, and when considering what a transit pulse could do to a planet, he knew the next one through LP-6 was no ordinary transit between galaxies. This next one—the one he intended to ride back home—would mean the destruction of Earth.

Morlon was overjoyed, watching Adam’s reaction to the news. There was no doubt the alien was telling the truth, but what Morlon didn’t know was Adam was already thinking ten steps ahead. Because of this, Adam had no more time to waste on the alien.

Accessing the genius in his mind, Adam calculated the weight and length of the sword, as well as the distance to Morlon. Then he smiled at the alien, which caused the grin on the alien’s face to vanish.

“Well—Morlon—did you foresee this?”

Adam drew back the sword and then hurled it at the Nuorean.

It twirled through the air before the blade entered the center of the alien’s chest tip-first and just to the right of the double set of yellow stripes. Wide brown eyes displayed the shock coursing through Morlon’s body, as the unthinkable became reality. He dropped his own sword and grasped the hilt of Adam’s. He tried pulling it from his chest, but was too weak from the rapid loss of blood. He dropped to his knees, still clutching the sword.

Adam didn’t pause to consider the dying alien. Instead he ran past him and through the portal on the other side of the arena. A minute later, he was banging on the hatch to the Najmah Fayd.

“Kaylor! Open up. It’s me!”

Ten seconds later the hatch lifted away; Adam was through the opening before it had fully opened.

“Seal the hatch,” Adam ordered as he ran for the bridge. “We’re leaving.”

“Trouble?” Kaylor yelled after him.

“Always.”

Adam slipped into the pilot seat, and three seconds later had the ship released from the grapples and streaking away from the space station on a shallow maneuvering well.

“They’re firing at us!” Jym yelled from his station. With only one gravity generator working, they didn’t have power for both the well and the shields…or even the weapons for that matter. With only twenty nine minutes left before the LP-5 generators lit off, propulsion was the priority.

The fortunate thing about plasma bolts is that once they left their launchers, they acted more like ballistics than guided missiles along their flight path. Because of this, Adam was able to perform some fancy evasive maneuvers to avoid the bolts, and as he covered more of the five thousand miles between the station and the generators, the bolts came less frequent—again for fear of hitting the complex.

His target zoomed up in front of him. Here’s where the tricky part came in.

21

Riyad and Copernicus had linked up and were now flying in tandem toward the station. That’s when they noticed a familiar contact on their screens. It was designated the Najmah Fayd—and it was bolting away from the station, heading for the generator complex. Their flight paths were within twenty-six miles of each other.

Riyad opened a channel to the ship, even knowing his comm signal could be traced. He didn’t care; he had to know what was going on.

“Riyad to Kaylor—or whoever’s piloting the Najmah Fayd.”

“I’m here, Riyad,” Adam replied, sounding hurried.

“What’s up? We saw you blast past us like a bat outta hell.”

“The generators are lined up on Earth, Riyad. If they go off, it will destroy the planet.”

Riyad and Coop turned their PAVs. “We have to set off the bombs before the launch!” Riyad said.

“That’s not possible,” Adam stated. “You know that. They’re designed to be tamper-proof and only activate after the transit pulse.”

“Then we have to stop the pulse…somehow.” Copernicus said through the comm.

“Get back to the station,” Adam ordered. “Sherri’s in the main control room on the fifth level, across from the landing bays.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have a plan. Now go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Riyad and Coop turned their little ships around again and raced off for the space station. There were still a lot of alien ships around, and the ones not shooting at Adam had homed in on Riyad’s comm. They were coming about. Fortunately, the Nuoreans knew something was out there; they just couldn’t lock on.

Ten minutes later, the PAVs passed through the huge open portal of the now-empty landing bay. They didn’t bother with closing the door and pressurizing the space. Instead, they clunked on metal shoes for one of the three airlocks leading into the ship.

Emergency lights were flashing and alarms were going off. They kept their helmets on as it became obvious part of the station had lost atmosphere and pressure, undoubtedly from when Adam pulled the Najmah Fayd from the hole he’d cut in the hull. Most of the station was sealed with pressure doors, but the pair soon came upon an internal emergency airlock designed for just these occasions. Once through and into fresh air they took off their helmets.

“Sherri, we’re on our way,” Coop said through his throat mic.

“Where are you?”

“In the station, about a hundred yards from your location. Any hostiles around?”

“Not anymore,” she snickered. “Adam’s gone off to the generator complex.”

“I know. We passed him on the way back. What’s he doing?”

“He thinks he can realign the generators from there.”

Riyad began to bang on the closed door to the control room, assuming he had the right place from the pile of dead Nuoreans on the floor outside. Sherri opened it and jumped into Coop’s space-suited arms.

The trio then rushed to the main monitor console.

“Those fucking bastards,” Coop said after he deciphered the graphic on the screen to be the transit line for the LP-6 generators.

“Did Adam tell you the transit zone for LP-6 is six thousand light-years away?” Sherri asked. “He’s going to see if he can bring it closer so we can catch the jump in time.”

There was something about Sherri’s tone that didn’t sit right with Riyad.

“You do know the pulse is aimed at Earth, don’t you?” he asked.

Sherri jerked her head in his direction. “What did you say?”

“You didn’t know? That’s why it’s so far into the galaxy on this side.”

“We have to destroy the generators…now! Or stop the pulse.”

“We can’t use the bombs,” Coop said. “But Adam thinks he has a plan.”

“He thinks he has a plan?”

“It’s Adam, babe. Don’t tell him I said this, but I have confidence he’ll do the right thing.”

“So do I. But if he screws up, not only will we die, but so will everyone on Earth.”

They turned their eyes to the screen again. “I’m just glad it’s him out there and not one of us,” Sherri said. “No offense intended.”

“None taken,” the men said in unison.

* * *

Adam steered the Najmah Fayd to what would be the right side generator and approached near the outer end. He turned the ship on its nose and gently maneuvered it toward the surface. Tiny gas jets burped at his command until contact was made.

“Sherri!” he said aloud for the benefit of Kaylor and Jym.

Her response was channeled through his ATD and into his mind. The tiny tactical comm units the team wore didn’t have the range to reach the generator complex.

I’m here. So is Coop and Riyad.

“Good. Now watch the red dot I placed on the screen. I’m going to try to line up the transit line with that dot. Understood?”

Aye, aye, sir.

“Okay, here goes.”

Adam truly had no idea if the relatively tiny starship could make the fifteen-hundred-mile-long monster move even an inch. But an inch, over intergalactic distances, would be enough to save Earth. The question after that: Could he do enough to save the team?

He lit off the chemical engines, gently at first. He had to apply slow and steady pressure rather than a strong heavy burst. If he did that, all he’d do is punch a tiny hole in the hull surrounding the generator and smash the nose of his ship. After thirty seconds, he opened the link with Sherri again.

“Anything?”

Not that I can see, but the scale is pretty big.

“Press the button on the left side of the keyboard with the infinity symbol. That should zoom in.”

That worked, but still no change I can tell.

“Patience. This is a big-ass muther I have to move.”

Adam checked the chronometers. LP-5 was due to go off in twenty-one minutes, LP-6, an hour later. He felt pretty sure he could move the behemoth. What he wasn’t so sure about was how long it would take.

He increased the thrust a little, which reminded him of another problem. He was running low on chemical fuel. Normally, the rockets were used only for lift offs and landings, so a small supply could last a while. But they’d been using the chem jets for everyday propulsion. He checked the gauge and shook his head. Like everything else, it was coming down to the wire.

It’s moving! Sherri screamed in his mind.

“How much?”

Enough to be noticed. Can you shift it a little the right?

“Your right or mine?

More toward the station.

“Got it.” Adam angled the nozzle deflectors a fraction, which changed where most of the pressure was applied on the generator shell.

That’s it. It’s really moving now.

Adam couldn’t tell that it was moving at all. But it didn’t have to shift much.

You’ve done it, Adam! Earth is saved!

“Thanks, but there’s more to do. Let me know when the line is on the dot.”

Get ready. Okay! Stop.

Adam cut the thrust and held his breath. This was the moment of truth.

“Is it still moving?”

No, not that I can see. Is it supposed to?

“No; I was worried it would just keep moving.”

What about the distance to the TZ?

“That’s my next project. I’ll be in touch.”

Adam pulled the Najmah Fayd away from the generator tube and skirted along the surface. Half a dozen Nuorean warships hovered above him, matching speed, but refusing to fire toward the generator complex. He wrapped around the huge metal-frame sphere and dropped down toward a box set on top of the left generator. At first it looked small and insignificant, but the closer they got, the bigger it became.

“What is that?” Kaylor asked.

“It’s the airlock and auxiliary control room for the generators.”

Adam set the ship down next to the entrance to the airlock.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Before the aliens could react, Adam was off the bridge and sprinting down the spine corridor for the landing bay. Once there, he pulled a spacesuit out of a closet and slipped it on. Two minutes later, he opened the back door and stepped out onto the surface of the midpoint generator.

It was an eerie feeling. The surface extended into the distance with no edge in sight, looking like a flat sheet of metal in space. Above him was the black emptiness of space—along with six Nuorean warships keeping an eye on things.

He took in the sights for only the twenty steps it took to reach the airlock. He opened the door then sealed it behind him. Automatic sensors took over and air filled the chamber. Adam passed through the inner door and into a large compartment lined with basic monitors, consoles and chairs.

There were also two Nuoreans in the room who didn’t much appreciate his arrival. Fortunately, they were unarmed. But they were Nuoreans. One of the aliens swung a balled up fist at his helmeted head. Adam ducked, hearing a loud thud on the top of his helmet. The alien stepped back, holding his injured hand in the other.

Adam was wearing spacesuit gloves with heavy copper fittings. He lashed out a wide, powerful swing that caught the injured Nuorean across the side of his head. He was dead before he hit the deck.

The other alien then jumped on his back, grasping for Adam’s life support hoses. Adam dropped to one knee, sending the Nuorean tumbling over his shoulder. Another straight punch with his now super-human strength, and his last obstacle was gone.

Adam surveyed the controls set about the room. It wasn’t hard to see where the alien Morlon had ripped units from the walls and consoles. But Adam was looking for something else.

He found an undamaged console and sat down. He took off his gloves and pressed a button that lit up the screen, after which his fingers began to dance on the keyboard at warp speed, while he read at a pace that made the symbols blur. Then he froze the screen. He read the information displayed in more detail.

He began to type again and more images flashed by. He slowed the progression until one particular screen appeared. Adam smiled.

Sherri? he said, this time completely within his mind.

I’m here.

Watch the length of the line. Let me know if you see any change.

He began to rapidly punch the same key over and over again.

Whoa! That’s doing something. It’s almost to the dot.

Let me know when.

A few more taps and then….

That’s it. Bullseye. Are you done now? If so, get back here. We’re running out of time.

On my way.

* * *

Three minutes later, Adam was back in the landing bay of the Najmah Fayd.

“I’m back, Kaylor. You can take off.”

“Pardon me, Adam, but there is a force of alien warships sitting overhead. I would prefer if you were at the controls.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah, that might be a better idea. Be there in ten seconds.”

Adam took the controls and sent the ship racing along the seven hundred mile length of the left side generator, skimming barely twenty feet off the surface. He was on chemical drive and gaining speed as he went. The Nuoreans ships above him had no problem keeping up.

But then Adam made a sharp left turn, channeling the exhaust through the starboard side nozzle. He’d given Kaylor and Jym a heads up before making the turn, but it didn’t make a difference. They began to bitch and moan immediately after regaining their senses.

The ship was now in open space, and although the six alien ships were surprised by the sudden move, they recovered quickly and sent nine deadly plasma bolts racing his way. Nine bolts were a lot for Adam evade, at least without killing his crew, but he did it. Now his alien friends were too battered and weary to complain. Adam would take the peace and quiet when he could find it.

After engaging a shallow gravity-well, five thousand miles of space was a hop, skip and a jump for the Najmah Fayd. The inertia compensators helped with the rapid deceleration at the space station. Adam steered the ship into the landing bay, crushing one of the team’s PAVs in the process. Adam grimaced as the metal crunched, but was secure in knowing the tiny craft would no longer be needed.

Adam told Kaylor and Jym to stay put, saying the rest of the crew would be joining them in a few minutes. Then stilled dressed in his spacesuit, he left the ship and passed through the airlock into the space station.

Adam followed Coop’s directions for the fastest route to the control room using the internal airlock. Once in the room, he removed his helmet and gloves. Sherri, Riyad and Copernicus all congratulated him on saving the Earth, although their spirits didn’t match their words. Adam knew why.

The LP-5 generators were set to go off in twelve minutes, which was about thirty minutes too short. He had adjusted the TZ for LP-6—making it possible for them to reach it between the pulses—but without making the first connecting train, they were doomed to miss all the others.

“Hey, cheer up,” Adam said as he sat at the main control console. “All is not lost.”

“I hope you’re not just screwing with us,” Copernicus said.

“Not this time.” He began to type on the keypad.

Sherri leaned in closer, although she couldn’t read a word of Nuorean. “What are you doing?”

“Let me ask you: What is my main function within the team? Don’t answer that, I’ll tell you. I’m the ass-saver onboard. I save asses for a living.”

Riyad put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So what do you have in mind this time, Adam the Ass-Saver?”

He continued to type as he talked. “All these stations are linked together by wormhole communications…and right now I’m trying to link up with LP-5.”

“Why? They aren’t going to hold up the shot until we arrive at the TZ,” Sherri said. “As a matter of fact, they probably have another fleet waiting at the other end to reinforce their comrades at this end.”

“Ah…there, I’m in.” Adam turned to his friends. “I have just hacked into their controls.”

“Can you stop the launch?” Riyad asked.

“I don’t want to. Instead….” He turned back to the board and typed some more before shifting the screen display to a graphic of the LP-6 complex, including the space station. Slowly, a small round circle came on the screen and began to move toward the station.

“Remember, these transit lines can transport two-thousand-ship fleets at a time,” Adam said. “So why can’t they also transport a space station?

A moment later, the rest of the team was hovering over his shoulder, watching the red circle move closer, until the space station was just inside the line.

“Is that the TZ for LP-5?” Sherri asked.

“It will be…as soon as I give the order. I don’t want to change anything until I know the gray techies can’t change them back.”

The LP-5 transit zone covered an area of two hundred thousand miles, which was a little less than the distance between the Earth and the Moon—LP-6, had twice that volume because of its larger generators. Adam had to be careful not to move the TZ too close to the midpoint generator complex otherwise it would affect the aim, or possibly even damage the inner workings. Adam wanted to make sure LP-6 lit off on time.

Sherri made contact with Kaylor through her throat mic and let the aliens know what was going on. They had been climbing the walls as the clock ticked down, thinking their chance of survival was ticking down as well.

“Get ready everyone,” Adam said. “Ten seconds before I take over…fifteen to jump. Six…five…four….

When Adam commandeered the generator alignment controls for LP-5 dozens of attitude jets fired off, making the almost infinitesimal change required to move the TZ to the space station. The distance the transit zone had to move was only half a million miles. It took only a shift of three-quarters of an inch to make that happen.

The generators fired the moment the TZ shifted.

22

The space station disappeared from the region around the LP-6 generator complex and reappeared a split second later half a million miles from the original transit zone within the Nuorean system. Sherri had been right. There were thirty additional warships ready to make the jump. Now their captains were scratching their heads wondering what went wrong?

They weren’t the only ones.

Grand Master Rodoc (1,402) Kallen-Noc had been kept abreast of the events taking place at LP-6. He had open wormhole comms with the generator complex as well as the ships on station, even after contact was lost with the space station. He knew Morlon (783) had disabled the alignment controls for the generators and then returned to the station. He hadn’t been heard from since.

As the time drew closer for the two LPs to activate, Rodoc moved a monitor tech into his estate and set up the equipment in his office. He knew Adam Cain was in the station, and with a combination of nervous energy and game tension, the Grand Master was anxious to see what the Human would do next.

The fact that Cain and his team were at LP-6 was a testament to their tenacious skill, as well as Morlon’s many failures. If the Human was able to disrupt the operation of the midpoint generator complex, then Rodoc could do—would do—nothing to protect the Cadre officer. Even in Nuorean culture, losing had consequences, beyond loss of points and possessions. Someone in Morlon’s position was also subject to punitive actions, as determined by the GMs.

For now, the verdict was still out. LP-5 would set off any second from now, with LP-6 forty-nine minutes later. This session was coming to an end, and the score was still in question.

“LP-5 has launched, Master Rodoc,” the tech informed him.

Rodoc came into the room, stepping through the open double doors from the wide balcony that wrapped the entire western face of his estate, overlooking the tranquil, azure sea. He looked over the tech’s shoulder at the large screen set on a table across from his desk. The monitor had a graphic representation of the transit zone for LP-5 within the system, three billion miles from Nuor. Rodoc was sending additional ships to LP-6, still holding out hope that he could capture the teleportation starship of the Humans.

He would know better once he learned whether or not the Humans had made the LP-5 transit.

The two Nuoreans stared at the screen in silence, knowing something wasn’t right.

“Check the time again,” Rodoc ordered.

“It is correct,” answered the tech. “And there is confirmation of the pulse taking place.”

“So why are my ships still there?”

Comms began to come through from various sources throughout the Nuorean system. The tech tried to correlate them for the Grand Master yet there were too many arriving at once.

“What’s happening?” Rodoc asked with impatience and frustration.

“The transit zone…it has shifted,” said the tech. “It is now near Lios, half a million miles from its last location.”

“It shifted? How is that possible?”

The LP-5 transit zone had never shifted, not since the complex had been completed forty cycles ago. It was a permanent presence in the system, the gateway to LP-6 and the Kac galaxy.

“Who authorized the realignment of the generators?”

“Reports are coming from the station. The computers were taken over by an outside source…originating from LP-6.”

Rodoc stepped back and bit his bottom lip in anger. Adam Cain. It had to be Adam Cain. Yet how had the alien acquired such ability? With each new revelation and every setback, it became apparent they had all underestimated the Human and his team. The invaders from the Kac had accomplished far too much against the obstacles placed before them. Even for a Jundac race, this was contrary to all the data the Nuoreans had on the Humans.

“Master, the LP-6 command station—it is in the transit zone…the new transit zone!”

“Clarify.”

“The space station, it has been transported here.”

The tech worked the controls and a live image of the new LP-5 transit zone appeared on the screen. There was a tiny white dot in the center, and as the Cadre One specialist manipulated his board, the image grew larger.

It was indeed the LP-6 space station, resting one-and-a-half-million light-cycles from where it should be. Reports were also coming in that nineteen of the warships in the vicinity of the station had also been transported back to the Nuorean system. This was good. It would save Rodoc time sending units in to secure the station.

Yet where were the Humans? The last information Rodoc received from LP-6 had the prototype vessel returning to the station after a brief run to the generators. Still, no bombs had been detected at the complex, so the purpose of the journey was unknown.

Rodoc smiled as the truth came to him, and he sent a small nod toward the screen, an acknowledgement to Adam Cain.

Realizing they couldn’t make the transit zone for LP-5 in time, Cain simply shifted it to the station. It was a brilliant move, and once more established the playing credentials of the Human. Although the move allowed him to transition back to the Suponac, he was still six thousand light-cycles from the LP-6 staging area, and with only forty-nine minutes to get there.

Rodoc wondered if Cain had discovered his homeworld was the target of the next LP-6 gravity pulse? He couldn’t imagine how that would have been possible. Or has the Human surrendered his plan to return to the Kac? Maybe he was acknowledging his defeat and looking now for a place to hide within the Suponac? The questions were many, the answers few.

From previous analysis, the teleportation and gravity-drives of the prototype vessel would be inoperable for a short period after transit. That was why the Humans had not shown themselves. But they would.

“Open a link with the senior commander of the units on station,” Rodoc ordered.

“Yes, Master.”

A moment later the image of an older Nuorean in a gray uniform came on the screen.

“Lead-Player,” Rodoc began, “the Humans are aboard the station and will attempt to leave the system in approximately ten minutes. Do not destroy the ship when it exits the station.”

“Master?”

“With the LP-6 generator complex secure, there is no need to destroy the vessel. It employs a revolutionary type of teleportation drive that would prove valuable to our cause. Track the vessel, and only engage if there is confidence of its capture. Is that understood?”

“Of course, Master Rodoc. Your orders will be followed.”

The tech cut the line and returned to the screen to the overview of the transit zone.

Rodoc checked the time. Then he smiled. For all the success the Humans have experienced in the Suponac, they really hadn’t accomplished much. LP-6 was still operational, the planet Earth was about to destroyed, and the Nuoreans still roamed the Kac. In consideration of all that, Rodoc (1,402) may have to amend his impression of Adam Cain.

* * *

“The Humans have left the station, Master!” the tech announced.

Finally.

It had been far too long beyond the time required to recharge their drives—and still the Humans remained cloistered within the station. Out of frustration, Rodoc had stepped out on the balcony. He spent most of his time there, mesmerized by the constantly shifting surface of the ocean. It was soothing.

But now the Humans have left the space station, with only five minutes remaining before the LP-6 transit.

Rodoc came back to the tech. “Report.”

“The ship is moving away on chemical drive.”

“Maintain tracking. It is unclear whether they travel in a straight line or can change course during a teleportation event. Alert our stations in the sub-worlds and production systems. I cannot believe they are still attempting to make the LP-6 staging area, not unless the teleportation drive has the required range.”

“They have established a course, Master, yet it is not out-system. They are lined up on Nuor.”

Rodoc studied the screen. Just then, the Humans engaged a weak, sub-light drive.

What was Cain proposing? Did he intend to make a desperate attack on Rodoc’s estate, a final blow at the end of a losing game? How would he even know of Rodoc and the location of his estate? Even so, the Grand Master would not underestimate the Human.

“Activate the property shields,” he said to the tech. “And place a screen of ships above.”

“Master—the ship has disappeared!”

Rodoc relaxed. Cain was now acting according to expectations—

“It has reappeared,” the tech reported.

Rodoc saw the contact dot on the screen. “Where is that?”

The aspect of the screen adjusted, and the crescent shape of a portion of the planet Nuor appeared. Rodoc’s heart skipped a beat. Cain is intending to attack.

“The ship is maintaining a stationary position. It is moving no closer.”

“Relative to Nuor?”

“No, Master, relative to a point in space, fourteen hundred miles from the surface.”

A moment of profound denial swept through the Grand Master, as an impossible thought came to mind. However, he didn’t have time to contemplate the possibility beyond its initial impression—before a massive seismic quake struck the estate.

Columns crumbled and ceilings crashed, as a huge crack opened along Rodoc’s precious balcony. Half the structure fell away, dropping into the now-roiling sea below. Rodoc and the tech were thrown to the floor, all the monitoring equipment with them. And the shaking continued—in fact it grew more intense by the second.

Just then, a horrific wind erupted without warning, swirling through the building and into the sky above the ocean. Rodoc crawled outside, onto what remained of his balcony. What he saw was both frightening…and familiar.

He gasped as he saw the impossibly long spiral of white and gray atmosphere reaching into the sky, culminating at a distance point. The sea was a chaotic mass of hundred-foot waves topped with frothing foam, also being drawn into the vortex. Trees on the nearby hills were being ripped out of the ground—land which followed a moment later in the form of huge chucks of black soil racing into space. The roof of the building lifted away, revealing more of the apocalyptic vision filling the sky.

Rodoc knew what was happening; he’d seen it before, through images of a distant, uninhabited world a thousand light-cycles away. But this was happening to Nuor.

Just before Rodoc (1,401) Kallen-Noc was sucked away into space, he spoke his final words into the deafening cries of a dying world: “Well played, Adam Cain. Well played.”

23

A moment later…they were home.

Even though they had no idea where they were, the blazing star located only a few million miles away was welcoming and with a familiar feeling. Adam breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing a huge yellow star this close meant there had been the possibility they could have materialized inside the ball of fusing hydrogen gas. But they were lucky.

They were back in the Milky Way, safe and—

Jym’s ear-piercing scream rang throughout the bridge. “Behind us! Oh the Gods of Fulquin!”

A view from the aft camera appeared on the main view screen. At first it was hard to comprehend what they saw. It was a brown and white ruddy mass, resembling a dull-colored nebula, growing in size behind them. But then individual features within the cloud could be made out as they came closer. It was rock, mixed in with frozen atmosphere and ice. And each piece was the size of a mountain…or a continent.

“Get us out of here!” Copernicus yelled.

Adam was a heartbeat ahead of him.

He activated the chemical drive—the only propulsion source he had for the next ten minutes—and the ship took off from a dead stop. He shifted between the aft nozzles—for acceleration—and the starboard side jet—for course correction. It was a losing tradeoff. Looking at his monitor, Adam saw that the debris cloud was moving faster than the chem drive could push them. They couldn’t outrun it, so Adam had to move them out of the path before it was too late.

Yet this was different than trying to avoid a relatively small cloud of ball bearings. This was the mass equal to half a planet filling the space behind them. And the huge remnants were constantly crashing into one another, altering course and shattering large pieces into millions of smaller chunks. The cloud was expanding. Nothing within a one-eighty-degree circular arc was safe.

Adam Cain—semi-mutant—was doing all he could to avoid the vengeful remains of the planet Nuor, but even he had his limits. The Najmah Fayd was being pummeled by the smaller bits, the only saving grace being the fact that most of the debris was heading in the same direction they were, which lessened the force when they hit.

“To your right, Adam!” Sherri yelled.

Adam checked his screen, having trouble at first comprehending what he saw. It looked to be a hundred-mile-long rectangular slice of frozen ocean, tumbling slowly as it flew through space.

Adam had an idea.

He shifted course slightly, moving closer to the huge slab.

“What are you doing?” Sherri asked. “I told you about the giant sheet of ice so you could avoid it, not head straight for it.”

“We need something to protect us. Besides, I’ve always loved the ocean.”

“Me, too, stupid, but not in the form of a humongous iceberg in space.”

Adam concentrated on the rendezvous. The slab was moving up on them rapidly. He knew they couldn’t match its speed, but he might be able to lessen the impact if he made contact when part of the slab was rotating away from them.

The crew gasped as the object drew closer, awed and frightened by the massive size of the frozen slice of Nuorean ocean. One side was impossibly smooth and slick, having sheared off from another piece. The other side—the side they were heading for—was a frozen relief of a roiling surface, with hundred-foot high waves caught in mid-crest.

Even at full power, the icy surface was racing toward them at incredible speed, and when they made contact, the impact was like hitting a brick wall at forty miles per hour. The hull compressed and screamed, yet managed to stay together. Why that was possible? The answer came a split second later.

The slow rotation of the slab had the Najmah Fayd sliding along the surface, which helped lessen the force of the impact. But it also caused another problem. This was the side with the stormy ocean relief, and a few seconds after making contact, the ship slipped up the tall slope of a cresting wave—and flew off into space like a ski-jumper off a ninety-meter ramp.

The ship flipped several times as Adam fought with the attitude jets to correct the orientation. The other end of the ice slab then rose up to meet them. The Najmah Fayd was flipped over at the time, and hit the ice from the top, crushing every antenna and monitor they had except for a few cameras set in recessed cans in the hull. Bridge screens went dark.

“This is supposed to be better?” Sherri screamed.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” Adam yelled back.

His idea to ride the slowly tumbling slab of ice became moot a few moments later, when once again they were hurled into space. This time they made it clear of the huge iceberg. Adam activated the chemical drive again and raced away once more into the maelstrom.

Well, Adam thought. That didn’t work.

And that’s when the chemical drive sputtered and shut down.

Adam shook his head, thinking of all the time for this to happen, why now? But he knew it was inevitable. Now all he had were the attitude jets…at least for another four minutes—

Something large, hard and fast struck the Najmah Fayd amidships. The speed of the impact was such that ship barely reacted to the collision. Internal gravity died, along with just about everything else. The previously-repaired bridge crack reopened, but only a little—however, it was wide enough to allow atmosphere to race through the opening. Riyad was the closest to the breach. He took off his outer shirt and threw it at the opening. The stream of escaping air guided it through the zero-g, until the cloth hit the bulkhead and sealed the crack, at least most of it.

Sherri unfastened her restraints and floated to the pressure door at the rear of the bridge. There was a small window in the hatch.

“Holy crap, it took out the entire floor of the common room back to the state rooms. The aft section looks to be okay. I can see light coming through the launch bay window.”

“Do we have any other data?” Kaylor asked.

For an answer, Adam accessed his ATD. He scanned the ship for working systems before making his report.

“The landing bay is secure and has atmosphere. So does the engine room. However, half the batteries for the TD drive have been ripped out, so we can’t jump when the time comes. And I wouldn’t put faith in the gravity-drive, either. The one thing we having going for us: The iceberg gave us a velocity assist. We’re now moving at about the same speed as everything else around us—all except that linebacker who just blindsided us.”

It was already growing noticeably colder on the bridge, and air was still leaking from the crack. Sherri went to the damage control locker and opened it. Inside was an ample supply of tiny oxygen tanks and yellow nose masks. She passed them out.

What she was ignoring—or chose not to mention—was the fact that only four light spacesuits hung in the locker. There were six people on the bridge.

“We have to get to the landing bay,” Adam announced. “It has atmosphere, survival gear and an air lock.”

“Which the bridge doesn’t have,” Riyad pointed out. “How are we going to get from here to there?”

Adam had an answer, but they weren’t going to like it.

“The four of you take the suits. I can withstand the cold better than the rest of you, so I’ll take Jym with me, holding him against my body for warmth. And his fur will help too.”

The rest of the plan was obvious.

Adam and Jym moved to the door, yellow oxygen masks secured over their noses—which was a problem for Jym since he had a snout. The tiny alien crawled into Adam’s arms and wrapped his furry arms around the Human’s torso as best he could. He was silenced by fear and cold, shaking noticeably.

“It will be all right, buddy,” Adam said softly to his little friend. “I’ve got you.”

Once the rest of the crew was suited up and ready, Adam braced his feet against the side of the weapons console and prepared himself. He nodded to Sherri.

The first thing she did was dump all the air from the bridge; the temperature dropped by fifty degrees in a second. Then she activated the door controls.

Adam pushed off with legs and flew through the open portal like the real Superman, one hand extended out in front of him, with the other holding Jym to his chest. The bottom of the ship was open to the absolute cold of space, and although they had oxygen, the penetrating numbness made it almost impossible to breathe.

Fortunately, the ship wasn’t that long, and a moment later Adam crashed into the bulkhead of the t-corridor at the aft end of the ship. This was where the spine corridor ended. To the left was the engine room, to the right, the cargo bay and the airlock to landing bay.

Fighting through the stiffness overtaking in his muscles and joints, Adam floated to the right. Through his ATD, he already had the airlock cycled for entry. With his free hand, he worked the latch, opened the door and floated inside. He secured the hatch and activated the controls with his mind. Three seconds later he and Jym floated into the landing bay, drifting toward the ceiling.

Adam uncovered Jym and felt for a heartbeat. His black fur was nearly frozen through, but there was a slight pulse. The problem: Like on the bridge, the temperature in the landing bay was dropping fast. Without the life support generators running in the engine room, no heat was flowing through the ship.

Still holding Jym against his chest, Adam reached out his free hand and concentrated. With help from his ATD, he pulled ions from the air to form a sparking, arcing ball of static electricity in the air above his hand. In the dry, cold atmosphere, there was plenty of random electricity around for his needs.

But Adam wasn’t done. He commanded the volume of the ball to become smaller, compressing the atoms until the sphere became a brilliant point of light. And as the ball grew smaller, it gave off more heat.

Adam could feel the welcoming radiance—but again, he wasn’t done.

He created six more tiny points of light. When he was done, he grasped a support beam along the ceiling and looked down, cradling Jym’s softly purring body in his other arm as the air around them heated up noticeably.

The other four crewmembers entered the landing bay through the airlock, dressed in spacesuits and connected to the metal deck by magnetic boots. They removed their helmets and let them drift away.

They were in a line, staring up at the image of Adam Cain, lit by the glow of the seven twinkling lights, and looking down at the tiny bear held reverently against his bosom.

Copernicus Smith was the first to speak. “The Church of Adam Cain just got a new disciple.”

Next to him was Sherri Valentine. “In Cain We Trust.”

Riyad Tarazi spoke next. “God Save the Cain.”

Kaylor Linn Todd was last in line. He had no idea what the others were saying, and rather than make his contribution to the Church of Adam Cain, he simply looked at the others as if they’d suddenly lost their minds.

24

One-and-a-half million light-years from Adam Cain’s religious apparition—and hovering five hundred miles above the LP-6 generator complex—six eight-foot-long metal cylinders sprang to life.

They were designed to do so after detecting the creation of a series of competing singularities whose influence stretched between galaxies. When the blackholes dissolved fifteen seconds later, sensors in the cylinders reached out, seeking the infrared markers painting portions of the huge generator complex.

Tiny gas jets erupted, guiding the SENOs toward their targets. Thirty-eight seconds later, the first of the bombs made contact at its assigned spot. It set thin anchor wires into the metal surface and waited for the others to do the same.

Eight seconds later, all six nuclear devices exploded.

The first effect of the massive detonation was to literally vaporize the ninety-mile-in-diameter venting cage, along with a hundred miles of the generator housing from each of the twin structures. But the effect didn’t end there. Ripples rolled along the tubes, cracking metal and composite, which rapidly turned into gaping fissures. The tubes began to disintegrate, until only a hundred-mile section at each end was left intact and tumbling off into space….

Epilogue

With warmth and air, Jym quickly recovered. Blankets were pulled from cabinets and any tiny hull leaks were sealed. They were safe—for the time being—but trapped inside a dead ship on the edge of the galaxy.

That’s when Adam reached out with his ATD and made contact with one of the passive detection buoys a million miles from their location. The instrument had the capacity to open comm links with emergency authorities, and after some fancy circuit routing, Adam was able to talk with a live person.

The person was a monitor tech of the Sepphl race. Adam had never heard of them, but he was happy for any help they could get. He was told the gravity wave from the last pulse had been detected and allied forces were on the way, but it would take six days to get there. In the meantime, contact was made with a local mining colony three light-years away and a rescue vessel was sent out from that location.

Fourteen hours later, Adam and his team were taken aboard the mining ship, while the Najmah Fayd was marked for later recovery.

* * *

They now huddled in the ship’s lounge, quiet and reflective. Celebration would come later. For now it was a time of rest and contemplation.

Sherri was cuddled up with Copernicus, napping as Coop absently stroked her hair. Kaylor and Jym were at a nearby table, munching on food like it was going out of style, while Riyad was spread out on a recliner, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

For that matter, so was Adam. He was in the process of categorizing the events of the past two weeks, putting things in perspective the best he could.

First of all, he knew there were over one hundred thousand Nuorean warships still prowling the Milky Way. It would take time and effort to erase their cancer from the galaxy, but it would be done. Adam felt a trace of payback knowing that aliens aboard those ships wouldn’t learn of Nuor’s destruction until if—or when—another pulse came through from Andromeda. Until then, they would be confused and adrift, not knowing what happened or what to do next.

And there was the rub: Adam had no idea if the bombs had gone off. For all he knew, the generator complex at LP-6 was still intact, just waiting for the Nuoreans to build another control station or send the one they already have back to where it belonged. The LP-5 station was still active, so it was possible for them to do just that—after the race recovered from the loss of their homeworld, of course.

But recover they would, whether LP-6 was destroyed or not. The Nuoreans were competitors of the highest degree. A normal species—having just suffered the same catastrophic event—would think twice about repeating their mistake. Not the Nuoreans. They would see it as the ultimate challenge. They would be back, Adam was sure of it.

When was the question?

Adam couldn’t see them doing it in less than fifty years—even if LP-6 was intact. If it wasn’t, then the estimate extended out another hundred years or more. Fortunately, none of the team would be around under either circumstance.

Adam quickly amended his last statement. There was a possible he would be still here. His mutant cells could repair external injuries in a jiff; he was sure they were also working to keep his internal organs young and vibrant. Was he immortal, or only semi-immortal? He didn’t know, and at this point, it didn’t matter.

The one thing he did know for sure—that baring some unfortunate event—Adam Cain would outlive his friends.

And there was the curse of immortality: He would have to suffer through the pain and sorrow of watching his friends grow old and die. In an instant, the past twenty years flashed before his eyes, all in vivid detail, thanks to his mutant tumor. The six people in the room had shared many an adventure during that time—with Adam again quickly amending the word adventure to read episode. Adventure had the connotation of thrills and excitement, as in fun. Adam would hardly consider the episodes they’d shared as fun.

But they sure were thrilling.

With his new-found perspective, he vowed to make sure there would be many more episodes ahead for Adam Cain and his band of intrepid heroes….

After all, old soldiers never die. They just pick up a weapon and carry on.

The Beginning…

Look for the next thrilling adventure in

The Human Chronicles Saga

Last Species Standing

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Saga

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

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 George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious